community

PBS HAWAI‘I PRESENTS
Kū Kanaka/Stand Tall

 

In August 1969, 15-year-old Terry Kanalu Young became quadriplegic after a diving accident. Initially bitter about his circumstances, he eventually realized that his rage could destroy him – or he could learn a great lesson from it. This film explores Young’s life journey, from a Hawaiian history student to an activist and community leader, and how he used his insights about identity and trauma to offer hope to dispossessed Native Hawaiians.

 

To learn more about Terry Kanalu Young, be sure to see this interview.

 

KĀKOU – Hawai‘i’s Town Hall:
Have You Fact-Checked Your Truth?

 

With ever-increasing divisions in our country, PBS Hawai‘i introduces a new series of live town hall events called KĀKOU – Hawai‘i’s Town Hall. In this first live discussion, we ask: “Have You Fact-Checked Your Truth?” We take on the meaning of “truth” and how we view truth in an era of “fake news,” “trolling” and filter bubbles on social media. Is there one truth – or is truth in the eye of the beholder?

 

You can email us with your thoughts in advance at kakou@pbshawaii.org, or post on Twitter using the #pbskakou hashtag. The town-hall will also be live streamed on pbshawaii.org and on Facebook Live, where you can also join the conversation.

 

 


BARE FEET WITH MICKELA MALLOZZI
Dancing in My Italy

 

Join dancer and host Mickela Mallozzi on adventures that explore the traditional side of culture and community through celebration and artistic expression. A classically trained dancer who teaches regularly at The Ailey Extension in New York City, Mickela is inspired by folk dances from around the globe.

 

Dancing in My Italy
Mickela visits the small, sleepy, Southern Italian beach town of Minturno, from which her parents immigrated over 40 years ago. She reconnects with her roots during the town’s biggest celebration, the annual Sagra delle Regne (Wheat Harvest Festival).

 

LONG STORY SHORT WITH LESLIE WILCOX
Dr. Elliot Kalauawa

 

Dr. Elliot Kalauawa’s childhood in Palolo Valley’s public housing helped fuel his desire to enter the medical field. He discovered his life’s purpose at Waikiki Health, where he has worked for over 30 years, offering compassion, guidance and hope to his patients.

 

This program will be rebroadcast on Wednesday, Oct. 18, at 11:00 pm and Sunday, Oct. 22, at 4:00 pm.

 

Dr. Elliot Kalauawa Audio

 

Download the Transcript

 

Transcript

 

With my mom, I always felt real protected, because my mom was very tough herself—emotionally, physically. So, I had no problem. And especially going down to Hotel Street, I would enjoy. Because she liked to drink, she liked to play cards, so I would spend a lot of evenings in the bars on Hotel Street with her. And for a child, it was fun, because I was the only kid there, so different people were buying me sodas.

 

Dr. Elliot Kalauawa grew up in a tough neighborhood. His mother spent most of her time drinking and gambling in bars. Yet, he says he never felt deprived or neglected. Dr. Elliot Kalauawa of Honolulu, next, on Long Story Short.

 

Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox is Hawai‘i’s first weekly television program produced and broadcast in high definition.

 

Aloha mai kakou. Dr. Elliot Joseph Kalauawa is the chief medical officer at Waikiki Health. It’s a nonprofit community clinic that provides medical and social services, even when a person has no means to pay. Dr. Kalauawa is the recipient of numerous awards for his work with HIV/AIDS patients, and is widely recognized as one of the most respected HIV physicians in Hawai‘i. Dr. Kalauawa is well-known for his compassion and caring for patients. The circumstances of his childhood could have shaped his character much differently.

 

In the beginning, it was just my mom and I, because when my mom got pregnant, she didn’t want to marry my dad. So, she basically ended that relationship, and then she was on her own. And so, we lived in Hotel Street area, different kind of small rooms she could rent. I always felt real protected, because my mom was very tough herself—emotionally, physically. So, I had no problem. And especially going down to Hotel Street, my mom was like, you know, one of the bulls back then. And so, lot of people were afraid of her. So, nothing happened.

 

Does that mean she fought?

 

She did; physically, she fought. In fact, she likes to tell people a story.   You know, somebody she meets, some of my friends, and she’ll tell them, You think my son’s a good boy? And they’ll go tell her, Yeah. And then say, No, he was in jail. And then, they will look and say, What do you mean he was in jail? Because when she was pregnant with me, she was in jail.

 

[CHUCKLE]

 

And then, she was in jail again when I was about five. And then, I stayed with my godmother. So, I would go and visit her for the few months that she was in jail. But that’s how she was. In fact, she even had stabbed a sailor once. She used to carry this knife with her. And I remember seeing it later. And he basically got fresh with her, she pulled it out, and stabbed him. And her nickname was Unknown, on Hotel Street. And the reason was, whenever there was a fight, the police would come, and they would ask who was involved in that fight. And because people didn’t want to squeal on her, they would say, Unknown. You know, in a sense, we don’t know. And that’s how her nickname became.

 

That’s what it shows up on police reports.

 

[CHUCKLE]

 

Wow. Did you have a sense of fear?

 

No. And see, this is the thing. When I talk to others, you know, especially people who maybe come from broken homes … and people ask me what was it. And for me, it was, I always felt loved. Because even though my mom lived that lifestyle, I always felt loved by her. I never felt like she was neglecting me. I felt like that was just normal, to grow up that way. And then, because of my other family, my godmother, my aunts, my uncles, they all showed me love. And so, I always felt like I was loved. And that’s why I never felt like I had to join a gang to get love there. You know how some of the young ones go to, or to belong. You know, I felt real love. And that, to me, was the key.

 

Did you feel like your life was normal?

 

Yeah; I did. You know. And I felt it was normal to go to Hotel Street. I remember one time, I was about ten, I think, and she had this car; it was a standard. And we left the bar about three in the morning, and the car couldn’t start. So, we had to jumpstart it. And so, it was just her and I. So, she was behind the wheel in the middle of Hotel Street. And that was when Hotel Street was two ways. And you know, no traffic. So, I got out to push the car. So, I’m pushing the car at about two, three in the morning. And there was a young man about maybe in his, I don’t know, twenties, and he saw. And my mom was drunk behind the wheel. And he yelled, Woman, do you need help? And she thought he was getting fresh, so she swore at him. And so, he just kept on walking. And I thought to myself, I need the help, why’d you do that? You know. But finally, we were able to start the car. But again, that to me wasn’t anything unusual.

 

Did your entire childhood go this way?

 

The thing was, when I was growing up, part of me felt like I didn’t know where I really belonged. ‘Cause I was growing up in the housing, and all my friends in the housing were people that, when we’d go to school at Palolo Elementary, they were in the special education class.

 

And when did you go to Palolo Housing? How old were you?

 

I was about six.

 

Six?

 

First grade.

 

What was that like? Did you feel comfortable there?

 

I did; I felt completely at home. You know. And there, you know, we all knew each other, and everything, you know.

 

Okay; and then, did your mom’s lifestyle stabilize?

 

No; continued the same.

 

What was your routine like at home in Palolo Housing?

