It seems I'm not the only one interested in separating fact from fiction surrounding Twain's visit to Hawaii. Just like Twain beat me to Hawaii, Walter Francis Frear beat me to writing about Twain's visit to Hawaii--by almost 70 years.
I first discovered Frear's book Mark Twain and Hawaii at the Hawaiian Historical Society two or three years ago. Now, I hold in one hand my very own copy; the other hand is empty after parting with $105.50 to retrieve the rare and fine book. It's signed by the author and numbered 37 out of a mere 1,000 printed in 1947, and it's taken a journey similar to Twain's. From Hawaii, it's traveled east, after a stop in California.
Tucked inside the book's front cover is a personal note dated Nov. 14, 1947 from the author to one Miss Marion O. Mitchell--address Alameda, California. It was a gift. That gift-giving tradition did not last; I parted with my $100 on June 15th of this year. By then the book had traveled to Kennett Square, Pennsylvania and the shelves of Thomas Macaluso Rare & Fine Books. Of course, I was curious as to how the book ended up in Pennsylvania, but, alas, Thomas does not retain any information about exactly where their books come from.
There is, however, an interesting curiosity to pursue. The author's note was written on personalized letterhead--with a Punahou Street address in Honolulu. Hmm, I feel a visit coming on.
The book is a dream. Big. Heavy. Thick pages. Musty, dusty smell. All I have to do is close my eyes, and I'm in the library of my youth, an old Victorian home with wide staircases, window seats, and hidden alcoves. Thomas Macaluso's website listed the book as such: Brown cloth boards have a black label with gilt lettering on the spine. Extremities are a little rubbed, rear cover has minimal soiling. Spine is a little sunned and cocked, bumped and rubbed at head and foot. #37 of 1000 copies, signed. Signed letter and signed presentation card laid in. Also signed on the limitation p. Much of Twain's work on Hawaii is published for the first time in this book. [Oops. That's not true; a collection of his letters on Hawaii was published about 10 years previous to this.] A very clean, tight copy.
And, so, instead of dog-earing, underlining and writing in this book, I put little Post-It notes on pages and transcribe my comments in a separate journal. Maybe it's the librarian from that old Victorian speaking to me. Instead, there are quite a few yellow tags sticking out of the book. I'd like to share just one sentence I would have underlined, highlighted and starred had this been a newer, more available, less expensive book--one not so rare and not so fine. It reads: "Mark Twain was not given much to factual details; what he cared for most was the picture, the story, the humor, the philosophy."
Even when it comes to his days as a journalist.
You say Leahi. They say Diamond Head
When Mark Twain climbed Diamond Head atop a horse, he discovered the trail littered with bones--ankle, shin, knee, arm, hand, and finger bones. 140 years later, so did I. However, the ones I found were attached to tendons, muscles and skin and still very much in use. Twain figures the ones he discovered were Hawaiian warriors defeated in a magnificent battle. The ones I passed were, quite simply, tourists. American tourists. German tourists. Chinese tourists--lots of Chinese tourists. It seems many of us are walking in Twain's trail--whether we know it or not--and I would go so far as to suggest that I was the only one in the know that fine Wednesday morning.
Diamond Head is a popular hiking trail. It rises 560 feet over .8 miles to the summit lookout following switchbacks and climbing exactly 227 stairs. It was originally built in 1908 as part of the U.S. Army Coastal Artillery defense system; however, not a single round was ever fired in actual defense of the island, at least by the U.S. government. If Twain's discovery is any proof of combat, Hawaiian warriors wielded their own weapons here.
Of course, the name "Diamond Head" is a Western invention. The story goes that explorers and traders visited the crater and mistook its calcite crystals for diamonds. This was the early 1800s--about the same time Fools' Gold was discovered in the American West.
The Hawaiian name for Diamond Head is Leahi and with all things Hawaiian, there seems to be more than one explanation for it. This reminds me a bit of Twain, because you could never seem to get a straight answer from him, either.
The first goes that the fire goddess Pele's sister Hiiaka named it Leahi, because the summit resembles the forehead (lae) of the ahi (tuna). I buy that. It does. And that's also consistent with other explanations I've heard of various landmarks around Hawaii. It seems to me those ancient Hawaiians identifed headlands, mountain peaks, and rock formations like I identify clouds in the sky. Hey, that looks like a fish's forehead; let's name it Leahi.
The second translation of the name Leahi makes sense, too, though. Maybe it's the literal translation: Fire headland. It refers to navigational fires at the summit that once lit the way for canoes traveling along the shoreline. Indeed, its elevated location on the southeast corner of the island is a natural spot for a lighthouse, of sorts. A modern-day version does the same today.
When I crawled through the one-time army bunker to emerge on the summit of Diamond Head, I saw something Twain could never have imagined. Sure, he supported commerce with Honolulu; sure, he encouraged more American business involvement with the islands; however, he also predicted the demise of Honolulu with the demise of the whaling industry, so I'm sure he never could have pictured what I did at the observation deck atop Diamond Head Crater. Skyrise hotels and office buildings dot the landscape of Waikiki and Honolulu. I admit, it's a pretty landscape, yet a far cry from what Twain saw. Here's what he saw: A thousand-strong coconut grove, streams striating the mountains to the ocean, a half-dozen homes along the beach at Waikiki, maybe even a lake after heavy rains at the basin of Diamond Head (it was already called that when he arrived), in the far distance, a grid of buildings and homes no taller than the tallest palm tree forming the city of Honolulu.
Times change.
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