Barbershop quartets, beer once graced Merrie Monarch

The “Olympics of Hula” we know today began humbly as a way to stimulate the economy after the 1960 Hilo tsunami.

The Merrie Monarch Festival began in 1963 at Hilo’s Civic Auditorium. It was organized by the Chamber of Commerce, and its theme was the royal court pageantry of King Kalakaua and the Gay Nineties.

In the beginning, the festival featured barbershop quartets, beard contests, beer drinking and hula. The festival was a flop; only about 300 people attended.

The chamber wanted to discontinue it, but Dottie Thompson stepped in. She didn’t want to lose another Hawaiian festival, so she called in Albert Naha­lea of the Hawaiian Home Lands Department and hula master George Na‘ope, and they brainstormed.

Na‘ope suggested honoring King Kalakaua, who was called the Merrie Monarch, with dancers from all over the state. In 1969 and 1970 the festival was a re-creation of his coronation.

Uncle George died in 2009. His full name was George Lana­kila-keiki-ahi-ali‘i Na‘ope, which means “the light that would lead the way.”

Na‘ope was fond of quoting King David Kalakaua, who said, “Hula is the language of the heart and therefore the heartbeat of the Hawaiian people.”

“I always tried to honor that idea in my teaching,” Na‘ope said, “since he was instrumental in reviving the hula, which had been banned by the missionaries. I was inspired by his style and the efforts that he made to bring back the Hawaiian traditions.”

In 1971 kumu hula Pauline Keka­huna and Louise Kale­iki suggested the festival focus on hula competition. The one-night event that year included modern hula. Kahiko, or ancient hula, was added in 1972.

By 1979 they needed more room and moved to the Edith Kanaka­‘ole stadium, which was built for tennis. “Auntie Edith” was one of Hawaii’s most revered kumu hula. She came from a long family tradition of hula and was an instructor of Hawaiian studies at Hawaii Community College and the University of Hawaii at Hilo.

Entertainer Kimo Kaho­ano began emceeing the festival in 1981 when the festival was taped and highlights were broadcast later.

“In 1983 the Merrie Monarch Festival went live,” Kaho­ano says. “Three nights of hula on TV. That was very brave of KITV because it had never been done before. Over time the hula got better, and more and more people began to watch.”

“The beautiful thing,” Kaho­ano continues, “is that it’s in Hilo, and no matter what anybody says, it was birthed in Hilo, it made sense in Hilo. People come from all over the world to be a part of it, and no competition has kept its audience the way this one has. Nobody has kept 5,000 people sitting in those stands for three nights in a row, for five, six, seven hours — however long it takes — for the love of hula.

“Each performance has seven minutes. Seven minutes and it’s over. It takes a lot to get the entire halau and all their costumes and adornments to Hilo. There’s a tremendous amount of preparation, training and fundraising. It takes a total commitment. People don’t think about what it takes. The kumu hula have that discipline to make it happen. They’re remarkable.”

One night in the 1980s, there was a thunderstorm, and the electricity went out during kahiko. The blackout lasted for quite a while. “The stadium is open on two sides, and we could see the lightning from the ocean side,” Kaho­ano says. “It struck makai of the stadium, and the thunder rolled through the building.

“Then it got closer, and it seemed to be right outside the building. The thunder boomed through the stadium, and we were all like, whoa! Then it passed over to the other side and moved mauka, away from us, and got softer and softer.

“It was an amazing visual and auditory experience — nature touching us in such a timeless and beautiful way. It was just awesome.

“Hawaii island has every weather system anyone could ask for,” Kaho­ano believes. “How fitting for hula! No matter what the story is, the Big Island can tell it.

“From the top of Mauna Kea all the way to the ocean floor. We have Kilauea erupting, the rugged lava, the warmth of the sand down by the sea, the anu­anu (coolness) of Wai­mea, the plant growth, the rains of Hilo, eh, it’s beautiful!

“I think we have more than hula celebrated here. We have the essence of who we are that’s celebrated, sometimes in subtle ways. It’s all there.”