Chapter 4: East by West
Hawaii Incorporated ~ Paradise Gained
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Hawaii Incorporated ~ Paradise Gained
For db
Our little systems have their day.
—from "In Memoriam A.H.H."
by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Chapter 4: East by West
Created by AB Cooper
Narrated by Michael Smith
Monday Lunchtime, 10 May 1965, A Restaurant in Chinatown, Honolulu
Michael Smith here.
We stood outside Iolani Palace in business suits, the midday sun bearing down. I loosened my tie, popped the top button of my shirt—an attempt to keep the sweat from soaking through my collar. Rob, as always, remained unbothered. His dark suit, crisp as ever, showed not a single wrinkle. He never seemed to perspire.
The palace was a relic of the kingdom’s past, a symbol of what had been. Built in 1882 for King Kalākaua, it fused Italian Renaissance and Hawaiian design, a declaration of the monarchy’s modernity and place on the world stage. Ahead of its time, it boasted electric lights, indoor plumbing, even telephones—luxuries still rare in much of the world then. After the monarchy’s overthrow in 1893, Iolani Palace became the capitol for the Territorial Government and now housed the prime minister’s office. But not for much longer.
Plans for a new capitol building had been in the works since the Roaring Twenties, when the Territorial Government tapped none other than Frank Lloyd Wright to design a modern seat of government on Diamond Head’s slopes. The Great Depression killed the project, but when Hawaii became a republic in 1960, Rob revived it. By then, Wright was gone, so Rob turned to Wright’s protégé, John Lautner—like me, a fellow Michigander. Lautner, already an architectural force in his own right, took the commission. Rob put Keller in charge of overseeing construction. The building was set to open in 1968.
Rob and Keller called Lautner’s design nothing short of visionary. Staying true to Wright’s organic philosophy, Lautner split the structure into two halves—one for Parliament, the other for the Prime Minister’s executive branch—seamlessly integrating it into the Hawaiian landscape.
Even in 1965, with only its skeletal frame in place, its form was taking shape. The building hugged the contours of Diamond Head, appearing to rise naturally from the volcanic rock. Rather than a towering edifice, it would sprawl outward, its low-slung profile emphasizing horizontal lines. Local materials—lava rock and native woods—would tie it to the land in both form and philosophy. Broad overhangs would provide shade against the relentless tropical sun, shedding rain while keeping the structure open and airy.
The Tripartite had decided to name it The Republic House. Perched on Diamond Head’s slopes and facing the ocean, it would offer sweeping views of the Pacific, anchoring the seat of government in both the volcanic landscape and the sea that defined the islands. Its interior spaces would flow effortlessly into outdoor lanais, with vast windows allowing light and trade winds to move freely through, erasing the boundary between inside and out. Reflecting pools and fountains would mirror the Pacific, a tribute to the islands’ deep connection with the ocean. Geometric patterns, inspired by traditional Hawaiian motifs, would be woven into the architecture and its decorative elements. A true masterpiece of organic design, The Republic House would blend Wright’s ideals, Lautner’s modernist touch, and the unshakable craftsmanship of Keller’s KG Pacific Holdings Group.
Before the sun completely drowned me in sweat, a delivery truck rolled to a stop in front of us. Its faded red paint was chipped and worn, with "Goh Laundry Services" scrawled in white script across the side. Beneath the name, the company’s logo—three neatly folded shirts against a cloud of steam—paid homage to the presses that powered the business. Minister Stephen Goh’s family had built the Republic’s largest laundry empire, and now his long-haired son was behind the wheel.
The truck wasn’t much to look at—rust streaked the edges, and a dented fender hinted at past collisions—but it would keep the PM out of sight. We climbed into the cab, Rob squeezed between me and Goh’s son. The faint smell of detergent and damp cotton wafted through a small window into the back, where laundry bags were stacked high, packed tight with no room to spare.
As the truck pulled away from the palace grounds, we went bump, bump, bump over every crack in the pavement. Each time Goh’s son hit the brakes, they squeaked in protest.
That van needed new coil springs and brake pads.
Once we blended into the busy streets of downtown Honolulu, the faulty suspension and brakes became less of an issue because we weren’t moving any faster than a turtle’s pace. Delivery trucks, taxis, and a steady stream of Chevy Impalas, Ford Fairlanes, and VW Beetles clogged the roads. The cab had no air conditioning, and the outside air carried a mix of gasoline fumes, the sizzle of street food on the grill, and the ever-present briny tang of the ocean. Honking horns and the occasional shout from a pedestrian only added to the sensory overload.
