STYLE FILE
COURTESY GLADYS GOKA
Gladys Goka fits one of her clients with a brassiere in a photo taken in February 1939.
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Fashionable history
Bon Ton offered an air of luxury to budget shoppers who wanted stylish clothes
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The economy might have slowed, but the past has shown that even in the most difficult times, people retain a desire to look presentable, if not chic, and retailers will step in to meet customers' expectations.
Consider Bon Ton, which opened on Fort Street in the early 1930s, during the Great Depression. Unlike ritzy Liberty House, Bon Ton was opened at the corner of Fort and Pauahi streets by Kyoichi Nakano to outfit former plantation workers in moderately priced, off-season designs suitable for working in downtown Honolulu, the center of business and commerce on Oahu.
Gladys Goka, a saleswoman -- or Bon Ton Girl -- remembers that party dresses cost $1.99, while clothing for boys and girls sold for 35 cents. The store also carried wedding gowns, hats, dresses, shirts, pants, shoes and kimonos, which served as daily street wear until the bombing of Pearl Harbor.
COURTESY GLADYS GOKA
In addition to the sales jobs, the Bon Ton Girls were frequently called upon to model the latest fashions from the store.
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The store carried the Dionne Quintuplets line of clothing, an early example of branding that started with the 1934 birth of the Canadian quintuplets at a time when the survival of quintuplets was rare. Dresses from the infant and children's collection sold for $2.
"We worked for a dollar a day," said the 93-year-old Goka. It was good pay, considering those who worked summers at the pineapple cannery received only 10 or 11 cents an hour.
"To this day I can't go to Las Vegas," Goka said "I can't throw $100 or $200 away when I think about how hard it was back then to earn that money. I worked really hard!"
Even moderate shopping had an aura of luxury. "We really waited on customers," Goka said. Working in the lingerie department, she said, "I would go into the dressing room and help women undress and dress them up. That was the etiquette."
Bon Ton and its sister store, Bon Marche near Oahu Market, run by Nakano's son Harry Nakano, bore no relation to the Bon-Ton chain started in Philadelphia in 1898 by Samuel and Max Grumbacher, nor to the Paris- or Seattle-based Bon Marche stores. In those days, who worried about brand infringement?
According to Dorothy Nakata, 89, one of the Bon Ton Girls, World War II brought an end to Bon Ton and Bon Marche when Nakano was interned. The Sakodas later opened New York Dress Shop on Fort Street.
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About 70 years have passed since the Bon Ton Girls, collectively known as the Bon Ton Social Club, brought their youth and beauty to downtown Honolulu streets, capturing the attention of Honolulu's earliest fashionistas and a male admirer or two.
The Bon Ton Girls were salesclerks at Bon Ton, the affordable department store opened by Japanese immigrant Kyoichi Nakano. After he closed the store during World War II, the girls went on to marry, raise children and part ways until a funeral in the early 1990s brought about two dozen of them together again.
Gladys Goka, 93, recalls, "We started talking and laughing, and when you do that at Hosoi (Mortuary), that's pretty bad. I was so embarrassed, I suggested we meet at my house instead. So they came over three times, and after that we would go to different restaurants."
The girls, now in their late 80s to late 90s, still manage to get together once a year to laugh and reminisce about old times, and met for lunch in March at Shokudo restaurant, although their number has dwindled to about a half-dozen.
Goka said working at Bon Ton was such a high-profile job that the girls had to be on their best behavior. They were recognized by their uniforms, which were white on Mondays and Tuesdays, yellow on Wednesdays and Thursdays, and pink on Fridays and Saturdays. She recalls Saturday nights when she and two of her friends, Ellen Hiraoka and Florence Inouye, would run down to Hotel Street in their pink outfits to eat unagi, an after-payday treat.
"If we didn't behave, we would hear about it," she said, "but we were well behaved. A lot of boys used to come looking for us, but we didn't pay attention. We weren't interested in boys in those days. Today it's different."
COURTESY GAYLE OZAWA
The Bon Ton store front.
