From da Big Island Read online

  From da Big Island

  New York Defined her

  Hawaii Changed her

  BILL HUTCHINSON

  Copyright © 2017 Bill Hutchinson

  All rights reserved

  It is illegal to reproduce any part of this novel in any format.

  This novel’s story, events, incidents, and characters are fictitious and the products of the author and his husband’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Famous individuals. long-standing institutions, agencies, businesses, and public offices are mentioned, but the characters involved are wholly imaginary. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead or events is purely coincidental.

  Published by Bill Hutchinson

  Web Site: http://FromDaBigIsland.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FromDaBigIsland

  Twitter: @FromDaBigIsland

  Paperback ISBN-13: 978-0-9996268-0-1

  Hardback ISBN-13: 978-0-9996268-1-8

  eBook ISBN-13: 978-0-9996268-2-5

  Large print ISBN-13: 978-0-9996268-3-2

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my beloved husband Allyn for all his help, inspiration, and creativity over the years.

  Characters

  Auntie: Ruth’s uphill neighbor and horticulturist.

  Ben Kokua: Ruth’s live-in handyman and gardener.

  Danny Mauka: Hawaii television producer and station manager.

  Eileen Baccio: Wife of Joe Baccio.

  George Epstein: Zach Newcomb’s law partner.

  Gloria La Fong: Ruth’s therapist.

  Jim: Network CEO.

  Joe Baccio: Head of a New York crime syndicate and client of Law Offices of Newcomb and Epstein.

  Linda: Ruth’s sister and mother of Pauline.

  Meka Ayala: Ruth’s downhill neighbor, husband of Nalai, and William’s father.

  Michael Kokua: Ben’s musician brother.

  Mrs. Charlene Strong: Honokaa High School counselor.

  Mrs. Wiggins: Ruth’s cat.

  Nalani Ayala: Ruth’s downhill neighbor, wife of Meka, and William’s mother.

  Paul Martin: Sarah’s husband and owner of a house in Hawaii.

  Pauline: Ruth’s niece and a television production assistant.

  Ruth Newcomb: The protagonist, Zack’s wife and star of the syndicated television show From the Big Apple.

  Sarah Martin: Ruth’s childhood friend, Paul’s wife, From the Big Apple television show producer, and owner of a house in Hawaii.

  William Ayala: Son of Meka and Nalani, Ruth’s downhill neighbors, and an at risk high school student who would rather surf than be in class.

  Zach Newcomb: Ruth’s husband and George Epstein’s law partner.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Characters

  Prologue

  Ruth

  Number 3 Beekman Place

  The Nutcracker

  Post Mortem

  More Time, Please

  Madam La Fong

  Honolulu

  The Big Island

  Hale Newcomb

  The Neighbors

  I Need a Car!

  Honoka’a

  Doesn’t Anybody Knock?

  Waipio Valley

  Da Ghost of an Old Kahuna

  Reading is an Adventure

  No More Keiki’s

  Be Careful What You Wish For

  A New Life Begins

  New York Cannot be All That Bad

  Oh, dem Pigs!

  Ruth’s Idea

  Time Flies

  Da Big Apple

  Da Battle

  Da Graduation

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  Prologue

  Ruth Newcomb and I go back a good many years; more years than either would like to admit. She is very staid in her ways, sticking more to the familiar than the unfamiliar. Even though she had been on the Big Island of Hawaii for what would seem decades, it has only been a little more than one.

  Ruth is part of my ohana. Ohana is Hawaiian for what most would call extended family. Every time I return to the Big Island, we get together, sitting for hours on her lanai (Hawaiian for veranda or porch), talk about life, old stories from before we met, bringing each other up to date with our lives, and other things friends enjoy discussing.

  On one particular trip, we were seated on Ruth’s lanai talking, just as we have always done. What made this time different, more than any other, was Ruth’s recollection of when we first met and events surrounding her arrival on the Big Island. Not that I was contesting it, nor anything like that, she wanted to validate her own memory. Period!

