The Cowboy Way
(originally published in City on
a Hill Press on April 30, 1998)
Jimmy Aquino
Arts Desk Editor
Luther Kahekili Makekau: A One Kine
Hawaiian Man, Honolulu musician/filmmaker
Eddie Kamae's 1997 documentary about a wild, cantankerous Hawaiian
philosopher/cowboy/singer, is both an entertaining, enlightening
tale of a Renaissance man and a fascinating story of turbulent
cultural change in Hawaii. Luther Makekau (1890-1988) grew up
during a time when the language and ways of an older, more traditional
Hawaiian culture were disappearing. This culture lived on in Luther,
who was descended from a long line of warrior-chiefs and named
for Chief Kahekili-nui-'ahuimanu, the father of Kamehameha the
Great.
A man "born a century too late,"
Luther was a prankster-rebel often seen with his best friend —
his trusty horse — and he was known for sometimes riding
into town butt-naked. The warrior-cowboy also had his cerebral
side too; he was an expert on many subjects, particularly the
lore of Hawaiian herbs and healing plants. A UC Berkeley law-school
dropout and the son of a judge, Luther occasionally practiced
as a lawyer. According to one interviewee in the film, Luther
knew a lot about the law even though he was often on the other
side of it.
Luther Kahekili Makekau, an acclaimed entry in the 1997 Hawaiian International
Film Festival and the latest in the Asian Pacific Foundation of
Hawaii's "Hawaiian Legacy" series of films about Hawaiian
culture, was also produced by Kamae's wife Myrna and written by
Santa Cruz writer James D. Houston. It recently made its West
Coast premiere as the opening-night selection for Santa Cruz's
annual Pacific Rim Film Festival. City on a Hill Press
talked to both Kamae, who also appears in the film, and "Bradda
Smitty" Smith, a fellow musician who, in the movie, tells
a hilarious story about Luther's unique pig-rustling methods (he
would get the pigs drunk). Kamae and Bradda Smitty came to Santa
Cruz to perform songs and discuss the film at the Del Mar Theatre:
City on a Hill Press: How did the documentary about Luther Kahekili
Makekau come about?
Eddie Kamae:
Well, I was working with [Sam Li'a Kalanaina,] one of my teachers
in the Waipi'o Valley, and I wanted to find out about his work
and what inspires him to write his beautiful songs and poetry.
While working with him, he passed away, and so I decided to tell
his story. I went around looking for people who know about his
lifestyle and their lifestyle — old-timers. I found a Japanese
man first, but he died two months later. Then I searched for 10
years to find Luther. When I found him, I figured, "Well,
I've finally met someone who knows of my teacher." He told
me, "I sang falsetto and I was the lead singer in Sam Li'a's
group." I said, "Can I talk to you about it?" He
said, "Sure." So I got him on tape for my first documentary
film [Li'a: The Legacy of a Hawaiian Man].
When I found him for the first time,
all I heard was this raspy voice in the house [Imitates Luther]:
"Hey, there's somebody in the front!" I knew I found
him. It took me 10 years to find him. When I entered his house,
his nephew said, "Come in," and when I looked at this
man, I said, "Boy, he looks great!" He was in his late
80s. I said, "I'm doing this story on Sam Li'a." I showed
him a photograph taken in 1904, and he looked at the photograph
and named everybody in that photo. That's when I knew I was on
my way to finishing my first film.
When I finished it — he was proud
of the film — I showed him the finished product, and he said,
"You're not finished." I said, "You're looking
at the finished product." He said, "Now you do mine."
Old-timers are that way. They don't beat around the bush. They
just tell you, "Do mine now." That's how I got to this
story of Luther.
CHP: Can
you tell me about what happened shortly after you met Luther?
EK:
[The movie includes interviews with Luther.] What happened was
that when I promised him I'd do his story, three days later, he
passed away. So I started going out to locations, finding people
who knew of him and his lifestyle. I found a lot of people out
in the countryside and at a family reunion, which was how I got
to piece this whole story together. The reunion played a big part
because I had found someone close to him. The funny thing is we
finish it and show it, and people are still talking about him.
He died in 1988, and they're still talking about him and laughing
about him. I don't think anyone in Hawaii today would leave that
kind of a lasting imprint on the people's minds. Whenever they
mention the name "Luther," they start laughing, smile
at you, and tell a story. There's no end to this man's story.
I'm not going to do Part 2, but I can just imagine people will
always talk about him. What's so interesting about this man is
he lived his life to the fullest. Nobody swayed him in any way.
He was out there doing what he wanted to do. I love the way he
did things. He loved animals. When he was a young boy, he took
care of his stable. He got attached to horses and animals. His
best friend was his horse. He didn't want to follow in his father's
footsteps. His father was a judge and a politician. He just wanted
to be a cowboy. That's all he wanted to be. His idol was —
who's this handsome fella in the movies?
Bradda Smitty:
Rudolph Valentino.
EK:
Rudolph Valentino was his idol. What's more interesting about
this story is he had 59 kids.