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When May Day leis of pikake arrived annually, anonymously from one of her admirers, she simply wore them, no questions asked. It was only after she married and the leis stopped arriving that she discovered the man she married had been her secret admirer.
Dorothy Nakata, 89, also remembers some high-profile, middle-age businessmen flirting with her. Despite that, she said it was a great place to work. She started in 1936 and recalls that sales of more than $50 resulted in a commission of $1. Her first year, she also received a $40 Christmas bonus, and used it to buy a $39 Elgin watch, with the help of her brother-in-law, who worked at Schofield Barracks.
"I still got it. It's not working but I'm still holding it -- gold-filled, a cute one."
When they weren't working, they were invited on outings hosted by other businesses, such as the Tsutsui mullet ponds on Sand Island and Sumida Farms in Aiea, or planned their own treks into Manoa Valley, around the island at Kaaawa or a train ride to Nanakuli, dubbed "Nanikai."
At 86, Jane Lyman is the youngest of the Bon Ton Girls, who worked closely with Nancy Sakoda, the daughter of the founder. For Lyman, a fashion enthusiast, clothing discounts were a perk of the job, and she ended up spending most of her paychecks on clothing. "The dresses were beautiful and I always had first choice."
She remembered stocking up prior to a trip to Japan in 1942. "I took two trunks on the ship, all dresses and gowns, because all occasions were formal back then."
In wartime Japan, people did not have access to ready-made clothing, so Lyman found herself constantly being asked to sell the clothes off her back. By the time she was allowed to return to Hawaii seven years later, she had nothing left of the pieces she had brought over.
COURTESY GAYLE OZAWA
Horace Sakoda was the Bon Ton's general manager.
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COURTESY GAYLE OZAWA
Bon Ton shoppers fill the store at Christmas.
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NEWS OF THE Bon Ton Social Club was regularly documented in newspaper society pages from the late 1930s to early 1940s, whether they were hosting dinners, picnics or bridal showers. The girls served as models in the store fashion shows at McKinley School or the Palace Theatre, often geared toward special occasions such as graduation, the summer travel season and weddings. And while performance skills were not a prerequisite to working at the store, they came in handy as the girls sang and danced during company parties staged for business associates and community leaders.
With Bon Ton and Liberty House just about the only places for fashion, Goka said, "People came from all over the island to shop," particularly at Christmastime, when Bon Ton's floor was packed, ringing up sales of $10,000 each Saturday. "It was THE store," Goka said.
Downtown Honolulu was the commercial center of Oahu for all trades, so among Bon Ton's customers were the girls with money, including dance-hall girls and prostitutes who worked out of River Street bordellos. At times Bon Ton employees had to run orders -- never less than $100 -- down to River Street, and Goka still laughs when she recalls flustered delivery boy Kenneth Wakazuru.
"When he came back he was so angry. He said, 'Don't you dare send me there again.' I'll never forget that he was yelling at me. How should I know what that address was? But River Street was famous."
COURTESY GAYLE OZAWA
Members of the Bon Ton Social Club reunited for lunch at Shokudo in March. Clockwise from lower left are Lillian Hatae, Hatae's daughter Gayle Ozawa, Jane Lyman, Dorothy Nakata, Peggy Ono, Nancy Sakoda and Gladys Goka.
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COURTESY GAYLE OZAWA
Members of the Bon Ton Social Club went on an outing to Kaaawa in April 1939.
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FIVE YEARS AGO, Gayle Ozawa started attending the get-togethers with her mother, Lillian Hatae, and enjoyed the company of the older women.
"The ladies are so gracious. They have such a history and had so much fun. It's a lifetime they don't talk about unless they get together," she said. "The sad part was some passed away, and some are beginning to lose their memories. That's a hard thing to see."
Ozawa remembers being a teenager and discovering her mother's photos of picnics and parties.
"Those pictures always fascinated me. I'm the type who treasures that kind of thing, old things, and it always looked like such a happy time, and everyone looked so young and beautiful."
She believes their stories can serve as an example of what's important to those experiencing material hardship today.
"Their generation didn't have money, but they just embraced life, which was difficult, but they had a feeling of bonding, friendship and having fun. They made do with their circumstances."