Today, a great many people throughout the world have come to understand what a tsunami is, and what a terrible danger one such event can be. But here in the Hawaiian Islands we’ve known this fact very well for hundreds of years. This is because, situated in the Pacific, we are regularly struck by tsunamis that have originated in practically every direction around us, since this entire ocean is surrounded by seismically-active zones. We even have undergone tsunamis generated right here in Hawai‘i.
This article is the first in a series that will show and describe some of the tsunamis of our past. To take the unending tsunami threat seriously, we all need to know what has happened before, and how we might be affected in the future.
First, what is a tsunami? It’s a series of waves — not just a single one — which is created by a massive displacement of ocean water. This can be due to a very large earthquake that moves sections of the ocean floor up or down very abruptly, or by a huge landslide that moves into the sea. The multiple waves that such a displacement creates can, and do, travel all the way across the entire Pacific Ocean where they can come ashore with no visible warning beforehand. That’s what makes them so deadly.
To start with, here’s the tsunami of Saturday, February 3, 1923. This was not a massive disaster, but it happened in a modern period of multiple newspapers being published in Hawai‘i that provide a variety of written accounts for us to read today, along with the widespread use of cameras whose photos have left a visual record of the event too.
Although it wasn’t clear at that time, this tsunami originated from an 8.4 earthquake on the Kamchatka Peninsula, which is part of Russia — and which has created other tsunamis as well, including one as recently as July 2025.
The effects in the Hawaiian Islands began shortly after noon in 1923. As is always true of every tsunami, the withdrawals and subsequent rises in the level of the sea varied a great deal from place to place. On Kaua‘i, very little happened. On the shore of Hanalei Bay the sea rose higher than 10 feet, but at the island’s main harbor at Nāwiliwili, only the “swishing of water” (as one newspaper stated) was seen, with no damage.
O‘ahu as well saw little damage, although with a larger population there were more people to see what was going on. In Honolulu Harbor, once the water began moving at about 12:30 pm, people gathered to watch at the mouth of Nu‘uanu Stream as floating trash moved back and forth and the stream’s regular motion was disrupted to flow backwards briefly. At Waikīkī a diligent observer tracked 15 complete cycles of recessions followed by waves that took place from 12:50 to 4:03 pm. The second wave was the largest but it only reached the normal high tide level on the beach sand; the exposure of the ocean bottom was more noticeable as something that was normally never seen, and it extended out to the end of the pier in front of the Moana Hotel.
The North Shore of O‘ahu experienced more dramatic effects. The tracks of the O‘ahu Railway were variously claimed to have been “washed out” at Hale‘iwa and Mokulē‘ia, or merely to have been covered by sand. A listing of the various waves said the first was observed at about 12:02 pm with four subsequent rises occurring at varying intervals until “soon after” 1:10 pm; here the second was also the biggest.
On Maui there was actual destruction at Kahului, mostly at the harbor facilities but in the town as well. The old wharf was “wrecked” while the new one, then under construction by the Hawaiian Dredging Co., was inundated but undamaged. Cargo on the docks was washed around and bagged sugar in warehouses, awaiting shipment from where it had been processed by mills, was lost. Large scows bearing lumber were washed ashore; boulders and mud covered some Kahului streets. The largest wave was estimated at a height of 12 feet and it struck about 1 pm.
On the beach road between Kahului and Wailuku, Dr. Lester C. Smith’s car was badly damaged when it was washed over a sand dune, a fence and railroad tracks. The doctor himself was left with a broken leg. At least two other vehicles here were left partly submerged as well.
But Hilo, Hawai‘i would be the site of most destruction, as is usually the case with tsunamis here. The fleet of numerous fishing sampans, owned and crewed by Japanese, were docked at the mouth of the Wailoa River and further up along it, and they were very susceptible to damage by the turbulent water. There were said to have been seven waves from 12:30 to 2:15 pm, and just like elsewhere, the second was the largest.
Although there were initial reports of four or more fatalities in this area, in reality only Jotaro Hamasaki, age 38, was killed. He left a wife and an eight-year-old daughter. He was supposedly beheaded when the sampan he was on was forced under a bridge while the water level was very high — and later reports have repeated this story — but in fact he’d been on a small boat with two other men who were trying to tie up a larger boat after the first wave. The second wave upset this small vessel; the other two men swam to safety but Hamasaki was drowned. His body was found in debris underwater in the Wailoa River on February 7, several days after the disaster.
Buildings along the makai side of Kamehameha Avenue, Hilo’s main downtown road, were knocked around by the water in the area closest to Waiākea. Others, mostly retail stores, were flooded and lost merchandise. Because this neighborhood was well populated, the unexpected water invasion caused panic as people searched for family members or tried to save possessions.
Even Coconut Island, offshore in Hilo Bay, was badly affected. It was used as a park (as it still is today) and the recreational structures on it were wrecked, as was the water main running to it.
While the 1923 tsunami was not a major event in Hawai‘i, it does have an unexpected historic relevance — it could very likely be the first tsunami in history to be photographed while it was actually occurring. Photos of damage after tsunamis have happened are not rare, and in fact there’s at least one such picture from after the significant earthquake on Hawai‘i Island (and its subsequent tsunami) in 1868, which is very early. But since there was no tsunami warning system anywhere in the world until the late 1940s, before that time nobody was ever aware beforehand to be prepared to take photographs should a tsunami come ashore.
The 1923 event took place in the Hawaiian Islands in the middle of a sunny day, and after the first wave or two, people near the coastline were aware it was going on and could therefore be ready with a camera. The Honolulu Advertiser printed three pictures of Waikīkī with the ocean in recession and then with waves approaching the shore on February 5, 1923, and another of Hilo’s shoreline two days later on February 7th. This latter image is shown here with this article, along with two of Kahului, Maui. These images may not look dramatic or significant, but keep in mind how rare and historically valuable they are.
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