Good morning, hungry people.
Today we’re gonna get a little traveloguey since I just came back from a pilgrimage to Key West.
That scenic spot in the photo? Fifty years ago this month, more or less, it was my home.
No, not the hotel you see on the left (the legendary Pier House.) I couldn’t afford staying there back then, not by a long shot. But that sliver of sandy beach by the hedge? That’s where I slept every night for a couple of weeks while I was trying to figure out what to do with my life.
Yes, this demands explanation.
***
In the summer of 1975, fresh out of J-school at the University of Florida, I was hired, along with four other aspiring young journalists, to take over the reins of the Florida Keys Free Press, a weekly newspaper in Marathon. The paper’s owner had made his money with a fleet of shrimp and lobster boats. He fired the Free Press’s previous staff and brought us in, he said, to put out a paper that “tells it like it is.”
We were just naive enough to believe him. We didn’t understand that “telling it like it is” can mean “telling it like the owner wants it to be.”
In any event, it was a great time to be putting out a newspaper in the Keys. And by putting out, I mean we sold ads, set type, pasted up the paper (long before digital), drove the pages to a printer in Homestead, waited around in the middle of the night for it to get printed and delivered bundles of papers to the places where it was sold.
Along the way we also managed to cover the news. There was lots of it. Pot smuggling and cocaine cowboys. Territorial disputes between Keys lobster fishermen and fishermen from the Bahamas. Treasure salvor Mel Fisher had just discovered the riches of the Atocha. Not to mention all the truly exciting news that could only be gathered by sitting through endless meetings of the local water authority and debates about sewer lines.
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Then along came a tropical storm that sank a bunch of boats owned by our boss. After it passed, we went to the Free Press’s office to find all the equipment gone. The owner had decided to shut down the paper. He was stand-up about it though and gave us each a month’s severance pay.
That was a dangerous thing. I took my money, got in my VW hatchback and drove to Key West where I proceeded to do all the things that a young man can do in Key West when he has a little bit of money in his pocket.
Not wanting to spend too much on lodging when it could be better spent on beer, I finagled a housekeeper at the Pier House into leaving a rollaway bed out for me each evening in return for $5. And I slept right there on the beach.
No need to recount all the debauchery that took place. There was lots of it. Because that came with the turf. One morning I woke up in the rollaway bed with the gorgeous view and had a revelation: “If I don’t leave Key West right now, I might never leave.”
Only problem: I couldn’t remember where I parked my car. After all, it had been a couple of weeks and I had successfully destroyed any brain cells that would help in the hunt. Let’s just say I got to know Key West real well on foot that day. And once I finally located that VW hatchback, I pointed it north on A-1-A, and the rest is dubious history.
***
I’ve returned to Key West countless times since then. The biggest change I noticed on the most recent visit — there are lots more chickens than there used to be.
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The forebears of Key West chickens were brought in during the late 1800s by Cuban immigrants who were big fans of cockfighting. But when cockfighting was outlawed in the 1970s, the roosters were let loose and left to do what roosters do. Which explains why there are an estimated 5,000 chicken roaming the streets of Key West these days, along with signs that wax philosophical.
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Oh, yeah. We made it to Sandy’s for Cuban sandwiches and cortaditos packed with life-enhancing doses of caffeine.
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And thanks to our friends Chris and Melinda, we got in some fishing. We caught a bunch of mahi. Here’s my lovely wife hauling in the first catch of the day.
And here she is with her sister, MaryBeth (left), showing off a couple of keepers. I think Substack needs more fishing photos, don’t you?
***
When we got home, I put the mahi to good use.
And on that delicious note, let’s call it a wrap for today.
See ya back here soon.
I’m just glad I survived to tell it.
Just discovered two coins from the Atocha in my safe. There will never be another Conch like Mel Fisher.