Honolulu's Irish are ready to step out on st. patrick's day

Author: By James F. Murphy Jr., Globe Correspondent

Date: SUNDAY, February 28, 1999

Page: M21

Section: Travel

The menu had been given to me by Don Murphy (no relation -- but, then, you cannot be certain), proprietor of Murphy's Bar and Grill that sits on the corner of Merchant and Nuuano streets in the downtown area.

On the other corner sat O'Toole's Pub.

Being a devotee of Ireland and things Irish, I popped in to explore this Gaelic world.

I remembered Mary Robertson, the former president of Ireland, had spoken of the ``70 million people worldwide who can claim Irish descent.'' Apparently, a few were in Hawaii.

``Well,'' Murphy said, ``we may not have 70 million but we surely have more than a handful. You can see by the menu, we cater to them on St. Patrick's Day: Murphy's corned beef and cabbage with the obligatory potatoes, calcannon and vegtables, Gaelic steak, Galway Bay salad with shrimp, and three ice creams -- pistachio, vanilla, and orange, the tricolor, you know,''

I expected him to rise and sing ``The Soldiers Song''.

I looked around the pub/restaurant and while some of the trappings were Irish, there was no ``Paddy Wackery'' -- not a leprechaun in sight.

``I do not serve green beer. Many people paint their faces green and wear green shirts, pants and shoes, and that's OK for them. I guess I'm more conservative in my heritage -- but just as devoted. Hey, don't get me wrong, St. Patrick's Day is a marvelous festival here in Oahu and the other islands.'' O'Toole's and Murphy's rope off the street and have the greatest block party of the year: tin whistles, fiddles, feet tapping, skirts flying, gambols, and leaping.

``In South Boston they have a great parade. Anything like that here?'' I asked.

``A parade? Here's Jack Sullivan's card. Call him. He's our resident Irishman. He'll fill you in. Oh, by the way, I lied a little. I do serve a pint or two of green beer. I hope my ancestors forgive me.''

Sullivan was effusive in his invitation to his office. He's in real estate but, more important, helps in the people business. His card reads: Need help? Call Uncle Jack.

``How long have you been in Hawaii, Jack?''

``Forty-one years. It's my home and always will be.

``Where were you from originally?''

``Oak Square.''

``Oak Square!'' I practically flew off the chair.

``You know it?''

``Know it? I use to take a taste or two at `The One Gentleman.' ''

``Where are you from?''

``Newton Corner. We used to say we were just going over the hill. Of course, everybody knew where we were headed.''

We talked for a couple of hours and Sullivan put me onto other Irish-Americans who are keeping the Irish flame blazing brightly among the palms and hibiscus.

``You must try to get here for our St. Patrick's Day Parade. Southie has nothing on us. It's a real treat to see the green worn by the Japanese-, Chinese-, Philipino-, Korean-, and, of course, Hawaiian-Americans. I think the old saint would be pleased. We have every band, fraternal organization, you name it, marching from DeRussey Street right down Kalakaua and on to Diamond Head. There is a rumor that a few years ago, word got out that there were snakes at the zoo. That wouldn't do. St. Patrick didn't want them in Ireland and and they didn't want them in Honolulu. So, armed with weaponry, the marchers in true `Patrick' fashion left the parade route to do away with the snakes. The snakes were too clever and slipped into hiding. Do you believe it?''

``I'd like to,'' I laughed.

Sullivan was a treasure chest of knowledge, ``By the way, you might want too talk to John Mahan Judge, past president of the Society of the Friendly Sons of Saint Patrick. He's from the Back Bay and West Roxbury.''

I asked him what the society did for St. Patrick's Day other than the parade.

``The Emerald Ball. Last year it was at the Hilton Hawaiian Village in Waikiki. Many of the dinner guests wore green leis around their necks.''

And, the organization does more than just party: annually it grants a scholarship to a university student in Ireland.

Still, another member of the society, Matthew Fitzgerald suggested I come back for the parade.

``Everybody gets into the act. You'd love it. I always get a real sense of community from it. It's the only day you will hear automobile horns. We don't blow horns here. You must have noticed that. Honolulu is quiet. Fireworks dominate the scene everywhere. The parade route is a smokey blur. It's a great day! Of course, the Guiness is eternal that day -- at least to the wee small hours.''

There's also the Columbia Inn where The Boston Club of Hawaii meets and holds The Waidal (wait till next year) and The Norgonna (not gonna wait till next year) parties as an Irish wake for the Red Sox.

One year, Red Sox president John Harrington and his wife, Maureen, attended. ``There was great fun that day.''

The members of The Boston Club of Hawaii sound like the telephone directory of Dublin and the reunion groups at the Columbia Inn are, well, Boston ranging from East Boston High to the L Street Brownies to the the Braves Field Knot Hole Gang.

Judge told me stories of shipwrecks that brought Irishmen ashore during the 19th century. They married Hawaiian woman and instead of going back to Ireland they brought Ireland to Hawaii, many of them taking their wives surnames. A friend of Judge's is a Moran from County Galway. His name in Honolulu is Patrick Moran Kaopuiki.

So, the Irish connection is real and inclusive, and the resulting diversity is heart warming -- even down to the music at the Emerald Ball.

``They play everything, Abe knows what we want,'' Judge says.

``Abe?''

``Abe Weinstein and his Orchestra. He's the best. Speaking of music, you have to hear HAPA. Their songs are in Hawaiian but loved by international music lovers. Keli'e Kaneali'i and Barry Flanagan have been called the Rainbow Warriors for their message of love to all.''

``To hear the great Irish Band U2 rock `In the Name of Love' and then HAPA's rendition of the same song with a Hawaiian chant is a mix for the ages. But what do you expect? That's Hawaii, a wonderfully refreshing mix of cultures.''

When Fitzgerald toasts the Ireland of his birth at the Emerald Ball, he raise his glass and says: ``From the Emerald Isles, we have come with love. Slainte, Aloha, and Mahalo.''