Hawaii - James Michener [602]
Later, as Carter climbed out of the car to enjoy the glorious Pali, he found Tom Kahuikahela at his elbow, whispering, "It's to men like you, Congressman, that all of us look for the salvation of Hawaii."
"What do you mean?" Carter asked.
"Don't give us statehood, Congressman. Please." The robust Hawaiian begged.
"I thought everybody was for statehood," Carter gasped.
"Oh, no! The Hawaiians tremble for fear you'll give us statehood."
"Why?" Carter asked.
"The day we become a state, the Japanese will capture the islands."
For the rest of that day an appalled Congressman Carter listened as his driver told him the truth about Hawaii: how the local Japanese had plotted to destroy Pearl Harbor; how they were trying to marry all the Hawaiian girls so as to destroy the race; how they craftily bought all the land; how they controlled the stores and refused to extend credit to Hawaiians; how the young Japanese lawyers were planning to steal control of the islands; how truly desperate things were. "The only thing that saves us, sir, are the appointed governor and the judges."
Several times Carter interrupted. "I thought it was the Chinese who owned the land," he suggested.
"They buy it only for the sly Japanese," the driver assured him.
"It looked to me as if Black Jim McLafferty was the head of the Democratic Party here, but you say the Japanese . . ."
"They're using him for a front man . . . just for a while . . . then they take over."
"But why doesn't a man like Hoxworth Hale . . . Now surely, he must know everything you've told me. Why hasn't he told me these things?"
"He's scared to," the driver whispered ominously. "Everybody's scared of what's happening, and that's why we have to depend on good men like you to save us."
"Do all Hawaiians feel this way?" Carter asked.
"Every one," Tom Kahuikahela replied. "We dread statehood."
But Congressman Carter had not stayed on top of Texas politics for twenty-four years by being a fool, and he knew that you often found out what a man was really talking about only when he was done with his main pitch and had relaxed. Then you could sometimes slip in a fast question and dislodge the truth, so that it came tumbling out, and now Carter probed: "Just what kind of government would you like to see in the islands, Tom?"
"Well I'll tell you, sir!" the big man replied, adding a dimension beyond what his employers, Janders and Hale, had paid for. "What I'm working for is the return of the monarchy."
"What did you have in mind?" Carter asked in a confidential manner.
"Well, I'd like to see a king back on the throne, with a Hawaiian senate and the old nobles sort of running things. The big laws could be made in Washington, because we don't really need a legislature with a lot of lawyers arguing all the time. And the king would give big parties and the palace would be restored."
"Where would the United States come in?" Carter asked, and to his surprise Tom had a good answer.
"Well, like I said, we'd want you to pass the big laws, and coin our money for us, and you'd control all of our foreign policy. Our secretary of state would be appointed by your President, with approval of your Senate."
"You say my President. Isn't he yours, too?"
"To tell the truth, sir, he isn't. My family boycotted the annexation. We keep a Hawaiian flag at home. We pray for the day when the alii come back."
"Were your family alii?" Carter asked.
"Yes, sir," Tom replied.
And Carter muttered, "I think I'm beginning to understand Hawaii."
The average people of the islands had a pretty shrewd idea of what occurred when congressmen were driven around Oahu, and they called this gambit "government by taxi driver," but they respected the device as the most effective lobby in Hawaii, But on this day a Democratic spy at a filling station phoned Black Jim McLafferty and reported: "They've got Congressman Carter going around the island today. Giving him the taxi-driver needle."
McLafferty slammed down the phone and stared at his partner. "Shig," he confided, "they're giving our