 

The way it was, was Monday through Friday, I’d get up to go to school. My mom would be sleeping. I’d make my breakfast. Then, I would get ready, I’d kiss her, you know, on her cheek while she’s sleeping, go to school. Then when I would get home from school, she would be gone already, ‘cause then she would leave to go to the bar. And then, sometime early evening, she’d call me just to let me know that either my dinner would be on the kitchen table that she had made, or she would tell some of the people in the housing, you know, some of the other families, to bring dinner over for me. And then, I’d go to bed whenever I wanted. So, usually, I’d go to bed about ten. I did have this one fear, though, living alone. I used to love watching horror movies. And it wasn’t too smart to watch it when you’re home alone, you know, especially then. And so, I didn’t want to hear these different sounds. So, when I’d go to bed, I would be in my room, my overhead light would be on, and my radio would be playing. So, it got the point where I could fall asleep with lights and noise. So, I never needed a quiet, dark room. But that was because I wanted the radio to block out hearing any kind of ghost walking outside my window. [CHUCKLE] And then, I’d wake up the next morning, and she’s be home, but she’d be sleeping again. And so, it was only on the weekends when we would talk face-to-face.

 

So, how did you handle that, as an older kid? ‘Cause you can get into a lot of trouble when you’re a little older, especially.

 

Yeah. And I’m not sure why, you know. Because I used to hang around with these kids in the housing, and you know, they were all getting into trouble. And now, some of them have been in jail. One, I heard, you know, he was murdered maybe in his late 20s. So, they all kinda went. And so, I used to hang around with them, but the interesting thing is, then when I’d go to school, because I would be in what they called the A Class then, with the smart kids. So, I’d hang around with those kids, and they were outside the housing. So, they had a lifestyle that was more like middleclass income class. And so, in the housing, I’d be one group, in school I’d be with another group. And it’s funny, because when we’d go to school, the kids I was with in the housing, we’d walk to school, then I’d drop them off at the special education class, I’d walk to my class. After school, I’d walk back, and I’d pick them up, and we all go back into the housing. You know, so that’s kind of how things went. So, yeah, I look back, and I think I could have got into trouble with them. But I think the main thing, I give my mom a lot of credit. My mom was very strict, even though she was doing that type of lifestyle. Her feeling was, she never wanted me to have the kind of lifestyle she had. So, she would always tell me that. Because she only went to eighth grade, to Kalakaua Intermediate, and then she quit school. And so, she would tell me, You study. And even though she wasn’t home when I’d come home from school, I guess because I knew she could be so firm, you know, and because I knew she really wanted me to do that, when I came home, I would study, I got all my homework done, then I would go out and play with the housing kids. So, the housing kids would just wait until my studies were done. ‘Cause they didn’t have to study. So, would study, and then I’d go. But I think it’s because she drilled that in me. She says, Education is what you need. And so, she would force me to make sure I did that. But her influence was so strong, even though she wasn’t physically there, I sort of always felt the need to obey, even though she wasn’t around. But I loved to read. I enjoyed studying.

 

So, you felt very wanted.

 

I felt very wanted. And I think that’s what made me not have a desire to feel like I had to get into, you know, trouble. That’s the key; I felt very loved.

 

That’s very different. I mean, you know … it was neglect.

 

I know. I look back now; it was neglect. And I look back, and I think, Why do I get the sense that my mom really loved me? I think it’s because when I interacted with her, you know, I could see the love. And because she was very strict—and you know, back then, parents were disciplining kids with what would be child abuse. ‘Cause you know, I was hit with the clothes hanger, the iron ones, with the belt. And one day, she had shared something with an adult person, who happened to mention it to me, that when she would do that to me, and then I’d go to bed crying, that after I fell asleep, she would come into the room and basically cry because she had done that to me.

 

What had you done to cause her to whack you?

 

When I would try to get into trouble; steal things, and if she found out about it. ‘Cause she always told me, Don’t do anything bad. So, she would always tell me that. Even though she did, she said, Do not do anything bad. It’s funny; it’s a double standard.

 

I know.

 

It’s a double standard.

 

It’s such a contradiction in terms.

 

It is; it really is, you know. And I think it’s because she so much didn’t want me to be like her, her lifestyle. ‘Cause the bottom line is, when she got older, she shared with me, she was not happy with her lifestyle at all. So, it wasn’t like she was happy living like that.

 

I want to know what your mom would have said if you said, Hey, Mom, if you really don’t want me to turn out wrong, stop doing what you’re doing and be here with me, and don’t show me that example.

 

She would have just ignored it. She would have said, I don’t care, you’re gonna do it. That’s what she would have said. That’s the kind of person was. You know, she’s the kind of person who really didn’t care what others thought. This is what she told me, and she would tell me this several times. She said, Don’t care what people think if they’re not feeding you. And so, that’s why I grew up having, you know, that tough thing where it’s hard to offend me, because I have a tough skin. And I tell people, you know, Just tell me what you think. Because I like it to be constructive. And to me, in order for it to be constructive, the person has to tell you what they feel. And likewise, I tell them what I feel. But that’s from my mom. It’s all just to make things better. So, it’s never with malicious; it’s always to make things better.

 

But when you dish it out, you have to be able to take it.

 

Yeah.

 

Can you take it?

 

Oh, yeah; definitely, I can.

 

You don’t feel hurt or angry?

 

No. I prefer people be honest with me.

 

Elliot Kalauawa’s hard work and discipline did not go unnoticed by his teachers. This was especially helpful, because he decided at a young age that he wanted to become a medical doctor, a profession that had a cultural precedent in his family.

 

From when I was a child, I was told that my last name, it’s Kalauawa, and it means breath of life and strength. My grandmother was a kahuna, you know, so she was involved with a lot of healing. And she used to use plants a lot. You know, so she used to do that a lot. So, I’m assuming that’s probably the connection there.

 

And then, you wanted to be a doctor from the time you were a kid.

 

Yeah.

 

Huh.

 

So …

 

Did you ever see your grandmother treating people?

 

No, ‘cause she died when I was about year and a half. But my mother would tell me about it. They had a house on Gulick Avenue, and she had a separate room where when she wanted to heal people, she would take them into the room. And she wouldn’t let anybody else go into the room. It was just her and the individual.

 

And did your mother tell you about stories of people getting healed?

 

Yeah; she did. You know, but all kinds of, you know, unusual things, all kinds of things happened. You know, that kind of thing. And I guess part of the reason my grandmother, from what my mom told me, didn’t want anybody else, especially young kids, she was afraid what effect it would have on them. So, I really don’t know what kind of, you know, rituals she did. I know she used plants, she grew a lot of plants. The two sacred things in her life were her plants and her Bible. ‘Cause she was also a deacon at a Hawaiian church, Ka Makua Mau Loa. So, those were the two sacred things in her life. She was pure Hawaiian, and she spoke Hawaiian fluently. And so, my mother and my uncle—‘cause my mother only had one sibling, her older brother. And his children were all older than me, and they all grew up knowing Hawaiian, fluent Hawaiian, because she only would speak English to people who didn’t understand Hawaiian, like if a visitor came over. So, that’s the thing that I kind of feel I wish I had been exposed to. But once she died, the motivation to speak Hawaiian died. So, nobody spoke. ‘Cause this was in the 40s and 50s, so nobody in the family. So, my mom, by the time I was old enough to understand, she could understand some Hawaiian words, but she pretty much couldn’t speak it anymore, including my uncle.