When we finally broke free of traffic, the suspension problems returned with a vengeance. The ride turned rough, every jolt rattling the truck as we were lurching over cracks and uneven pavement. At last, we veered off the main road into a narrow alley, rolling into a cramped parking lot behind a run-down Chinese restaurant.
The smell hit me immediately: frying oil, soy sauce, and the unmistakable aroma of char siu pork. The paint on the walls was peeling, and the neon sign above the door buzzed faintly. Despite its worn exterior, the food was unbeatable. More importantly, it provided an out-of-the-way spot for the Tripartite to meet—safe from the press, the opposition, or even junior members of Rob’s Hawaii Liberal Democratic Party (LDP).
We slipped in through the kitchen entrance to avoid attention. Stephen’s son gave us a quick nod before backing the truck into a parking space hidden behind a garbage dumpster.
Inside, the kitchen was alive with the clatter of sizzling woks and rapid-fire Cantonese. A cook glanced our way but barely registered the Republic’s Prime Minister walking through the back door. Just another day at the restaurant.
We moved through a narrow hallway into a private room reserved for the lunch meeting. Inside, Stephen Goh and Ben Tanaka stood with their private secretaries. Rob embraced his senior ministers while I shook hands with Alan Yoshida, Tanaka’s secretary, a tall, quiet man a few years older than me. Alan had the air of someone who preferred to stay in the background but always knew exactly what was going on.
And then there was Lin Mei. Stunning as always. I shook her hand which was soft and warm, like silk. She smelled faintly of jasmine, her perfume subtle but intoxicating. She wore a perfectly tailored suit, her long black hair tied back in a sleek bun that highlighted her delicate features. Every time I saw her, I was flustered, not just by her beauty but by the persistent rumors that she was Stephen’s mistress. I didn’t buy it. She was too poised, too professional for that. Still, the thought lingered as I held her hand for a moment too long. Maybe, just maybe, I’d get my shot one day...
My reverie broke when Rob backed into me as he pulled away from his embrace with Stephen. He made it look like an accident, but I knew better.
As the senior member of the Tripartite, Rob naturally took the seat at the head of the round Chinese dining table. Picture a triangle inscribed within a circle. Rob sat at the top vertex. To his right, at the bottom left vertex, sat Stephen, the Minister of Finance—senior to Ben and therefore placed to Rob’s right. Ben, the Minister of Trade, took the bottom right vertex, on Rob’s left. Together, they formed the Tripartite, the most powerful ministers in the Republic, each representing its most influential constituencies.
The private secretaries filled in the spaces along the circle between these vertices. Lin Mei, Stephen’s private secretary, sat across from her minister, positioned between Rob and Ben. Alan, Ben’s secretary, sat directly opposite his own minister, between Rob and Stephen.
I completed the arrangement, taking my seat across from Rob, neatly positioned between Stephen and Ben. This placed me at the base of the inscribed triangle, giving me a clear view of Rob for our usual subtle signals and an oblique view of Lin Mei to fuel my daydreams.
The seating arrangement wasn’t just practical, it was a careful balance of hierarchy, function, and geometric symmetry. It reflected both the formal power structure of the Republic and the way the three ministers operated. Inside this room, they might battle it out, but in public, they spoke with one voice.
The owner’s wife appeared, perspiring and wrapped in a wrinkled floral-patterned apron. Her hair was disheveled, her face flushed—whether from the heat of the kitchen or a quarrel with her husband, it was hard to tell. She balanced a tray with two large bottles of Tsingtao beer, condensation beading under the warm air, and a carafe of baijiu. Without a word, she set the drinks on the lazy Susan with a clank and spun it hard, somehow managing not to tip the bottles over.
She exchanged a few curt words with Stephen in Cantonese. He simply replied, "The usual." Married to his cousin, she seemed unimpressed by his status as Minister of Finance. Without another glance, she stormed off, clearly more concerned with whatever was happening in the kitchen than with making our lunch a culinary experience to remember.
