Memories of Carl Lindquist go back to the early 1980s. At the time, he was involved with publishing on Oahu and had formed a kind of partnership with a young entrepreneur named Leonard Lueras.
Lueras wanted to produce a unique kind travel book about East Maui. Part-time Hana resident Lindquist agreed to be the co-publisher of "On The Hana Coast." Lueras and I had worked together on the Honolulu Advertiser.
"Would you be interested in writing a travel book about Hana?" he asked in a telephone call.
Then and probably now, Hana residents were leery of travel writers. A photo book had left them feeling abused. They offered open-handed hospitality to the writer/photographer. When the glossy coffee table book came out, residents were dismayed by having their home and lives commercialized.
The prospect of earning $3,000 was attractive to a writer who was trying to survive on freelance jobs and a part-time gig at KNUI radio. There was one major reservation.
"I want to be able to go back there." I told Lueras. "I would like to write a book that will make Hana residents feel proud."
Lindquist felt the same way.
Lindquist had a light hand in his dealings with the book and with his soon-to-be full-time home in Hana. He had spearheaded the restoration of Hui Aloha Church at Kaupo, producing a documentary film to raise donations for the effort. He had a deep understanding of the land and its place in the past, present and future of Hana's Hawaiians.
"On the Hana Coast" was released in 1983 with a party in Kaanapali. That may sound strange, but the cover featured a portrait of the late Tiny Malaikini, who was keeping his
Hana family financially afloat by driving his tour van from Hana to Kaanapali, back to Hana, back to Kaanapali and then back home - every day.
The party was glitzy - wine and haole pupu. Malaikini may have been more comfortable in a backyard, eating poi and squid, but he seemed at ease. When asked what he thought of the book, the big, gray-bearded Hawaiian took a couple of moments before answering.
"It's good," he said softly. "It's not a commercial."
The book had the usual visitor information and scores of photographs but was largely an "accounting of adventures, past and present, in a land where the hand of man seems to rest lightly." That Christmas, the most numerous sales of "On the Hana Coast" were at Hasegawa's. The buyers were Hana residents.
In the book, Lindquist told about climbing up into the steeple of Hui Aloha Church while it was still in a state of deterioration:
"Reaching the bell, we took opposite sides
of the badly rusted pulley, alternately pushing and pulling down in an effort to break it loose. It moved a little, then a little more, and, suddenly, with a great crunching sound, it gave, and the bell rang out, echoing back from the hills outside. It was as if life had returned to Hui Aloha.
"We gathered in a small circle to hold hands and pule, offer a prayer - like the very name of the church, Hui Aloha, 'A Gathering of Love.' The room was filled with memories, and we wept for them."
After Lindquist became manager of the Hotel Hana-Maui he offered another freelance writing job. Part of the effort was visiting him and Rae while they were living in the manager's house, originally built early in Hana's sugar cane history. Lindquist delighted in pointing out the features of the house and bits of historic memorabilia.
There was no doubt the island boy meant exactly what he said when he offered the hospitality of his home anytime I needed to stay overnight.
In the following years, our contacts were mostly by telephone and e-mail. He wrote always reasoned, unemotional letters to the editor and a few "Viewpoints" after his Hana community column was discontinued. One telephone call digressed into a discussion of driving a Jeep Cherokee between Hana and Wailuku, where he often appeared at county hearings involving Hana.
"It's a rugged vehicle and handles the road wonderfully," he said before going into a conversation that would make sense only to a motorhead.
He and his wife were killed Thanksgiving night when a flash flood wall of water hit them while crossing a stream bed a half-mile from home. He was much too akamai to have tried crossing a torrent.
* Ron Youngblood is a former staff writer for The Maui News. His e-mail address is writer@clearwire.net.
