Michener, James

by Hawaii

  THE GOLDEN MEN

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  "This detective, he had no reason to bother you, Kamq'iro," Hong Kong assured him. "Our deal is perfectly good." "Whassarnatta, dey ketch you from taxes?" "Mine are okay. How about yours?" "Mine okay too," Kamejiro assured him.

  "Then don't you worry, Kamejiro. Let me worry. This has to do only with me."

  "You in special trouble?" the Japanese asked. "Everybody's always in trouble," Hong Kong assured him. But what precise trouble he himself was in, Hong Kong could not discover. In succeeding days he caught various reports of the detectives and their work; all aspects of his varied business life were under surveillance. He never spotted any of the detectives himself, and then suddenly they vanished, and he heard no more about them. All he knew was: "Somebody knows almost as much about my business as I do. And they're reporting to Hoxworth Hale." He did not sleep easily.

  In another sense, these were exciting times, for unless everything that Hong Kong and his grandmother had concluded from their studies was false, Hawaii had to be on the verge of startling expansion. Airplanes, no longer required for warfare, were going to ferry thousands of tourists to Hawaii, and many new hotels would be required. On the day that the boom started, the builders would have to come to Hong Kong, for he had the land, and he felt like a superb runner on the eve of an Olympics which would test him against athletes whom he had not previously encountered: he was a good runner, he was in tense condition, and he was willing to trust the morrow's luck. Even so, he took the precaution of discussing the detective mystery with his grandmother, and she pointed out to Hong Kong: "These are the years when we must sit tight. Wait, wait. That's always very difficult to do. Any fool can engage in action, but only the wise men can wait. It seems to me that if someone is spending so much money to investigate you, either he fears you very much, which is good, or he is weighing the prospects of joining you, which could be better. Therefore what you must do is wait, wait. Let him make the first move. If he is going to fight you, each day that passes makes you stronger. If he is going to join you, each day that you survive makes the cost to him a little greater. Wait."

  So through most of 1946 Hong Kong waited, but without the confidence his grandmother commanded. Each day's mail tortured him, for he would sit staring at the long envelopes, wondering what bad news they brought; and he dreaded cables. But as he waited, he gathered strength, and as the year ended and his mind grew clearer and his financial position stronger, he began to resemble the Golden Man of whom the sociologists had spoken.

  Hong Kong thought of himself as pure Chinese, for his branch of the family had married only Hakka girls, and whereas there were

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  a good many Kees with Hawaiian and Portuguese and Filipino blood, he had none, a fact of which he was quietly proud. Of course, from past adventures of the Kee hui Hong Kong's ancestors had picked up a good deal of Mongolian blood, and Manchurian, and Tartar, plus a little Japanese during the wars of the early 1600's, plus some Korean via an ancestor who had traveled in that peninsula in 814, augmented by a good deal of nondescript inheritance from tribes who had wandered about southern China from the year 4000 B.C. on, but nevertheless he thought of himself as pure Chinese, whatever that means.

  In 1946 young Shigeo Sakagawa was twenty-three years old, and now a full captain in the United States army. He was five feet six inches tall and weighed a lean 152 pounds. He did not wear glasses and was considerably better co-ordinated than his stocky and somewhat awkward peasant father. He had a handsome face with strong, clear complexion and very good teeth, but his most conspicuous characteristic was a quick intellect which had marked him in whatever military duties he had been required to perform. The three citations that accompanied his army medals spoke of courage beyond the call of duty, but they were really awards for extraordinary ability to anticipate what was about to happen.

  In the memorable victory parade down Kapiolani Boulevard, Captain Shigeo .Sakagawa marched in the third file, behind the flag bearers and the colonel. His feet, hardened from military life, strode over the asphalt briskly, while his shoulders, accustomed to heavy burdens, were pulled back. This brought his chin up, so that his slanted Japanese eyes were forced to look out upon the community in which they had not previously been welcome. But when he heard the thundering applause, and saw from the cornier of his eye his bent mother and his stocky, honest little father, accepted at last, he felt that the struggle had been a good one. Tadao was dead in Italy, and Minoru the stalwart tackle was buried in France. Goro was absent in Japan helping direct the occupation, and the family would never be together again. The Sakagawas had paid a terrible price to prove their loyalty, but it had been worth it. When the marchers were well past the spot where the elder Sakagawas and other Japanese were weeping with joy, the parade reached the old lolani Palace, seat of Hawaii's government, and for the first time it looked to Shig Sakagawa like a building which a Japanese might enter, just like anyone else. "This is my town," he thought as he marched.