 

What about other Hawaiian cultural parts of your background?

 

Even that. Because back then, when we were being raised, you know, the Hawaiian race was suppressed. It was like they were trying to teach us to be White. You know, even my wife, she went to Kamehameha from kindergarten to twelfth grade, and she said even at Kamehameha, they were training you to be White. So, it wasn’t until the resurgence in the 70s. So, by that time that happened, I was already an adult, so I wasn’t really raised around that type of cultural thing, other than just what my family did.

 

You decided at a young age what you were going to do, and unlike almost all of us, you actually did it.

 

[CHUCKLE]

 

Can you tell us that story?

 

Well, we used to go to Queen Emma Clinic. And lot of times, we’d wait about three hours to see the doctor. And I remember, and I can picture this in my mind. I was probably about eleven; between ten and twelve. We were in the waiting room, and it was another one of those long waits. So, I looked at my mom and said, Why do we have to always wait? And she says, We just have to. And I said, Must be they don’t have enough doctors, so I think I’ll be a doctor. And it just stuck. I didn’t even think at that point if it’s something I would enjoy. I just said, Must be they don’t have enough doctors. I never even doubted that I couldn’t get into medical school. It was always like, This is what I’m gonna do; what do I need to do, what do I need to do to get into college, to get into medical school, to residency. It never was if; it was, you know, what do I need to do.

 

And while you lived in Palolo Housing and were in intermediate school, some adults in your life saw your potential, and they changed your life.

 

They did; they did. When I was in eighth grade, I played Pop Warner Football for the Palolo Vikings. And at the end of the season, the coaches would have an end of the season banquet. And I remember it was at a restaurant in Waikiki. And as I was about to enter the restaurant, our head coach was outside greeting the kids, telling us where to go. And he came up to me and he said, We’ve submitted your name for a scholarship to Iolani School; what do you think about that? And I just thought, Fine with me. Not that I had any desire to do that, but I thought, Oh, okay, you know, I’ll do that. And then, a few months later, the ninth grade counselor at Jarrett Intermediate called me into his office. And I was only in eighth grade, so at first, I was wondering, Why is he calling me in? And he was always a strict person, so I thought, What did I do? I didn’t think I did anything to get into trouble. And he called me into his office and he said, We want to submit you for a scholarship to Iolani School. And I said, Oh, my football coach already did that. And then, that’s how Iolani started.

 

Well, I gotta say, it must have been quite the transition from Jarrett to Iolani when you were living in Palolo Housing.

 

It was; it was.

 

You know, you see parents dropping off their kids at school, and they have these beautiful cars, and different clothes every day.

 

Right.

 

It must have been kind of mindboggling.

 

It was; it was. You know, we had to have a lot of help, because for Iolani, I had this scholarship, the Albert H. Stone Memorial Scholarship, and that’s the one that pays everything, including the books. But before I could really go, my mom was concerned about how I was gonna get lunch. Because public school lunch was twenty-five cents; Iolani School lunch was about a dollar. So, what she did was, she found out about Queen Liliuokalani Children’s Center, and she submitted a request to them, and then they would send us a check every month for twenty-five dollars to cover my lunch at Iolani. And then, so once that was set up, then it was a go. But it was different. One thing, Iolani at the time was all boys, so that was different, going from a co-ed public school. But I know some of the kids there would look at me. ‘Cause I would hear things like, Oh, there’s the kid from the housing. But I had a lot of good friends. My class and I now, we’re still close, so I had a lot of good friends. But it was really only a minority. But the thing was, I was raised—and even now, I have a little hard time; I was raised speaking very heavy Pidgin. And so, going there and trying not to speak, you know. I mean, you could to a degree, but not the degree that I spoke in the housing. And I remember one year, we had a teacher from the mainland teaching English class that I was in, and then she wanted to talk about the Pidgin English. And so, she wanted to kinda discuss it. And one of my classmates raised his hand and he says, Ask Elliot, he’s the expert on Pidgin. But the thing is, Iolani was also very supportive of me, very loving.

 

Elliot Kalauawa never strayed from his path of becoming a doctor, and after finishing high school and college, he earned his medical degree at the John A. Burns School of Medicine at the UH. He joined a private practice in Honolulu. In less than two years, he left and chose a different setting, a different patient base.

 

I was in private practice for a year and eight months with another internist, Dr. Jonathan Cho, who’s an oncologist now. But that’s around the time I became a Jehovah’s Witness, so I wanted more time for my ministry, but I also wanted the kind of population that I grew up with. And the practice we had wasn’t that kinda population. And then, I saw an ad for Waikiki Health, and they were advertising for a medical director. So, this was a chance; I could go back basically to my roots, and then also have time for my ministry, too. I’ve been at Waikiki Health now thirty-one years. In fact, two days makes thirty-one years. And I look back, and I say, I feel real fortunate, ‘cause I’ve got a career that I truly enjoy. I mean, it’s not work for me. You know, you hear the cliché that, you know, when you enjoy, it’s not really work. Well, for me, it really is. I go to work, and I just enjoy every single day.

 

So, what is the overview; what are your patients like?

 

Oh, I have a full range. I have patients that are homeless, I have patients that are doctors, lawyers, I have the full range in between. I have, you know, a full range of different types of diseases, as well as HIV.

 

When you first started treating HIV, and it was a new disease, I imagine you lost more patients.

 

Oh, we did; we did. ‘Cause we had no treatment back then. In fact, back then, we didn’t even have the tests that we have now. And so, it was really sad. And HIV, of all the different diseases I treat, the HIV patients are the ones I feel a little closer to. And that’s because HIV now, it’s not so bad, but in the early days, it was like how leprosy used to be. Because there was a stigma, people didn’t want to be around them. And I used to feel sorry for them. And then, the fact that it was a death sentence. So, I used to get real close to those patients. But once when treatments came out, you know, it’s so much better now.

 

There’s a significant percentage of clients at Waikiki Health Center who don’t have insurance.

 

Right; a lot.

 

How does that work? How do you treat them?

 

It’s real difficult. And so, what we have to do, we have to be creative, you know, when we have students, especially, when they come through. It’s interesting, because when we have students or residents come through, the first time they’re with us, it’s funny, because they’ll say, Okay, this patient, I want to order these tests. So, I’ll look at him and I said, Well, who’s gonna pay for it? And he says, What do you mean? I said, Did you check his insurance status? ‘Cause it’s in the chart. And he goes, No, I didn’t. You need to check. And he’ll look, and he’ll say the person’s uninsured. So, I said, So who’s gonna pay for that test you want to do? The patient can’t afford it. So, what we have to do is, we have to be less reliant on tests. You know, I’m fortunate; when I went through medical school, we didn’t have lot of the tests they have now; we didn’t have CAT scans, we didn’t have MRIs. So, we had to learn a lot on the history, you know, from what the patients tell you. Because if you really get good information from the patient, you can probably come up with eighty-five percent of the diagnosis. And then, the physical exam can add. So, we did all these extra maneuvers to try to find out what the person had, you know, like maybe leaning forward while we’re listening to his heart, that today, you don’t have to do so much now, because today, medicine is so test-oriented. And I say it’s real sad, because we’ve got this population of patients that cannot get the things they need, and yet, we’re surrounded by wealth in this land. But we never give up, we never turn our back, we never say we can’t do it; we still do what we can.

