Posts Tagged ‘Honolulu Eyes’
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Summer’s End
0August 27, 2017 by admin
The faint stink of ginkgo greeted me upon entering Strawberry Fields. Another sign of summer’s end, the fallen leaves of plane trees freckled the green lawn at Daniel Webster’s feet.
Bethesda Fountain was given over to the film crew for a new movie, “Three Seconds,” coming out next year. A sign on the stairway warned that anyone in the area could end up on the silver screen. I set up at center stage, ignoring the many PA’s with headsets, the techies with clipboards, and the bevvy of people huddled around the director’s chair in the arcade. I stood to play, scanning left and right for anyone approaching who might want me to shut up and go away.
Three young people, 2 women, and a man with earrings and a blonde streak in his hair, wandered by. “Have you got time for a hula today?” One of the women, who was from New York, was all in, and, after a few words of encouragement, so were her friends from Connecticut and Philly. They rocked out to “The Hukilau Song.” The New Yorker danced and took pictures at the same time. Afterward, she showed me a handful of coins, pointing out that most of them were Susan B’s. In fact, there were 5 Susan B’s, and 2 quarters, plus another 2 bucks from her friends.
A threesome of 5-year-olds were the next to dance the hula. Three dads took pictures and reached into their wallets. The kids, one white, one black, one brown, delivered the dollars to me. One of the boys wanted to play with my solar-powered hula girls. I took the pink one apart and showed them all how the sun’s rays generated a tiny current through a copper coil, creating a tiny magnetic field that caused a pendulum, hinged at the shoulders and equipped with a magnet at the bottom, to swing back and forth, and with it the hula girl’s torso and arms. “They’re never too young to dance the hula or learn about electromagnetism,” I told the dads.
A well-dressed woman holding a well-dressed child by the hand slowed as she came close. “Have you got time for a hula today?” She laughed and kept walking. Then she stopped. “Changed your mind?”
“No, no, but I will listen for a moment. Sing me something.”
I sang “Honolulu Eyes.”
She said, “Thank you,” and gave me a fiver.
A Brazilian woman danced a sexy hula, while her friends clapped and laughed ($3). A thin old man stood at a distance while I finished off “Honolulu Baby” with a flourish. He came forward to make a donation. “Did you like that song?” “It’s not the song, it’s how you sing it,” he said ($2). Two kids wanted to hula. “Make sure it’s ok with your mom,” I said to the elder. “That’s my nanny,” she said, adding, “that’s his nanny too” ($4).
A short, muscular man came running up to me as I sang “My Baby Just Cares for Me.” He held a phone to his ear; he was drunk. “Sing to my buddy in Michigan,” he said. “Listen to this guy,” he said, “I’m in New York City. In Central Park. Listen to this guy.” He held the phone up to me.
I continued to sing, “My baby don’t care for shows, my baby don’t care for clothes…”
“Sing about Ted Nugent,” he said. “My baby don’t care for Ted Nugent, ‘cause he sucks.”
His friend hung up on us. The man explained that his friend was having a terrible time, gave me a dollar and walked away.
It was a $25-plus day. As I packed up, I said to the PA who’d been assigned my corner of the fountain, “Thanks for not asking me to stop playing. Film crews usually want me to go away.”
“No problem,” she said. “We shot all the dialog yesterday. Today was just people walking around, strictly M.O.S.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Baby, Honolulu Eyes, My Baby Just Cares for Me, The Hukilau Song, Three Seconds
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A Rare Friday
0August 23, 2016 by admin
I went to the park on Friday, a rare occurrence for me, but the day was too fine to let pass. Except for the soldiering roses, the plantings were lush and deep August green. As I walked through Strawberry Fields, I heard a trumpet in the distance. Walking closer, I picked up the sound of more instruments. It was the jazz trio playing “Pennies from Heaven” across the road from Daniel Webster. The Boyd Family sang sacred music in the arcade; I sang strictly secular on center stage.
Two little Spanish girls walked up, each with a quarter in her hand. They danced a halting hula, turning from time to time to their parents far away, then back, giggling, to each other.
An expensively put-together woman in her 50’s found a dollar in her purse for me.
A short distance to my right, a long-legged model posed for a photographer and his 2 assistants. One of the assistants was swaying to “Honolulu Eyes.” She turned to see me watching, stopped in embarrassment, turned away, then started swaying again. They finished shooting about the same time I finished singing. “Have you got time for a real hula?” I asked the assistant, waving a lei at her.
“Go ahead,” said the photographer. He even took a few snaps of her going to the hukilau. When she gave me a dollar, he pulled out a dollar too. I lifted an eyebrow to the model, but she demurred.
With about 30 minutes left in my set, the ballerina came by with her gym bag, white face and bun. She stretched ostentatiously as she waited for me to leave. I ignored her, and did not leave. After another song, she did.
A family walked by. Dad gave the elder of two a dollar for me. I’ve observed many a child taught to tip the busker this way.
A family of Canadians came by. They were from Alberta, loved New York, and loved my music $2 USD worth.
I counted out $7.50 for the day. On my way out of the park, the cold water man gave me a thumbs-up, a reminder that it’s not about the money. “Aloha.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Eyes, Pennies from Heaven
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Third Day in a Row
0August 8, 2015 by admin
The weekend seemed to come early at Bethesda Fountain Friday. In one corner was an electric keyboard playing cool jazz at respectful, if still illegal, volume. The rhythm and blues cowboy was in another. A couple of kids, working things out on guitars, staked out the space on the west side of the fountain. John Boyd and his orchestra occupied the Arcade. (I call it an orchestra now because he’s added a piano.) If I’d wanted to join this circus, I’d have to do it from a rowboat.
Things were more sedate under the maple. I played for a long while without a nibble; I sang to the warm blue sky and the puffy white clouds skittering behind the towers of the San Remo on Central Park West. I sang to the solar-powered hula girl on the asphalt next to my case. “Honolulu Baby,” “Honolulu Eyes.”
A Spanish girl made her friends stop so she could hula. She gave me $1. A short while later, a mother and her teen-aged daughter happily went to the hukilau. The mother gave me $2, but she didn’t answer when I asked her where she was from. It did seem this week as if all New Yorkers had left town.
A young couple from New Orleans, he South Asian, she wearing a mezuzah, had time for a hula. She gave me a dollar.
A portly man from the heartland challenged me, “Can you play ‘The Hawaiian Wedding Song?’” I, of course, could, and did. He softly sang along, nodding approval to his daughter, who was not quite scowling, and to his wife, who was. They knew what was coming. “Now, can you sing it in Hawaiian?” He was holding back the dollar bill he’d fished out of his wallet.
“No, but I’ve got a feeling you can.”
He gave me the dollar and walked off triumphant, singing, “Eia au ke kali nei.”
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Baby, Honolulu Eyes, The Hawaiian Wedding Song
