Bohemian, Eclectic Key West

“All People Are Created Equal Members of One Human Family.” This is the “official philosophy” of Key West and, after spending several days there relatively incognito, we certainly can understand its relevance. Oh, we did some of the regular tourist things and thoroughly enjoyed them, but that only introduced us to the surface of the place. The more casual and spontaneous pursuits allowed us to meet some of the real characters of Key West, the ones encompassed by the “official philosophy.”

We rode the Conch Train on our first full day in Key West. This is the town’s equivalent to Charleston’s carriage rides or Boston’s Duck Tour and, as such, provided us with the “tidbits” of information that you can only get from such experiences. For example, the reason the houses in Key West have tin roofs directly relates to the great fire in the early 1900’s that destroyed just about everything. As the citizens watched the fire blazing, they noticed that the flames conveniently leapt from rooftop to rooftop in route to burning the next structure. So, when the town was rebuilt, houses were fitted with tin roofs as a deterrent to future fires.

The conductor on our train pointed out that there was a sense of humor reflected in the local cemetery. The tombstone of one lady who was accused of hypochondria reads “I Told You I Was Sick.” And, when one of the town’s biggest philanderers passed away, his wife decided to eternally honor him with the inscription “At Least I Know Where You’re Sleeping Tonight.”

We also went over to the old naval station and took the tour of the Truman exhibit at the Florida White House. The house is preserved exactly as it was when Truman used to vacation there during his presidency and afterwards. Rick, our tour guide, gave us a very personal reconnection to this plain-spoken man from Missouri who became President not so much by his own desire, but through the elements of fate. He assumed power only 84 days after being elected Roosevelt’s Vice President. He was certainly a different breed of public servant from modern day. He believed that the taxpayer shouldn’t foot the bill for the President’s personal expenses, so he always paid out of pocket for such things. He even had to borrow the money to move his possessions back to Independence when his term was over and he was the last President not to have a pension.

Truman seemed to have a humble grace about him, never believing that any personal greatness had brought him to the highest office of the most powerful nation in the world. Most everyone is familiar with the sign on his desk that stated “The Buck Stops Here.” But, few might also know that on the back were the words “You’re from Missouri,” a constant reminder of his simple background and basic roots.

My favorite Truman story was told about Bess having some ladies over to the house for tea and a discussion of growing roses ensued. Harry, overhearing the talk, interjected that the best way to grow good roses was to go out to the barn and get some horse manure and break up the manure and then spread the manure all around the rose beds. Some of the ladies were offended by this remark and told Bess that surely she should be able to get Harry to use the word “fertilizer” rather than “manure.” Bess simply replied, “You don’t know how long it’s taken me to get him to use the word ‘manure!’”

Probably the most unique tourist offering was the Key West Butterfly and Nature Conservatory, a huge three-story hothouse almost at the end of Duval Street. We had heard several people talk about it and decided it might be worth a visit. It was a beautifully constructed environment for butterflies, birds, fish, and turtles. It provided John with some of the most incredible photographic opportunities to date on our trip.

But, the Conch Train and Florida White House and Butterfly Conservatory are experiences that can be had by any visitor to Key West. They are the veneer of the place. The truly fascinating stories lie with some of the characters who’ve decided to make Key West their home and give credence to the “official philosophy.”

We met several of these folks in encounters brought about by just being at the same place at the same time. One afternoon while we were at West Marine, I turned down an aisle full of fenders and safety gear only to be met by a most adorable Jack Russell Terrier coming the other way. I was not only set aback by the fact that a dog was in the store, but he also sported red heart-shaped sunglasses over his eyes and very dapper bandanas around his neck. From his demeanor, he might as well have been shopping for boat supplies just as we were. I immediately stooped to pet him and “coo” over how cute he was. Little did I know that I was talking to Dick the Dog. Yes, THE very Dick the Dog who can be summoned up on Google when you go to the internet.
Now, Dick the Dog wasn’t wearing sunglasses because he was vain or wanted to camouflage his fame. His owner, Andy Messing, insisted that he do so. Apparently, Key West dogs have a higher incident of cataracts due to the intensity of the sun. Dick obliged his owner as if he knew all of this to be true. He wore the glasses quite comfortably.