Which was perfectly fine by me. The food here was the best in Chinatown, and I was already salivating at the thought of what was to come. It would no doubt be the usual spread of dim sum, char siu, claypot rice, Peking duck, and other Cantonese delicacies. There’s a rule in Chinese dining: the quality of food is inversely proportional to the restaurant’s décor. The louder and more rundown the place, the better the meal. And there was no louder, more rundown restaurant than this one.
In Japanese tradition, you never pour your own drink. The person on your left does it for you. It’s practical; your drink is on your right, making it easy for the person on your left to pour without spilling. Given the Tripartite seating arrangement, Rob, lucky dog, got to pour Lin Mei’s drink. Lin Mei, in turn, poured Ben’s. And me? I was stuck pouring Stephen’s, facing completely away from Lin Mei.
Rob raised his glass. "Kanpai!"
We turned to either side to exchange a personal "kanpai" with our neighbors. Rob and Ben had the pleasure of sharing an intimate "kanpai" with Lin Mei, while I was left clinking glasses with Stephen and Ben. When I attempted to "kanpai" with Lin Mei, it fell flat, an awkward, long-distance, perfunctory toast around Ben. Completely unsatisfying.
Before we could get to the substance of the meeting, the owner’s wife returned with the first dish, a plate of crispy spring rolls. Their golden-brown wrappers crackled as she placed them on the lazy Susan and gave it a firm spin.
"Spring rolls," she barked in her usual abrupt style.
Rob grabbed one, placing it carefully on his plate. The crunch echoed as he took a bite, nodding in appreciation. I followed suit. It was good but hot. I nearly burned my tongue.
Rob opened the meeting. “Lady and gentlemen, thank you for rearranging your schedules on such short notice. Ministers, I trust you’ve been briefed by your private secretaries on the difficult predicament we face. I’m sure you’ve started to form your opinions, but as usual, let’s keep an open mind. Once we decide on our approach, we’ll speak to the public with one voice.”
Everyone nodded.
“Good,” Rob continued. “If we reject President Johnson’s demand to allow nukes into Hawaii’s sovereign territories, how will that impact trade?”
“Prime Minister,” Ben Tanaka began, “it depends on what we do next. If we do nothing, it will devastate our agricultural exports. Over 85 percent of our exports go to the States, with sugar and pineapples making up 80 percent of those exports. Then there’s the problem of imports. We heavily rely on the U.S. for petroleum, manufactured goods, construction materials, and machinery.”
Ben’s family knew the shipping business inside and out. Tanaka Shipping Company, established by his grandfather, had grown into Hawaii’s largest non-Big Five logistics companies, transporting everything from agricultural goods to manufactured imports across Hawaii. With a legacy like that, Ben lived and breathed the flow of goods in and out of the islands. His family’s company stood to benefit from a pivot away from the U.S. toward Asia.
“I can’t imagine the U.S. would go so far as to slap tariffs on our exports,” Stephen Goh added.
“Neither can I,” Ben agreed. “It would be spiteful and provoke a backlash from American exporters. He’s bluffing.”
Alan, Ben’s private secretary, chimed in. “Much of what we import supports America’s military presence here, so that’s a factor too. Would Johnson really pull out his forces?”
“Good point, Alan,” Rob said. “On one hand, he needs Hawaii to prosecute the conventional war in Vietnam. On the other hand, you never know with LBJ when it comes to power politics. If we reject his demands, I wouldn’t put it past him to withdraw his conventional forces to Samoa or Okinawa. We need to be prepared for that possibility.”
The ministers nodded.
“There are too many variables,” Ben said. “That makes predicting Johnson’s next move difficult.”
I saw my opening and blurted, “That’s why LBJ thinks he has all the leverage.”
Rob gave me a feigned look of disapproval. “You’ll have to excuse Michael’s youthful exuberance,” he said with a slight smile. “He’s convinced that if we capitulate to LBJ, we’ll forever be his toy poodle.”
The table fell silent, but our plan, discussed while waiting for the laundry van, had hit its mark. I’ve yet to meet a Chinese or Japanese politician who enjoys the idea of being subservient to a foreign power.
Ben was the first to respond. “As I said earlier, the impact on trade depends on what we do after rejecting Johnson’s demand. If we do nothing, we’re at the mercy of the U.S. If we act, we might mitigate the damage.”
“Ben, are you suggesting we sever ties with the U.S. and turn to the East?” Stephen asked, stunned.
