Kitschy but cramped, could the Waikikian have survived?

Kitschy but cramped, could the Waikikian have survived?
Jim Kelly
Editor's Notebook

I arrived in Hawaii just after last call, the absolute last call, at the Tahitian Lanai.

Even though I never saw the old Waikikian when it was alive, the place fascinates me, mostly because pieces of it are still standing, those triangular shark-tooth balconies of the Tiki Tower grabbing my eyes as I whip through the curve on Ala Moana.

The wreck of the Waikikian comes right up to the sidewalk, and you can touch the lava rock, the big timbers that gave the hotel its kitschy Polynesian look. You can look up and see the faded curtains in the room windows, see the balconies where tourists draped in Kodaks and cheap lei stood and marveled at how it was 22 degrees back home in Michigan.

Near the ruins of the lobby, look up and see the sign that warned long-ago guests that the walk was slippery when wet.

You can even look inside the chain-link fence and see what's left of the graceful spiral staircase that curved above the registration desk, one of those cool, impractical design touches from the 50s, like free-standing fireplaces and Continental spare tires.

In writing about the Waikikian, and its probable erasure from the planet in the next couple of months, I found nostalgia but not much enthusiasm for talking about what might have been if it hadn't changed hands so many times, if the Japanese hadn't fumbled with it in the 1980s, if the economy hadn't tanked, if prices hadn't gone crazy to the point that Hilton paid $20 million for that tiny sliver of land.

Could the Waikikian have survived?

Tiki-style and retro cool is suddenly the rage. Check out the artfully kitschy Aston Waikiki Beach Hotel and Tiki's restaurant to see what draws attention. There are travel books and Web sites tracking down the best remaining tiki architecture in the U.S. Could the Waikikian have done for tropical architecture what Miami Beach did for art deco?

"Sure, maybe people stay one night, and then let me have a building with an Internet connection and air conditioning," says Don Goo, partner of the late Pete Wimberly, who designed the Waikikian.

Grudgingly, I accept that he may have a point. We like the idea of the Waikikian, but not the reality of it. Deafened by the traffic noise and jammed into the naturally ventilated Waikikian probably would have had me whimpering for a fluffy king bed and arctic A/C at some generic high-rise.

Goo says there are plenty of contemporary projects that try to do what the Waikikian did 50 years ago by using natural elements of wood and stone and imbuing designs with Polynesian motifs.

An example, he said, are the "sails" that make the Hawaii Convention Center so striking. Looking at photos of the old lobby of the Waikikian, built with a soaring, triangular roof that resembled the outstretched wings of a bird, or even the sails of a voyaging canoe, you can see the connection.

But I can see the convention center anytime.

Before the wrecking ball arrives at the Waikikian, I'm going to stand outside the fence, squint hard and imagine I see Duke Kahanamoku pulling up in somebody's boxy white Thunderbird convertible. The sounds of Auntie Mary Lucas's ukulele will come from somewhere in the gardens, laughter will drift from the Tahitian Lanai, and smoke from somebody's Pall Mall will mix with flower-scents and salt air.