Kahiki Supper Club Read online

  To appease those who raise a hue and cry whenever historic structures are sacrificed to the gods of progress, it was agreed to dismantle the façade of the house, number every stone and store them somewhere so that it could be reconstructed somehow, sometime, somewhere. For a time, they were deposited at Wolfe Park and later moved to the Ohio State Fairgrounds. But by then, most of markings had weathered off the stones. Finally, they were given over into the custody of the Western Reserve Historical Society in Cleveland.

  This ad for the Oahu party room suggests it is “the most intriguing in the country.” Courtesy Sapp/Henry.

  The old homestead was replaced in 1963 by the Christopher Inn, a hotel and restaurant famous for its circular design, not unlike the Capitol Records Tower in Hollywood. The fifteen-story building with 137 pie-shaped rooms was demolished in 1988. Some preservationists weren’t happy about that, either.

  At the end of his article, Curtis didn’t reach a conclusion, but posed more questions:

  But what to save? Early strip malls? Subdivisions filled with tract homes? Drive-in theaters? White Castle hamburger stands? (One paper presented in Philadelphia was titled “The Ubiquitous Parking Garage: Worthy of Preservation?”) After all, these are icons of the twentieth century, much as canals and carriage houses and Richardsonian Romanesque train depots are icons of the nineteenth. Isn’t it important to preserve the best architectural examples of our era for our grandchildren? How do we decide which are the best?

  In Columbus, there are many who would probably say that it is time we started saving something. Stu Koblentz, who helped to classify the Kahiki as one of the top ten endangered historic buildings in Ohio when he served on the Ohio Preservation Alliance, says, “I think a lot of people are still bitter about it. We all miss it.”

  17

  BON VOYAGE

  The true paradises are the paradises that we have lost.

  —Marcel Proust

  For much of its history, Whitehall was a blue-collar community of safe, clean and respectable neighborhoods. It was a good place to live and a good place to work. No doubt this was what prompted developer Don M. Casto Sr. to open Town & Country Shopping Center in 1949. A strip mall–style development dubbed the “Miracle Mile,” it was a novelty at the time. During the next two decades, Main Street was known as “the strip” and was home to modern motels, nightclubs and restaurants, not the least of which was the Kahiki. By the 1980s and 1990s, however, many of these businesses had closed. The motels had gone to seed and were used only by drug and prostitution rings. As Nathan Miner, a visitor from Baltimore, blogged shortly before the Kahiki closed:

  It was worth the drive, but I should warn anyone visiting for the first time that the Kahiki is located in a dirty, ugly, depressing, “down-trodden” part of town that had its “hey day” long, long ago and is now slipping into poverty, vacant lots, etc. I can understand why the Kahiki is glad to get out—and I have absolutely nothing but compassion for the decision to close and move elsewhere!! I know the Kahiki owners were celebrating that someone actually wanted to open a business on the property.

  An early photo of a young woman posing in one of the Kahiki costumes. Courtesy Sapp/Henry.

  Kristen Schmidt reported in Columbus Monthly: “Outdated housing, a transient population, language and cultural barriers and a high crime rate are phenomena that chase each other in cities like Whitehall.”

  In a study of restaurant failures, H.G. Parsa et al. made the following observation:

  For example, Kahiki Restaurant located in Columbus, Ohio was ranked as one of the Top 100 restaurants in the US. It was visited by several Hollywood and national celebrities as a destination restaurant. Over [the] next three decades, this particular location continued to become less attractive as the affluent of the neighborhood moved, leaving empty spaces, vacant houses, and “brown fields.” Eventually Kahiki was closed for good as the location became impossible to operate profitably. In this case, the geographic factors of the location did not change much, but the demographics changed; resulting [in] restaurant failure.

  As hard as it is for Kahiki-ophiles to accept, there were sound business reasons for closing the supper club. The restaurant simply was no longer a viable proposition. Sales had plateaued at $2.5 million. The building itself was in need of extensive renovations (there had always been problems with the rain forest plumbing, backed-up drains, rotting timbers, etc.). And as much as he would have liked to, Michael Tsao couldn’t afford it.