  Ruth told me to remain seated, got up, and went to her small living room library to get a journal; one of the many volumes that she had written since reading The Diary of Anne Frank. Little did Ruth realize at that time, her first diary would become numerous volumes, filling the lower shelves of her library. Seeing her return with one of the journals in hand, that’s when it struck me, I’m a journalist, why not write a book about Ruth’s transition from the Big Apple to the Big Island of Hawaii, using her journals as a basis for turning them into this book you are now reading.

  William Ayala

  Huntington Beach, CA

  September 11, 2017

  Ruth

  “Ruth, Ruth Newcomb, is that you?” an elderly woman yelled, running after Ruth, a red-haired lady, who continued her brisk walk down New York’s post 9/11 Fifth Avenue totally oblivious of the Christmas shoppers and the woman calling her name. It wasn’t hard to miss Ruth, as not many people have red-hair to begin with, and most of the other women wore scarves or hats to protect their heads from the wind. However, to Ruth, it is her red hair and staunch demeanor, that anyone who would see her, will instantly recognize her as television personality Ruth Newcomb. If that were not enough, Ruth was always impeccably dressed and wore the latest designer fashion. Her clothes were always skintight to show off her slender well-proportioned body, fitting her like a glove, not bad for a lady in her sixties. So it was no surprise that the old woman had instantly recognized Ruth Newcomb.

  The elderly woman finally reached Ruth and tapped her on the shoulder, “Aren’t you Ruth Newcomb; From the Big Apple?”

  Ruth stopped and turned, “Of course, Darling! Who else could I be?”

  The elderly woman dug through her purse, “I’m such a big fan of your show.” This was a stall technique Ruth had heard many times before as fans searched for a pad and pen. Finding both, the woman held them in front of Ruth and asked, “May I have your autograph?”

  Happy to oblige a fan, Ruth took the pen and pad, and scribbled something and signed the pad, handed both back to the old woman who studied it. The autograph was not the normal, everyday one would expect from famous people, the signature was unique, and one that was instantly recognizable to her vast television audience. She would sign her name Ruth Newcomb surrounding her signature with the large stylized apple associated her show, From the Big Apple. The woman looked back at Ruth smiling, “Oh, thank you. Thank you. It’s such a wonderful and unusual autograph, one that I will cherish for years to come.”

  “Thank you, Darling.” Ruth responded. She always used darling when responding to people as it was a general response people expected and liked, and perhaps most of all, she liked using darling because it was easier than remembering the person’s name. Ruth turned to continue her walk through the Fifth Avenue Christmas crowd as a light evening snow begun to fall. As she reached 52nd Street, the crossing light hand popped up. She stopped with the hordes of people. The aroma of cooking steaks caused Ruth to look to her right, where she spotted the steel jockeys lining the front of The 21 Club.
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  A man accidentally bumped into Ruth and in a thick Italian accent said, “Excusa me.” For some reason, perhaps the combination of seeing The 21 Club and the Italian accent caused Ruth to flashback to that one unusual evening, many years ago, when Mario Manzoni, the head of one of New York’s key crime families, was assassinated in front of the restaurant.

  It was the evening of June 17th, 1965. A warm pleasant breeze blew down 52nd Street past The 21 Club. A large crowd of spectators surrounded the red carpet and the chrome stanchions holding the rope leading from the entrance to the street to the two awaiting stretch limousines. A television news crew was set up at the entrance of the club. Bob, the cameraman, had his camera on Pat, the local New York television commentator, standing next to one of limousines. Looking at the camera, speaking into his microphone, Pat announced, “This is Pat Patterson at The 21 Club, where in a few moments mob boss Mario Manzoni, his lieutenant Joe Baccio, attorney Zach Newcomb, along with their wives will be exiting. It is rumored they have been discussing a resolution to the turf wars between the Manzoni and the Sarducci crime families.”

  In the nighttime crowd next to Pat, stood a tall black haired man who wore an unbuttoned long black raincoat, which would be more suited for winter than a warm June evening. No one seemed to notice the man was concealing a gun under his raincoat.