 

Do you ever judge people?

 

Oh, not at all. No. Especially when I look at, you know, my lifestyle, you know, what I grew up in. You know. There’s no point judging anybody. Because on the surface, we might be different, but below the surface, we’re all the same. One of the things I like to tell students and residents at our clinic, ‘cause we see homeless patients, I tell them; I say, If you take a homeless person, put him in one exam room, tell him to undress, and you’ll be back in to examine him, you take another person, say, a doctor or lawyer, tell him to undress, you’ll come back in and examine them. And this is where people who have a stereotype about the homeless won’t really understand. So, if you did that, and then you go back into either room, sometimes you can’t tell who the doctor or who the homeless person is.

 

Do you think you would be unhappy in a place that had well-heeled patients who could pay their bills with insurance, and cash?

 

Yeah. Because I would feel like I’m not doing all that I can do. And the patients that I see, in general, a lot of them are from the same background that I’m from. So, that’s more so. In fact, two homeless patients I saw over the years were kids I grew up with. One of them, I saw his name in the chart, and I went in, and he didn’t know who he was gonna see, and he had his back towards the door. I went in, I called his name, he turned around, and he didn’t recognize me, ‘cause it was years. And he was homeless. I told him my name; he said, You know, I remember as a kid, you always talked about being a doctor, and I wondered if you made it; and I guess you did. You know. And then, another one of my patients, I played Little League Baseball with him. And then, couple weeks later, after I saw him, I’m coming into the clinic, I’m walking through the waiting room. He’s with another homeless patient, and he stops me, and he says, Hey, tell my friend here that you and I used to play baseball together. And I said, Yeah, we used to play baseball together. I guess his friend couldn’t see that his homeless friend grew with a doctor.

 

Let’s pick up on the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

 

Yeah.

 

So, when you talk about ministry, are you talking about going door-to-door?

 

Yes.

 

And how do people receive you? Knock-knock-knock, I’m from the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

 

You get a mix. Fortunately for us in Hawai‘i, many people are very polite. They don’t like to be, you know, rude. So, you know, we start talking, and then lot of times, they’ll just say, Oh, I’m not interested. And then, we just leave. Other times, they’ll listen, you know, and then we share a few things. And occasionally, we do have some people that are just rude. And they just say, Oh, no, don’t come here, or get out of here, or they slam the door. You know.

 

And why is it worth it to you to keep doing that?

 

The Bible has such an important message. You know, because it doesn’t matter what religion a person is, there’s Bible principles that can really benefit them. In fact, one man that I used to visit regularly, he actually was an atheist. But he used to love me coming by, ‘cause he said he loved the principles in the Bible. When I talk to people at the door, I know most of them have no desire to be a Jehovah’s Witness. But if they can at least apply some of the things in the Bible, they would have a better life. And that’s why I do it. Again, it’s concern for people. It’s like when I see all the suffering, and I see how people are, I think, You know what, if you could follow some of these principles in the Bible, you know, you would have a happier life. It’s not gonna solve all their problems, you know, obviously, you know, if they’ve got some chronic medical illness. But at least it’ll help them cope with it better. How to have a healthier lifestyle, ‘cause the Bible condemns things such as drunkenness, drug abuse. There’s principles about always trying to have a smile, always trying to laugh. And it does help the body. We do know; medicine has shown that when people tend to laugh more, that it does help the person and all that. So, those kind of different things that can help a person. And then also, it gives them hope for the future. It’s amazing how strong hope is. So, whether it’s in a spiritual nature, or you know, medical, hope is a powerful force. And that’s one of the things, when I go door-to-door, I like to let people know that, you know, you can have a better life now, as well as hope for the future.

 

Mahalo to Dr. Elliot Kalauawa of Honolulu for sharing your inspirational life story with us. And thank you for joining us. For PBS Hawai‘i and Long Story Short, I’m Leslie Wilcox. Aloha, a hui hou.

 

For audio and written transcripts of all episodes of Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox, visit PBSHawaii.org. To download free podcasts of Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox, go to the Apple iTunes store, or visit PBSHawaii.org.

 

Did you and your mother ever have a talk about how things had turned out, and you know, life in general?

 

We had, later on in her later years. And she was always very proud, you know, and things like that. And I never told her that, you know, she had a dysfunctional lifestyle. ‘Cause she knew she did, so there was no point talking about it.

 

And did her life become less and less dysfunctional as she got older?

 

She did; yeah. And I think it’s just, you know, learning from her past mistakes. So, she stopped drinking. I think maybe she was in her seventies, she just stopped alcohol completely. Her gambling, she didn’t stop, but she cut way back. So, she would only maybe go on the weekends, you know. And they’d just basically go to friends’ houses and they’d play Poker. You know, usually the same group; and they’d go to different homes.

 

And she had a long life; eighty-four.

 

Eighty-four.

 

[END]


LONG STORY SHORT WITH LESLIE WILCOX
Sacha Pfeiffer

 

Sacha Pfeiffer was part of the Boston Globe’s Spotlight investigative team, which won the Pulitzer Prize for Public Service in 2003 for exposing the Roman Catholic Church’s cover-up of clergy sex abuse. The story behind the reporting was made into the 2015 Oscar-winning film, Spotlight. This interview with Pfeiffer is from a February 2017 community conversation about the importance of asking difficult questions, even when the answers threaten the fabric of close-knit communities.

 

This program will be rebroadcast on Wednesday, Oct. 4, at 11:00 pm and Sunday, Oct. 8, at 4:00 pm.

 

Sacha Pfeiffer Audio

 

Download the Transcript

 

Transcript

 

My job has given me an incredibly joyful and meaningful life. I get paid to ask questions for a living. How much fun is that? It’s always interesting. You get access to all sorts of worlds. And I’ve also learned, because of some of the work we’ve done, that on a very good day, you can also do incredible positive change. And so, I hope tonight, part of what we can do is celebrate journalism. Because as all of you know, if you’ve paid attention to the news, it’s a very perilous time for the journalism world. You know, the newspaper industry has had financially catastrophic sort of turn of events in recent years, essentially a collapsed business model that it’s still trying to figure out how to replace. And at the same time, we have a political climate now in which the press is sort of portrayed as the enemy.

 

Sasha Pfeiffer was one of five journalists on The Boston Globe’s elite investigative team called Spotlight. That’s also the title of the Academy Award-winning film about the reporters’ shocking findings with a transformational outcome. The Spotlight team never could have predicted that they would expose an almost unimaginable conspiracy that reached far beyond Boston’s Roman Catholic Diocese. Their pursuit of clergy sex abuse was controversial. But the newspaper built its case on the weight of evidence. The power of truth telling in our conversation with Sacha Pfeiffer, next, on Long Story Short.

 

Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox is Hawai‘i’s first weekly television program produced and broadcast in high definition.

 

Aloha mai kakou. I’m Leslie Wilcox. For this edition of Long Story Short, we’ll take you to a special event in Honolulu organized by the Hawai‘i Leadership Forum before an audience. Our guest is Pulitzer Prize-winning Boston Glove journalist, Sacha Pfeiffer, who was played in the Oscar-winning movie Spotlight by actress Rachel McAdams. As part of an investigative team, Pfeiffer interviewed men in Boston who told of being sexually abused as children, sometimes for years, by Roman Catholic priests. What emerged was a pervasive Church culture that tolerated, and even protected child molesters. And not only in Boston. Sacha Pfeiffer joined us for a conversation about truth telling, and truth to power journalism.