  In the restaurant game, location is everything, and the Kahiki’s location at 3583 East Broad Street was militating against its continued survival. In the nearly forty years since it opened as a destination dining attraction, the area between Bexley and Whitehall had undergone many changes, few of them for the better. Although the term “changing demographics” was bandied about, what was really meant was the steady decline of the neighborhood. Bad things were happening there, the type of things that discourage customers. The location was no longer attractive to diners.

  A second and possibly equal factor was the cost of renovating and maintaining the property. Although the building had been awarded historic preservation status just two years earlier, that didn’t fix anything. You don’t throw good money after bad. “We’re looking at the physical maintenance of this facility catching up with us in the next 10 years,” Tsao said. “It’ll best serve us and the community if we move.”

  Although Michael Tsao downplayed Walgreens’ influence on the decision to close the restaurant, he couldn’t deny that money talks. The drugstore “just moved our process along faster.”

  “Tsao, dressed in a flowered shirt and a pink lei, said he wants to re-create the restaurant at a downtown location within two years, perhaps along the riverfront,” a reporter for the Jackson Florida Times Union wrote. “He said Walgreens is not responsible for the closing and is getting undue criticism.”

  Preservationists, naturally, were upset by the prospect of losing the Kahiki. However, Tsao attempted to soothe ruffled feathers by insisting that the restaurant would not die. He noted that although the company (of which he was president) wanted him to consider relocating it to a destination city such as Orlando or Chicago, he felt that “this restaurant belongs in Columbus”—specifically, on the downtown riverfront. “We have a nice riverfront downtown, but there’s not enough activity to support anything—not even the [replica of the] Santa Maria.”

  Tsao had his eye on several sites on the west bank of the Scioto River in the vicinity of the Veterans’ Memorial and the Columbus Health Department. “We can be the catalyst for commercial development of the riverfront.” Meanwhile, he planned to store artifacts and architectural details from the original Kahiki in the hope that they could be incorporated into any new building. He went so far as to discuss his idea with Mark Barbash, the city’s director of trade and development. “What the city chooses to promote downtown needs to make sense in terms of the overall plan,” Barbash said. “We’re not going to piecemeal this. With that said, Michael’s a good business person with a lot of good ideas. I just haven’t seen his more recent plans.”

  Other movers and shakers gave their conditional support. Developer Ron Pizzuti, who was in the process of building the Miranova condominium complex, suggested, “Maybe that restaurant could be floated in the middle of the river or perhaps at Confluence Park.” Keith Myers, a partner in Myers-Schmalenberger Landscape Architects, emphasized that “the architecture and design would be important. Any structure like that on the river has the potential to be very visible. It would be difficult to get something that would fit in with the cultural institutions developing over there” on the west bank. Richard Nolan, general manager of the Veterans’ Memorial, said, “I think what Michael wants to do is exciting and he wants to find the right place for it.”

  On August 26, 2000, the Kahiki officially passed away at the age of thirty-nine. But instead of holding a wake over the deceased, those who were in attendance partied like it was 1999. Otto V
on Stroheim, publisher of Tiki News, was among those covering the festivities. “Guests traveled from all over the U.S. and abroad,” he wrote. “Some of the cities represented were Atlanta, Chicago, London, Los Angeles, Madison, Melbourne, Minneapolis, New York, Pittsburgh and San Francisco.” Artists, musicians, journalists, filmmakers, celebrities big and small, longtime customers and the merely curious converged on this the center of the tiki universe to rub elbows and shake hands with Bill Sapp, Sandro Conti, Herman Leitwein and others who had a hand in creating the legendary Polynesian palace.

  When Otto Von Stroheim asked Michael Tsao directly whether he thought the Kahiki would really reopen, he answered, “I have almost 100 people that rely on me for their livelihood…I want to make sure that Kahiki lasts another 40 years. That is why we are moving.” Even had he lived, however, it is unlikely it would have been resurrected.

