Destination: Key West - Day of Freedom Day #3

I don’t wake up until after 9. The tequila snuck up on me and I’m a bit out of sorts. Not a lot, just enough to convince me that Senorita Margarita is not my friend. So I putter around until 11 when I head back downtown. Today is a full tourist day.

My breakfast server had suggested lunch at Sunset Key, a private island that is also a Westin Resort. A small ferry leaves the Westin Dock every half hour or so to make the eight minute crossing. I failed to make reservations so I don’t bother trying to go. My other lunch option was Louie’s Backyard at the other end of town, but I don’t have reservations there either. In the end I decide not to have lunch.

Instead I take the car to Ft Zachary Taylor State Park and wander through the old Civil War fort.

It’s a bit hard to get a handle on it. While the Walls and battlements are solid, there is little in the way of displays and information to tell you about why it’s there. 

Other than a small handout about the basic history of the beginning of the fort, and its subsequent service, there is no in depth story, no background on the cannon that just sit in revetments that aren’t even firing positions, or for that matter the day to day life of soldiers. 

An inexpensive attempt has been made to inform by putting up bulletin type boards with minor facts about medicine and disease in the American Civil War and such, but it seems out of place without any displays to show what the board is saying. Needless to say, I’m disappointed. However the views of the grassland beyond the forts walls are impressive. I couldn’t take pictures of one side because it’s an active military installation.

I move the car to Ft Zachary Taylor Beach Park and my spirits lift. I find myself smiling at small things, and for no real reason. It’s a fine beach with families picnicking, a small concession, and tables.

I have a large BARQ’S with ice to try and cool down. It’s humid again even though there is cloud cover. Drinks here are served without lids and straws. Bad for the animals.

I move the car towards town and park it back at the Westin lot. At least I’m prepared with cash this time. I walk over to the Little White House. In the front yard a guy makes a comment about my hat. He recognizes the logo, it’s the one of my current employer. It’s well known at home, but certainly not this far south. Turns out he’s Canadian Navy and his ship is berthed waiting to take part in joint international exercises. We chat for a while in the gift shop.

The little White House was Harry Truman’s vacation home while he was President. Over the intervening years other Presidents also have used it. It is on the National Register of Historic Places, but doesn't get any funds for upkeep or operations. It’s totally self-supporting. Which is strange since it’s still used as a meeting place and summit location by different government agencies. In fact you can’t take any pictures of the interior because it is still considered a Presidential Residence and the Secret Service insists on a no photo policy. At least that’s what my wonderfully knowledgeable tour guide David tells me.

The tour is about 45 minutes long and covers most of the house. The porch room is where Truman played poker with his “quorum” in the evenings. His wife Bess who disapproved of such things however, was satisfied when the Navy (who owned the property and was caretaker at the time) came up with a matching wooden table cover so she could sit and have tea with her lady friends without having to be reminded of the "other" card games.

The dining room, the bedrooms, the sitting room, have all been restored to their original condition. I say original because on the 80’s and 90’s the Navy shut down the operation and sold off the land to an investor. Long story short, a private group came up with the cash to buy the house and restore it. And they have a done a fabulous job.

I buy a few things from the gift shop and walk out to make the six block hike to the Hemmingway House. I’m learning some things about this environment. I stick to the shady side of the street on the walk over.

Hemmingway House is interesting to me from only one perspective. Historically Hemmingway only lived in the house for five years, but the legend of what he wrote while living in Key West is what makes the legend stronger. I am disappointed that once again there is very little in the way of signage to lend some information to what I see. Everywhere there are pictures of Hemmingway. Hand drawn, pencil sketches, paintings, magazine covers, and photographs. Most are unattributed as to artist or significance.

A bedroom is a bedroom, a bathroom is a bathroom, and the kitchen is the kitchen. Maybe I should have waited for the tour but frankly except for the lovely cats, and Hemmingway’s heavily caged writing room, it wasn’t worth $13. Even the gift shop is weak.

 

I walk over to Duval. After that Hemmingway disappointment I am in need of inspiration. It’s time for Captain Tony’s, where Hemmingway used to drink scotch and soda every afternoon, most of the afternoon. 

I’ll stick to beer, Captain Tony’s Ale to be precise. The place is fondly referred to as a dive.

Actually it seems a place where people forget who they are, or are supposed to be, and become something else entirely. Women’s bras, autographed no less, line the walls,

along with business cards. Save’s on paint I guess. Captain Tony’s is where Jimmy Buffett got his first break, playing for beer between the sets of other bands. Jimmy and Captain Tony stayed friends for years. One wall has huge blow-ups of news stories covering Captain Tony’s exploits including his stint as mayor. I stay for one beer. On my way out I take a couples picture of a couple really excited to be in Captain Tony’s.

I stroll over to a place called the Commodore’s Boat House, right below the Commodore Restaurant on the marina waterfront. 

It’s half price appys and draft until 6:30. I order Sam Adams draft, Conch Fritters, and beer battered shrimp. Now don’t start in on me about no vegetables! Conch (conk) Fritters are new to me. A conch is a sea snail, and the fritters are conch meat rolled into a small ball and fried. They are quite tasty, and the mustard dip enhances the flavour nicely. The beer battered shrimp are good. The beer, in the heat and humidity, is divine. I’m so busy stuffing my face I forget to take pictures of the food. The view was great though. The whole bill comes to $12.86.

I walk back along the waterfront boardwalk, volunteer to take a picture of a couple against the backdrop of the marina, and head over to pick up the car. I stop to take some of my own pictures of statues outside the Key West Art and Historical Society.

I get back to the hotel around 7. I want to do a final load of laundry before I leave tomorrow. While the laundry is drying I sit at the hotel bar to have a martini and chat with Mary, and read a book I bought called the Wit and Wisdom Of Harry Truman. Laundry done and two martinis later, I’m ready for bed.

Somehow the pink naked dancing statue doesn't disturb my sleep.