Can Bowl-O-Drome be saved?

Yes, I know the property and structure (what's left of it) are owned by Bishop Estate. That doesn't mean there can't be a creative, inspiring vision. Here's my vision, and whether you find it lacking in any way is just fine by me.

1. Restore the building. That's right. Crumbling, aging and musty, the building is a true landmark that was a sidekick to the old Honolulu Stadium. Doubt me? I grew up a few blocks away and can't remember how many times I walked past (or through) Bowl-O-Drome on the way to Wigwam or the library. The building's design is a throwback that has retro lines and height that would be beautiful again, if only there could be a well-deserved facelift.

2. Why bother? Because Honolulu is losing more and more of its landmarks. Many of the structures that go back to statehood days, to a brighter time in our history -- an era with more aloha and trust -- are going down in the name of progress. I suggest that progress and history can co-exist and actually thrive together. I suggest that the building be spared and that any development be constructed above and/or around the building. A condo could easily be built above, taking an architectural cue from the existing design.

3. Turning the bowling alley into a center for physical activity -- for youth, elderly and everyone else in between -- would make the location a mecca once again. There are tremendous projects growing across the nation that tie old communities together again, and they do it with an accent on being green. Save part of the alley, maybe four lanes, and turn the rest into areas for indoor sports (volleyball and basketball), as well as yoga, Pilates, aerobics (you name it), as well as a blended space than can serve as a lobby and meeting area. The diner that was in Bowl-O-Drome can be resurrected, as well. Go for the gusto!

Preposterous? Sure. But I sense a longing in the community for more unity and peace, as opposed to concrete and isolation.

I wish there were an association or group that would work together to collaborate and build on ideas. I'd call it SOUL: South Oahu Urban League. There's so much I'd like to see done, but if we could just save one precious place for the future, that would be enough for me.

Thai curry and missing Al

Bangkok Chef is busy, busy, busy.

I pass the Nuuanu eatery almost daily now on my way to visit my mom, and the place is filled to the gills. Parking is so tight, more often than not I can't get my cherished chicken curry, so unique among curries because of that perfect blend of coconut milk, curry paste and basil. When parking at Bangkok Chef is impossible and their curry is inaccessible, that is a major letdown. Somehow, life goes on.

There was a time when Mr. Baseball, a.k.a. Greg Hornet, and Al and I would hit Keo's on King Street, next to the old Police Station, for curry, sticky rice and those awesome tapioca-banana-coconut milk desserts. Their curry ranged in heat from mild to medium to hot. I always got the mild. Hornet got the medium. Al, being the proud Korean that he was, always wanted hot. Then he'd pile on more chili sauce when the food arrived.

Al has been missing from our old circle for years now. Nobody knows where he is, or will admit to it, at least. Maybe he's in trouble. Maybe he likes going off into the great unknown. But having Thai curry tonight -- from Bangkok Chef (there was a single, sparse parking spot open) -- even three hours old and cold, brings back those old memories of tanking Heineken beers (circa 1988) with that spicy curry. It was the first time I ever liked Heineken, which is normally bitter, but makes for the best complement to Thai curry.

Here's hoping that one day old Al will have Thai curry with Mr. Baseball and I again. For now, solitude and Bass Ale -- instead of Heineken -- will have to do.

Wreck-oning Times

Does it just seem like a lot of classic spots are shutting their doors lately? Or is it reality? Let's take a look back at the past several months.

• Kam Bowl. Demolished entirely, even the entrance with the "triangle" structure. Walgreen's on the way.

• Masu's Massive Plate Lunch. Closed shop for good.

• McCully Chop Sui. Also closed shop, replaced by a furniture store. Bless the heart of the store owners. They want to keep the neon lights up. They know it's a landmark.

• McCully Fire Station. Located in Mo'ili'ili. Construction for a new fire station is underway.

And now, Varsity Theater, the landmark of all landmarks, nothing but a pile of rubble and asbestos dust. Just a matter of time before Stadium Bowl-O-Drome faces the wrecking ball. I still haven't gotten around to editing the final pics of the Varsity Theater destruction. Just lost the heart to do it last week, but I'll make myself do it now.

R.I.P. Varsity Theater (1938-2008)

I had hopes that the facade of Varsity Theater would be spared long before Bishop Estate announced two weeks ago that the 70-year-old landmark would be destroyed. This morning (Monday), as I returned home from downtown, I was in shock at seeing the facade being pummeled by a backhoe that somehow got onto the roof. As I looked in my rear-view mirror, the workers sprayed water onto the facade and the backhoe blasted away. The facade, which one announced titles like "ROCKY" to the Mo'ili'ili community, rocked up and down for a good minute before it finally smashed to the pavement. Within 15 minutes, the backhoe had sent me into a surreal state of shock. All of it was down, tattered, crumbled and twisted concrete and steel. Looking at it now, it was like they cut the off the head of a giant turtle, but its body -- the theater -- still stands.

Later in the day, a bank teller across the street asked how I was doing. "I feel sick," I said. "They just wrecked my favorite theater." The teller assured me that the owner of a restaurant across the street had saved the signage of the facade, as well as the ancient film projectors that used to sit near the curb. I wasn't assured, though. The facade and the theater will be replaced by a parking lot, and then later, student housing. All the mold and asbestos in the world will tumble down to make those developments happen. I just wish the facade could've been saved. Maybe it can be replicated one day.