  But when he reached home after the parade and saw the photographs of dead Tadao and Minoru on the wall, he covered his face with his hands and muttered, "If we Japanese are at last free, it was you fellows who did it. Jesus, what a pricel"

  He was therefore embarrassed when his father, still fascinated by military life, fingered his medals and said in English, "Like I tell b'fore, dey got no soldiers mo bettah Japanese."

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  "I wasn't brave, Pop. I just happened to see what was going to happen."

  "S'pose you saw, how come you not runi away?" Kamejiro asked.

  "I was Japanese, so I had to stay," Shig explained. "Too much at stake. I swallowed my fear and for this they gave me medals."

  "All Japan is proud of you," Kamejiro said in Japanese.

  "I'm glad the emperor feels that way," Shig laughed, "because I'm on my way to help him govern Japan."

  Shigeo's mother screamed in Japanese, "You're not going away to war again, are you? Goro's already in Japan, and I pray every night."

  "There's no war!" her son explained warmly, clutching her affectionately by the arm. "I'll be in no danger. Neither will Goro."

  "No war?" Mrs. Sakagawa asked, startled. "Oh, Shigeol Haven't you heard? Mr. Ishii says . . ."

  "Mother, don't bother me with what that crazy Mr. Ishii dreams

  Nevertheless, Mrs. Sakagawa summoned her daughter and Mr. Ishii, and after the wiry little labor leader had carefully inspected all the doors to be sure no haoles were spying, he pulled down the shades and whispered in Japanese, "What I told you last week is true, Kamejiro-san. Under no circumstances should you allow a second son to go to Japan. He will be killed, just like Goro. For everything we have heard is a lie. Japan is winning the war and may invade Hawaii at any moment."

  Shigeo thought his brain had become unhinged, and he caught Reiko's hand, asking, "Sister, do you believe your husband's nonsense?"

  "Don't call it nonsense!" Mr. Ishii stormed in Japanese. "You have been fed a great collection of lies. Japan is winning the war and is accumulating strength."

  ^'Reiko!" her brother insisted. "Do you believe this nonsense?"

  "You'll have to forgive my husband," the dutiful wife explained. "He hears such strange reports at the meetings . . ."

  "What meetings?" Shigeo demanded.

  That night Mr. Ishii and his sister showed him. They took him to a small building west of Nuuanu where a meeting was in progress, attended by elderly Japanese. A fanatical religious leader, recently out of a concentration camp, was shouting in Japanese, "What they tell you about Hiroshima is all lies. The city was not touched. Tokyo was not burned. Our troops are in Singapore and Australia. Japan is more powerful than ever before!"

  The audience listened intently, and Shigeo saw his brother-in-law, Mr. Ishii, nodding profoundly. At this moment Shigeo unfortunately tugged at his sister's sleeve, and the speaker saw him. Ah!" he shouted. "I see we have a spy
in our midst. A dirty dog of the enemy. You, Mrs. Ishii? Is he trying to tell you that Japan lost the war? Don't you believe him! He has been bought by the

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  Americans! I tell you, he is a liar and a spy. Japan won the war!"

  Against his own intelligence, Shigeo had to admit that many of the audience not only believed this crazy religious maniac, but they wanted to believe. When the meeting ended, many of the old people smiled sadly at Shigeo, who had criminally fought against Japan, and they hoped that when the emperor's troops landed they would deal kindly with him, for he had probably been seduced into his traitorous action. Many boys in Hawaii had been so tricked.

  In a daze Shigeo started homeward. He wanted no more to do with Mr. Ishii and the pathetic old fools, but when he had walked some distance, he changed his mind and caught a bus that carried him down into the heart of Honolulu, and after some speculation as to what he should do, he marched into the police station, and asked to see one of the detectives. The haole knew him and congratulated him on his medals, but Shig laughed and said, "What I'm going to tell you, you may take them away."

  "What's up?"

