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Some information will be out of date.  Some of this writing goes back to 1995.
See Tiki Road Trip (2007 edition) for the most up-to-date information.

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Polynesian Room
Vancouver, British Columbia

Full review and history of the Polynesian Room
is available in  Tiki Road Trip
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August 2001: Surprise and disappointment go hand in hand for the intrepid urban archaeologist who wishes to glean an understanding of the enigmatic Polynesian Room in the Waldorf Hotel in Vancouver.  I made the trek almost 200 miles out of my way during a visit to Seattle, based only on pictures of the Polynesian Room on the Waldorf's web site. Imagining the Polynesian Room to be something similar to the Tonga Room - that is a grand and venerable Tiki Paradise nestled within an upscale hotel - but I was somewhat surprised by what I found upon arrival. The street that Waldorf is on is a cornucopia of decayed ex-cool.  There is a string of run down, shitty hotels with fancy deco-era names such as "Astoria", and the like, but all of them have rotted into hideous slumliness.  Along the same street are dozens of amazing examples of 1950’s neon, but again, the whole drag is... well, a drag.  Pictures were difficult, due to suspicious looks from hookers, junkies, and sundry n'er do wells. Trying to make a record of one particularly adept example of neon engineering - this one in the shape of a colorful seahorse, mounted on a waterfall sign in front of a dingy but once prosperous seafood store, we encountered a particularly greasy specimen. The youngish blonde haired bum wandered  to the car, bent over, examined our license plates, wandered over to the rear of the car, did the same, and then stood staring into the windows of our car until we moved on.  Ripped sweatshirt and knit cap, oil stained, rotting teeth, no light in his blank blue eyes.  Too young for that. .. While not even remotely as bad as it's brethren down the street, the Waldorf is not a swanky and luxurious old hotel as the name might imply.  Rather, what we found was a more modern building that we expected, a simple, 2-story construct, with just a handful of rooms (all on the second floor).  The main floor is divided between a  sports bar  and the Polynesian Room.  The sports bar is open to the public during the normal hours one would expect, but the Polynesian Room is only open during special events.  The room is available for rent to event promoters (such as the Blue Lizard club on the third Saturday of every month) for private use.

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We were pretty bummed to find this out, having came as far as we did.  While the web site does mention that the room is available for private functions, the site didn't really indicate that the Polynesian Room is closed on the night that there are no events taking place. .. Fortunately we were able to coax the manager (Chris) into giving us a little tour.  We are very thankful to him for that, because the Polynesian Room is truly spectacular, easily falling into the top five Tiki Bars I have ever been inside. Entering the Polynesian Room, there is a long crescent-shaped bar on the right.  The front of the bar is bamboo covered.  The stools each look like a bongo drum, with Tiki figures carved into the legs.  These look just like the drums seen in the Leeteg painting on page 58 of Leeteg of Tahiti, except that the legs on the stools are longer.  A dozen frosted and etched mirrors make up the wall behind the bar, extending all the way up to the 15-foot ceiling.  Full-height (fake) palm trees are placed strategically around the room.  In front of the bar is a stone parquet floor, with a series of small tables placed along a waist-high wall opposite the bar. We were already impressed with what we had seen; this place was all class.  Some of our favorite Tiki Bars, we have to admit, are kind of divey (like the Tiki Lounge in Modesto), or are trying to be elegant but are being run cluelessly.  But the Polynesian Room seems to have been transported right out of 1955 (the year it opened), completely intact.  When I saw it, it was empty of people, and the area behind the bar was a mess (after all it was closed, they were cleaning).  But without even trying I pictured a room full of people in attire circa 1955 having a really good time.  I couldn't even imagine modern folks being in the joint.  It was just too tough to conceive of anyone other than the denizens of the era in which the Polynesian Room was built being in the room for any reason. There is nothing campy or kitschy about it.  Even places like the Kahiki or Mai Kai pander to the tourists, and it isn't hard to imagine the owners winking at you, knowing that we know that they know that we know that kitsch is a big part of the appeal.  But not here.  This place is just elegant and real.  Picture white jackets on the waiters, cigarette girls in short resses, and a maitre'd with a pencil thin mustache!  Strip away the Tiki decor (and now hat I think about it, the only real Tikis I saw were on the stool legs), and the place still serves as an amazing example of mid-century interior design.

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We were already impressed, and then Chris offered to take us downstairs.  We thought we were headed for a smaller little extra room, maybe something tacked on later. Oh, there is certainly more... but you'll have to read Tiki Road Trip to find out what... I couldn't help but to imagine what this place was like when it was open on a regular basis, in it's heyday.  It is incredible to think that there were enough members of the general public interested in spending their nights in a place lie this to warrant and support a venue of this size.  That it still stands, open or not, is a miracle.  Far from the campy Tiki-kitsch palaces of the late 1950's and 1960's, the Polynesian Room was never intended to be a joke on any level. I imagined a room full of people, late 1940's or early 1950's, dressed in evening wear, sipping martinis and enjoying their newfound post-war prosperity.  At least, that's how the mythology works. C Barton writes: "I read your August 2001 review and it brought back some good memories. My  grandfather built, owned and ran the Waldorf and my father managed it until it was sold to my godfather in the mid-seventies. Because my grandparents lived in a couple of suites upstairs in the 1960's, us grandkids spent many, many hours running around the hotel when no customers were around playing hide-and-seek in all the downstairs rooms and finding lots of hidden cupboards, nooks and crannies.  There was a bookkeeper named Mr. MacIntyre and there was an old guy named Ike that practically lived in the lobby.  Everybody liked him very much.  The waitresses wore long, snug-fitting hawaiian print dress that flared out below the knee.  The only place we weren't allowed in was the beer parlour.  Because of the decor it was like being in a different world - very atmospheric.  I still dream of it. Although in its heyday I am told it was "the place" to go for dinner/dancing on a Saturday night, the regular clientele were our family priest, police, firemen, longshoremen and local crooks.  I recall hearing of many elaborate practical jokes. My grandparents loved Tahiti so much that besides picking up a few Leetegs, they even bought some menus they admired on a cruise ship in the Hawaiian Islands.  They were elegant pencil sketches of natives fishing, etc. filled in with pale watercolours.  We still have those menus, framed in bamboo.

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