  18

  AFTERLIFE

  To begin with, the “goals” of all Polynesian peoples seem to have been limited to those of the Ao, the mortal everyday world—i.e., generally speaking, individuals did not act in ways aimed at securing a desirable existence in the afterlife, in the Po.

  —Douglas L. Oliver

  Although the Kahiki is no more, there are many people who do not want it or the memory of it to pass away. They have endeavored, some more successfully than others, to provide it with an afterlife. A surprising number of them had never experienced the restaurant—or even stepped foot in Columbus—but recognized that it was a very special place and keenly feel the loss. Their desire to pay tribute to the Kahiki Supper Club has expressed itself in a variety of ways.

  Scott Kramer and Steve Zurnoff opened Pittsburgh’s Tiki Lounge at 2003 East Carson Street in the autumn of 2002. According to tikiophile James Teitelbaum in Tiki Road Trip, it was

  inspired by Columbus’s universally missed Kahiki (right down to the shell sinks in the washrooms). One enters the two-story building through a mammoth tiki, to find a bar across from some booths. The rear of the room contains a dance floor, and the basement level is a non-smoking bar. The TiPSY Factor here is high; two waterfalls and plenty of tikis exist among the dense foliage, and two glass cases house a pair of cannibals (fake).

  Until it closed forever in August 2008, Marion’s Continental, a retro-chic bar and restaurant at 354 Bowery between East Fourth and Great Jones Streets in New York, hosted an annual tribute to the Kahiki. For several weeks each year, Marion’s broke out the flower leis and decked the halls with paper palm trees, some thatching and flowers to create a “tasteful Tiki” décor. The kitchen served up pu-pu platters galore, along with other Asian Pacific dishes, and the bartenders deviated from their usual cocktail-heavy fare to mix up a variety of exotic drinks. For entertainment, the World Famous Pontani Sisters tapped up a storm with their “glamorous Las Vegas style showgirl dance numbers with a downtown twist.”

  A 2005 press release stated that Marion’s salute to the Kahiki originated from an incident that occurred when Marion Nagy, a New York socialite, and her husband, Harry, were flying to Los Angeles to attend to the wedding of Harry’s brother at baseball star Sandy Koufax’s house. When their plane was unexpectedly diverted to Columbus, they called some friends who took them to the newly opened Kahiki Supper Club. With its over-the-top décor, Mystery Girl, volcanic drinks and Polynesian dishes, the Nagys “had a hoot of a time.”

  Ty Wenzel, longtime bartender at Marion’s, described the scene during the Kahiki celebration:

  The usual fifties shabby-chic is still apparent under the explosion of Tiki-ware. The largest tables…are under gigantic thatch roofs dressed up with stuffed plastic parrots hanging from the center on their perches. One of them is dangling lopsided, prepared to nosedive into someone’s frozen daiquiri. The other side of the room, where the two-top orange booths…are lined up against the wall, it is also covered by an elongated version of the straw roof, edged with a chintzy multicolored gigantic lantern light set.

  Scattered all over the room, including the bar, are paper and plastic palm trees, plastic totem poles, head-bobbin’ hula girls, plastic fish tied in nets, gardenias, leis, grass skirts, coconut bras, and other silly island accessories. It looks garish and cheap in the sunshine coming in through the front windows, but it takes on a kitschy island charm at night. And believe me when I say New Yorkers love nothing more than a Tiki theme.

  Although the staff dressed in Hawaiian shirts, grass skirts and sarongs, Marion’s remained pretty much rooted in its usual “Rat Pack” ambiance. As one customer wrote, “It basically looked like they were throwing a tropical themed birthday party for someone. It was that lame.”

  While the preservationists had failed in their attempt to prevent the Kahiki from being demolished, others were determined to keep it alive by saving some of the artifacts and recording its history. Initially, these efforts were undertaken by disparate individuals acting on their own. However, in 2005, Matt “Kuku Ahu” Thatcher, Jim “Chisel Slinger” Robinson and Joel “Cowtown Kahuna” Gunn formalized their efforts with the founding of the Ohio-based Fraternal Order of Moai. With a mission of serving as the “premier fraternal organization and social network for all men and women interested in tiki culture and the Polynesian pop era,” the Moai espouses the following core values: good words, fellowship, spirit, presence, preservation and celebration.

