You can't crash this closed corporation of gigolos, but
for the boys on the inside it's a glorious life being one of the famed--
"Rogues of Waikiki"
by Hoyt McAfee
from
Rogue
Vol. 3 No. 1 January, 1958
WHOEVER COINED the phrase,
"You Never Had It So Good," was unconsciously describing the life of the
world's most larksome and popular Rogues. I refer to the gigolos without
peer--those sun-bronzed lads of Waikiki Beach. Their clients and "kuu-ipos"
(honeys) affectionately call them the "best," "most," and "last word" in
matters of roguery.
They come as close to getting the breaks as any
males on our globe. They respond to no factory whistle, punch no time clocks;
and they never have to rack their brain for a solution to problems, turn
their hand to physical labor, or work up a sweat. That is,
except under
the pleasantest circumstances imaginable.
They have, in short, the kind of dream job any vitamin-filled
male would drool over. Why so? Because they spend about all their time
with women. All kinds of thrill-seeking and love-starved dames beat a path
to their beach domain of Waikiki: young mainland American girls, frustrated
socialites, widows with swag, and dissatisfied wives playing hooky from
their husbands.
Small numbers of women are genuinely interested
in mastering the art of coral diving, maneuvering an outrigger canoe, and
riding surf boards. Most, however, simply use that as a stepping stone
to more intimate pleasures. All "in-the-mood" girls know that the Waikiki
males are available, ready, and willing--for a fee!
They're more independent and financially successful
than the professional gigolos of Reno and the French Riviera. Those lover
boys have to shell out part of their earnings to the lawyers who hire them
or to guilds. Not so the Romeos of Waikiki. They're free to pocket all
the fees they earn and store away the numerous gifts their delighted female
patrons pass on to them.
At this point I can sense a question. How do you
crash that setup? Unhappily, men, you can't! You, as an outsider, stand
no chance of being accepted into that clannish group.
First of all, they've been a tightly-knit, jealous,
and going concern for a long stretch of years. The male must be in his
late teens and early twenties, well built physically, merry and light-hearted
of disposition, and possessed of an amiable personality.
He must, additionally, be fond of women. But on
the other hand he must control his loving nature and operate as a businessman.
He cannot show favors or fall in love.
Successful old-timers of the Waikiki brigade retire
in time and make room for younger talent. There is no hard-and-fast organization
as such but those on the inside keep a firm hand on the steering-wheel.
They never take on a new apprentice unless they have room for him. He pays
no entrance fee. But once inducted into the select circle he must conform
to the accepted pattern of conduct.
It's obvious, therefore, that close buddies of the
established gigolos are the only ones who ever make the grade. Not even
a slick lover from Hollywood has ever succeeded in crashing that iron curtain.
Most important of all, from the women's point of
view, the Waikiki professionals never brag about their conquests. A lonely
woman can patronize an Hawaiian beach boy and return home free of scandal
or a besmirched reputation. She can, in brief, have her fling and get away
with it.
On or AROUND WAIKIKI BEACH you, I, or the next male
vacationist will have to try to make speed with enticing Wahines--matched,
as we'll certainly be, against the most skilled and potent competition
in the world.
They're reputed to be the world's best lovers. Many
women have assured me of that. During my years in Honolulu I'd hear secretaries,
government girls, vacationing babes and unhappy women speak with enthusiasm
of how they were saving for a long week-end.
Sometimes I'd catch them in mellow, confiding, and
convivial moods. I'd hear them extol the tenderness, prowess, gallantry,
and ardor of the professional beach boys. They'd convince the girls that
they actually were in love with them. Their overtures would be romantic
considerate; and their technique would be geared to each woman client's
response.
Perhaps the most potent secret of their success
is the toe and foot massage. That "treatment" sends the girls out into
a world of rapture. Standing on one foot, the Hawaiian lover uses the other
to press into, manipulate, and massage all the sensitive spots on a woman's
back.
Hawaiian lover boys are adept in giving these massages.
Their feminine clients sigh, purr, and slip off into a mood where they
feel like loving the whole world!
The high-powered Romeos have several additional
weapons in reserve. They're "gallantly bold," as one overjoyed Denver redhead
explained it to me. They're always willing to match a woman client's mood.
They play steel guitars and ukuleles and sing haunting
old love songs of Hawaii Nei, accompanied by the crash of seas and that
melting, low-in-the-sky Hawaiian moon.
I've known six or seven of these Rogues well and
the only time I ever caught one in a sad frame of mind was when he was
away from women!
Most of the Waikiki professionals make a base hit
within a ridiculously short time. A prospect presents herself and asks
for' some of that famous beach service. One swift, exhilarating ride on
the surf board suffices for her. She lets her companion know that she'd
welcome his attentions. She further confides that she will gladly pay for
the service. Sweet music, that, to the gigolo's ears.
As a matter of practice he usually escorts her to
his cottage hideout. There he administers the toe-and-foot massage and
whatever else is agreed to. Then he collects his financial fee and returns
to Waikiki to make himself available again.
One of these fellows--I always called him the "Hoomalimali
(tease them along) Kid"--one day to reminiscing about his happiest dates.
His experiences, I learned, were fairly typical of his profession.
There was a 34-year-old woman named Gladys who brought
him a special joy. She had been married to a much older man for a spell
but things didn't work out. He did, however, settle a substantial amount
of money upon her via divorce action. Then Gladys set out to live it up.
She had heard from another unconventional girlfriend
about the services of the Waikiki Romeos. Gladys went to find out for herself.
My friend became her first escort. After an afternoon and night of fun
she hired him for two more days. He was delighted with the arrangement
and he was being well paid.
When Gladys packed for a cruise to Australia and
New Zealand three days later she offered to take the "Hoomalimali Kid"
along. He was tempted to go but his chums--pouring on the scorn--talked
him out of it. They convinced him that by concentrating on one woman he'd
be displaying a grievous "weakness"--especially when he could stay in Waikiki
and escort many women.
The Kid's second most delightful dalliance was with
a widow named Madge. Somewhere along the line she had latched on to a comfortable
wad of dough. Madge was adventurous. After my beach boy friend had met
her he took her for a surfboard ride and entertained her.
She was well satisfied and stuck around for two
days and nights. Only when the Hoomalimali Kid presented her his bill she
commented wryly: "What a hell of a note--having to pay a man!"
Then there was Helen; my friend sighed over the
very mention of her name. Helen, a bit woozy from cocktail drinking, had
sought out a Waikiki boy on a dare.
She drew the Hoomalimali Kid and off to his beach
side cottage they went. My beach boy friend found her the most exciting
woman of his professional career.
After a 24 hour tryst Helen left the Kid's cottage
with a smile on her face. He regretted to see her go because she had given
him so much happiness. In fact he enjoyed himself so much that he forgot
to charge her! It was unprofessional behavior that doesn't happen often!
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