  "You ever hear of the Katta Gumi Society? The Ever-Victorious Group?"

  "You mean the Japan-Won screwballs? Yeah, we keep a fairly close watch on them."

  "I just attended a meeting. Captain, I'm shook."

  "The little hut back of the old mission school?"

  "Yes."

  "We check that regularly. Tony, did we have a man at the mission hut tonight?"

  "We didn't bother tonight," the assistant replied.

  "These people are out of their minds," Shig protested.

  "It's pathetic," the detective agreed. "Poor old bastards, they were so sure Japan couldn't be licked that they believe whatever these agitators tell 'em. But they don't do any harm."

  "Aren't you going to arrest them?" Shig asked.

  "Hell, no," the detective laughed. "We got six groups in Honolulu we check on regularly, and the JapanrWon's give us the least trouble. One group wants to murder Syngman Rhee. One wants to murder Chiang Kai-shek. One dupes old women out of all their money by predicting the end of the world on the first of each month. Last year we had one couple that prepared for the second coming of Christ on the first day of eleven succeeding months. They finally came to us and said that maybe something was wrong. So your crazy Japanese are only part of a pattern."

  "But how can they believe . . . All the newspaper stories and newsreels? The men who were there?"

  "Shig," the detective said, plopping his hands upright on the desk. "How can you believe for eleven successive months that Jesus Christ is coming down the Nuuanu Pali? You can be fooled once, I grant, but not eleven times."

  When the time came for Shigeo to sail to his new job with General MacArthur in Japan, his mother wept and said, "If there

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  is fighting when you get to Tokyo, don't get off the ship, Shigeo." Then, recalling more important matters, she told him, "Don't many a northern girl, Shigeo. We don't want any zu-zu-ben in our family. And I'd be careful of Tokyo girls, too. They're expensive. Your father and I would be very unhappy if you married a Kyushu girl, because they don't fit in with Hiroshima people. And under no circumstances marry an Okinawan, or anyone who might be an Eta. What would be best would be for you to marry a Hiroshima girl. Such girls you can trust. But don't take one from Hiroshima City."

  "I don't think Americans will be welcomed in Hiroshima," Shigeo said quietly.

  "Why not?" 'his mother protested.

  "After the bomb?" Shigeo asked.

  "Shigeo!" his mother replied in amazement. "Nothing happened to Hiroshima! Mr. Ishii assured me . . ."

  When Shig Sakagawa assembled with his Tokyo-bound outfit and marched through the streets of downtown Honolulu on his way to the transport that would take them to Yokohama, he was, without knowing it, a striking young man. He possessed a mind of steel, hardened in battle against both the Germans and the prejudices of his homeland. By personal will power he had triumphed against each adversary and had proved his courage as few men are required to do. No one recognized the fact that day, for then Shig was only twenty-three and had not yet acquired his lawyer's degree from Harvard, but he was the forward cutting edge of a revolution that was about to break over Hawaii. He was stern, incorruptible, physically hard and fearless. More important, so far as revolutions go, he was well organized and alert.

  As he marched he passed, without either man's knowing it, Hox-worth Hale, who was walking up BisTiop Street on his way to The Fort, and if in that moment Hale had had the foresight to stop the parade and to enlist Shig Sakagawa on his side, The Fort would surely have been able to preserve its prerogatives. Furthermore, if Hale, as an official of the Republican Party, had conscripted Shig and half a hundred other young Japanese like him, Republicanism in Hawaii would have been perpetually insured, for by their traditional and conservative nature the Japanese would have made ideal Republicans, and a combination of haole business acumen and Japanese industry would have constituted a strength that no adversary could have broken. But it was then totally impossible for Hoxworth Hale even to imagine such a union, and as he walked past the parade he had the ungracious thought: "If I hear any more about the brave Japanese boys who won the war for us, I'll vomit. Where's my son Bromley? Where's Harry Janders and Jimmy Whipple? They won the war, too, and they're dead." The crowd along Bishop Street cheered the Japanese boys, and the pregnant moment of history was lost. Hoxworth Hale went to The Fort and Shig Sakagawa went to Japan.

