“Covered with dirty hovels, ugly billboards, and unsightly stables.”
That was the description of the land at the mauka-Diamond Head corner of Punchbowl and South King Streets in Downtown Honolulu. The 1911 newspaper article proposed using the site for a Territorial Armory, carrying out a plan for a Capitol Park scheme, in which the Palace Square would be surrounded by stately public buildings.
At the time, the space included a huddled collection of haphazardly constructed buildings, including the Stockyard Stables, and various run-down shops, creating a picture of Downtown that would be unrecognizable today. It wasn’t the first time the issue of this unsightly corner had come up. A few years earlier, Territorial planners considered this corner for the Federal Building, but the final decision had it built just a block away, across from ‘Iolani Palace. Over the years, suggestions for the land included a municipal opera house, an auditorium, or a museum. In 1918, Governor McCarthy suggested that the Bishop Museum be moved to the Downtown location, citing the first and foremost purpose as tearing down the frame of shacks, which were an eyesore to all passersby.
Since he became Honolulu’s first mayor in 1907, Joseph Fern began making plans for the construction of a city hall, but he died before he could convince Honolulu citizens of the need for such a building. Over the years, city offices moved around, and residents had to visit several buildings to complete paperwork and permitting. The necessity for a City Hall building was apparent, but the decision on where to build it remained undecided for another two decades. Suggestions included above the police station on Merchant Street, the triangle section of land next to the Hawaiian Electric property, and Union Square.
In 1921, a prominent citizen posted a quarter-page ad in the Honolulu Star Bulletin suggesting that the city hall should be built on the grounds of ‘Iolani Palace, then referred to as the Executive Building. The large structure would be facing Richards Street, straddling the Kina‘u Lane just behind the gate. One city supervisor suggested that the municipality take over ‘Iolani Palace as a city hall, building a new Capitol in another location.
Thankfully, Charles N. Arnold, who was mayor at the time, stated, “It seems to me that the palace, a structure of historic interest, should be left just as it is.”
When the site at the corner of King and Punchbowl Streets was finally chosen, members of Kawaiaha‘o Church and O‘ahu Evangelical Association protested, primarily because the plans included a police station and jail, an emergency hospital, and district courtrooms.
Reverend W. D. Westervelt spoke out, “Do you see the pilikia that will result when you have the city hall as a close neighbor?”
However, due to projected population growth and the project’s cost, the city planning department decided to omit the jail, police station, and emergency hospital.
Finally, in August 1928, an informal groundbreaking ceremony was performed, and construction started immediately. On December 27 of that year, the cornerstone was laid with full Masonic rites by the Grand Lodge of Freemasons in Hawai‘i. More than 500 items representing life in Honolulu in 1928, including photos, reports, and books, were placed in a copper box and sealed beneath the cornerstone.
The new city hall opened for business on December 17, 1929, as a modern landmark representing beauty, order, and growth. Yet, after nearly a century of history, other tales have emerged along with the feeling that not everyone who walks the halls is part of the living. Rumors of former mayors walking the halls are common, as are the sounds of voices talking and children playing, even when no one else is around.
A few years ago, I got a message from a security guard who works in this building. The guard asked for a blessing because when he works the graveyard shift, he hears something heavy, like bodies, being dragged across the floor. He also hears women whispering to each other and children playing around, making noise. The guard’s main issue was that when he stood in the basement, it felt as if a crowd of people were pressing in around him. He said that in the hallway where the portraits of past mayors hang, he saw a man at the end of the hall, wearing an angry expression, upset about something. When he glanced at the portraits on the wall, he realized the man he saw was Mayor John Wilson. When I set up a time to meet, the guard never showed. He didn’t reply to further messages and just seemed to disappear.
Honolulu City Councilmember Augie Tulba shared his own experience in these haunted halls. On his very first day after being sworn in, Tulba arrived early and was walking the halls, looking at the portraits of past Councilmembers. The building was still quiet, as the rush of the workday hadn’t yet started, and anyone there that early usually had important business to attend. As Tulba looked at the pictures on the wall, the realization hit him that he has a big job ahead of him.
Suddenly, a voice behind him says, “You have some big shoes to fill.”
Tulba turned to see a short Japanese man standing behind him. He enjoys talking to and getting to know people, and had a light conversation with the man. Tulba said at one point, he turned to point to a former councilmember who helped his baseball team years ago. When he looked back, the man he’d been talking to was gone.
If you’ve ever been to Honolulu Hale, you’ll notice the hallway is long and the floor is lined with Spanish tile, so footsteps tend to echo through the corridor. But there were no footsteps, and it was impossible to run away silently from where they were standing in the short second that Tulba turned away. To this day, Tulba has never run into the man again.
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