CHP:
That's fruitful.
EK: Yes.
Valentino was his idol. He was well-versed on any subject. He
was a knowledgeable guy who just wanted to be a cowboy and just
wanted to sleep by the oceanside with his horse, [as well as]
drink and have a good time.
CHP:
How many years did it take to make the documentary? You said it
took you 10 years to finally meet Luther.
EK:
I'd say it took two years, interviewing and finding people.
CHP:
[Turns to Bradda Smitty] How involved were you in the film?
BS:
I worked on some of the stories [about Luther in the film]. A
very interesting man. If you had a chance to meet somebody who
was unique and free-spirited in any part of the world, this guy
was a good example. That's how he was. He was Hawaiian, ornery,
funny, kind, gentle, a lot of stuff. Like Eddie was saying, he
lived his life the way he wanted to live it.
I shared a lot of special moments with Luther Makekau.
[Kamae laughs] He was quite the character. He was a funny guy. You'd be surprised
about how knowledgeable this guy was. His knowledge expanded in different directions.
He knew a little bit about the law, the land, the ocean, life, animals, anything
you'd talk with him about. He used to live out on the beach. All these people
that lived around the area where he lived would all come down there, sit around
the campfire, smoke pakalolo [Hawaiian weed], tell stories, and he's
share with them his mana'o [wisdom], his feelings about them, and his
knowledge about things, Hawaiian and non-Hawaiian. I spent a lot of time with
Luther. So has a lot of people back home. What a guy. If you met him, you'd
like him too. You'd make a movie about him. [Laughs] He was that kind of a guy.
He could talk to anybody. He could convince anybody to do stuff for him. He
was a rascally guy. He was a musician, singer and lover. He took "Be fruitful
and multiply" literally.
CHP:
[Turns to Kamae] Can you tell me about when Luther was kicked
out of the island?
EK:
He was booted out of the island because he caused a lot of problems
with people's wives. A judge said, "Out of the islands."
His father was a judge too. I talked with a retired policeman,
and he told me, "I knew his father. He was a judge, but it
wasn't his father that pulled him off the island. It was [another
judge.]" He was messing around with everybody's wives, but
you can't blame him because he was a handsome guy, and all the
women fell in love with him. I don't think any movie actor in
Hollywood had 59 kids, right? That's a story itself.
When I went to see him in the hospital
because he wanted me to do his story, he said, "Do it."
So the next day, I go back to the hospital and see the administrator
because I wanted to film him there. I can't take him out; I'd
be responsible [for him]. So on the grounds of the hospital, I
would film him there. I told him I'd be back to bring my crew
and get things going. But the next day, I went to see the adminstrator
because I needed permission. When the administrator said, "Bring
him down," they brought him down on a wheelchair. Here's
this guy; he's 90. I issued the agreement he needed to fill out
in order for me to do his story so I won't have any problems.
I said, "The administrator wants me to sign that agreement
with them so I don't film any other patients in the hospital."
Luther said, "Give it to me." Here's this guy in his
90s — 98 — and with no glasses. I just gave him the
release form, he turned the page, he said, "Give me a pen,"
I gave him my pen, he signed it, and he turned to the administrator
and he said, "You. Sign right here." Then I finally
realized this patient was just a small-boned guy. The nurse even
realized it, and he had the nurse sign it too. It was a different
picture of him right there. But he died three days later. So the
footage of Luther I used [in the film] was from the first interview.
Then I used other people to fill up [the rest of the documentary].
I'm glad I got him.
CHP:
What have been the responses to the film from his descendants,
his family?
EK:
They all loved the idea. They all came [to the screening in Hawaii,]
went up on the stage and talked about him. They were proud of
him.
Now everybody wishes to hear his story
because he was the only man who would ride his horse in town.
Whenever he wanted to take a vacation — in other words, whenever
he wanted to go to a hospital or jail and get three meals a day
— he'd just hop on his horse, talk to his horse in the Hawaiian
language, go out in the middle of the road and lie down. So the
cars go around him, and [the drivers] call the cops. They haul
him to the hoosegow, he gets three meals a day, he relaxes, and
three days later, they let him go. Here, he gets three meals a
day and relaxing — that's what he wants to do. Finally, the
cops got wise to that, and they wouldn't haul him in anymore.
So they called the hospital, and he's up in the hospital, having
a vacation again — three meals a day — and he walks
out three days later. That's how he lived. Isn't it interesting?
CHP:
How have critics reacted in Hawaii?
EK:
Everybody wishes they could be like him. He had 59 kids. They
wish they could be like him because he was free. He'd go to court,
he'd defend himself and he'd win. The people would cheer him.
He was free.
CHP:
Has your film been shown in schools?
EK:
[Education] is the main purpose for why I do documentary films.
But I don't think I'll show this one to students. It's a bad influence.
We don't want kids out there having 59 kids and starting another
— now what would it start, Smitty?
BS:
Another boom. [Everyone laughs]
© 2003 Jim Aquino