The question hung in the air as the owner’s wife barged in with a large bowl of steaming Cantonese hot and sour soup. She ladled a small portion into a bowl and placed it on the lazy Susan. Before she could serve another, I spun the first bowl toward me. Rude, maybe, but I wanted to gulp it down before the conversation reignited. I needed to focus.
By the way, the soup was incredible. The sharp kick of vinegar and white pepper softened by tofu and mushrooms, the heat mixing perfectly with the slight burn of the baijiu Stephen had generously poured.
“Stephen, to answer your question,” Ben said, ignoring his soup, “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m simply saying that if we reject Johnson’s demands and do nothing, our exports will collapse, and the economy could slide into a recession—if not a depression. If we reject and act, the impact depends on what that action is.”
Rob let Ben’s point sink in. “Ben, take some soup before it gets cold.”
He turned to the rest of us. “For the sake of discussion, let’s assume we deny the Enterprise battle group a port-of-call, and LBJ retaliates with a 200% tariff on our pineapples and sugar. To prevent the tariff from wrecking Hawaii’s economy, what can we do? Even if it means moving heaven and earth.”
“Well,” Stephen said, “theoretically, we could pivot to emerging Asia.”
Rob reminded me of Eisenhower. He was calm, deliberate, quietly steering the conversation. My studies at the University of Michigan taught me that Ike had a knack for making others believe they had come up with the ideas he wanted to implement. My professor called it hidden-hand leadership. Ike once said, Leadership is getting someone else to do something you want because he wants to do it. Rob had that same gift. He didn’t need to be the smartest man in the room.
“Ben, if we pivoted to Asia, how would we be received?” Rob asked.
Ben paused. “Promising. That’s my first thought. Japan’s industrializing rapidly and experiencing solid economic growth. I predict it’ll become an economic powerhouse someday. We already have strong ties to Japan, thanks to our sizable Japanese community.”
“Ben, you’re being modest,” Rob said. “Last I checked, Japanese Hawaiians made up 34% of our population.”
“Thank you for pointing that out, Prime Minister,” Ben replied, genuinely humble.
Power and demographics in Hawaii were always fascinating. None more so than in 1965. At the time, Japanese Hawaiians made up 34 percent of the population. Haoles came in second at 26 percent. Pacific Islanders, primarily Polynesians, accounted for 22 percent, while Filipino Hawaiians, at 11 percent, outnumbered the Chinese, who made up just 7 percent.
But here’s where it got interesting. If you measured power by influence, Haoles had a relative power rating of 45 out of a total 100, while the Japanese scored 30 and the Chinese 15. Pacific Islanders came in at 7, and Filipinos trailed at 3. The Haole power rating far exceeded their population percentage, largely due to the legacy of missionary families who dominated business, politics, and prime real estate. The Japanese and Chinese gained influence through education, family businesses, and sheer hard work.
This power dynamic drove the formation of the LDP in 1954. The LDP’s original aim was to unite Haole, Chinese, and Japanese political power. Rob Goddard, Stephen Goh, and Ben Tanaka emerged as the key leaders of their respective constituencies and formed the Tripartite. While Pacific Islanders and Filipinos held LDP membership, parliamentary seats, and ministerial positions, the Tripartite ran the party and, by extension, controlled parliament, the ministries, the judiciary, and, arguably, nearly every other facet of Hawaiian life.
"What about the Southeast Asian nations?" Rob asked.
Ben considered. "Countries like South Korea, Taiwan, Singapore, and Hong Kong are shifting from agriculture to export-driven manufacturing. I’d expect them to be promising trading partners."
"I think they’re more promising than Japan," Stephen said. "They’ll need us more. We’d be a junior partner to Japan but equal partners with Southeast Asia."
"I wouldn’t underestimate our value to Japan," Ben countered. "Japan is in a tough spot. It’s still hated in Southeast Asia because of the war. And with the U.S., it’s a junior trading partner at best. There’s lingering animosity on both sides from the wartime generation. If Japan becomes an economic powerhouse, it could spark backlash in both the States and Southeast Asia. We could serve as a bridge."
"I see how we could be a bridge to Southeast Asia," Rob said. "Japan could manufacture goods in Hawaii and stamp ‘Made in Hawaii’ on them and then sell them in markets they once occupied during the war. But I don’t see how we can be a bridge to the U.S. as long as LBJ is in power."
