This 30-story building that rises above Bishop Street is First Hawaiian Center, the corporate home of First Hawaiian Bank and other high-end professional offices. Its dual-toned facade, meant to reflect the ocean on one side and echo the mountains on the other, sits behind an open plaza, creating a sense of space in Honolulu’s dense financial district. A replacement for earlier structures, the building’s design blends commerce and cultural presence, including rotating art exhibits in its lobby.
Before this modern tower, the block looked very different. The earlier buildings, a 1962, 18-story bank tower considered Hawaii’s first modern skyscraper, and the 1925 S.M. Damon Building, symbolized financial growth and the progress of Honolulu.
The history goes back further. Just after the turn of the century, Honolulu had three high-class hotels, the Hawaiian Hotel on Hotel Street, the Moana Hotel in Waikīkī, and the Arlington Hotel on King Street. At this time, Bishop Street did not yet exist.
The Arlington Hotel was later dismantled, and the roads reconfigured. Bishop Street was built across the large property, cutting in half what had previously been part of a private estate. But the Arlington had not always been a hotel. It began as Haleʻākalā, the coral-block home of high chief Abner Pākī.
Built in the mid-1800s, Haleʻākalā was the residence of Pākī, his wife Kōnia, their daughter, Bernice Pauahi, and their hanai (adopted) daughter, Lydia Liliʻu Kamakaʻeha, who later became Queen Liliʻuokalani. In those days, this part of Honolulu was not yet a commercial center. Instead, the area held landscaped yards, long driveways, and the early outlines of what would eventually become downtown’s street network.
Queen Lili‘uokalani described the place as “one of the most beautiful and central of the mansions in Honolulu.”
Lili‘uokalani and John Dominis were married at Haleʻākalā, and the estate was a gathering place for high society in Hawai‘i. The son of Princess Ruth Ke‘elikolani was baptised there in 1863, and Duke Kahanamoku was born there in 1890.
Just a few years later, on January 16, 1893, Haleʻākalā, the property at which Princess Pauahi and Queen Lili‘uokalani were raised, became ‘Camp Boston.’ This was the headquarters for the USS Boston’s landing force as 162 sailors and Marines came ashore and stood ready to support the American businessmen during the overthrow of the Hawaiian monarchy on January 17, 1893.
The home served as a boarding house for a time before operating as the Arlington Hotel. But its history lingered in the heart of Hawai‘i’s Queen as she lamented the loss of the property after it was willed to Pauahi’s husband, Charles Reed Bishop.
“This wish of my heart was not gratified,” she wrote, “And at the present day strangers stroll through the grounds or lounge on the piazzas of that home once so dear to me.”
Even earlier than Haleʻākalā, the land belonged to the district known as Kou, in the heart of early Honolulu. On the Diamond Head half of this block stood Kauanono‘ula, a loku site, where men and women of every kind gathered in the evenings to enjoy themselves. Some of the amusements indulged in there were hula, chants, the recitation of narratives in chant form, and the telling of legends. Such places were known from the distant past, and it wasn’t just the living that gathered there. Ghosts and spirits of all kinds, including the legendary night marchers, are said to visit this space. Kauanono‘ula means “the dark red rain.”
W.D. Westervelt confirms this gathering spot for wailua, or ghosts, in his book Hawaiian Legends of Old Honolulu, and adds that the ghosts in these places made night a source of dread for all people. Several employees who work in this building say it is indeed haunted, and nights when they have to work late are especially creepy.
About 10 years ago, I was asked by a law firm on one of the upper floors to share ghost stories as part of their team-building day. The gathering carried on the tradition of storytelling at this site, and the people in attendance were very affable and receptive to what I had to share. Although I could feel a literal “buzz” in the air, no one else seemed to notice.
I already knew the history of this place. Stories of otherworldly encounters with ancient Hawaiian spirits in several Downtown buildings have circulated for years. So I tried to ignore the strange feeling that settled over me. However, I was still quite surprised to learn that there might be a night marcher procession passing through the firm’s offices.
A series of security videos showed an unusual column of mist that appeared at the outer wall, facing mauka, or toward the mountains. It drifted through the lobby and office partitions, and seemed to flow out through the makai (ocean facing) wall at the other end. For a while, no one had a clear idea of what they were looking at until the Hawaiian woman who cleaned the office after hours saw the videos.
Without hesitation, the woman nodded and said, “Oh yeah, huaka‘i pō. Night marchers.”
Looking back, perhaps nothing about that moment should have surprised any of us. This land has borne witness to royalty, celebration, progress, upheaval, and sorrow, and those memories do not simply vanish beneath the concrete and glass. Whether one accepts the explanation of the night marchers or views the strange mist as a trick of light, the effect remains the same: the past continues to move through the present.
The First Hawaiian Center stands today as a symbol of progress and commerce, yet beneath its polished floors rests an older story that refuses to fade. Long before office buildings and parking lots, people gathered on this ground to chant, to dance, to remember. And if the accounts of those security cameras are to be believed, they may still be gathering here.
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