Bill Chu’s way set him apart from the rest

Kaua’i institution made lasting impression on friends, family.

When Bill Chu of Kapa’a died recently, it left the world with one less fine human being.

He lived a long, full life and died at his home at age 85, with his grandson Keala Kai holding his hand and his wife, Violet, by his side.

He wasn’t rich or famous, but he certainly was very special to his friends and loved ones.

It wasn’t just that he was one of the 10 children raised in Kapa’a town by his Hawaiian mother and Chinese father; that he was a fine athlete, then a coach; that he worked for many years at the old pineapple cannery; that he was married to a fine woman for 65 years; and that he was father to two children, “uncle” to many young people, and that he had grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

With Bill Chu, it wasn’t just that he and his wife owned a bar in Kapa’a town; that he taught ballroom dancing; that he showed kids how to throw net; that he loved his Hawaiian music; that he cooked for hundreds of luaus, or that he was a machinist with extraordinary skill.

Those things are just an outline of the man. It was how he did these things, the hard work, the wisdom and the humor that set him apart.

Back in 1935, when Chu was ready for his senior year in Lihu’e at the only high school on the island, he played all major sports but excelled at track. It was at the same time that the plantations put a lot of emphasis on competitive sports for their employees. Sometimes they even hired professional athletes to direct their programs, and sporting events drew large crowds. So Kekaha Sugar Co. hired him to work after school so he could compete in sports as a member of the plantation’s teams. And that was the beginning of a lifelong love of sports.

Always ambitious, Chu started working at Hawaiian Cannery, catching “hot cans” with the famous “Pono” label, at an early age. After graduating and marrying Violet Morita, he started working at the “down cannery” full time.

In an earlier remembrance, he said, “Whenever the town flooded, I would unhook the fan belt on a company truck and drive to Waipouli to evacuate people stranded on the mauka side of Kuhio Highway.”

For more than 20 years, Chu did a bit of everything and “graduated” to being supervisor of all mechanical operations at the huge pineapple processing plant where Pono Kai is now located.

Over the years, the Chus had two children, Marilyn and William Jr., who was always called “Honey.”

Bill Chu coached bantam football team from 1935 to 1946. And it was back in the ’50s, when he still worked at the cannery, that he began his “career” as luau chef. His main helper was his brother Barlow.

He had also served as Jimmy Nakao’s driver on trips to Kilauea were Jimmy went for dancing lessons from Carl Stewart. Sometimes there were ladies without partners, so Bill was recruited and he became an accomplished ballroom dancer.

As John Ka’auwai said in the eulogy he gave at Chu’s funeral, “Uncle Bill not only taught ballroom dancing in county-sponsored classes, he also taught some of the community’s young boys how to dance, out on the lawn of the Kapa’a First Hawaiian Church, so the boys knew their way around the dance floor when they went to their junior and senior proms.”

When Amfac closed the cannery in 1962, a lot of people had to find a new way to make a living, and the Chus opened Pau Hana bar. It was located in what is now known as the Hee Fat Building. Pau Hana was two doors down from where his father, Chu Wai Kong, had his tailor shop until he was 89 years old, in what had been a restaurant where, as a teenager, Bill Chu had made saimin and custard pies.

It was during the eight years that the Chus owned the bar that the town of Kapa’a was being revived with jobs available as hotels in Waipouli were being built, and the Chus had a thriving business.

A stop at Pau Hana bar provided a rare experience for many visitors, some of whom became lifelong friends. That included professional wrestlers who had matches at the Kapa’a High School gym and came to the bar afterward, then returned often. One of them, Handsome Johnny Barrian, called recently from New York when he heard Chu was ailing.

They also had a group of young men who would stop by the bar every day and vie for positions as Chu’s number 2, 3 or 4 “son.” Those same young men, many of whom were Hawaiian, hung out at Wailua Beach, and with Chu as their leader, they formed the “Hale Kai” beach club on a patch of sand across from Coco Palms Hotel. They built a shack, routinely rescued swimmers in distress, partied almost nightly and played Hawaiian music.

Chu and his boys also sponsored athletic teams and community service projects. His close relationship with many of these young men and their families, especially the large Ka’auwai ‘ohana, continued over the years.

In 1971, shortly after their daughter Marilyn Chu Kai died while in her early 30s, the Chus sold Pau Hana bar so they could help their son-in-law, Kelvin Kai, raise their grandsons.

Over the years, tragedy struck again when traffic accidents claimed the lives of their grandson, Kelvin “Lono” Kai Jr., and later their son, Honey. Possibly because of these losses, the Chus developed close relationships with their seven grandchildren, and an extraordinarily close bond with their grandson Keala Kai.

During those years, Chu took a job with the Kaua’i County Department of Parks and Recreation and became director of the department before really retiring this time.

