The hallmarks of Hawai'i's statehood era are easy enough to identify: the rise of tourism as Hawai'i's leading economic engine, the resultant boom period of investment and development, the dramatic growth in population, the re-examination of Hawaiian history and culture brought about by the Hawaiian Renaissance, the wane of the Big Five and the dominance of the Democratic Party in local politics.
For local residents, particularly those who were alive to see the transition from territory to state, the effects of the tumultuous past 50 years have been a mixed bag.
The upcoming 50th anniversary of Hawai'i's official inclusion in the union has provided ample cause for reflection on the impact statehood has had on Hawai'i and consideration of where the state is headed over the next half-century.
Francis Bissen, 70, of Kane'ohe, grew up on Maui where, he said, the prospects for young people coming out of high school in the territorial era were despairingly limited.
"You could join the military, maybe go to college if you could afford it, or try and get lucky and get a job with the plantations," he said.
Bissen opted for the military. He was serving with the Air Force in Spain when he got the news that Hawai'i had become a state.
When he returned home a year later, things had changed. Rapid development was already starting to reshape the physical landscape of the Islands. The streets were crowded with newly arrived immigrants and Mainland transplants taking advantage of a fertile job market. The very pace of life on O'ahu, where he had relocated, and his native Maui was beginning to accelerate.
"Tourism was a big help," he said. "The growth was expected. There has to be growth and I think it was positive overall."
Eugenia Tom, 61, of Kaka'ako, was just 11 when President Eisenhower signed the act officially admitting Hawai'i to the union. She remembered the days following the signing as "festive and happy."
Still, she said, the ensuing five decades brought their share of ups and downs.
"The changes were troubling for some people, especially old ladies like me," she said, laughing.
"The pace is very hectic today and it's very crowded. The everyday stress is higher, but it would have happened anyway."
Norma Nakamoto, 75, of McCully, was a reluctant witness to the accelerated development that grew out of the new state's burgeoning tourism economy. She remembers working in an office on Ala Moana boulevard when construction of Ala Moana Center began.
"I just remember all of that pounding every day," she said. "It drove me nuts. It lasted three or four weeks, then I stopped paying attention. Next thing I knew, it was built."
Nakamoto grew up in Palama within a close-knit, multi-ethnic population where, she said, Japanese, Hawaiian, Filipino and Korean families took care of each other and no one locked their doors.
With increased immigration and the overall growth of the local population, Nakamoto said the traditional sense of community has eroded. Today, she said she is wary of walking around with her purse on the streets surrounding her McCully home.
Still, Nakamoto is adamant that statehood was "very positive," particularly because it enabled Hawai'i to voice an opinion in matters of national importance. Plus, she said, federal funds have allowed for needed improvements throughout the state (including the demolition and rebuilding of the tenement apartment in which she grew up) and federal laws protect against the blatant racial discrimination that once kept her mother from being able to buy a home in Tantalus.
And, she said, there remains enough of the traditional aloha spirit to set Hawai'i apart from the rest of the country.
"Whenever I go to another state and I come back, and I see Diamond Head from the window on the plane, I think, 'There's no place like Hawai'i.' "
Keala Kalalia, 60, of Hilo, agrees with the sentiment, but his take on statehood is considerably different.
"I don't believe we're a state," he said. "We're an occupied country."
Kalalia said his parents were split on the statehood issue when Hawai'i voters took to the polls in 1959 to decide whether to accept the invitation.
"My father wasn't too enthused about it," he said. "My mother thought it was a good thing."
Kalalia came to his own conclusion as a student at Kamehameha Schools, where what little was taught about the overthrow and annexation was supplemented by personal accounts from kupuna and Kalalia's own research.
Kalalia said he remains hopeful that Native Hawaiians will be able to achieve political independence and that he and other Hawaiians will be able to once again provide for themselves according to their traditional way of life.
"I don't wish to suppress what's already been done, but I would like the return of monarchy lands and ensure the rights of Native Hawaiians for fishing and gathering," he said. "This isn't about, 'Go home, haole.' It's too late for that. But we should always be able to access the water and the land to sustain ourselves."
For Celeste Correa, 51, of Kahalu'u, the past and future are not nearly as pressing as the present.
"At the time, statehood was a good thing," Correa said. "Nowadays, hmm ... "
Her elder daughter has three children (and another on the way), lives in a small, two-bedroom apartment and pays $1,000 a month in child care. The daughter was selected for a Hawaiian Homes property but could not get approval for a loan to purchase it.
"It's hard," Correa said. "How do you tell children to go to college and study hard and become ... what? I have two girls who can't afford a place to live."
Correa, who recently lost her husband, has been forced to rely on assistance from the government to help support the granddaughter she adopted.
"The economy, housing, health care, child care — there are a lot of challenges going forward," she said.
Reach Michael Tsai at mtsai@honoluluadvertiser.com.
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