 

How’s the cake?

 

It’s pretty good. You saving yours?

 

Nah. I can never eat those things. They kind of oppress me.

 

I know. From Washington?

 

Yeah.

 

Very interesting.

 

I’m not asking you to. All I’m asking is, who’s behind it. M-hm. Okay; I get it. You don’t want to talk. No, Dad, I’m not mad, I’m hungry. I’ve been talking here so long, I didn’t eat lunch. So, I’m gonna go get something to eat, and that’ll give you an hour to decide whether you want to be on the right side of this, or read about it like everybody else. Bye, Dad.

 

You think Cahill has something?

 

Maybe. I just don’t think the story is for us.

 

Ben likes it.

 

Yeah, it’s not bad. It’s just not Spotlight.

 

What’s just not Spotlight?

 

The PD numbers.

 

The numbers.

 

Oh. You got Cahill to talk?

 

No, but I will.

 

Good.

 

You did your investigative reporting on the Spotlight team on clergy sex abuse in the most Catholic city in the country, by percentage.

 

M-hm.

 

And I think most all of the reporters involved were lapsed Catholics.

 

M-hm.

 

You were also a Protestant, and I think you lapsed there too. And much was made in the Spotlight movie about the outsider coming in, the Jewish guy running the paper and saying, You guys need to explore that.

 

Yeah.

 

Could you talk a little bit about that?

 

Yeah; this is in reference to Marty Baron, who was the editor of The Globe when I was there, and who is now the executive editor of The Washington Post, a paper that’s doing some of the most dynamic work in the country right now. And, yeah. And Marty is a tremendous, tremendous leader. He’s an exceptional leader, he’s a very gift editor. He has this incredibly pure moral compass, which I really love about Marty. The movie makes a lot of Marty having been Jewish. I think they took a little fictional license there. I mean, I think, yes, they wanted to portray sort of the outsider. But I think what Marty showed is that sometimes when you bring a set of fresh eyes to something, it makes an enormous difference. I mean, we began our project because there had been a priest named John Geoghan who had a long history of abusing kids, and there were many lawsuits filed against him. All those cases had been sealed in the court. The Church asked the court to seal the cases, the court did. Marty came to town from the Miami Herald, and he said, Why are these cases sealed? And there was this uncomfortable silence in this news meeting, because all of us were so used to just accepting that those files are sealed, we can’t access them, that we hadn’t questioned it. So, Marty told the Spotlight team, Go find out what you can. And at the same time, he asked The Globe’s lawyers to try to unseal those files, which they successfully did after several months. So, I think again, fresh eyes can make a difference in coming to a place that’s been used to the same thing for a long time.

 

I’m sure you knew when you started poking around, and you started going to press, that you would become targets. Who are these people? What’s the vendetta about?

 

Because Boson is so Catholic, we were worried that we might be picketed, or there would be protests. We got none of that. And I think that part of why that didn’t happen is that, you know, we were able to get into the Arch Diocese of Boston’s file cabinets. We were able to access all of their clergy personnel records. So, these weren’t stories based on anonymous sources; these were record by the Church itself. And I think that when a project is that bulletproof, it makes it hard to blame the messenger.

 

I guess it was Mr. Baron who had the idea of, Don’t go after individual priests because we’ve heard of individual priests for so long; go after how the Church institution treated the priests. And you showed evidence of passing priests. They call it passing the trash, or mobile molesters, from jurisdiction to jurisdiction.

 

Yeah. I mean, this was Marty’s mantra. Is that, you know, for years, The Globe and other publications had written stories about priests that abused children. We were looking not simply at that, but about Church officials who cover up for priests who abused children, who systematically would get reports, and then shift priests to other places. And in the pre-internet era, if you sent someone thirty miles north of Boston, the people who lived thirty miles south of Boston would lose that person. You wouldn’t know where they went. So, that was our goal the whole time, is to focus on the system.

 

I know what you must be thinking. Like, why would I ever do that to some creepy guy who’s thirty years older than me? But what we have to understand is that this is the first time in my life that someone told me that it was okay to be gay.

 

Mm.

 

And it was a priest. I’m sorry; I knew I was gonna do this. Oh, I’m sorry.

 

Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. Joe, it’s okay.

 

Of course, there is a church right there, and a playground.

 

Joe, did you ever try and tell anyone?

 

Like who; a priest?

 

You know, often reporters are doing stories as a team, they get really excited about nailing an interview, or catching someone in a lie, and you see high-fives. But this is not the kind of series that would produce that kind of rejoicing.

 

No. I mean, it was pretty sombering. And, you know, we had some very dad, intense conversations with adult men who, when they were adolescents or children, had been abused by priest. And again, very intense, very emotional. But, you know, you also become angry, because you realize someone has been damaged at a formative time in their life, and it’s hard to recover from that. And I think anger is a motivational tool, and that’s what it was for us.

 

The most haunting moment in the film to me—and when you get a chance to ask questions, please mention yours if it’s appropriate—I think it was Father Paquin. And I think you knocked on his door, and he told you, I was just fooling around.

 

Hi, there. I’m looking for Ronald Paquin.

 

Yes?

 

You’re Father Paquin?

 

Yes, that’s right.

 

I’m Sacha Pfeiffer from The Boston Globe.

 

Okay.

 

Could I ask you a few questions?

 

Go ahead; yes.

 

We spoke to several men who knew you when they were boys at St. John the Baptist in Haverhill. They told us you molested them. Is that true?

 

Sure; I fooled around. But I never felt gratified, myself.

 

Right. But you admit to molesting boys at St. John the Baptist?

 

Yes, yes. But as I said, I never got any pleasure from it. That’s important to understand.

 

Right.

 

Yeah. You know, a lot of people have asked whether I thought that priest had dementia. And I don’t think so. I think you really just saw this twisted rationalization for why they did what they did. I think for me, the biggest unanswered question is the why. I mean, there are many theories about why it happened, but that’s a really hard one to answer.

 

And you devoted some of your coverage to why.

 

Oh, we did. I mean, we ended up writing for about a year and a half about this issue. And we didn’t just write about priests who abused children; we basically followed the story as it tentacled. So, we looked at why did this happen, was it because the lady wasn’t very involved, was it because women couldn’t be priests, if women had been more involved would this not have happened. As the Arch Diocese of Boston began settling a lot of cases, it hurt the Church financially. So, we wrote about the Church being on the brink of bankruptcy, the Cardinal resigned eventually. So, it became a daily beat, essentially. You know, when I joined the Spotlight team, Spotlight had been known for basically doing a story or two a year, maybe. They came in at nine, and they left at five, which is very rare in the newspaper world. And someone had said to me, Enjoy your early retirement. Which I thought was funny. But my experience with Spotlight was nothing like retirement, because basically, once that story broke, it became a daily beat, a competitive beat, where national newspapers were following it. So, it was very intense.

 

This event is called The Transformative Power of Truth Telling. What kinds of results did you see from this one and a half or two-year investigation?

