Lahaina, Maui

 In the Spring of 1964 my ship, USS Abnaki, left our home port of Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on the island of Oahu and sailed South East toward Maui. Along the way, we lobbed a few rounds from the ship’s main deck-gun at the island which had been reserved for gunnery practice by the fleet and its aircraft. I’ve forgotten its name.  We arrived in Lahaina and anchored out about a mile or so.  I don’t recall why we were there, or what the occasion was, but the command declared an open house, a condition usually reserved for friendly foreign ports such as Kagoshima, Japan and Kaohsiung, Taiwan.  Hawaii, in general, had a love-hate relationship with the US Navy…loved the money it brought, but hated the presence of rowdy, Haole sailors.  Lahaina was no exception. The story which follows is not told in the ship’s deck-logs.  

A community near Lahaina Town had decided to host a dance, and invite the ship’s crew and officers as guests.  It was a generous and risky invitation, which would predictably end badly.  I’m not defending bad behavior on anyone’s part, but sailors are known to be difficult “guests.”  They were known to be obscene, rowdy, intrusive, and inebriated.  This night was no exception.  According to local leadership, the sailors practiced all of their predictably bad social skills in spades, and disrespected several of the local “maidens” to boot.  Put simply, they were as a group terrible guests, and several of the young local men, who were friends and family of the disrespected young women were enraged enough to follow the bus, taking the sailors back to Lahaina at the end of the evening. The bus full of rowdy sailors, and several carloads of enraged local-boys arrived simultaneously and emptied out on the street right in front of the bar which this writer was about to exit for his short walk to the waterfront, and his ride back to the ship in the ship’s whale-boat.  Keep in mind, this writer had no clue as to what had gone on at the dance, because he, then and now, works hard to avoid dancing, dances, and the rituals generally recognized as courtship, or more often, seduction.

This writer's evening had started out at a local bar in one of Lahaina’s historical buildings, a white wooden building housing an Inn and several other businesses. I believe the bar was called “Whale’s Tale,” in memory of the village’s whaling history.  As I recall, I left the Whale’s Tale pleasantly buzzed and made my way to another watering hole at the end of the side street which passed by the now famous banyon tree and some municipal buildings. I seem to remember that my destination had some sort of hokey facade and a pirate theme, a forerunner of the persona that Lahaina would take on in earnest as it became a developed tourist attraction.  I settled in at that location, and stayed the evening, enjoying the now forgotten amenities of the establishment which was almost entirely devoid of sailors, who were all at the dance some miles away.

As I exited the bar onto the street in front, I was almost immediately engulfed by angry locals tumbling from several vehicles, already yelling, kicking, swinging…my reaction was to immediately go from defense to attack.  Usually, I would have had a beer bottle stored in my sock, undetectable due to the bell-bottom pants, but on this night I was weaponless, lured in by the peaceful streets of the almost village like town. So, I did what I know, which is every dirty trick in the book: throat punches, crotch kicks, hitting from behind, using any found “weapon” on the ground, and more.  I had just kicked a local boy in the balls and was briefly contemplating his prone figure on the pavement, wretching up the contents of his previous meal, when I heard and felt a “whoosh” followed by my lights going out. I woke up a brief second later, still standing, and saw a local-girl holding a carved leather Western style purse on a long shoulder strap.  She had swung the purse from its long strap which accounted for the swoosh, and had moved my nose, previously broken in a street fight, back toward its original location, where it remains to this day. I punched her in the throat, stepped over her gurgling form, and fought my way toward the liberty boat landing a block away. By this time, at least one officer from our ship and several others from the duty party were trying to herd the embattled liberty party back to the boat landing while admonishing the civilians to stand down and let them handle it.  Next morning at 07:30 Quarters the “mood” was somber. The Captain was not amused. The XO looked to him and mimicked his icy glare.  

I don’t recall that we foreshortened our stay, or that Liberty Call was cancelled for the new day.  But, once we got underway for home port, at Quarters the next day, we were informed that the balance of the crew’s party/picnic fund, made up of a 5-cent “tax” on each pack of our sea-store cigarette purchases, would be used for reimbursement of damages, mostly personal injuries to locals.  I don't recall, and the deck logs don't indicate, that there was any formal crew punishment. Aloha Lahaina.