Honolulu Star-Bulletin from Honolulu, Hawaii • 65

hAloha, Everybody 'sjMarket By Smart Ykn, Star-Bulletin Writer 9 0 M23L HERE are no more tomor 'T rows at Everybody's," read a hand-painted sign 5 2 CP on tne wau above the dairy prod-d ucts. Yesterday was the last day of '''business at Everybody's Super 1 Market at Kapiolani and McCuIly. land has been subleased to Host Duty Free operations by Chun i Hoon owns Chun Hoon's and Everybody's markets. By noon yesterday, the shelves at Everybody's were half empty. Every item was 20 percent off and lhere was a steady stream of going in and out of the Store.

Some of the customers pick-Li lin a Mtnnla nf itamo mrot rf ger 1 7 Xr iiiiiiiiiii Hi them just came to say goodbye to friends the clerks, cashiers nd butchers. They were what made Everybody's special, a market for everybody, a neighborhood grocery store Star-Bulletin Today on the corner of one of the busiest intersections in town. Everybody's Super Market opened in 1949 and while a lot changed around it, there were about the store that never 'changed. At Everybody's Super Market, the palaka-clad employees knew regular customers by name. The butchers still waited on cus- tomers and felt it was their duty to tell you when something wasn't a good buy.

The cashiers asked about children and grandchildren. A bagboy would push your cart to your car and place groceries in the back seat. You didn't have to ask; -r -J lm00i Features Entertainment Wadrmdoy. Jura 24, 1981 Horolulu it was part of their job. tmmi If you were on foot and bought more than $25 worth of groceries not very difficult these days the bag boy would drive you home in the store's van.

1 Customers appreciated all of this. They came from all over the Island tH to shop at the market. 4 Local people who had moved out of the area. Ine Morning tourists who spent winters in Waikiki con dominiums, college kids living in apartments in the area. Some shopped once a week, some shop km ped every day.

A lot of them stopped by yesterday. "We have a lot of loyal customers," said Cathy Yamauchi, head cashier. pill Yamauchi had brought 1 7t 1 her camera to take photographs of the last MM day. "A customer who A 1 said she felt so bad about us closing brought the employees noodles met for lunch. Other custom nit ers nave Drougni us and pies.

They say jthey want to show their for all these makes you cry," said Betty Fong, liquor department manager, has been with the "store 25 years. In the store room at I the back of the building, 1 IRS I mm Top right, head cashier Cathy Yamauchi takes snapthots of Everybody's last day. Above left, butchers Arthur Lau and Fat Kui Goo have worked at the market for a combined total of 46 years. Above, Marian Yang and Kimi Takaoka have been there since the early '50s. Left, losN day shoppers in the nearly empty aisles.

Star-Bulletin photos by John Titchen. "I've lived here six years," said the woman to the reporter, "and everybody in this store has been great. If I want to make Portuguese bean soup, I can call up and tell them how many I want to serve and they pull all the ingredients together for me. I do a lot of things on the spur of the moment and I can call up and say I want a special roast and they'll get one for me. "I just asked Arthur about the ham over here," she said, pointing to cans of ham, "and even though it's his last day he, still said, subtly, that it's a good ham but he indicated that another brand is just as good.

He's always been honest and I think customers appreciate that. "There's my friend, too," she said, waving to butcher Fat Kui Goo, who has worked at Everybody's for 16 years. "Plenny people come today," Goo said. "Some people, the tears come down." Goo summoned Lau, who is 62 and has worked at Everybody's for 30 years. "This used to be an army warehouse," Lau said.

"We haven't changed it except to remodel it a little bit. All kinds of people have Kimi Takaoka and Marian Yang, were in charge of produce, posed shyly for a photograph. Yang said she had been at Everybody's since December 1951. Takaoka said she had worked at the store since March 12, 1952. They said the employee working that day who had been with the store the longest was head butcher Arthur Lau.

A white-haired couple had driven in from Makaha to pick up some groceries and to say goodbye to Lau. "We're going to miss you," said the wife to the butcher. "He's a good butcher, such service," said her husband. THE COUPLE reluctantly left and another woman approched Lau. "I feel terrible," she said to Lau.

"I've been in the Orient and I just got back and I heard about the store closing. I don't go to the big supermarkets because I've gotten such good service here. "You put an emphasis on quality as well as service and I can always run in and out to pick up things." "We've appreciated all your business," said Lau tactfully. always lived around here. Lots of good people come here.

"Alfred Apaka Sr. was a regular customer. Jack Lord walked in here one day. Zoulou used to be our regular customer but I haven't seen him recently," Lau said. Some of the store's employees will retire, others are looking for jobs.

Host Duty Free will interview those who are interested in working for the company. "I'm going to retire," Lau said. "I don't think I'd want to work for anyone else except maybe part-time. Over here we don't work as employees, we work as one big family." But Goo, who is 78, tried retiring once and didn't like it. He is looking for a part-time job, preferably as a butcher, although he filled out an application with Host Duty "He doesn't have to work," Lau said, pointing to Goo.