  “Manzoni,” continued Pat, “prefers the use of the legal system to resolve conflict over the use of force as some of the other crime families do.”

  The doorman opened the door for two bodyguards, in their early 20’s dressed in black, with slicked back black hair. Pat noticed the two bodyguards leaving and changed his commentary, “it looks like they are exiting the 21 Club.”

  The bodyguards made their way to the limousines, scanning the crowd, not noticing the man in the long heavy raincoat. The doorman opened the door, this time for gray haired Mario Manzoni, who wore a white tuxedo, and his blond bombshell of a wife, some twenty years younger, wore a white sequenced Dior evening dress. They were followed by Joe Baccio, dressed in a white tuxedo, and Eileen, his wife, dressed a vivid blue evening gown.

  “Here comes Mario Manzoni and Joe Baccio along with their wives.”

  They were followed by Ruth, dressed in a brilliant shimmering green evening dress, and Zach, her husband, in a white tuxedo.

  “Here’s Zach Newcomb and his wife, Ruth Newcomb, our very own junior reporter.”

  As Ruth left the club, she saw Pat and mouthed, “I love you, darling.” and threw him a kiss.

  Mario, not one to miss an opportunity for publicity, waved and approached Pat.

  “Mario, do you have anything you are willing to tell us?” Pat asked. The assassin in the raincoat stealthy pulled out the gun and shot Mario at point-blank range.

  Mario fell to the ground, his wife screamed and grabbed him, as blood gushed out covering his white tuxedo and splattered both his wife and Pat with blood. The assassin turned, bumping Pat, at the same instant one of the bodyguards fired his gun, hitting Pat, who collapsed next to Mario and his wife.

  Meanwhile, the surrounding crowd dropped to the ground in an attempt to avoid being caught in the crossfire. The bodyguards started to chase the running assassin. More gun shots rang out. This time, the assassin fell dead on the sidewalk.

  Ruth and Zach, being in the middle of the assassination, surveyed the carnage.

  “I think we’re safe now that the assassin is dead.” Zach assured Ruth. “We need to wait for the police.”

  “Pat’s dead!” Ruth exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief. “I need to get this news story to the newsroom, now!” She noticed Bob had captured the entire bloodbath and was filming the blood covered body of Mario being held by his wife, much like the Pieta, with Pat lying to the side in a pool of blood.

  “Bob, darling, when you have an opportunity, don’t forget to get an wide shot for the closing showing restaurant with the jockeys.” Ruth commanded. She looked at Pat and spotted the blood covered microphone. Trembling, she bent down, using her thumb and forefinger, picked the microphone up by the wire mesh which didn’t have blood and wiped Pat’s blood off on his blue news jacket. As Ruth regained her composure, she pointed the microphone down, and in a strong whisper said, “Bob! Bob, darling! Turn the camera on me. I’ll finish the piece. Then get the footage back to the studio. We need to make the eleven o’clock news!”

  Bob turned the camera around towards Ruth, and gave her the queue. Taking a deep breath, Ruth brought the microphone up looking into the camera, “This is Ruth Newcomb, reporting to you from The 21 Club, where a few moments ago we witnessed the brutal murder of Mario Manzoni, the reputed mob boss, and television commentator, Pat Patterson, by a lone assassin ...”

  “Andiamo, we go, light change!” Ruth was knocked back into the present day as the light at 52nd Street changed and the man with the Italian accent pushed his way past her. Ruth continued her short walk down Fifth Avenue finally reaching Rockefeller Center. When she entered the plaza, she was greeted by the illuminated Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, the piped in Christmas music playing, skaters enjoying the rink, and the smell of chestnuts roasting wafting from a nearby vending cart. Ruth smiled, nodded her head in approval, and thought to herself, it was indeed Christmastime in New York City.

