Sooner or later everyone who plunks a guitar has something to say about the swaying palms, the lovely hula, the grass skirts and the beautiful waves of old Hawaii. Around Waikiki Beach these days, the swaying palms are pruned once a year to keep the coconuts from hitting the tourists. The hula is now danced even in Boston, and the tourists are buying up the grass skirts as fast as the islanders can make them out of cellophane. As the solitary Hawaiian pictured on the opposite page throws his weight forward to keep his board on the rising wave, it seems the waves at Waikiki still belong exclusively to the islanders. But this is true only in the big surf out far. In the gentler surf lines along the beach, on a fair day over 200 visitors sweep down the green slopes on boards and in canoes. Some spend more time beneath the waves than on top, but still paddle out again for more, and, as detailed on page 21, this old Hawaiian sport is now pursued by fans on beaches far from Waikiki.
THROUGH A TORRENT OF SPRAY THROWN UP BY BOW OF THEIR OUTRIGGER CANOE, TOURISTS AND HAWAIIAN BEACH BOYS SLIDE DOWN A WAVE AT START OF A QUARTER-MILE RIDE INTO WAIKIKI BEACH
NEARLY LOST IN THE FOAM, A RIDER WORKS HIS WAY TO THE FRONT OF A WAVE AT WAIKIKI