I had lunch with Ron "Whodaguy" Jacobs recently. Jacobs was a disc jockey for several radio stations in the 1950s and later program director at a few more. He and Casey Kasem created the "American Top 40" radio show.
Jacobs had a funny story that connected three things I’ve wanted to write about: the old Civic Auditorium on King Street, roller derby and Elvis Presley. Until now I didn’t think I would be getting them all into one story.
Here’s how the story goes. In 1957 one of the big events at the Civic Auditorium at 1314 S. King St. was the roller derby. The Civic opened in 1933 and closed in 1974, replaced by today’s larger Neal Blaisdell Center.
The Civic hosted concerts, sporting events and conventions. It could seat around 4,000. The Interstate Building occupies its space today.
Jacobs was the on-track announcer for the roller derby at the Civic. He earned $10 a night. "Two derby teams of five would skate along an inclined track in the same direction," Jacobs recalls. "Both teams would send out a player, called a jammer, to try to lap the other team and score. Back then there was the home team, the Hawaiian Chiefs, and visiting villains such as the Brooklyn Red Devils. Rookie skaters earned $50 a night. Superstars were paid as much as four times more."
The roller derby was big in the U.S. in the 1940s and 1950s, with more than 5 million spectators in 50 cities. There were men’s and women’s teams.
The competition would go on for four days — Wednesday through Saturday. "The crowd started small on Wednesday," Jacobs says, "and would be sold out by Saturday."
"I thought a stunt could improve Wednesday’s attendance," Jacobs says. "I approached promoter Ralph Yempuku and suggested a grudge match roller skate-off contest between myself and Tom Moffatt. We were both deejays at KHVH radio back then, earning $800 a month ($6,700 in today’s dollars). The ‘winner’ would get $5,000, we told everybody, but in actuality we’d split the money. The starter was J. Akuhead Pupule, who never saw a spotlight he wouldn’t step into.
"Ralph agreed to give Tom and me 50 percent of any increase in revenue we brought in. I was the big mouth and Tom was the athlete. So he would ‘beat’ me. The crowd loved him and cheered wildly. I ‘lost’ and skated off, hanging my head. The people were booing me like crazy and throwing stuff."
"We had filled the Civic on Wednesday, and when we got paid we each got a check for $3,000 (the equivalent of $25,000 in today’s dollars). Plus, I got my $10 announcer fee," Jacobs adds with a chuckle.
"Moffatt and I took our money and each bought a brand-new 1957 Ford Skyliner. They had the first retractable hard tops. Mine was coral and white. Tom’s was black and white."
A few months later, in November 1957, the boy from Tupelo, Miss., Elvis Aaron Presley, came to Hawaii for the first time. He sailed on the Matsonia, and Jacobs played nonstop Elvis music when the ship got within radio range. Jacobs concocted a publicity stunt for the day of Elvis’ arrival.
"Elvis stayed at Kaiser’s Hawaiian Village Hotel. He occupied an entire floor, one floor beneath our KHVH radio penthouse studios. He hit this island like an unstoppable tsunami in blue suede shoes. Everyone was going nuts. The calmest person in the middle of all the action was Elvis. He just hung back and watched the amazing swirl he created by just being there.
"For publicity I dressed up another deejay, Donn Tyler, in an Elvis outfit and jet-black wig. He was about the same height and build as Elvis. We put him in the back seat of my Ford Skyliner with the top down. My friend, Ray Freed, sat next to him, dressed in a hat similar to Elvis’ manager, the unstoppable Colonel Tom Parker.
"I drove around town, pretending to give them a ‘tour’ of the island. Moffatt was on the air, describing our location and what was happening. There were no cellphones back then, so Tom had to ad-lib much of what was said. Residents would call in with sightings.
"I reported live whenever we spotted a phone booth and no one saw us. I gave Moffatt a hyped-up scenario to run until I could hit another phone. In Kailua a man tried to run us off the road just to grab a glance of Presley and get an autograph for his daughter.
"We drove to the girls’ dorms at the university, and 500 coeds poured out to see us. They were in a frenzy.
"We got Donn Tyler back up to our studios at the Hawaiian Village, where he waved to the throng below from the balcony. He threw his scarf to the crowd, and they rioted.
"We were laughing our butts off. Then the phone rang. It was Colonel Parker. The real Colonel Parker. Would we come down to his room? He wanted to talk."
Would Jacobs and Moffatt be bawled out? "You guys did this with Elvis?" Parker asked, smoking a big cigar. "That was the funniest thing I ever heard in my life!"
"Suddenly, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up," Jacobs recalls. "Elvis had entered the room behind us. I turned around. The guy looked better in real life than any of his pictures. The Colonel said, ‘Elvis, these are the gentlemen who played all your records we heard on the boat. Meet Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Moffatt.’
"I was face to face with the King. We shook hands.
"The Colonel said, ‘Elvis, I think these men should emcee the shows tomorrow.’ Elvis said, ‘Yes sir.’ I was 20, and that was the biggest moment of my life," Jacobs concludes.
Bob Sigall, author of the Companies We Keep books, looks through his collection of old photos to tell stories each Friday of Hawaii people, places and companies. Email him at Sigall@yahoo.com.
