Last week I wrote that Wade Shirkey suggested I write about the Lurline and other Matson White Ships. I asked readers to share their stories, and over a dozen responded. Here are some they told me.
William Matson (1849-1917) left school in Sweden at age 10 and went to sea. He first came to Hawaii in 1882, as captain of the Emma Claudina, bringing 60,000 pounds of food and supplies.
Matson saw that luxury ships took well-heeled Americans to posh European hotels. He thought the same thing could work with Hawaii. It was a thought that would revolutionize Hawaii’s tourism industry.
Matson Navigation’s fleet would be called White Ships. The hotel would be the Royal Hawaiian, which opened in 1927. Matson bought the Moana five years later.
Clint Basler, a 97-year old member of my Honolulu Rotary Club, told me that when he was 6 or 7, he sailed on Matson’s first White Ship, the Malolo.
“My aunt Lilith and uncle Lawrence Robinson had taken me to see relatives in Pasadena, Calif., and we were returning to Hawaii,” Basler told me.
“I made friends with another boy, the son of the captain. We hit it off right away because there were not too many kids on the ship.
“We ran all over the Malolo, and because his father was the captain, we were in and out of the bridge. We had a lot of fun.”
Jim Borg says he first saw Hawaii from the decks of the Lurline in the summer of 1961. “I was 9, and my family was en route to Tokyo, where my dad was assigned to the embassy. We took the ship to Honolulu and then flew to Japan.
“We could smell the land before we actually saw it, a rich, luxuriant aroma, and then the island loomed up over the horizon. I was amazed to see how green the nearshore water was — nothing like the Pacific Coast of California or the Atlantic.
“As we pulled into the pier, hula dancers lined the dock — a magnificent greeting. Young Hawaiian men and boys were in the water alongside the ship, and when we threw quarters into the harbor, they dove for them.”
Lanikai resident Patty Dilks wrote that she and her husband, John, came to Hawaii on the Monterey. “In the early ’70s we decided to take a Matson ship to California. Neither of us had ever cruised before, so we thought the entire idea was really glamorous. Traveling with us was our 31⁄2-year-old daughter, Becky.
“Once on the high seas, the routine of the crew was to keep the passengers busy and well fed. One event I remember was in the ballroom, and they called for the youngest traveler, our preschool daughter, to come to the center of the room.
“Then the emcee asked for the oldest guest on the ship to come forward so the two could preform a hula together. The oldest was Lurline, the daughter of the shipping line founder. Lurline was dressed in a long muumuu with ruffles on the hem and sleeves.
“I don’t recall the song, but the two performed nicely and our daughter faked her way through the song with more poise than ability. We later learned that Lurline lived on the ship because she preferred it to a retirement home. All the crew knew her and seemed to enjoy having her along.
“On the final evening at sea, we approached a table with a 6-foot replica of the ship. It was a giant cake decorated in fluffy white frosting with dark trim.”
As Dilks and her daughter walked past, she turned and saw that the toddler was dragging her finger through the frosting, the entire length of the cake!
Martha-Lee Mullen said she had a summer job at Matson’s Royal Hawaiian hotel when she was a teenager.
In those days whole families would come to Honolulu on the White Ships to spend their summer vacations at the Royal. Some of them would even bring their cars and personal maids along with them. The hotel then had special rooms for the servants to stay in.
“I was to sit on the beach with the preteens and teenagers, get to know them and organize activities for them. The Royal gave me a small, plain room with a bathroom for showering and changing my clothes every day, probably one of those rooms the servants used.
“Boat Days were a very big and exciting event. The ships docked in the morning, and when the guests arrived at the hotel, they were all ushered out to the front lawn where Hawaiian music was playing and young women were dancing hula and singing. Dole Pineapple juice always flowed copiously.
“This entertained everyone while their luggage, including large steamer trunks, were being delivered to their rooms. Presumably if they had brought their maids, everything would be unpacked when they went upstairs.”
Mullen said she and several classmates left for mainland colleges aboard the Lurline on Sept. 2, 1950. “Those were still the days when lovely muumuu-clad Hawaiian women lined the sidewalk, their arms laden with fragrant plumeria lei.
“Their musical voices called out, ‘Fouh fo dollah.’ And then as 4 o’clock grew ever nearer, ‘six fo dollah,’ and finally, ‘eight fo dollah.’”
I’ve received many other reader remembrances of Matson’s ships — including three that mentioned stowaways — and will share more this summer.
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.
