Tiki Heads and Mermaid Tales

Back in the days before the world wide web, (how did we function?), my brother and I were such tiki heads that we searched both coasts of Florida looking for Tiki Gardens never realizing it had closed a decade earlier. He had an enormous tiki bar in his Daytona Beach apartment and brought back real tikis from both Hawaii and Tahiti. Had the Hukilau been going on back then, we would have thought we had died and gone to heaven. The tiki scene was just beginning to blossom when my brother and I turned our interests elsewhere, and since then tiki culture has really taken off. Even downtown Orlando has a contemporary South Pacific themed bar called the Monkey Bar decorated with images from tiki artists like Shag.

Hukilau 2011 group shot

Hukilau has been going on for a decade or so in Ft. Lauderdale, and after seeing pictures of it last year, I wanted to go. There are bands, programs, room crawls, rum competitions, seminars and lots of great stuff for sale. While heavy partying is a thing of the past for me, the real draw was an opportunity to see a presentation about a short-lived roadside attraction called Aquarama by my friends Jeff and Kelly from Vintage Roadside.

When Jeff and Kelly create a shirt based on a mom-and-pop mid-century roadside business, they do painstaking research to learn about the history of the place. They have three Florida designs: Casper's Alligator and Ostrich Farm near St. Augustine, the Atomic Tunnel from Daytona and Tiki Gardens from Indian Rocks Beach. When researching the roots of Aquarama, a mermaid themed attraction from the Lake of the Ozarks region of Missouri, they were able to make a deep connection with the owner's son, Marc Johl. And that opened up the floodgates to a treasure trove of information and one really great story.

Vintage postcard showing the entrance to Aquarama

The tale begins with Marc's father Wally Johl, a 1940s crooner who for a time sang in nightclubs in the Miami area and even launched his own club from a former gas station. Wally later created Aquarama in Missouri and with the help of Barbara, a Weeki Wachee trained mermaid, the attraction flourished in the mid-sixties. In addition to dozens of rare images, Jeff and Kelly presented rare film footage, audio recordings and even the actual costumes from this fascinating bit of roadside history. They have tracked down most of the "Aquamaids" and "Aqualads" and gleaned amazing stories about what it was like to work at Aquarama. For example, all the blond Aquamaids' hair tuned green from prolonged periods in the chlorinated water. And the underwater props – large clam shells – were actually cast from an iconic shell oil gas station sign. Those same fiberglass shells are all that remain from the attraction at the Aquarama site today.

The depth and thoroughness of the presentation shows Jeff and Kelly's commitment to keeping memories of this delicious bit of Americana from falling into oblivion and as a result of their work, a reunion of the former employees is planned for next year. They have made the presentation previously at the West coast's large tiki gathering, Tiki Oasis in San Diego and have plans to give it at a conference next year. At both Tiki Oasis and Hukilau their talk was capped off with a Q&A from a live mermaid, none other than Marina herself. Marina described how her aquatic talents began when she learned to free dive at the age of three in the Caribbean. As an adult after seeing the mermaids perform at Weeki Wachee, she saw a way to combine her love of the water with her passion for dance, (she was a performer at the Mai Kai), and that's when she began to develop her underwater artistry now seen at the Wreck Bar.

After the presentation folks lined up to see the Aquarama costumes and talk to Marina. The energetic crowd surrounding the presenters was a testament to the success of the program. A bit of mid-century mermaid magic was just passed to the next generation.

Always a good sport, Jeff shows off the Aquamaid costumes


A mermaid tail from Aquarama contrasted with one of Marina's early tails

Your truly with Marina

Daytona Kitsch

If you've followed this blog, you know I'm a big fan of Florida kitsch and historically Daytona Beach has had more than its share. I have a brochure published by the Daytona Beach Area Chamber of Commerce in 1967 and sadly much of that Daytona no longer exists. The beach cottages, motor courts and mid-century Googie style motels are mostly all gone. But there are some great themed motels, probably from the 1970s, that are equally eye catching.

Having spent very little time there since my brother finished photography school there years ago, I recently drove up A1A to check out the current condition commercial beach side architecture. Despite lots of ugly recent additions and empty beach front lots caused by hurricanes and the economy, I found a few of my favorites still intact.

Miss Dixie graces the front of my 1967 guide to the "World's Most Famous Beach." I wish A1A was still lined with properties like these:




Here's some of my favorite kitschy survivors, the Hawaiian Inn, the Aku Tiki Inn and the Sun Viking Inn.





In addition to giant tiki idols, viking statues and viking boats, Daytona has one of my favorite pieces of sculptural signage, the Jantzen diving girl located near the boardwalk. The Oregon based swimwear company first started using the diving girl as it's corporate symbol in the 1920s and an updated version is still in use today. I'm told that the fiberglass beauty in Daytona is one of only a handful that are still intact. Perhaps her streamline form helps her slice through hurricane winds and any other adversity that blows her way...

Zebra image from the State Archives of Florida

Polynesian Paradise

Before the recent holidays my last visit to the Mai Kai was New Years Eve 1998. Since then several hurricanes trashed South Florida and I had heard the Mai Kai, Florida's premier tiki bar/restaurant had suffered significant damage. But after much restoration I am happy to say that this homage to the South Pacific on US1 in Ft. Lauderdale is going strong, 54 years after opening.

According to the website Critiki, the Mai Kai was opened by two brothers from Chicago named Bob and Jack Thornton. I'm not able to find much more history on the place, but this site is helpful in ranking the restaurant on different categories, including a high score of 9.8 for decor and a low of 8.5 for food quality.

The Mai Kai's new and improved website claims the establishment "authentically recreates a Polynesian Village, complete with tiki torches, a thatch roof, and a wooden plank entrance." From the exterior the place looks much like I remembered, only there is no water flowing from the outside into the interior tiki garden or down the windows of the bar. Many of the large tikis guarding the entrance are worn, but hey it's Florida and anything wood here is always in a state of decay.

The bar is immediately to your left upon entering and the narrow L shaped space is dark and cozy with plenty of eye candy. To the right is a great gift shop, for all your tiki needs. The main showroom is a multi-level A-frame space for those wanting to see the Polynesian revue which is an extra ten or eleven bucks a person. If you haven't seen it, it's worth checking out; it's hularific. Beyond that are more dining rooms, inside and out-make sure you spend some time walking around checking out the tiki garden- it's very romantic and colorful.

The menu has expanded beyond just Polynesian faire to include other Asian favorites. I'd recommend anything cooked in the big oven outside, like ribs or the outstanding pork tenderloin. Also while it seems dangerous with dried up palm fronds making up thatched roofs everywhere, I'd recommend getting something with fire in it whether it's the Grog (potent) or the Bananas Foster desert.

There aren't many restaurants I'd drive three and half hours to visit, but there aren't many places left like the Mai Kai. If you're into experiences that have remained mostly unchanged for the last fifty years, you won't be disappointed if you visit the Mai Kai.

Black and white images from the State Archives of Florida