 

You know, I think this will sound so basic. But in way, the gigantic lesson of this project was the importance of questioning authority. Part of why this happened is that the Catholic Church in Boston had so much deference that people looked the other way; they stopped asking questions. My grandmother, who’s depicted in the movie, was so devout.

 

 

Sacha, can I have a drink of water?

 

Yeah; sure, Nana. Yeah.

 

And I remember that when the story came out, she said to me, I can’t believe this happened, because we all though the priests were little gods. And I remember thinking, And that’s why it happened. Because when you think someone is a god, you’re not going to ask tough questions, and even if you suspect that something’s not right you might look the other way. So, I think it’s an important reminder to all of us for why we need to ask very difficult questions of people in high places.

 

And I’m sure some journalists in here remember there were calls in Hawaii to newsrooms, where it would be somebody who didn’t identify himself, he seemed very much in pain, maybe stuttered, and he would say, I was abused by a priest. He would say the priest’s name, but he didn’t want to say the timeframe, and he said there were no witnesses, and he didn’t tell anyone at the time, and no, he didn’t talk to the police, he didn’t speak to a lawyer. And he didn’t want his name used. So, what are you gonna do with that? So, it really required a different approach. And of course, later, as these boys grew up, they did seek out lawyers; some of them.

 

Yeah. You know, the movie makes clear that probably The Globe could have done these stories earlier than it did. But I think in a way, it ended up beneficial that we waited ‘til we did. Because first of all, it was the very beginning of the internet era, so our stories went online, and instead of being read only by people who got The Globe delivered to their doorstep, they were read by people all over the country. So, our phones began ringing off the hook with people from Washington State, Texas, Maine, Florida, saying you know, I was also abused by Father Paquin, I was also abused by Father Birminghan. So, confirmation came from around the country. And I think that Boston was more ready to accept a story like this. I’m not sure if we had written these stories in the 60s, or 70s, or even 80s, when the deference was still so high, that they could have accepted it, and maybe The Globe would have been picketed and protested. But I think the city was ready.

 

Was there corporate pressure? Okay, enough of the series, enough about the Catholic Church?

 

No, you know, there was one editor who, after we had been writing for a few months, felt like, Is this enough? But he basically was overruled, and several months after that, Cardinal Law resigned. Which I think showed you that we were right to keep up with it. But no, other than that, I would say no pressure. I think that we recognized the story had to be done.

 

What’s up?

 

Another time, Jim. There are cover-up stories on seventy priests. But the boss isn’t gonna run it unless I get confirmation from your side.

 

Are you out of your mind?

 

Come on. This is our town, Jimmy. Everybody knew something was going on, and no one did a thing. We’ve got to put an end to it.

 

Don’t tell me what I gotta do. Yeah, I helped defend these scumbags, but that’s my job, Robby. I was doing my job.

 

Yeah. You and everyone else.

 

I think we were all conscious that this was gonna take a toll of sorts on our family members, potentially. But it didn’t make us feel that we couldn’t do it. My mom, who’s also very Catholic—I think I told you this earlier. She wanted to be a nun, but at the time, convents were cloistered, so once you went in, you could only come out about three times or so. And her mother begged her not to do it, not to become a nun. And so, I remember that my mom, I didn’t hear from her for a while after our stories began to be published. And I think that my mom had to make peace with the fact that her daughter had played a role in something that was damaging to this institution she loved, even though I think she recognized that that story had to be told.

 

When reporters start on a story like this, they have a pretty good idea of at least how it’s gonna start. Did it take you to places you didn’t expect?

 

Oh, yeah. I mean, I don’t think any of us ever imagined it could possibly be at this scale. I mean, early on, we realized there may be as many as seven priests, and that seemed shocking to us. And then, in a few weeks, we realized the number was probably twenty. And then, by the time we published, we knew it was seventy. And then, we quickly learned that actually, it was hundreds. So, I think we went into this having absolutely no idea what we would find.

 

What did you find when you asked the question, Why? Why so much molestation?

 

Well, I mean, I think that there are so many theories for that. But I think that what I believe played a role is that, at least back in the 50s, and 60s, and 70s, boys who were gonna become priests actually went to pre-seminary. So, sometimes, you went to priest school, essentially, as early as age twelve. And I think that you’re at this formative stage in your adolescence in terms of your sexuality, and I think everything became sort of stunted in a way. There was a psychotherapist who was depicted in the movie who talked about … that it was sort of a version of arrested development. And I think you end up having these very immature priests who weren’t sure how to have relationships, and I think it expressed itself in an incredibly tragic way.

 

What did you see of the victims? I mean, after they were grown up, and they’d been in adult life for some time, what were they like?

 

You know, I think all of us know that sexual abuse is one of the most terrible things that can happen to someone, and if it’s also by a leader person and authority like a priest, it’s even more damaging. And so, I think that it’s hard to ever recover from that. And we saw that.

 

And these boys were pretty sure that other people knew that they were being taken to a rector’s office or a church office. It was a pattern, but nobody spoke up for them.

 

Yeah. Or sometimes, people did speak up, and they weren’t believed. Their parents may not believe them. And that, I think, compounded the tragedy. So, it was a culture of secrecy.

 

Hi.

 

Hi.

 

I’m Sacha Pfeiffer from The Boston Globe.

 

Yeah; what do you want?

 

I’d like to speak with Thomas Kennedy.

 

He doesn’t live here anymore.

 

Do you know where he lives? Sir, I’d just like to ask a few—

 

Sacha Pfeiffer, Boston Globe.

 

Oh, yeah. Hi.

 

Hi. Thank you. Anything else you can recall?

 

No.

 

No. But I got a cousin in Quincy; she saw him on the street a few years later.

 

The bishop came over the house. He said nothing like this had ever happened before, and he asked us not press charges.

 

And what did your mother do?

 

My mother? She put out fricking cookies.

 

 

Here, we saw a couple of priests who were named in lawsuits and in accusations. And one molested someone for quite some time, and then mentioned him to someone else, and that person picked it up. It was really hard to hear about.

 

Yeah. After our stories began to run, I got a few calls from people who would say things to the effect of, What was in the water in Boston, why did your priests have these issues? But they were missing the point, which is that in almost every city in which this has been looked into, it happened. And it was just a systematic problem, and if you had the ability to get into the files, you would often find out it happened in every city where there was a major Catholic presence.

 

What is an investigative journalist? Because other reporters who are assigned to other areas of coverage, they do stories. What’s the difference?

 

Yeah. I mean, many people believe, and I think I agree with this, that there really shouldn’t be a distinction between a reporter and an investigative reporter. There are some people whose fulltime job is just to do long-term investigative stories. But really, any beat you have in addition to the daily news and the feature stories you’re looking for, ideally the beat reporter would be looking for investigative stories to do as well. So, there’s no argument that there’s no distinction.

 

You work for a commercial newspaper, and we have nonprofit news folks here. Any thoughts on what business model is best to get journalism that truly matters?

 

No. I mean, I think that is the question that everyone is trying to figure out right now. What is the new business model? I mean, it used to be that if you were a department store and you wanted to advertiser, if you wanted to place a classified ad, you went to your newspaper. That all changed with things like Craigslist; right? So, no one quite has figured out how to replace that business model, but that’s the key, I think, to making the industry survive.

 

One of our attendees has a question, which follows right along. What would you like to see happen to the news, going forward? What would you like to see it evolve into?

