I have been thinking about Honolulu rail for more than 40 years.
In the 1980s, I was the Hawaiʻi representative for a Japanese consortium that proposed to design, finance, build and operate a 22-mile Honolulu rail system at no cost to City coffers, in exchange for development rights around stations for hotels, residential, retail, and mixed-use projects.
Mayor Frank Fasi chose a different approach.
Fast-forward four decades. In fall 2026, the elevated Skyline rail system is being built along Dillingham Boulevard, moving inch-by-inch towards downtown Honolulu.
I have followed that journey from varied perspectives. I grew up in Kalihi. Later, my real estate career took me into commercial development, while my international work gave me chances to study rail and large-scale mixed-use projects in Tokyo, Hong Kong, Vancouver, and other cities.
That combination has changed the way I think about Honolulu rail.
My 2026 takeaway: rail is not the destination. Jobs are.
We have spent decades discussing routes, costs, construction, ridership, and schedules. Rail is now real in Honolulu — a fait accompli, albeit an incomplete one (where will be its final easternmost O‘ahu “terminus”?).
So, we should ask a different question: What happens around the rail stations? Could a station become the center of an economy where people live, work, shop and build businesses in the same neighborhood?
When I was growing up in Kalihi in the 1960s and ’70s, I remember a neighborhood where people lived close to their jobs. There were warehouses, light manufacturing, restaurants, retail stores, and small businesses. People walked to work. They shopped locally. Businesses served the people who lived nearby.
I remember people walking to jobs at restaurants and a grocery store on Umi Street, near Fern Elementary. I remember bowling at Kalihi Bowl and eating a Suzy Q burger (40 cents) at Jolly Rogers on Dillingham Boulevard.
It was not economic theory — it was simply how the neighborhood worked.
Today, the pattern is different. Many Kalihi residents travel outside the neighborhood for work. A rail system can make that commute faster and easier. But should that be the only economic objective? Why shouldn't a major rail investment also help create jobs in the communities it serves?
That question changes the conversation.
Transit-oriented development usually = Transit + Housing.
I would add a third element, and a fourth: Transit + Housing + Jobs + Local Ownership.
The objective should not simply be to move Kalihi residents more efficiently to jobs somewhere else. What if Skyline could also help attract employers, businesses, customers, and investment into Kalihi itself — making rail not just a transportation investment, but an economic development one?
Before talking about density, zoning, or land values, Honolulu should start somewhere simpler: Understand the neighborhood. Do an audit. For a community around a Skyline station, ask:
- Where do people live and work, and what businesses already exist — why did jobs leave, or why haven't new ones replaced them?
- What skills and workforce exist in the neighborhood, and what barriers limit economic opportunity?
- Can rail improve access to opportunity, or attract employers?
- What land is available around the station, who owns it, and could those owners participate in development rather than simply sell?
- Can local and outside capital create new businesses, buildings, and jobs?
This is how I define Neighborhood Economics. It begins with people and jobs, not a consultant's rendering of a 20-story building financed by "some" investor. It also raises another question — should Skyline's success be measured only by ridership, or also by the economic opportunities created around its stations?
My international experience reinforced one lesson: Successful rail systems can become much more than transportation networks. In Tokyo, Hong Kong, Vancouver and other cities, rail stations have become centers of economic activity — housing, offices, retail, restaurants, services, and businesses clustered around them.
The lesson is not that Honolulu should copy those cities; it has its own landownership patterns, geography, demographics, and priorities. But the underlying principle holds: A rail station can become an economic center if investment, land, and development are organized around it.
What could a Kalihi Skyline rail station become?
Imagine a different kind of train station-area development. Not simply:
Train station → housing → residents commute elsewhere.
But:
Train station → housing + businesses + jobs + retail + restaurants + services.
A resident might live near the station, work nearby, shop locally, and take the train when traveling elsewhere. A business might locate there because it can reach both customers and employees. A small local company might grow into a larger enterprise. A new employer might recruit workers from surrounding neighborhoods. And a family that has owned land in Kalihi for generations might participate in a new development rather than simply just “hold” or sell its property.
So now I see that rail is the beginning, not the end.
The next story of Skyline is not really about the train — it is about what happens around the station. If we want to understand that future, we should stop asking only how many people will ride Skyline, and start asking how many new opportunities Skyline can help create?
Could the Kalihi Skyline station become the center of a new entrepreneurial Kalihi economy?
The answer will depend on more than rail. It will depend on people, land, local knowledge, patient ownership, capital plus a vision.
Ray Tsuchiyama’s series explores one central question: How does Hawai‘i use the wealth and land it already has to create its next economic future? He can be reached at ray@guild.im
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