  In 1994, Steven Schussler opened the first in an international chain of Rainforest Cafés at the Mall of America in Blooming, Minnesota. The theme is a tropical rain forest with plants, waterfalls, aquariums and animatronic figures, from elephants to gorillas and even a talking tree. The optical fiber ceilings are designed to suggest a starry night. And occasionally a “thunderstorm” rolls through, just as it did at the Kahiki. As befitting an operation that includes branches at Downtown Disney in Anaheim, California; Disney’s Animal Kingdom, Lake Buena Vista, Florida; and Downtown Disney, also at Lake Buena Vista, the staff are all “cast members,” with waiters acting as Safari Guides, hosts and hostesses as Tour Guides, bartenders as Navigators, etc. The menu plays it safe, offering burgers, salads, nachos, pizza, pasta and similar entrées. Everyone yells “Volcano!” when someone orders a volcano sundae.

  Early in 2006, Theang Ngo, age thirty-four, and Soeng Thong, thirty-nine, opened the Tropical Bistro at Mill Run next to Lowe’s. “We want to give the people the spirit of the Kahiki,” Ngo said. He had been a general manager when the celebrated Polynesian supper club closed, while Thong was a headwaiter. Joining them at the new pan-Asian venture was Mickey Cheung, former executive chef at the Kahiki. Obviously, this venture was a little closer to the heart than Marion’s Continental.

  Located at 3641 Fishinger Road in Hilliard, a Columbus suburb, the restaurant featured some tables, lanterns, masks, wooden tikis and turtle shells from the original Kahiki. However, the overall décor largely reflected its previous life as Mark Pi’s China Gate.30 The tables were a gift from Alice Tsao, widow of Kahiki owner Michael Tsao. Other items were provided by Kahiki Foods, Inc. Although the food (“From the East,” “From the West” and “From the Island”) and drink recipes (“Zombie,” “Smoking Eruption,” “Headhunter,” “Suffering Bastard” and, of course, “Mai Tai”) remained the same (with the addition of a sushi bar), the Tropical Bistro, as one article put it, was “Kahiki Lite.”

  The face on the original Zombie drink sleeve was also incorporated into the main doors. Courtesy Joe Schuster.

  Diners still raved about such dishes as the “Tahitian Mermaid” (steak stuffed with crab and cream cheese) or the “Malagasy New York Strip Steak” (with a green peppercorn sauce), but by 2008, the Tropical Bistro had closed—good food and good drinks couldn’t trump a bad location. The Tropical Bistro was saddled with a dying strip mall and suffered from the lack of a distinctive building that had only a couple stone moai out front.

  If anyone in Columbus knows how to work a restaurant concept, it’s Elisabeth “Liz” Lessner. In 2011, Lessner, co-founder of the Columbus Food League, annou
nced plans to add a sixth restaurant to her rapidly growing portfolio. The Grass Skirt opened the following year at 105 North Grant Avenue, a small brick building whose former tenant was the Mad Lab Theater and Gallery. She noted that she and her partners “all grew up loving the Kahiki,” so they wanted to bring back the kitsch of the tiki bar. “We try to find niches,” she said. “Our restaurant group goes for a fun vibe.” Joining her were the other members of the league: Carmen Owens, Amy Brennick, Tim Lessner and Harold Rue. Although the Grass Skirt, by design, is even more “Kahiki Lite” than the Tropical Bistro was, it has demonstrated that the city still has a soft spot in its heart for tiki bars.

  Then there is Kahiki Foods. In December 2002, Michael Tsao bought a new building in Gahanna for $2.2 million, which included an additional fourteen acres for expansion. He also secured a $4.2 million industrial bond from the state that would allow him to refurbish and equip the building, bringing the total cost of the project to nearly $7 million. Two years later, the 119,000-square-foot, state-of-the-art Gahanna plant was ready for occupation and none too soon.