 

That’s such a big, broad question. I mean, I just hope the news survives. I hope that people realize that it’s worth paying for. And for those of you who are digital subscribers or print subscribers to a newspaper, thank you. If you’re not, I feel like every time I have a captive audience, I can’t help but give that sales pitch. You know, when you buy a newspaper or you make a contribution to an organized nonprofit like Civil Beat, that’s what pays for the reporters to do what they do. So, I hope that you realize that there’s a direct connection between keeping the news alive and being a subscriber or a donor.

 

Another question from the audience. After your courageous investigation, what have you learned about people? Are we basically good, and if so, what do we make of the evil that people are capable of committing?

 

That’s another one hard to answer. I guess I’d just go back to what I said earlier, which is, we have to always be willing to ask very tough questions of powerful people and powerful institution, and nonprofits, and businesses. You know, tonight, we’re talking about truth telling. And that’s really what I think journalism is. So, we just have to be always willing to question authority and ask tough questions.

 

What are some of the areas that most need sunshine or transparency in truth telling?

 

Government, always. Because I think, unfortunately, what often motivates people to go into government and politics is not a sense of public service, but power and access. So, I think that that makes it very important for us to keep tabs on that. I definitely believe the nonprofit sector is one, because too often, it does get a pass. And obviously businesses. I mean, I think everything.

 

Do journalists take oaths of ethics, like lawyers or doctors, the Hippocratic oath?

 

We don’t officially, but it’s a job that involves an enormous amount of judgment and ethics all the time. What we cover, how we cover it, when we stop covering it. You know, you have people tell you very sensitive information, and we interview children. I mean, there’s an enormous of amount judgment, and that’s why you need to make sure you have reporters with high ethics, and editors with high ethics.

 

The New York Times is using headlines that say, Trump Lies. That’s a policy now. What do you think about that? You know, it’s not your policy, it’s the paper, but what about—

 

I think it has to be case-by-case. But I think sometimes, we have to call things for what they are. And you know, Marty Baron, again, the former Globe reporter now with The Post. You know, President Trump has said that he’s at war with the press. And as Marty said, and it’s beautifully said; We’re not at war, we’re just at work. You know. I mean, that’s …

 

Great line; great line.

 

It is a great line.

 

These are two kind of related questions. What are some of the investigative stories you most admire, and why?

 

I think I admire all of it. I think, you know, when you do investigative reporting, it probably is gonna keep you out of the paper or off the air for a while. And that makes reporters feel uneasy, because you’re judged in part by your productivity. So, you have to hope you have the backing of a strong editor and publisher who recognizes that you may not see your byline for a while, you may not see that person on the air for a while, but hopefully what they deliver will have been worth the time.

 

Here’s another question from an attendee. Given your experience, what do you think warrants deeper investigation in terms of investigative reporting? What’s the contemporary iceberg that we need to go deep and see?

 

I think the past few months have clearly showed us government. I mean, it’s gonna be harder than ever to get information. And the other interesting thing is … I think that there’s also another thing the media is going through is trying to decide, Okay, what is the value of sitting through a presidential briefing? You know, someone has suggested that maybe you send the interns to the briefing, they take down what was said, and really, what the reporters need to do now is do all the tough digging, and have to rely on civil servants to give them information. It’s a very challenging time to be a reporter right now.

 

It is. And we’ve seen in debates and in other live coverage, a reporter will miss a factual mistake by a newsmaker, and then get called on the carpet for it.

 

Right. The media critic for The Washington Post is a woman named Margaret Sullivan. She used to be with The New York Times. And I think it was Margaret that wrote recently about how some of the NPR hosts, who are excellent, when they do live interviews, you can have a situation where the person you’re interviewing says something that is incorrect. And even if you’re very prepared for that interview, you may not realize that something incorrect was just said, and it’s almost virtually impossible to correct after it’s been said in that forum. So now, there’s a debate out; should they be doing fewer live interviews, since you don’t have the ability to fact check in time. Because of all the changes happening politically, it’s making the media have to really rethink about it does its job.

 

After sharing the 2003 Pulitzer Prize for public service with The Boston Globe’s Spotlight team, Sacha Pfeiffer left the newspaper in 2008 as the paper struggled financially. For six years, she worked for Boston’s Public Radio Station. At the time of this conversation in 2017, she’s back at The Globe writing about wealth, philanthropy, and nonprofits. Sacha Pfeiffer is a gifted journalist and author who is matter-of-fact about speaking truth to power. We’ve been very fortunate to share an evening with her in Honolulu. Mahalo to the Hawai‘i Leadership Forum for conceiving and organizing this event. I’m Leslie Wilcox with PBS Hawai‘i and Long Story Short. Aloha, a hui hou.

 

For audio and written transcripts of all episodes of Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox, visit PBSHawaii.org. To download free podcasts of Long Story Short with Leslie Wilcox, go to the Apple iTunes store, or visit PBSHawaii.org.

 

I think they did a …

 

You know, what was really interesting was, most people only get to see these movie stars on the red carpet or in a movies. We got to see them prepare for these roles, and it was really impressive to see the amount of work they did. I mean, they spent time with all of us individually, we spent a lot of time socializing with them. And I realized later, what I thought was socializing was research for them. I mean, we all of a sudden were seeing mannerisms depicted on the screen, and we began to realize all the time they spent with us, they were dissecting, they were observing, they were analyzing.

 

So, they work hard to be as good as they are.

 

[END]

 

 

Family Ingredients Season 2

FAMILY INGREDIENTS

 

 

The six-part series airs Wednesdays at 7:30 pm through November 15.

Repeats air Wednesdays at 11:30 pm and Sundays at 4:30 pm through November 19.

 

In the second season of Emmy Award-winning series, Family Ingredients, host Ed Kenney continues celebrating Hawaiʻi’s diversity through food and untold stories. Join us as we explore food memories and family tales that open up stories of the human experience, one recipe at a time.

 

Showcasing how cuisine can profoundly unite cultures, communities, and families, Family Ingredients celebrates the diverse cultures that make up Hawai‘i’s melting pot throughout the series.

 

All photos  © Renea Veneri Stewart

 

FAMILY INGREDIENTS, Season 2. Host Ed Kenney

 

Broadcasts of Family Ingredients on PBS Hawai‘i are sponsored locally by:

 

FAMILY INGREDIENTS: California - Smoked Fish

California – Smoked Fish

Premiere: Wednesday, October 11 at 7:30 pm
Encores: Wednesday, October 11 at 11:30 pm and Sunday, October 15 at 4:30 pm

In the Season 2 premiere, singer-songwriter and surfer Jack Johnson shares memories of his father on a road trip along the California coast. Enjoy the music, smoked fish and tales about early surfer migration to Hawaiʻi.

 

FAMILY INGREDIENTS: Philippines – Adobo

Philippines – Adobo

Premiere: Wednesday, October 18 at 7:30 pm
Encores: Wednesday, October 18 at 11:30 pm and Sunday, October 22 at 4:30 pm

“Top Chef” fan favorite Sheldon Simeon makes his first trip to the Philippines. Born and raised in Hawaiʻi, Simeon credits his dad for his love of Filipino cuisine.

