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Poof! Just like that it vanished and the villagers of Pao Pao were devastated. The destruction of Moorea's landmark bar truly grieved the island's residents-and a travel legend was gone with the wind.
In a recent weekend a high-velocity wind rushed suddenly up the glorious waters of Cook's Bay on Moorea, taking with it a landmark known to practically every islander in French Polynesia. At the same time it picked up a skiff and snapped a stately pandanus tree like a feeble, dry twig.
But it was the loss of the island's landmark bar, the One Chicken, that truly grieved Moorea's residents. Landmark? Why, it was an institution. Poof! Just like that it vanished-and the villagers of Pao Pao were devastated. Old-timers will tell you how the One Chicken had been a hangout for years.
The One Chicken's rusted tin roof was swept into the valley like a wildly spinning flying saucer, according to witnesses. The building's aged fiberboard walls collapsed, crushed by timbers that had supported the roof.
In the 1950s, the One Chicken was known as "Papa Teiho's," which was the name of its proprietor, who, without question was the best-known Tahitian on the island.
Papa Teiho was an ageless, gray-haired, stocky, perpetually smiling and somewhat larcenous Tahitian (with a touch of Chinese in the eyes) who operated his bar/restaurant with great enthusiasm. This wasn't another Spago's, believe me. Papa's joint consisted of a few wooden tables, a bench or two and a few empty beer cases that patrons used for chairs. There was a second room that was separated from the main one by a cloth banner that hung from the ceiling, and it was there that Tahitians guzzled beer from morning until the moon was high over the South Seas.
At a corner table an old man with snow-white hair would exchange pleasantries with the patrons, an old-time squeeze-box accordion at his feet. This was Papa Teiho.
In the early days, Papa Teiho's...