  But if Hoxworth Hale failed to grasp the nettles of history, there

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  was another who did, for as Hong Kong Kee walked down Bishop Street in the other direction he met Kamejiro Sakagawa proudly waving to his son, and Hong Kong asked, "Which one is your boy, Kamejiro?"

  "Dat one ovah dere wid de medals," Kamejiro beamed. Since most of the Japanese were wearing medals won in Europe, Hong Kong could not determine which one was Kamejiro's son. "Is he the one who has the red patch on his arm?" Hong Kong asked. "Hail" old Sakagawa agreed,

  "I'd like to meet your boy," Hong Kong said, and when the troops broke ranks on the dock Kamejiro said to his son, "Dis Hong Kong Kee, berry good frien'. He give me da money fo' da stoah'."

  With obvious gratitude, Captain Sakagawa thrust out his hand and said, "You had a lot of courage, Mr. Kee, to gamble that way on my father. Especially during the war."

  Hong Kong was tempted to bask in glory, but prudence had taught him always to anticipate trouble and to quash it in advance, so he said forthrightly, "Probably you didn't hear, but during the war I was stupid enough to make a very bad speech against the Japanese. Later, I was ashamed of myself and tried to make up."

  "I know," Shig said. "My sister wrote me about your speech. But war's war."

  "Things are much better now," Hong Kong said. "What I wanted to see you about, Shigeo. When you come home you ought to go to college. Maybe law school. You do well, maybe I'll have a job for you."

  "You have a lot of sons of your own, Hong Kong." "None of them is Japanese,' Hong Kong laughed. "You want a Japanese?" Shig asked, astounded. "Of course," Hong Kong grunted. "You boys are going to run the islands."

  Shig grew extraordinarily attentive. Standing directly in front of Hong Kong's metallic eyes, he studied the Chinese carefully and asked, "Do you really think there'll be changes?"

  "Fantastic," Hong Kong replied. "I'd like to have a smart boy like you working for me."

  "I may not work for anybody," Shig said slowly. "That's good too," Hong Kong said evenly. "But everybody's got to have friends."

  When Captain Sakagawa climbed aboard the transport he felt completely American. He had proved his courage, had been accepted by Honolulu, and now he was wanted by someone. In a sense, he was already a Golden Man, knowledgeable both in western and easterni values, for although he reveled in his newly won Americanism, he also took pride in being a
pure-blooded Japanese. Of course this latter was ridiculous, for he contained inheritances from all those nameless predecessors who had once inhabited Japan: some of his genes came from the hairy Ainu to the north, from Siberian invaders, from the Chinese, from the Koreans amongst whom his

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  ancestors had lived, and more particularly from that venturesome Indo-Malayan stock, half of whom had journeyed eastward to become Hawaiians while their brothers had moved northward along different islands to merge with the Japanese. Thus, of two ancient Malayan brothers starting from a point near Singapore, the northern traveler had become the ancestor of Shigeo Sakagawa, while the other had served as the progenitor of Kelly Kanakoa, the Hawaiian beaohfooy who now stood with a pretty girl watching the end of the parade.

  Or, if one preferred looking north, of three ancient Siberian brothers, one bravely crossed the sea to Japan, where his genes found ultimate refuge in the body of Shigeo Sakagawa. Another crept along the Aleutian bridge toward Massachusetts, where his descendants wound up as Indian progenitors of Hoxworth Hale; while a third, less venturesome than his brothers, drifted southward along established land routes to central China, where he helped form the Hakka, thus serving as an ancestor to Hong Kong Kee. In truth, all men are brothers, but as generations pass, it is differences that matter and not similarities.

  IN THE irrelevant sense of the word, this Kelly Kanakoa of whom I just spoke was already a Golden Man, for at twenty-one he was slightly over six feet tall, weighed a trim 180, and had a powerful body whose muscles rippled in sunlight as if smeared with coconut oil. He was very straight and had unusually handsome features, marked by deep-set dark eyes, a gamin laugh, and a head of jet-black hair in which he liked to wear a flower. His manner was a mixture of relaxation and insolence, and although it was more than two years since he had knocked out two sailors on Hotel Street for calling him a nigger, he seemed always half ready for a brawl, but whenever one seemed about to explode, he tried to evade it: "Why you like beef wid me? I no want trobble. Let's shake and be blalahs again."