The theater itself still stands, but will be demolished soon enough. That's when the finality will really be upon us, those of us who grew up in this great place and felt a deeply-rooted sense of loss as progress stomps on history and culture.

Rest in peace, Varsity Theater. Gone is Honolulu Stadium. Gone is Chunky's Drive-In. Soon to be gone is Stadium Bowl-O-Drome. The landmarks of my childhood, disappearing one by one.

See photos of the Varsity Theater's final night of operation on Ryan Ozawa's Flickr page.

45¢ gravy & rice @ Zippy's

During basketball season of 1979-80, I played for four teams at Boys Club of Honolulu. (Yeah, I know, it's called Boys and Girls Club of Honolulu now.) That meant tryouts were in November, and I played for the Panthers under Coach Dwight Sato. We practiced long hours under the sun on the asphalt courts of Washington Intermediate School.

Coach was tough on us, but we needed it, especially a skinny kid in the post like me. I ended up playing for teams under Coach Dwight in the Palama League, another league I can't remember, and then our all-star team that went to California. So we practiced from November until April. It was a long season, but it was the most fun I ever had playing organized hoops as a kid.

Most of us guys on the teams were broke. I gave up my paper route the summer before ninth grade, so every dime counted. That meant a lot of quick stops at Zippy's for Gravy and Rice. For 45¢, you got exactly that, in a small bowl. For us guys who were famished after practice, it was the best thing we could afford. I wonder if Zippy's still serves that.

Anyway, it was a nice snack, along with some tabasco over the top, before we got on the bus and headed home on the #1 bus going down King Street. I sure did a lot of running and walking back then. No wonder I was so skinny. And in shape. Even after we got off at the bus stop near Puck's Alley, it was another 15-minute walk to get home (Date Street). That's why most times, I went home right after school and came back in my basketball clothes ... riding my Roger DeCosta bike. It was kinda small for me by then, with my knees hitting the alloy handlebars most of the time.

I think of that basketball season and what it did for me, what it taught me about practice and persistence. I wasn't that talented, but I willed myself to get better. I listened to Coach Dwight. I worked my ass off. And I ate my share of gravy and rice.

Fire Station, pepah route and 25¢ soda machine

Aw man, I can't believe they knocked down the Fire Station. The official name was McCully-Mo'ili'ili Fire Station, and it was a broad structure that covered a wide space on the corner of University Ave and Date Street, it was an oasis of sorts. Lots of grass. Lots of space in the back, where the firefighters stayed in shape by playing volleyball. (That big net was up at least once a week.)

There, in the back, is where Mr. Wong came to drop off newspapers for us guys who had paper routes. My route began across the street, on Date, and included Terrace Towers and a bunch of apartment buildings and cottages behind Terrace on Kamoku Street. It was only to 60 to 65 papers, but it was spread out and took more time than a similar number of papers in the condos like Ala Wai Plaza.

I "inherited" the route from Vonn Rasmussen, who was a cool guy. His family lived in Terrace Towers, and he had the route wired. He could reach the fourth floor with a fling. I couldn't do it, even in eighth grade and throwing the skinny Saturday paper. The railing always blocked me, and after five, six, seven tries, my newspaper was all hemmajag. The route wasn't easy when there was basketball and baseball practice right after delivery, and then bill collection after practice. It's no wonder my grades hit the skids that year. I did meet a lot of cool customers and even cooler stray cats, though.

But meeting at the Fire Station was always cool. There were about eight or 10 other carriers there, including one my best friends growing up, JJ. One of the best things about the wait was the soda machine. It was over behind the kitchen, and that old machine cranked out sodas at just 25¢ each. One of the old Ala Wai gang, Peter, remembers that RC Cola came out of that machine. I just remember the Diamond Head sodas. Grape. Orange. Good stuff and most importantly, cheap.

I wonder where that machine is. I can't imagine where it could be now. The image of the Fire Station, the back area and the soda machine are ingrained in my brain. Somehow, an ice cold 25¢ Diamond Head grape soda tasted so much better in 1978 than anything possibly could now.

Epilogue: No more fretting by me. The old fire station will be replaced by a new $4.5 million fire station.

25¢ hot dog at Kapiolani Bakery (circa 1978)

What's the big deal about a 25-cent hot dog? It's a huge deal if you're 13 years old, have only 50 cents in your pocket and have a major appetite after riding your Roger DeCosta motorcross bike around town with your friends.

Kapiolani Bakery used to have a location on Piikoi and South King Streets, now occupied by Golden Duck Chinese restaurant. On one end was the bakery entrance. On the other, a hot dog stand. We couldn't understand how or why they'd sell hot dogs so cheaply. Even back in 1978, that was really cheap. We never asked why, though. We just bought one, two, even three or four hot dogs and satisfied our hunger. Looking back, my guess is that they tried to use hot dogs as as lure to bring in families. I know just about every time we stopped there for hot dogs, there were always other people around. Old folks, young people, all kinds, just enjoying the cheap, tasty hot dogs.

The bakery has been long gone from that location, though I think they still have one up at Aiea Shopping Center. I might stop there sometime just to see if they have the same offer nearly 30 years later. Mustard. Ketchup. Relish. That's all I need to enjoy my hot dog. I prefer the dog to be grilled, but for 25¢, who's gonna be picky?