In the early 1800s, King Kamehameha I moved his Royal Court to Honolulu, where the waters of Māmala Bay reached the shorelines of what are now Halekauwila and Queen Streets. Kamehameha’s kauhale was built near Pākākā Heiau, mainly where Walker Park is now, and his kāhuna made their home about a half mile away in Kakaʻako.
In the time of Kamehameha I, kāhuna were the keepers of knowledge that governed everything from building to planting to placing curses on people to communicating with the gods. The highest-ranking kahuna at the time was Hewahewa. As kahuna nui, he was required to master all forms of traditional knowledge, including kahuna ʻānaʻāna (sorcery by means of prayer). Hewahewa interpreted the will of the akua and advised Kamehameha on matters of war and kapu. Through sacred rituals, he sanctified heiau, conducted offerings, and demanded sacrifice, all in the name of the gods.
On the shores of Māmala Bay, the kāhuna studied their crafts and practiced their arts daily. Communicating with akua and warding off curses from rival ali‘i was a full-time job, and the spiritual and emotional weight of the dozens of practicing kāhuna would have left quite a mark upon the land in which they lived. This place became known as Mililani, and Hewahewa and his kāhuna lived there until Kamehameha moved his court to Kailua-Kona in 1813.
Years later, an aliʻi couple, Manuia and Kaupena, came to Honolulu to serve as retainers for King Kamehameha II and settled upon this lot. In 1829, they sailed with Governor Boki on his sandalwood expedition. The trip was met with disaster, and Kaupena returned to Honolulu with the body of her husband and buried him at their home. After Kaupena’s death, the property was passed on to her brother, Namauu, who lived there from the time of the expedition until his own death in 1848.
The beachfront Mililani parcel then came into the possession of Mataio Kekuanaoʻa, and eventually Princess Ruth Keʻelikōlani, half-sister of Kamehameha IV, Kamehameha V, and Princess Victoria Kamāmalu.
As Honolulu Harbor was dredged to accommodate larger ships, the sand and coral from the bay were added along the shore and reef. By the 1880s, this “reclaimed land” extended the shoreline several hundred feet, and by the 1890s, Halekauwila Street had been born, and Mililani was now landlocked.
Over the decades, the land along Halekauwila held various hale pili, then small businesses, and, in the 1940s, a garage and warehouse for auto parts. In 1949, the land bounded by Queen, Punchbowl, Halekauwila, and Mililani Streets was acquired by the government for a new Territorial office building. In the spring of 1951, the building was dedicated as the Princess Ruth Keʻelikolani Building and housed the Territorial Department of Labor and Industrial Relations, the Civil Service Commission, the Hawaiʻi Employees Retirement System, and the Council of Veterans Affairs.
A lot of the stories about strange events in the building seem almost dismissive. The weird things that happen are often small and easy to explain away. Someone’s missing keys or supplies that suddenly reappear could be attributed to a forgetful memory, and knocking sounds could be the building settling.
While we were unable to confirm the rumor that an orphanage once stood in this spot, the sounds of children laughing and running through the halls are common, even though there are no children present.
The issues with the lights are more frequent and more odd. In the 1980s, at least one office had lights that would flicker only when someone passed through the doorway. Sharing the information and testing it out with new coworkers almost became a form of entertainment. But most people in the building would say this could have been caused by an electrical anomaly or crossed wires. Most commonly, people passing through the halls have sworn they could see lights glowing beneath office doors, but when they open those same doors, the rooms are dark and empty.
One of the oddest places in the building was the supply room. It was a small, windowless space slightly larger than a closet that no one paid much attention to until they needed something. For years, the door had no lock. People came and went freely, grabbing paper, white-out, typewriter ribbon, and anything else needed to get their work done.
One afternoon, a clerk from the third floor stepped inside with a short list of needs from her coworkers. She gathered the items quickly and tried to leave, but when she turned the handle, the door wouldn’t open. She tried pushing the door and turning the handle harder. She tried lifting the handle and pulling at the door, but nothing happened. No matter how hard the woman tried, the door just would not open.
With no other way out, panic began to set in, and the woman started pounding on the door. She yelled for help, believing someone would hear her, but no one came to her rescue. She pressed her ear against the door, but couldn’t hear anything beyond her own breathing. Several minutes passed, and she began pounding harder and yelling louder.
Then, suddenly, the door opened.
A person from another office stood there, confused. They said they hadn’t heard anything, no pounding, no shouting, until the exact moment they walked in front of the door. And when they reached for the handle, it turned easily, and the door swung open with no issue. There was no explanation. The door worked fine, just as it always had.
After that, a lock was installed. Access was restricted, and the key was controlled by a single department. Most employees thought it was to control the supplies, which makes perfect sense, but one woman is certain that someone else, a department head, got locked in, too.
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The authors can be reached at hawaii.mysteries@gmail.com