The room fell silent, except for the occasional slurp of soup. Rob broke the stillness by answering his own question. "Thank God LBJ won’t be in power forever. He’s halfway through his first term, so worst-case scenario, we’ve got him for another six years."
Ben nodded. "We’ll need those six years to build the bridge between Japan and Southeast Asia."
"You sound confident," Rob said, pressing him, "that we can reposition Hawaii to look west and trade with the East."
Ben paused, absorbing Rob’s wordplay. "Yes, I believe it’s possible. But it’s risky. We’d have to overhaul everything—diversify away from agriculture and tourism."
"Regardless of whether we break with the U.S.," Rob said, "we need to diversify. Michael and I had dinner with my brother last night, and he’s concerned about our dependence on American oil. He thinks our long-term solution is nuclear power. In the short run, he suggests importing oil from Indonesia and the Middle East."
"Prime Minister?" Alan asked. "Do you think the Johnson administration will cut off American oil?"
"Hard to say. But we should diversify anyway. Let’s reach out to our contacts in Indonesia, the Middle East, and the Soviet Union."
Lin Mei gasped. "The Soviets?"
Minister Goh gave her a disapproving look.
"That’s okay, Stephen," Rob said. "Fair question. While I want to tread very softly with the Soviets, I do want to explore potential trade options—particularly in oil."
"Isn’t that risky?" Ben asked.
"I’m just thinking out loud," Rob said. "If we refuse LBJ’s nukes, we’re free agents. That means we can build relationships with China and the Soviet Union without being beholden to U.S. interests."
"Risky," Stephen muttered, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say it. Minister Tanaka and the private secretaries kept poker faces.
"I know it’s risky," Rob admitted, "but no matter what we do, we’re taking a risk."
"How are we taking a risk by letting in the Enterprise?" Alan asked. It was his job to ask the questions his minister didn’t want to voice.
Rob paused, organizing his thoughts. "Alan, thank you for your question. Let me lay out the argument as clearly as I can. First, I strongly believe it would cause a constitutional crisis. The opposition could peel off enough Pacific Islanders to, if not take control of Parliament, at least make it impossible for the LDP to govern effectively.
“Second, it would lock in our economic dependence on the U.S. If we can’t manage the Republic, we won’t be able to diversify our economy. We’ll remain indentured pineapple and sugar growers for America.
“Third, we’d be reduced to nothing more than a cog in the U.S. war machine."
He let the points sink in before turning to Stephen. "What do you think?"
Stephen sighed. "I can’t argue with your points, Prime Minister. We’re damned if we do, we’re damned if we don’t."
"Then, Stephen, that makes our choice easy," Ben pointed out. "It’s better to die on our own two feet than on all fours as LBJ’s—what did you call us, Michael?"
"LBJ’s poodle."
"That’s it," Ben said. "Look, I come from a family of independent traders. We’re a scrappy lot. One thing I’ve learned the hardscrabble way is that people perform better when their lives depend on it. No big risk, no big gain."
Rob turned to Minister Goh. "Stephen?"
"My family’s in the laundry business. We’re used to doing the dirty work."
Just then, the owner’s wife knocked and swung the door open, backing in a trolley loaded with plates of roasted duck and rice. My favorite. The duck looked rich and tender, its skin crisp and glazed with sweet soy sauce. The steam rising from the rice mixed with the savory aroma of the duck made my stomach rumble.
I looked at the faces around the table. Rob leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable, but the sharp glint in his eyes told me he was already five steps ahead. Stephen, ever cautious, kept his features neutral, though the subtle tightening of his jaw betrayed his unease. Lin Mei’s lips were pressed into a firm line, her usual composed demeanor giving way to a flicker of apprehension. Ben, always the pragmatist, sat forward, fingers drumming lightly against the table, thinking, calculating. Alan, the most buttoned-up of the group, sat rigidly, posture impeccable, his hands neatly folded on the table, as if he were taking minutes in his mind.
I waited patiently for everyone to serve themselves from the Lazy Susan before piling more than my fair share onto my plate.
As I savored my first bites, Ben’s can-do attitude kicked into overdrive. “If we think of Hawaii as a company, each island becomes a department, each specializing in one industry. One island for manufacturing, one for energy, where Keller can build his nuclear plant. The Big Island would focus on agriculture. And we get the Japanese to help us build manufacturing facilities.”
