A Singular Woman - Janny Scott [34]
In that climate, international students were a source of fascination. They were invited to speak in schools, march in the Aloha Week parade, share Thanksgiving dinner with Duke Kahanamoku. Bill Collier, a veterinarian’s son from a family of Indiana farmers, who would later work with Ann in Indonesia, had discovered the University of Hawai‘i in the late 1950s in a magazine in a library in Huron, South Dakota. He was in his third year at the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology at the time and had exhausted his interest in surveying and math. Look magazine published a photo spread of the multiethnic beauty queens at the University of Hawai‘i. “What the hell?” Collier thought. “I’m going.” He enrolled as an undergraduate, studied Indonesian, and became vice president of the international students’ association and eventually an East-West Center grantee. He spent his study tour in Thailand, Malaysia, and British Borneo, married a Chinese woman, and moved to Indonesia in 1968. “I was fascinated by all kinds of different nationalities,” he told me when I met him in Jakarta in January 2009. “I even participated in this beauty-queen contest. They have a big dance afterward, they’re all in different costumes. I must have been dressed as a haole and been square-dancing.”
Many years later, after Ann’s death, her family and friends would choose the Japanese garden at the East-West Center for a memorial service celebrating her life. Laid out in 1963 on a sloping stretch of land behind Jefferson Hall and in the shadow of Wa‘ahila Ridge, the garden was intended to provide a window into Japanese culture. Like nearly everything at the center, it was a joint project—conceived by a vice chancellor, paid for by Japanese corporations and individuals, designed by a landscape architect in Tokyo, and constructed by a nursery and landscaping firm in Honolulu. There were lawns, privet hedges, paths, steps, much of it under a canopy of monkeypod trees. A stream, diverted from a Mānoa stream, wound through the garden’s three levels. Formosan koa, strawberry guava, mondo, yeddo hawthorn, red bottlebrush, walking iris, juniper, and rose-flowered jatropha graced the garden, along with a coral shower tree planted by the Japanese crown prince. The stream was said to represent a river, a Japanese symbol of life—beginning in turmoil, steadying through adulthood, slowing to “a tranquil and majestic old age.” Benji Bennington told me that the crown prince stocked the stream with dozens of koi, which were kept from disappearing downstream by a pair of underwater gates. Dropped into