Posted on: Thursday, December 16, 2004

Nashville Waikiki is home away from home for many

From left: Andy Cottrill, a retired Navy foreman; Carin Thompson, a reservist medic; William "Wolfman" Gass, a retired Air Force staff sergeant; Linda Hijirida; Sheri Zoellner, whose husband, Staff Sgt. Joseph Zoellner, is in Iraq, and Capt. Darwin Williams embrace. Rebecca Breyer • The Honolulu Advertiser

By Krisha Chachra
Special to The Advertiser

Stepping into Nashville Waikiki on Kuhio Avenue means you've entered the watering hole of some outspoken Americans — many of them Mainland transplants — who come here to strap on their boots, knock back a few beers and sing country tunes until the sun comes up. The darkened, underground saloon is a place for those who appreciate neighborly friendliness, music, dancing and swapping war stories.

Some of the "military cowboys" who frequent the bar have served in Afghanistan or Iraq, Desert Storm and Vietnam. They are, or once were, stationed here and have chosen to make the best of their new Island home. And for many, the crowd at Nashville Waikiki is their extended family.

"There are guys that have been coming here for 10 years," says William Gass, the bar's unofficial hospitality coordinator. "Our family has changed a lot in the last four years. People move, get married, get deployed or don't need the level of support that they once needed from all of us here. That's life, and life changes, but they know that we'll always be there for them."

All the regulars know Gass as Wolfman. Wolfman served 12 years in the Air Force during the Vietnam era and is a member of the Vietnam Vets/Legacy Vets Motorcycle Club. When he's not working the crowd, he deals a mean hand of blackjack (for entertainment purposes only, of course) at the bar on Wednesday and Thursday nights. With his trademark biker garb and sunglasses masking his eyes even after midnight, any newcomer, at first, would be intimidated. But sincere interest is reflected in that disarming smile and the confident welcome in his voice makes you realize that he is one of the establishment's patriarchs.

"I think newcomers who come to check out this place are just amazed at how comfortable they feel. It's a home away from home for many, and it is shocking that this little oasis exists for all of us right here in the heart of Waikiki," he says.

"The military crowd here comes from every small town on the Mainland," explains Chief Petty Officer Michael Rogers, a native of Idaho who has served in the Navy for 22 years. "Everyone in here shares old-fashioned home values, family, friends and a deep bond that is not broken no matter what."

Rogers knows what he's talking about when he says the Nashville crowd is like family; he met his new bride there New Years Eve one year ago.

"I saw Brenda standing there with this bald guy, and I couldn't take my eyes off her so I went over to the gentleman and I said, 'Mind if I dance with the young lady?' He looked at me and said, 'This ain't just some young lady, this is my sister!' We got married this November, after I got back from my 16th tour."

Rogers' wife, Brenda Kennedy-Rogers, is a widow of a Vietnam veteran. She came to Hawai'i six years ago from what she calls the "cowboy capital of the world — Oakdale, Calif."

Both agree it is the music that brings the military bunch together at this bar.

"When you are serving overseas, you feel so disconnected and isolated from your home," Rogers recalls. "I remember the troops would fight over the newspaper stuffing that our gifts from home would be wrapped in, just because we wanted to know what was going on in the world. When you come in, however, the music and the lyrics connect everyone to whatever experience they had while serving, whether it be with the Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines."

Nashville's DJ Adam Hijirida can understand that. He's been spinning country tunes for four years, summoning every Southerner to slide and step their way in a line or circle around on the dance floor.

"We have people from all over the world — we have locals, military and tourists that come in here for the friendly atmosphere where the staff knows your name. What everyone can relate to, however, is the music," Hijirida says. He explains that locals love Nashville's tunes because Hawaiian music and country music have many melodic similarities, and both genres use lyrics that address everyday topics like heartbreak and love.

"I try to play more upbeat country, not the tear-in-your-beer type," he says.

But two years ago Hijirida and Wolfman heard a tune that got them right under the ribs.

Country super-band Montgomery Gentry's song "Didn't I" comes from the perspective of a Vietnam veteran who returned to a home that didn't appreciate his sacrifices. In the video, set in a national cemetery in California, aging veterans hold up pictures of themselves when they were young soldiers. Equally as moving, members of the Vietnam Vet/Legacy Vets Motorcycle Club stand over a solitary grave, link arms and embrace in remembrance of a their fallen brother.

Hijirida started playing the song and the video on the bar's big screen, to salute Wolfman and the other vets. When Wolfman asked his fellow club members to join him in front of the screen and link arms mirroring the images in the video, a tradition unique to Nashville Waikiki was born.

"At first, it was just the brothers and me linking arms to commemorate our lost soldiers, but now we like to invite anyone who is serving or has served, along with those that support the military and anyone else who would like to remember someone special," Hijirida says.

The gesture is a powerful one. In a lively atmosphere of loud stories, hearty laughter and bottles clicking in spontaneous toasts, everyone notices those who stand up and walk towards the screen.

As the music plays, they stand together, their faces turning serious, and they embrace in remembrance of fallen heroes. With cowboy hats off and heads bowed, they sway to the music.

"Every time we hear that song and walk onto the dance floor, it gets harder and harder. ... We know all too well that not everyone will come back," Wolfman says. "There are a few young military guys that see us and don't want to embrace with us, out of respect for what we've endured. Later they'll shake our hands and thank us for our service, but I tell them, 'Hey, you're doing the same thing for us now.' "

You don't need to be part of the military service to be part of the family. Dan Jazs, who has lived in Hawai'i seven years, dates a Nashville bartender who is originally from South Dakota. "It feels like home and is a country paradise," Jazs says. "You can walk off the busy city street and fall into a good-old-boy bar."

Jazs is not in the military, but his father served in Vietnam. He says whether the war was right or wrong, the tradition Wolfman and Hijirida have started has nothing to do with politics. "People here were raised by the Vietnam generation; they play this song out of respect, nothing else."

Wolfman agrees, "Everybody is affected by war. The repercussions of the loss of even one person ripple out to affect so many others within the community in different ways. We see it every day, and the same situations are continuing — it's like déjà vu. ... Our tradition at Nashville is about respecting the sacrifices people make out there. When you're in the foxhole, you're not thinking about why you are there and who you are fighting for, you're only thinking about keeping yourself and the buddy next to you alive."

There are people who have stepped into that bar and who have been shipped off to war, never to return. But while Nashville's military patrons await their orders, they learn a few new moves (DJ Adam Hijirida's mother, "Line Dancin' Linda" Hijirida, teaches line dancing at 6:30 every Wednesday), join the pool tournament or play blackjack (10 p.m. Sunday through Thursday). Whatever they do, it involves old friends and making new ones.

For Justin Malmberg, a 24-year-old Navy man from Nebraska, it's all about brotherhood. "I was on a submarine, and when I got back here, these were the guys I could talk story with," he said. "I love this bar — it even sponsors my military rugby league, the Hawaiian Harlequins. I left parents and a sister back on the Mainland, but this is my home now."

So the next time you strut into Nashville, listen for Wolfman, who applies the traditional greeting used to salute Vietnam veterans when they returned from war, "Welcome home."

Krisha Chachra teaches communications at Hawai'i Pacific University.