Rob held his tongue. He didn’t tell Ben that I was already working on a proposal to turn Hawaii into "Islands of Profit."
“Now you’re talking, Ben!” Rob said.
“How do we finance it?” Lin Mei asked, so her boss wouldn’t have to be the wet blanket.
“Partnerships,” Ben answered. “Japanese companies will want in.”
“At least the ones run by your cousins,” Rob quipped. “Which is more than enough.”
Ben grinned. “True. But why stop there? We should invite the Americans and Soviets, too. A little competition will get us the best deals. One of the perks of being a free agent.”
“We’ll have to be careful,” Stephen cautioned. “Too much foreign ownership would be a disaster.”
“I agree,” Rob said. Then, turning to Ben: “Minister Tanaka, first thing when you get back to the Palace, establish an economic planning board. I want a long-term development strategy—with or without the U.S.”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”
“Also, figure out how we grow our population to six million. We can’t rely on your cousins forever.”
Ben nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“And one more thing—come up with a better name than 'department islands.' Something like 'Islands of Profit'—Energy Island, Manufacturing Island, one industry per major island, okay.”
Ben grinned ear to ear.
Rob turned to Stephen. “How do we finance this transformation?”
“Aloha Cap is our foundation, sir.”
“Starting a sovereign wealth fund was a brilliant idea, Stephen.”
“Not half as brilliant as putting Mrs. Goddard in charge of it.”
“She’ll do a great job, but she’ll need help from around this table raising capital. She’s already made key investments in companies like Tyba Energy and Hawaii Battery Company, but she also needs to fund the Republic’s strategic enterprises. We have to turbocharge the Hawaii Telephone Company, establish the Development Bank of Hawaii, et cetera, et cetera,” Rob waved his hand. “Make sure Sally is on the Economic Board. Figure out which Hawaiian companies Aloha Cap should invest in and control.”
“We also need to overhaul our corporate tax structure,” Stephen added. “The American system we adopted is anti-business. I’ve been thinking about this for awhile—we need a low corporate rate. No more than 16 percent.”
“Put it to the Economic Board,” Rob said. “And include a flat tax for individuals. I want our citizens to file their taxes on a single piece of paper—and I want the Inland Revenue Service to thank them for contributing to nation-building.”
“Very good, sir,” Stephen said, his earlier caution dissipating.
“Will LBJ’s tariffs hurt investment?” I asked Stephen.
“Not a problem. American and European banks only care about one color: green. As long as we convince them that Hawaii is the Pacific’s future and a solid investment—”
“I’ll convince them,” Rob interrupted.
Stephen smirked. “I figured as much. We should also tap the usual suspects—the World Bank, regional development banks—for infrastructure projects. Given our ties to Asia, there’ll be plenty of opportunities. Locally, we could implement a hotel room tax, raise airport fees, and even issue a tourist bond—call it the 'Paradise Bond.'”
“Like war bonds in the States,” Lin Mei added, her voice soft yet striking, like the flute-like song of an ‘Apapane.
“Interesting idea,” Rob said.
“We should also renegotiate the base agreements,” Stephen continued. “And consider a national development fund. If we’re feeling bold, we could set up a mandatory savings scheme, call it a retirement plan, and use the funds for social security and infrastructure. We could even issue sovereign bonds—”
Rob held up a hand, grinning. “I get it. Make sure you’re on Ben’s Economic Board. Michael, you represent me. And I’ll drum up business however, wherever, whenever you tell me. Also, bring Keller on board—he’ll add a civilian perspective.”
Stephen hesitated, then leaned forward. “One more thing, Prime Minister. What if we turned one of Ben’s Islands of Profit into Casino Island? The Chinese love to gamble. We could make a killing on taxes—the house always wins.”
Rob’s grin widened. “I like it. Put it to the Economic Board. We might have to limit locals. I don’t want a gambling addiction epidemic. But in principle, I like the idea. Good thinking.”
After the main course, Stephen’s cousin, the owner and chef, popped in to check on us, nodding in approval at the empty plates. His wife followed with one final dish: crispy shrimp and pork wontons, fried to golden perfection. Yum!
