Rearview Mirror: Neighborhood vendors gave way to supermarkets

Before the advent of modern supermarkets in Hawaii, vendors supplied many of neighborhood families’ needs.

North Shore photographer Bill Romerhaus remembers them. “In the late 1930s to ’60s, there were little open grocery trucks that used to cruise all the neighborhoods. They had food displayed on custom racks on the back of the small truck.

“They sold eggs, vegetables, fish, pots and pans, and most of the things you would find at a small mom-and-pop store.

“They were really popular and usually showed up at the same time every day. I think there was a nickname for them. I wonder if other folks recall them and when they stopped?”

Yasai man

Wayne Shiohira remembered these stores on wheels. “The vegetable man, or ‘yasai man,’ was what Mom and the neighborhood ladies would call the vendor who went around to the camps in Kaka­ako in the 1950s.

“Our yasai man stocked a lot more than just vegetables. He had fresh slabs of ahi, meats, cold cuts sliced thick, not like the sealed packages in the supermarkets.

“He weighed the fish and meats with a hanging scale, tore off a square of pink butcher’s paper from a roll, wrapped it like a makizushi and secured it with a piece of masking tape.

“Mom always bought a block of fresh tofu that was kept in a tin of cold water. A crisp bunch of watercress was usually on her list, along with kamaboko, some slices of rib eye and my favorites … either luncheon meat, pressed ham or thick slices of bologna.

“I would hang around waiting until she had filled her shopping list to see if she had any change to buy me something from his selection of treats.

“When we moved to Liliha in the early 1970s, he came up there, too. A couple of the neighbors would come out to buy from him, but it was nothing like it was 20 years ago. The excitement and novelty of his truck was dwindling.”

Food trucks

Willson Moore commented on these old-time food trucks. “In the late 1930s I remember the yasai truck on our street (Vancouver Drive in Manoa). The truck had a weird honk, which was unmistakably his ‘calling card.’

“He would stop midblock, open up both sides with shelves filled with all kinds of staple goods. Housewives would come to make purchases, which was much more convenient than driving to a market.

“Then the clink of bottles early morning regularly signaled the milkman delivering our milk and cream, which he left on our doorstep.

“The milkman (Dairymen’s) then would collect our empty milk bottles. We tucked a family order into one of them as to what we needed next time.

“I also recall our milk in those days had several inches of cream floating at the top of the glass milk bottle, which my mother used to skim off to make homemade mayonnaise.

“The Kahala pig farmer regularly collected for his pigs the contents of a can hung off our back porch into which went our table scraps.

“Lastly, there was the sound of another unique bell which brought us kids running: the exciting arrival of the Good Humor man’s small ice cream van, which prompted us to wheedle mom for the needed nickel or dime for a delicious treat. Bygone days!”

On wheels in Hilo

Ken Fujii recalled several of the many mobile vendors and delivery services that existed in Hilo neighborhoods and the surrounding area in the 1940s and ’50s.

“They thrived because many of the midcentury families, especially those of Asian descent, did not yet own cars to provide the mobility to go shopping in town.

“In our neighborhood in Hilo, there was a yasai man. He would come to our area and park his truck on the side of the street and ring a bell and shout, ‘Yasai! Yasai!’ and all of the neighborhood wives and children would flock to the truck. After serving all of the customers, he would move down the street to the next block and repeat the procedure.

“He had farm-grown vegetables, eggs, candies, rice, bread, fresh fish, pastries and kitchen utensils among other commonly needed items. During the war he rarely had items that were rationed or in short supply like butter, flour, cigarettes and items from Japan or Asia.

“My usual purchase was Wrigley’s Chewing Gum, Spearmint, Doublemint and Juicy Fruit for 5 cents. That was a treat in the olden days.

“In addition to the yasai man, we had the tofu vendor, who came on a different day and also rang a bell and shouted, ‘Tofu! Tofu!’ To purchase tofu, I had to take an empty pot or bowl from our kitchen into which the tofu man would place a fresh block or two of tofu. It was 15 cents for one or 25 cents for two blocks.

“He also sold aburaage, or sliced tofu, which is deep-fried until brown and crusty. It is the skin on inari or cone sushi.

“Milk was delivered to our home in the early morning before sunrise by the milkman. You could hear the milk bottles clanging as he left them on the front porch or steps. Empty milk bottles were rinsed and left for him to take back to be refilled.

“Some areas had the ‘manapua man,’ who sold various types of Chinese dim sum and tiny plates of chow fun or chow mein noodles. He, too, would shout ‘Manapua! Manapua!’ for everyone to hear.

“The manapua man was most successful around schools after classes let out, or during lunch recess when students would rush to the manapua truck and buy inexpensive snacks to satisfy their hunger.

“In later years there was the ‘ice cream man’ who drove a refrigerated truck that had all kinds of frozen novelties like Milk Nickels, Popsicles, Dreamsicles, Fudgsicles, ice cream drumsticks and ice cream sandwiches.

“He usually rang a bell and shouted, ‘Ice cream!’ In later years the ice cream man had a truck which played a familiar musical jungle as the truck drove through the neighborhood.

“You could hear the music a block away, which gave you enough time to gather your coins and run to the side of the road to flag the truck down.

“In Hilo we also had the ‘chumontori,’ or order taker from K. Taniguchi grocery store. He came on a specified day of the week in the early morning to take your order for groceries and other items from the Taniguchi Store.

“He stood on your front porch steps with a notepad and wrote down the items that you recited from your shopping list.

“The order was delivered to your home that afternoon. You could pay on a cash-and-carry basis or run a tab and pay the entire amount at the end of the month.

“From these small beginnings, Taniguchi Store built up a very loyal customer base and eventually evolved into the KTA Super Stores on the Big Island today.”

Toby Taniguchi said, “I vividly remember my late grandfather sharing with me the stories of growing up in Hilo, order-taking and trying his best to service the community.

“His mantra has become one of the cornerstones of KTA’s organizational values: The community supports our business; the business, therefore, must always support the community!”

After the war, as the economy boomed, folks bought cars and drove to the emerging supermarkets to buy their food and groceries. So, the need for traveling food vendors decreased, and they eventually disappeared from the scene and are in our rearview mirrors today.

If you remember them in your neighborhood, drop me a line.

Bob Sigall collects stories from bygone days and turns them into this Friday column. Send your suggestions, questions or memories to Sigall@Yahoo.com.