  ✽✽✽

  Inside the Rockefeller Center television studio, cables, flats, propping, cameras, and personnel were watching the broadcast unfold. Ruth, wore a glimmering silken red dress, seated at the desk on the From the Big Apple set. Behind her was a large red stylized apple, just like the one she used in her autograph, with red lettering announcing the show, From the Big Apple. The monitor next to the camera was pointed towards Ruth playing a prerecorded segment of the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular. A floor manager stood next to the camera holding one hand up flashing five seconds to go. The countdown continued as he yelled, “4, 3, 2.” The signal was given, Ruth looking at the camera, and read from the Teleprompter, “So don’t miss the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular at Radio City Music Hall through January second.

  “Darlings, you know how I adore the New York Public Library Reading is Fundamental program. I love it so much so, that I will be reading Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol at the New York Public Library mid-town branch this Saturday at two PM. So don’t forget to be there because reading is fun-da-mental.

  “This wraps up another edition of From the Big Apple. Tomorrow we will have...” pausing, she tilted her head, as she gave an inquisitive look at the Teleprompter which read, “TOMORROW WE WILL HAVE ???? UNTIL NEXT TIME...”

  Realizing that the question marks were for her to fill in, Ruth quickly recouped, “... a wonderful show for you.

  “Until next time, this is Ruth Newcomb, From the Big Apple.” Ruth looked directly at the camera smiling. The tally light went out.

  “We’re clear,” yelled the floor manager.

  Ruth’s smile faded as she looked into the camera, “What the heck was that?”

  “What was what?” The floor manager responded.

  “Darling,” addressing the floor manager, “you and Sarah know what I mean.”

  The floor manager shrugged and gave Ruth an inquisitive look as she continued, “I mean the question marks!”

  Sarah Martin, the show’s producer and Ruth’s childhood friend, ran up.

  “I thought we had the next show planned.” Ruth asked Sarah.

  “We don’t!” Ruth’s niece Pauline, a twenty-something production assistant who wants to be a producer, was carrying a clipboard following Sarah like a puppy, was the first to speak.

  “Pauline, darling, would you be a doll and get auntie some water?”

  As Pauline left, Ruth looked at the television monitor next to the camera, which was showing a commercial with palm trees, sandy beaches, Diamond Head, and Waikiki Beach.

  “In any event,” Sarah continued, “George called during the segment and canceled.”

  “So what if he canceled, Sarah. You could have had
Teleprompter Bob put something other than those darn question marks. Darling, you know how I hate that.”

  “You did a good job faking it.”

  Ruth returned her gaze to the monitor when the commercial ended with Come to Hawaii.

  “Sarah, I could have said, ‘Tomorrow we will be coming to you from Hawaii!’“

  “Coming to you from Hawaii?”

  Ruth raised her voice, “yes, Hawaii! Ever since Thanksgiving, that Come to Hawaii ad has aired. We might as well do the show from Hawaii. What’s going on here?”

  Sarah, tried not to be defensive, “It’s cold; people want to get away to a warm climate like Hawaii. You know, warm friendly happy people, tropical drinks, ukuleles, luaus, hukilaus, and Hula dancing.”

  “Not everyone has a little grass shack in Hawaii like you and Paul do. Some people like to ski; go to a cozy cabin in the mountains, and enjoy the snow.”

  “And then there are those like you who never step foot out of New York.”

  Pauline returned with Ruth’s water. “Thank you, Darling.”

  Sarah looked at Ruth, “we need to think of something for the next show.”

  “Maybe we could do The Nutcracker.”

  Both Sarah and Pauline grimaced and in unison declared, “Not again!”

  Pauline continued, “We’ve never done an inside tour of Tiffany’s which we can tie into the rerelease of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Or maybe we can cover the medicinal marijuana trial Uncle Zach is working on. Sparks are flying and I’m sure we can do an interview with Uncle Zach about why the Baccio trail is so important.”

  Across the room, a production assistant yelled, “Pauline, telephone.” Pauline turned and walked quickly to the phone.

  Sarah agreeing with Pauline’s line of thinking responded, “We did The Nutcracker last year. Think of something. We’ll talk about it at the production meeting.”

  “Darling, I was thinking of an easy way out.”

  “I’m with you.” Sarah put her hand on Ruth’s shoulder, “We’re still on for Charlie Chan tonight, aren’t we?”