“These are for dessert,” she said, dropping them onto the Lazy Susan with a thud. “Something light to finish your meal.”
I bit into a wonton, the crunchy shell giving way to the rich filling. Simple, yet satisfying. The perfect end to the meal. As we ate, the owner’s wife made one last appearance, this time with a tray of Kona coffee, one of Hawaii’s finest exports from the slopes of Mauna Loa and Hualālai.
“The best coffee in the world,” Rob declared. “The Hawaii brand means something. It’s not just a label. We have incredible talent and potential here. But seven hundred thousand people aren’t enough. We need more workers, more educated people, and higher productivity if we’re going to restructure the economy. I don’t know the exact number, maybe 6 million, maybe five times that—but growing our population will come with problems. Some Hawaiians will be left behind. Ben, Japanese Hawaiians are our largest demographic. How will your constituents take the news?”
“They’ll embrace it,” Ben said confidently. “The Japanese are good workers. Not always leaders, but great followers and imitators. If we open the doors to Japanese immigrants, they’ll come. The Japanese Hawaiians have already paved the way.”
“If I may, Minister Tanaka,” Alan said, glancing at his boss for approval. Ben gave a slight nod. “Our ownership and managerial class have had generations since the Oahu Sugar Strike to absorb, indoctrinate, and integrate new Japanese immigrants. Some Japanese Americans might want to come here too.”
I knew from a crash course on Hawaii, that Rob had me take, that the 1920 Oahu Sugar Strike was a turning point for Japanese Hawaiians. It marked their transition from marginalized laborers to an influential constituency. After the strike, many moved beyond the plantations into agriculture, retail, and fishing, building successful businesses—grocery stores, farms, and more.
“What about the Chinese Hawaiian community?” Rob asked.
Stephen nodded. “As you know, we value hard work, family, and education. Integrating Chinese immigrants won’t be the issue. My concern is Pacific Islanders. If we do this right, the Chinese and Japanese populations will grow, while Pacific Islanders might struggle.”
Rob exhaled. “As the population increases, tensions will rise. We need to figure out how to give everyone a stake in Hawaii—even those without the skills for the new economy.”
He fell silent, lost in thought. Then his eyes lit up.
“Maybe we can kill two birds with one stone,” he said.
Everyone leaned in.
“Housing ownership,” he announced.
We stared blankly.
“Home ownership,” he clarified. “We need to build housing for the growing population—homes everyone can afford, no matter their job. Owning property gives people a stake in a stable economy.”
“I get that,” Stephen said. “But how would it work? Mandatory public housing? Subsidies?”
“I don’t know yet,” Rob admitted. “But we’ll figure it out.” He turned to Ben. “Housing is key to our economic strategy. Set up a subcommittee under your economic board. Put Keller in charge—no one knows property better than him.”
“Understood.”
With that, the meeting wrapped up. The ministers exchanged goodbyes, but I lingered by the kitchen door, trying to figure out how to approach Lin Mei. I rehearsed a few pleasantries in my head, something casual, maybe steering the conversation toward today’s meeting, nothing too forward.
Before I could make my move, Alan cut me off.
“We should catch up soon,” he said.
“Maybe the three of us,” I replied, trying to keep it smooth, but then I saw Stephen conferring with Lin Mei across the room. They glanced in my direction.
Lin Mei walked over. “Can I have a quick word? Alone?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I blurted, too eagerly. I winced inside.
We stepped outside toward the parking lot, where Stephen’s laundry van waited to drive Rob and me back. Lin Mei turned to me, her expression unreadable.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Is the prime minister worried about the Big Five? They have a lot to lose.”
I answered without thinking, distracted by her presence, caught up in my own bravado.
“It’s not going to be a problem. They’ll do what Rob tells them to do.”
She didn’t challenge me, didn’t press. But there was quiet disappointment in her eyes, and I could feel it—I wasn’t going to play ball and level with her about Rob’s real thinking.
I’d done my job. I hadn’t betrayed my boss’s confidence.
But I’d lost any chance with her.
When Rob and I squeezed into the cab of the Goh laundry van, he was pumped. “That went well,” he said, making sure Stephen’s son was listening, knowing he’d pass every word back to his father. “I’m impressed by everyone’s commitment and energy. We have a good shot at making Hawaii a global powerhouse.”
Next on the docket: Dinner at Rob and Sally’s.
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