Andy had served in the Special Forces during the Viet Nam war. He retired to Key West and lived on the Navy Base, “a gated community with howitzers for protection.” His daughter gave him Dick the Dog several years ago as a deterrent to marrying for a third time. My impression was that the strategy had worked. Andy seemed quite satisfied with Dick the Dog’s companionship.

We had arrived at Key West on the Thursday before Super Bowl Sunday. One of the first things that we did was to inquire about a good place to watch the game. Several bars were recommended, but the one that seemed to be best was Awful Arthur’s on Duval Street. We checked it out ahead of time and, based upon the promise of $1.00 Pabst Blue Ribbon beer and free venison chili, decided that’s where we would go.

We arrived at Awful Arthur’s on Sunday about 4:00 PM. The main bar was inside under roof, but we chose to go out back where some tables were scattered around the yard in the sand. A couple of big-screened televisions were strategically placed so people could view the game from just about anywhere. There was a grill set up in preparation for cooking hamburgers and hotdogs. We grabbed a table for just the two of us right in the middle of the yard. At that point, there was only one other man sitting at the table in front of us. John bought us some beer and we ate complimentary roasted peanuts to start things off.

As the afternoon wore on, people started coming into the yard. The tables filled up to the extent that a few folks went over to the table in front of us and tried to sit down with this lone man. He would immediately tell them that he was saving the table for his friends. They would reluctantly get up and start looking for somewhere else to light. By 6:00, he was still alone at the table, but had bought a bucket of six PBR’s on ice and put it right in the center. Over and over again, people would come by the table thinking they had found a place to sit and he would reject them with the same comment about his friends.

By kick-off, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I leaned over and asked him if his friends were imaginary. If so, he was certainly convincing going to the expense of buying them beer. He blushed, then laughed realizing how suspicious it all looked. He then started explaining that his friends were at a house right around the corner and would be there any minute. Fortunately, for him, they started trickling in before the first half was over.

Then, over by the bar, we noticed this middle-aged woman decked out in a cheerleading outfit. This was not some newly bought outfit that promoted one of the teams in the Super Bowl. It was a bona fide cheerleading outfit from somewhere in this woman’s past. John caught her eye and asked if he could take her picture. She proudly posed, then decided to come over and talk to us. She proudly announced that this was her cheerleading uniform from high school and pointed out the four stripes down the sleeve representing her freshman through senior years on the squad. The large, white stripe at the bottom denoted “Captain.” We bragged on how she could still get into it at which point she pulled up the top to reveal that she had pinned the waist together. It was still a pretty significant accomplishment none the less. I commented on how I thought the pearl necklace was a nice touch.

When I shook her hand to introduce myself, she grimaced and pulled her hand back in pain. “Rheumatoid arthritis,” she said. Then, she proceeded to explain how she was from Illinois and had gone to the University of North Carolina on a gymnastic scholarship. Now, her body was racked with pain from all of the injuries she had endured getting her education. We didn’t discuss what had transpired in her life from high school and college until that very moment in Key West. Her eyes led me to believe that there was quite a story there. When she walked away from us, the lone guy at the table in front of us asked me if I knew her. I told him “no” and he just shook his head and said, “I do.”

Yes, Key West is the kind of place where there’s a story in just about everybody that passes you on the sidewalk. I wondered about some of them like the guy who painted himself entirely gold and silver then would stand for hours on a corner like a statue in hopes that people would drop some money in the cup he placed at his feet. And, I worried about others like the guy in the sorcerer’s hat with the strands of Mardi Gras beads hanging around his neck sitting on curb accompanied by his teddy bear and American flag. They are okay, I guess. After all, they are in a place where “All People Are Created Equal Members of One Human Family.”