In 1986, Kai treated his grandparents to a trip to the orient. He said his grandpa was like a kid when he had a chance to walk on the Great Wall of China and to see the town his father left when he was only 12 years old and came to Kaua’i.

Kai said his grandpa’s Chinese roots were very strong. And a friend described Chu by saying when he was drinking, he felt the pull of his Hawaiian ancestry, but “most of the time he was pure Pake.”

He was also instrumental in getting the senior (citizen) softball league started. He played ball, traveled with the team to the other islands and the mainland, and participated in the player’s frequent get-togethers, up until last year. At the funeral, Teddy Daligdig talked about Chu’s contributions to the league, and his fellow players wore their team shirts to honor him.

Chu kept himself busy, cooking pigs and cows buried in the imu or roasted on the spit, and preparing thousands of lau lau in his steamers. He almost always did this free of charge, and often failed to mention some of the expenses he incurred putting on their parties.

He was in charge of hundreds of fund-raisers for many political candidates (including Sen. Hiram Fong), the high schools, churches, sports teams, United and Pam Am baseball tournaments and the Rotary’s Taste of Hawai’i. He prepared luaus for actors and movie directors and many visiting dignitaries. He also cooked for parties celebrating first birthdays, graduations, weddings and anniversaries for over 40 years. Sometimes he had more than one party a night, and Kai said he can remember having five huli-huli machines going all at one time in their yard in Kapahi.

When Chu was asked about his huli huli recipe for inclusion in the Taste of Hawai’i program, he said, “One 125-pound pig, one-half pound Hawaiian salt, two large bags of Keawe charcoal, 25 cases of beer, six guitars, two ukuleles, one wash tub bass and 50 of your best friends.”

But what his close friend John Ka’auwai always suspected, and his grandson Keala Kai discovered after Chu died, is that he had amazing records of the parties he helped “produce,” starting back in the mid-1950s.

When you stop to think about it, you can’t put on parties for hundreds of people and have them all run smoothly with plenty of good, hot food without a lot of planning, and Chu did an incredible amount of planning.

For example, he had a hand-held stainless steel piece of “equipment,” with two different-size plates for measuring the string needed to tie lau lau. The bigger plate was for the longer pieces for senior citizens’ gatherings, because they often can’t manage string that is tied tightly around the leaves. He would count the number of times around the plate, cut them in half and bundle them. If they were going to prepare 1,000 lau lau, he wouldn’t say anything to anyone, but he would put a pre-counted bundle of strings on the wrapping table. When wrappers called for more string, he knew they had 500, 250 or whatever more lau laus to wrap and steam.

Chu also knew the size of the area where the party was being held, did a diagram of the lay-out for tables, the serving areas and what would be dished-out where, who was in charge of what and what their responsibilities entailed, and he quietly saw that everything necessary was taken care of.

He also had his timing down perfectly because he would critique the party afterward. For example, one note said, “Fire started in park at 3 a.m., 45 minutes too early because the coals were hot before daylight,” and the chickens they were going to huli-huli would be done too soon and wouldn’t still be warm at the scheduled pick-up time.

Chu made those huli-huli machines, improving them all the time until he had one that was eight feet long, with everything made from stainless steel, including the rod that ran through the pig to spin it over the heat. He also made his steaming vats for the lau-lau and a myriad of other things in his backyard shop.

Stainless steel was expensive and hard to come by, so he was always on the look-out for anything discarded or left-over. It took twice as long to fabricate, and the measuring and welding eventually took its toll on his eyesight, but he never lost his feel for the metal. The long-dreamed-of commercial kitchen Chu and his grandson were working on is almost completed.

His last invention was a machine that could crush 46 beer cans a minute. Kai said they also dreamed-up a Super Bowl ad that they were going to offer to Coors Beer, where John Elway would show-off his can crusher to his old football teammates, “and we got a lot of laughs out of picturing that, but we ran out of time.”

“Grandpa did drawings for everything he ever made. I’m finding diagrams for ratios on motor speeds and proportions on special mixes, everywhere, even on the beams in his shop. I think they were notes left for me, and I’m copying them to pass along to my son,” Kai said.

Kai shows with pride his “Certificate of Completion of Apprenticeship, for Huli Huli Pig and Lau Lau Production, according to standards approved by Bill Chu,” which his grandfather had made up for him and finally signed last November. It was typical of Chu to hold out signing that certificate as long as possible. “It took me 34 years to get grandpa’s approval, so I really treasure this piece of paper. I loved and admired this man so much,” Kai said.

Asked if he’ll continue the tradition his grandfather started, cooking for all the lu’aus, Kai said he didn’t know.

“It takes so much time and takes away from time you need to earn a living. I’ve got my son and daughter to provide for, and I’ve got my job as water safety supervisor for the county’s swimming pools,” he said. “I want to finish our commercial kitchen and sell lau-lau, I’ve got my koi and their ponds to take care of, grandpa’s tomatoes, pineapple, and Chinese squash.”