It is nothing but grassland. If I didn't know better, I'd swear we were on the Serengeti plain. I wouldn't be surprised to see a gazelle or zebra suddenly appeared. It is not until we round a corner that I see the tell-tale lines of old red-dirt roadways crisscrossing the grasslands, disclosing that they previously were vast pineapple fields.
In fact, the last time I visited Lanai, I drove through these very fields and talked to some of the people who made their living twisting the spiny fruit from the treacherous plants. It was hot, dirty, dangerous work.
At that time, Lanai was still the Pineapple Isle. Only the 10-room wooden Hotel Lanai provided visitor accommodations. Our stay was glorious. My wife and I drove out into the pineapple fields one night and sat on the hood of our rental car drinking champagne out of Styrofoam cups. We heard a rustling in the darkness. A deer? A herd of wild pigs? No, it was only the sound of the champagne bubbles popping in the cups. That's how quiet Lanai was back then.
But King Pineapple was dethroned by the economy. And David Murdock, who owns nearly all of Lanai, decided to convert the island to world-class tourist destination. After nine years, I am back to see what kind of an island Lanai has become with its stately Koele Lodge near Lanai City and the Manele Bay Hotel on the island's dry south shore.
I naively expected to find disgruntled Lanai residents, still upset with Czar Murdock's unilateral island makeover. Instead, every man and woman working around the hotels with whom I spoke to expressed contentment. Their main complaint was that they had not been consulted about the change. But from the former truck driver who now does hotel maintenance to a woman pineapple picker who now does housekeeping, employees said they are better off now than before.
I have to admit that I miss the pastoral scene of field workers toiling away while I sat on the quiet lanai of the old wooden hotel. But who am I to say that Lanai should have been kept in a state of suspended animation, and workers tied down to exhausting lives of hard labor, just so that when I visited every few years, I could have the selfish pleasure of enjoying an island untouched by time?
A bartender who grew up on Lanai told me that there has been an unexpected positive side to the hotel development. The children of traditional field-working families don't have to leave the island to break the cycle of manual labor. There are summer jobs that offer good pay and a chance to learn the travel industry at two of the premiere hotel training grounds in the world.
So, is Lanai better or worse off for the change? It's neither. It's just different. I think Murdock will be hard-pressed to actually make money on his development unless the world economy improves. But Lanai continues to have a special feeling, a slower pace that appeals to Hawaii residents. Life on the island is definitely is not a democracy. With its rolling hills and seemingly content populace, all working in one aspect or another of Murdock's vision, the feeling is more of one of a benevolent monarchy.
What's next for Lanai? Considering the plight of many homeless Hawaiians, including those hunkered down on Makua Beach, I think Murdock could score some goodwill points by allowing some Hawaiians to develop a traditional seashore village on Lanai. That's more than the Hawaiian Homes Commission is willing to do. And such a village would remind visitors that even before it became the Pineapple Isle, Lanai was a Hawaiian Isle.
