Makiki man says backyard trapeze will swing his luck

By Mike Gordon
Advertiser Staff Writer

Pete Hernandez has a dream and if it wasn't already taller than the freeway behind his Makiki home, you'd think he was crazy. And yet, there it stands, one slightly used circus trapeze soaring 40 feet above some very hard ground.

Pete Hernandez hopes his trapeze, 40 feet above the ground, will not only transform those who try it out but also put his own hard-luck life on a happier path. Richard Ambo • The Honolulu Advertiser

This will bring his children closer to him so they can learn more about their family's circus roots. This will be the start of Hawai'i's first resident circus. This will be the one true thing that draws countless tourists to the lucky Waikiki hotel that hires him.

In his vision, Hernandez will be the "catcher," the person who hangs upside down from bent legs, arms outstretched, to grasp the "flier."

"There are times in midair when it appears you are flying," he says, his neck craning back in order to see the rigging above him.

"It's beautiful."

Hernandez can see this in his mind as easily as he can see the H-1 Freeway that stands so close to his home, he can feel the ground shake when trucks pass overhead.

Hernandez bought the trapeze about a year ago from Hawaiian Waters Adventure Park, which had briefly offered paying customers a chance to try the rig before selling it to make way for another water slide.

Although he had tried the trapeze at the park, he had no idea how to build it, or even if he could.

"When I bought it, it was a pile of pipes," he says.

He also had limited experience as a trapeze artist. Most of his time flying through the air, with or without the greatest of ease, was decades ago when he was growing up in Brooklyn, N.Y.

His aunts and uncles had formed the Hernandez Acrobatic Act that traveled with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus.

He had a brother and sister in the act. They didn't use a trapeze, but whenever Hernandez saw them, they found a way to get him onto one.

"It was a childhood fantasy. Still is," he says. "If I could have gotten in with an aerial act, I would have gotten into it."

Instead, he began a career as a musician when he was 18. A touring gig and $250 a week.

A few years later, in 1977, he moved to Hawai'i and established himself on the local music scene with a doo-wop group called The Love Notes.

His resume kept expanding, but it had nothing to do with the circus. He sold temporary tattoos, owned an Elvis Presley museum and promoted his youngest son as an Elvis impersonator.

He called himself "Dr. Doo-Wop" and still does. He dreamed big and life was good.

But things changed. The Love Notes have fewer gigs, the calls to perform backup music on albums do not come as often and a divorce has left him on the verge of bankruptcy.

His whole world now is shoehorned into a sagging home that is standing only because the termites have not let go of each other.

His belongings, nearly all of them Elvis-related — albums, posters, books, videos, cardboard cut-outs of the king — are shoved inside like five pounds in a four-pound sack.

In the yard outside his Makiki home, the change is painful to recount. The transformation takes the smile from his face until he looks at the trapeze.

Posters remind Pete Hernandez of his childhood days when his aunts and uncles would travel with Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey circus. Although a brother and sister of his who performed with the circus did not use a trapeze, they would devise ways to get him upon one. Richard Ambo • The Honolulu Advertiser

He can see his children soaring, tourists too. He can see "Circus Hawai'i," or maybe a school for circus arts. He can see signing up frustrated gymnasts and people with dogs that can jump backwards.

Hernandez couldn't afford this on his own, so an old friend, Helen Selner, helped him finance the project. The rig cost about $30,000 new.

She understood the magic of flying. She once ran a trampoline park in California.

"I think he's crazy," says Selner, an 87-year-old real estate agent who lives nearby. "I couldn't believe it when I looked at it."

But she loves the idea.

"He wants a little circus in Waikiki," she says. "He wants me to be a cashier down there."

It's a beautiful dream, she says. "I hope it works out."

Hernandez began building the trapeze two months ago. One of the men who worked on it at the water park helped him.

Its fits between the home and a concrete block wall without any extra room.

Fourteen feet wide, 75 feet long, 40 feet high.

Steel cables tie it to the house foundation, ropes hold it to trees and shiny new bolts were anchored into the wall. Each of the U-shaped sections weighs 250 pounds and the platform where people stand another 200 pounds.

"It's absolutely amazing the way it fits," he says. "I had a lot of doubts."

But this is only a temporary location, a place to learn everything he can about it, Hernandez says. A place where he can train and lose a few pounds. He taps his stomach, inhales hard.

"The catcher can be chunkier," he says. "It's the hands that have to have the power. My hands are extremely strong."

Four of his six children are living in Hawai'i, not far from his home. He wants them to fly on the trapeze, to grow up strong and healthy from using it.

"They're not sure if daddy's lost his marbles or what, but they're excited," he says.

Hernandez cranes his neck once more to see his creation.

"Up until now, I have fulfilled every childhood dream I ever had," he says.

The trapeze bar sways in the wind.

So far, he has only flown in his dreams. He still needs to install the safety net.