"He works because he enjoys it." Afong Leong, a retired printer who has shopped at Everybody's for 30 years, hailed the butchers. He wasn't pushing a cart. He had stopped by for the last time because, as he put it, "it's aloha day." I Now the Security Guards Are Doing the Teaching! Chicago Sun-Times CHICAGO In a Chicago schoolroom, a student raises his hand and asks a to teach me some of the French words, and they teach me words like "monjour" or somethin' like that. "Sometimes kids would ask me about somethin', and I'd tell them I don't know things like that, and it would make them baffled. So I'd tell them that I hadn't gone question about a math problem The teach If and when the transit crisis is over, the next big crisis is going to be in the schools.

They'll soon be scraping through the -bottom of the barrel. Then we'll have to ask the state I legislature and Gov. James Thompson for help. So far, they aren't willing or able to help white suburban commuters in the financial' -crisis of the Regional Transportation Authority. Imagine how much compassion those Downstate and boony-suburban politicians will feel for Chicago's black -school kids.

AMTI THERE WON'T pvpi Iw half." Mike RoykO er shakes her head and says: "I don't know the answer to that. I only know simple arithmetic. If you want to know the answer, you just look it up in your book." A few days later, same school, same teacher, different classroom. A student asks about something she has read in her science book. The teacher says: "I don't know anything about that stuff.

Why don't you just go on to the next part." And a few days later, same school, same teacher. This time the question is about punctuation. How many times did you teach this semester? "ABOUT 35 TIMES. I have 'em all wrote down so I know how many times. It was about 35 times.

We all did it. All the CETA workers. "The teachers used to tell us not to. They said that we was being told to do this so they wouldn't have to hire a substitute. But we was afraid to argue with the principal.

You argue with her, and she'll yell and won't even listen. "But I can't teach anybody nothin'. All we was was baby-sitters. That's all. Just baby-sitters." I talked to another CETA worker at the school, and she admitted that she, too, had filling in as a teacher.

But she wouldn't discuss details because she's afraid of getting into trouble. Surprisingly, the school produces decent scores in the standard reading tests. They're not up to suburban scores but are not bad by Chicago inner-city school standards. That means somebody at the school is trying, which is why I haven't used the name of the CETA worker, the school or the principal. Any Chicago principal who can get even some results doesn't deserve a public rap.

But I think Chicagoans should know about the situation so they'll know what the future holds: As rough as things are now for the schools, they're going to get tougher. Employment and Training Act (CETA) as a school-security monitor. Her job is to break up fights in the schoolyard and watch the hallways. But the Chicago schools are so financially desperate that the principal of that South Side school doesn't want to hire a substitute teacher when a regular is sick. So instead of paying a substitute, the CETA employee more or less baby-sits the class.

I HAD A LONG TALK with that CETA monitor about her experience. "The first time it happened, I had finished monitoring the kids in the morning," she said. "I stay outside from 8 o'clock until 9, to break up fights and things like that. "I came in, and the principal told me I should go in and take one of the classes because the teacher was home sick. "I started to tell her I couldn't do that.

But she's not the kind of person you argue with. She says to me: 'I'm your boss. You do as I say. So after that, when she told me to do it or the assistant principal or the clerk I did it." What did you teach them? "Well, first of all I tell them that I don't know all that stuff so I'd ask them what word they are supposed to learn. Then they'd tell me, and I'd tell them all to write it five times or somethin' like that.

"I had this one class where the kids was supposed to be learnin' French. I don't know nothin' about French. So I ask them educated CETA workers to baby-sit a-class and try to learn what "monjour" means, President Reagan wants to build more ships and bombers and tanks, even though-. we don't have enough military people, to -operate or maintain the ships and bombers and tanks we have now. to school for years, and when I went, I didn't go very long.

So they should look up the answer in the book. "I'd try to pacify 'em in some way. I'd tell 'em to skip the part they didn't know and go on to the next part. Or I'd tell 'em to remember the question and to ask the teacher when she came back. "Sometimes I'd try to teach 'em things I knew, because I read a lot the newspapers and some books and magazines.

"Like in 'word I guess that's English? I'd try to show them where to put that punctuation mark. Like in the word John when you have an 's on the end of it. Sometimes you put the mark between John and the and sometime you put the mark after the But I wasn't really The teacher says: "Sometimes you put that thing there, that punctuation, in front of the 's and sometimes you put that thing in back of the but I'm not sure which is which. Just look in your book, and it'll tell you." True story. But before you ask the obvious question how did a person like that get to be a teacher don't blame her.

She not a teacher. Yes, she was teaching a class. She has taught many classes during the last semester. But she's a high-school dropout, hired under the federal Comprehensive lo nnance ine arms race, lie nas 10 cut. somewhere.

And the CETA program is among the many social-help programs' getting the ax. 1 The CETA worker added this thought: "I've got an 11-year-old son of my -Sometimes he comes home and asks me about something in his homework, and I tell him: 'I don't know how to do Tomorrow you ask your "But what if he gets a CETA worker like me, and she don't know either?" Well, as bad as that sounds, what if he raises his hand, and there's nobody there?.