Posts Tagged ‘Honolulu Baby’
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Memory and Tradition
0October 4, 2014 by admin
The saxophone blared from center stage, simulating laughter with a reedy run in thirds down the scale, before breaking into “The Girl from Ipanema.” Two caricature artists worked the rise in the path, a painter sold his park scenes at the crest, and I set up at my usual spot, under the towering maple. The day was warm, the sky cloudless blue.
A German girl was the first to drop a dollar in my case. “Haben Sie die Zeit für eine Hulatanzen heute?” She did not.
Two Swiss men had been rowing on the lake, heard me singing, and wanted to give me a dollar. I often get reaction from folks in boats, a wave or a smile, but rarely does anyone seek me out afterward. Once, several years ago, a young woman asked me to play “Honolulu Baby.” She knew that I knew the song because she’d heard me singing it when she was on the lake a few days before. I had revived a favorite memory of her grandmother singing it while bouncing her on her knee.
A short-haired southern lady with a backpack hurried by, gave me a buck, and wished me a wonderful day.
About a dozen pre-teen girls came noisily up the path. I asked their leader, a thin, middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed beard, if they had time for a hula.
“Have we got time for a hula?” he asked. The response was a boisterous affirmative. They danced to 3 verses of the “The Hukilau Song,” passing the leis to each other between verses so everyone had a chance to wear one. The leader gave a fiver to one of the girls to drop in my case. “The group I brought last year did the hula too; it’s getting to be a tradition.”
Next up was an Australian family, with a young boy who tried to hula, but only managed to move his shoulders up and down. Dad gave him some coins for me. When they’d gone, I peeked into my case to see a quarter and a penny among the folding money. I also looked at my watch, which I keep in my case, and was amazed to see that my 90 minute set was over.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Baby, The Girl from Ipanema, The Hukilau Song
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Best Day Ever
0September 24, 2014 by admin
The autumnal equinox brought a crystal clear day in the low 70s. People were out in coats and sweaters; I was back in long pants. Center stage was mine.
After a few songs, a toddler came up to me and indicated he wanted to dance. I tried to put a lei over his head, but he would have none of it. Standing stiffly by my side, the child smiled for the camera. His father and older brother took pictures, while mother and sister sat on a bench. Mother was totally covered in brown, only her eyes exposed. She had a large red pocketbook in her lap. Father gave me a fiver and I asked him where he was from.
“You are my first Qatari,” I told him, and shook his hand.
“It is a very small country,” he said in unaccented English.
“In a very difficult part of the world,” I added.
Taking in the scene around him – boats on the lake, splashing fountain, giant bubbles from the bubble man, children dancing, the sweep of the twin stone staircases leading the eye to the sky – he said, “How lovely here. The children are happy.”
Next came 3 women, one of whom, Janice, was having a birthday. That was good for $2. The 40-something man in Bermuda shorts was good for a handful of silver. A girl in her 20s put on a lei and did some kind of interpretive hula that had her cavorting all around the fountain, balancing on the walls, leaping like a gazelle. That was good for another $2.
A pear-shaped man in a panama hat wanted to take my picture while I sang “Honolulu Baby.” As he held the camera steady, he waggled his butt. “Sons of the Desert,” he said, naming the title of one of the Laurel and Hardy movies in which the song had been performed. I sang on; his graceful waggle was vintage Oliver Hardy. As he walked off, he told me he was from Germany, where they love the old films.
A man walked up with money in his hand. “My group over there has been listening to you, and we want you to have this. It’s $100.” He put the c-note in my hand; I put it in my pocket. “Give them a little acknowledgement.” I tipped my hat.
They were 3 couples from Nantucket who had done well and had no problem spreading it around. At the end of the day, I counted $16.86 in my case. My previous one day record of several years standing was $51, $40 of which I got from film crews who had paid me to shut up. This was better.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Baby, Sons of the Desert
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Back from a Break
0June 19, 2014 by admin
Away for 2 weeks, I returned to the park on a blazing hot day. Spring is definitely over. At the West 72nd St. entrance, the Women’s Gate, astilbe, daylilies and morning glories hide in the shade behind the walls, among unidentifiable weeds and wildflowers. Hosta is pushing toward the sky. The flowers on the catalpa have come and gone, except for a few laggards on the lower branches, where the white clusters are protected from direct sun.
I was not surprised to see that center stage, around the fountain, was unoccupied. I kept walking; today was no day to stand in the heat. My spot on the path was perfect today. In the shade, with a cool, persistent breeze off the lake, I tuned up and let loose. A young boy watched, listened and gave me a buck before I’d finished the first verse of “Sunday.” Well rested and in good voice, I bellowed out a few more tunes. There weren’t a lot of people today. School groups and tourists, if they had any brains, were shuffling through the cool confines of the Met or the Museum of Natural History. A young man got the aloha spirit, a young woman shook 36 cents out of her change purse.
Randy, the dobro player, stopped to chat. He looked up at the leafy canopy, felt the breeze and nodded with appreciation. “You’re in your element today,” he said with a parting smile.
As indeed I was. Not only was it cool and shady, but, as I sing in “Ukulele Lady,” today the tricky wicky-wacky wooed.
“Have you got time for a hula today?”
“I’ll try,” said one of a group of high school girls and boys from New Jersey. She couldn’t convince the boy she was with to join in, but another girl finally donned the pink lei and they went to the hukilau together.
A little later, I saw a bridal party crest the hill and saunter toward me, so stopped singing “Honolulu Baby” and broke into “The Hawaiian Wedding Song.” The bride herself, dressed in white and holding her train over her arm, dropped a fiver in my case. “As we say in Hawaii, Mazel Tov.”
Next came two young girls, out for a fun day in the park. The younger, maybe 9 or 10, was in face paint, the other appeared to be her sister or babysitter. They danced shyly and giggled when I sang about the lovely hula dancers rolling their eyes.
An hour seemed long enough today, so I packed up and headed home. At the top of the stairs, a string quartet in full tuxedoed splendor, tuned up. Several tables for two were set with linen, china and crystal. “What’s this?”
“We’re promoting a new show on FX, Tyrant, premiering June 24,” said a 20-something dressed in black.
“Cool, what’s for lunch?”
“We don’t serve lunch. People are supposed to bring their own lunch and eat it here, where they can get a little taste of royalty.” I looked around at the hot dog truck. The musicians looked hot and unhappy.
“Hey, I don’t begrudge you guys a living, but do you really think the world needs another show about excess?”
“You have a watch and cell phone,” he countered.
“Really, is that the best you can do?”
“Just kidding.”
“Uh huh.” Seems like the only way to get a taste of royalty these days is to kiss Rupert Murdoch’s ass.
Category Uncategorized | Tags: Honolulu Baby, Sunday, The Hawaiian Wedding Song, Tyrant
