By Raymond Nosaka
After having served in the Army with the 100th Infantry Battalion from Pearl Harbor, to North Africa and into Italy, I was discharged in 1945. My "katonk" wife joined me in Honolulu and we proceeded to find housing.
It was then almost impossible to find an affordable house to rent or lease, so we applied with the Hawai‘i Housing Authority for temporary accommodations. Shortly after, we were happy to be notified that our application was accepted for a one-bedroom unit in the Manoa War Homes. (Later the name was changed to Manoa Housing.)
We found that our unit was only one among 1,000 other one- and two-bedroom apartments in the cool, rainy Manoa Valley. Our neighbors were a mixture of all races, and of all occupations and professions: Some were teachers, attorneys, firemen, politicians, entertainers and all other occupations. We were all starting out with our careers and families, and so were grateful that we needed only to pay $35 a month for rent. But in those days, $35 was $35!
The iceman would deliver 25 pound blocks of ice every two or three days. One of the chores I had was to lug the ice from the porch into the icebox and to empty the ice pan every day, or else the kitchen floor would be flooded.
One of the happiest days of my life was when we finally received our refrigerator, which meant that I would no longer have to empty the ice pan.
Another chore we dealt with was doing the laundry by hand. I believe the women took pride in hanging their hand-scrubbed gleaming white sheets, towels, diapers, etc., on the clotheslines in front of each unit. But how grateful we all were when we could afford to purchase a washing machine to ease the back pains.
One of the fondest memories my wife has of living in Manoa Housing is going out to the grocery wagon every day to buy bread or whatever was necessary. At the sound of the horn, all of the housewives, and sometimes the husbands, would go out to the wagon to make their purchases.
Some were dressed in shorts or mu‘umu‘u, hair in curlers, no makeup. They would come out just as they were in the house, and nobody noticed or cared.
Today, going to the supermarket is a different experience.
When we look back to those days now, it was actually a learning experience. All of the ladies would stand around the wagon and discuss the meats, vegetables and other items, and would learn how to cook or how to economize.
As the community grew, Manoa Housing Elementary School was constructed, and a Well Baby Clinic was established and serviced by Dr. Richard Yamane. A hall served as a gym and indoor/outdoor sports were offered to the children, with John Kauhi and George McCarty as judo instructors, Eddie Silva as boxing coach and myself as part-time recreation director. The girls’ volleyball team with coach Bill Koahou became the Housing League champions one year.
Because we kept the children busy and active in sports, I feel that that contributed to the low crime rate in our community. We even had a weekly column, "Browsing the Manoa Housing," in the Star-Bulletin, which I wrote. It kept the public informed of all the vital statistics and of all the activities going on in our community.
As the months and years went by, the names of residents continually changed as this was considered temporary housing. As soon as new homes were available, at affordable prices, the tenants moved out of Manoa Housing and into their permanent homes. I often wonder what happened to our once close neighbors and where they are now living. I guess it’s true that life goes on, no matter what.
Raymond Nosaka is a retired federal and state employee and lives in Kaimuki.
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