 

FAMILY INGREDIENTS: Fiddlehead Fern

Wisconsin – Fiddlehead Fern

Premiere: Wednesday, October 25 at 7:30 pm
Encores: Wednesday, October 25 at 11:30 pm and Sunday, October 29 at 4:30 pm

Kauaʻi farmer Valerie Kaneshiro tells a story of loss, rediscovery and lessons learned while sharing an ingredient in a dish found in Wisconsin and Hawaiʻi.

 


FAMILY INGREDIENTS: Vietnam, Ho Chi Minh City — Pho

Vietnam ‐ Ho Chi Minh City, Pho

Premiere: Wednesday, November 1 at 7:30 pm
Encores: Wednesday, November 1 at 11:30 pm and Sunday, November 5 at 4:30 pm

Vietnamese-American Chef Andrew Le is friendly, carefree, fun and funny. He is also passionate about his work, family and mother who is keeper of all the secret broths! In this episode we learn about how the Le family immigrated to Hawaiʻi after the Fall of Saigon in 1975 and became an American success story. Today they own one of the most popular restaurants in Hawaiʻi.

 

FAMILY INGREDIENTS: Vietnam, Hanoi — Pho

Vietnam ‐ Hanoi, Pho

Premiere: Wednesday, November 8 at 7:30 pm
Encores: Wednesday, November 8 at 11:30 pm and Sunday, November 12 at 4:30 pm

If you’ve been to Honolulu there is a good chance you have eaten at the Pig & the Lady in Chinatown.  One of the most popular dishes on the menu is Pho.  In this episode host Ed Kenney and the Le family travel to Hanoi to explore the origin of this simple noodle soup and end up tasting  many bowls.

 

FAMILY INGREDIENTS: Lana‘i, Hawai‘i — Venison

Lanaʻi, Hawaiʻi ‐ Venison

Premiere: Wednesday, November 15 at 7:30 pm and 11:30 pm
Encores: Wednesday, November 15 at 11:30 pm and Sunday, November 19 at 4:30 pm

Cultural pride can be found everywhere in world but on the tiny island of Lanaʻi, one woman makes it a way of life. Hula dancer and sustainable hunter Anela Evans is remarkable in many ways but it is the memory of her father and her love of all things Hawaiian that keeps this young woman committed to championing the land she walks on.

 

This series is made in Hawai‘i, by Hawai‘i talent:

A co-production of Rock Salt Media, Inc. and Pacific Islanders in Communications.

Ed Kenney – Host

Heather H. Giugni – Executive Producer

Renea Veneri Stewart – Producer

Dan Nakasone – Producer

Ty Sanga – Director

 

For more information:

FamilyIngredients.com

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Join us for Indie Lens Pop-Up – free film screenings!

Indie Lens Pop-Up is a film screening series that brings people together for community-driven conversations. Featured films are later broadcast on Independent Lens. PBS Hawai‘i and Hawai‘i Women in Filmmaking are the local co-presenters of Indie Lens Pop-Up.

 

Screenings are free and open to the public. Seating is first-come, first-served.

 

Coming up this season:

 

Chasing Trane: The John Coltrane Documentary / By John Scheinfeld
Tuesday, October 24, 5:30-8:00 pm
PBS Hawai‘i, 315 Sand Island Access Road, Honolulu

Set against the social, political and cultural landscape of the times, Chasing Trane brings saxophone great John Coltrane to life, as a man and an artist. The film is the definitive look at the boundary-shattering musician whose influence continues to this day.

 

I Am Not Your Negro / By Raoul Peck
Wednesday, November 15, 5:30-8:00 pm
PBS Hawai‘i, 315 Sand Island Access Road, Honolulu

One of the most acclaimed films of the year and an Oscar nominee for Best Documentary, I Am Not Your Negro envisions the book James Baldwin never finished. The result is a radical, up-to-the-minute examination of race in America, using Baldwin’s original words, spoken by Samuel L. Jackson, and with a flood of rich archival material.

 

Tell Them We Are Rising: The Story of Black Colleges and Universities /
By Stanley Nelson and Marco Williams
Tuesday, February 6, 5:30-8:00 pm
PBS Hawai‘i, 315 Sand Island Access Road, Honolulu

Tell Them We Are Rising explores the pivotal role historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs) have played over the course of 150 years in American history, culture, and identity. This film reveals the rich history of HBCUs and the power of higher education to transform lives and advance civil rights and equality in the face of injustice.

 

Dolores / By Peter Bratt
Friday, March 2, 5:30-8:00 pm
Honolulu Museum of Art, Doris Duke Theatre, 900 South Beretania Street, Honolulu

With intimate and unprecedented access, Peter Bratt’s Dolores tells the story of Dolores Huerta, among the most important, yet least-known, activists in American history. Co-founder of the first farmworkers union with Cesar Chavez, she tirelessly led the fight for racial and labor justice, becoming one of the most defiant feminists of the 20th century.

 

Look & See: Wendell Berry’s Kentucky / By Laura Dunn
Tuesday, April 17, 5:30-8:00 pm
PBS Hawai‘i, 315 Sand Island Access Road, Honolulu

Look & See: Wendell Berry’s Kentucky is a portrait of the changing landscapes and shifting values of rural America in the era of industrial agriculture, as seen through the mind’s eye of award-winning writer and farmer Wendell Berry, back home in his native Henry County, Kentucky.

 

Served Like a Girl / By Lysa Heslov
Wednesday, May 23, 5:30-8:00 pm
PBS Hawai‘i, 315 Sand Island Access Road, Honolulu

Served Like a Girl provides a candid look at a shared sisterhood to help the rising number of homeless women veterans who served in Iraq and Afghanistan, and suffer from PTSD, sexual abuse, and other traumas. By entering into the “Ms. Veteran American” competition, these amazing ladies unexpectedly come full circle in a quest for healing and hope.

 

 

INSIGHTS ON PBS HAWAI‘I
Vietnam – Nobody’s Right If Everybody’s Wrong

 

Leading up to the September 17th premiere of THE VIETNAM WAR, the 10-part documentary by Ken Burns and Lynn Novick, INSIGHTS ON PBS HAWAI‘I examines what Hawai‘i was like during the Vietnam era. A Buffalo Springfield tune from the 60s declared, “Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong.” After decades of trying to forget, are we ready to talk about Vietnam?

 

Your questions and comments are welcome via phone, email and online via Facebook and Twitter during the Live Broadcast.

 

Phone Lines:
462-5000 on Oahu or 800-238-4847 on the Neighbor Islands.

 

Email:
insights@pbshawaii.org

 

Facebook:
Visit the PBS Hawai‘i Facebook page.

 

Twitter:
Join our live discussion using #pbsinsights

 

NOVA
Killer Landslides

 

In March of 2014, a one-square-mile field of debris slammed into the Washington state community of Oso, killing 41 and destroying nearly 50 homes in less than two minutes. Drawing on analyses of other landslides around the world, geologists are investigating what triggered the deadliest U.S. landslide in decades and whether climate change is increasing the risk of similar disasters around the globe.

 

The Arab Americans

 

This documentary illustrates the contributions made to America for almost 200 years by those who immigrated to the United States from the Middle East, North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula. The film paints a portrait of the Arab American immigrant experience through the stories of General John Abizaid, actor Jamie Farr, Senator George Mitchell, NYT correspondent Anthony Shadid, journalist Helen Thomas and others.

 

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