Dupont Lane

In 1888 the 27 year African American Charles Fletcher DuPont was elected Sheriff of Monroe County and he served his term from 18898 to 1893. He has a lane named for him off Petronia near Duval Street at the 801 Bar.

DuPont had a hard time of it controlling the Cuban factions in Key West divided between supporters of Spanish rule and revolutionaries seeking independence.  When two two supporters of the Spanish colonial government gunned down a Cuban revolutionary in Key West the Monroe County sheriff found himself in one of those situations beloved of Hollywood, defending evil doers against a lynching mob. 

Sheriff DuPont acquitted himself well in that June 1891 incident and the two suspects were never sent to Tampa for a lynching but had several trials in Key West and finally found not guilty. It all sounds  a bit peculiar but the Sheriff did his bit. 

DuPont was the son of freed slaves  and his father Rome is believed to have been born in St Augustine as the property of landowners from South Carolina by the name of DuPont. It's rather mind boggling to imagine people being born as property and relatively speaking not that long ago. Amanda Shackleford was DuPont's mother and her family settled in Key West, hence her son the Sheriff elected by popular vote.

Even in those days of slavery, segregation and Jim Crow Key West was always a bit different thanks in part to the numerous different groups attracted to the city by its port and the trading ships passing through. It's hard to imagine any other southern city electing an African American as sheriff. Maybe they did in drives but it doesn't seem likely.

All this history is contained in the small one block land that leads north off Petronia Street. You could drive by without even noticing it.

Looking toward Petronia from the dead end of the lane:

And there is the sign on Petronia that marks the lane:

Shadows

The sun is dipping closer to the southern horizon as we head into what is technically going to be Fall in the Northern Hemisphere. The shadows are moving with the arc of the sun.

I have never figured much protection comes to golf cart riders from the weather they drive through but the flat roof on this one gave welcome shade:

In Florida it is said that the best parking spot is the one in the shade and I have found myself, no matter what the climate, looking for shade when I leave the car. I did it in Michigan this summer where the locals were sweating and my wife and I were looking at each other feeling too embarrassed to say out loud we were nearly feeling a chill in the air. I still looked for shady parking for the van.

In two years we hope to be showing Rusty the wonders of Alaska but I have to admit we are both a little dubious about our ability to thrive in the tundra. My wife has heard that mosquitoes in Alaska make Florida insects look like punks and they suck their victims dry. Despite the appalling heat this summer I am no aficionado of cold damp weather which they have in abundance even in summer near the Arctic Circle, I am reliably informed. However for now I shall enjoy heat and light in the tropics or thereabouts.

One umbrella isn't necessarily enough in this sunlight, but even without a sunhat  he wears a mask which tells you he's a local. No matter how hot it may be the tradition of stopping to chat on the streets of Key West must go on, preferably in the shade.

The Last Full Moon

My walk last week just before the full, full moon was memorable because Rusty was very patient even as he watched the sun set and I was too busy to leave the house. By the time I looked up I realized it was actually dusk at 7:30 and I was blowing his evening entertainment.

That would never do so we leapt into the car like caped crusaders and blasted off at a suitably sedate pace to find some serene spot to take the evening air together. 

The irritating thing about cameras is they are simple light collection tools  and when there ain't no light there ain't no use for a squeeze box. Oh well, I took my little black box with me anyway never sure what I might see.

I had no tripod so the moon escaped me but the moon always looks the same anyway, and on an almost full moon the road looked like a strip of gray felt as the day faded to black. Rusty was a dark shadow silently circling me in the night.

All I could see was a strip of blue sky near the horizon and above the mangroves which grow about ten feet tall around here. 

The leaves look like etchings against the sky. The breeze rattled the palm fronds filling the air with the sound of rattling and shivering of palm fronds. In the distance I could hear, as always, the distant rumble of cars on the highway.

I played with the moon while Rusty sniffed around at my feet. All I could get, hand held, was a fuzzy gray disc in a black plane. I needed the big camera to photograph the moon but we all know what the moon looks like anyway.

I stood and listened to the night. A quick rustle and my dog was at my side ready to jump into the car, now a pool of golden light in the blackness. I thought of all those nights he spent in the bushes, one eye open just like how he slept when we got him. Now four years later he sleeps the sleep of the just in his bed at home. Both glad to see the darkness, both glad to leave it behind.

Earning A Crust

It's a popular schtick on Duval Street to set your dog up on the sidewalk and earn a  living. 

I don't get it but I suppose if all else fails I could dress Rusty up as Harlequin and have him earn us a crust for a change.

The other way to earn a living is to take your clothes off, not recommended for everyone .  The notion that drinking a  beer with a  naked Eastern European woman is somehow a good way to spend your money does help keep people employed.

I quite like the color scheme and roofline of the Red Garter on Charles Street.

Across the street the slightly more dilapidated rear of Rick's is in a  way more picturesque.

Art flourishes.

And takes a break occasionally in the shade.

Sloppy Joe's has reopened after months closed. The precise levels of precautions to be taken are more or less up to business owners now. The Governor has decreed that fines and citations for mask violations are void so everything is voluntary on the street and up to the business indoors. As far as I can tell every business requires masks as they are trying to encourage people to come in and shop. 

According to the paper the Tropic has re-opened and is showing one movie ('The Way I See It") to 25 ticket holders at a time. It's a start.

What next I wonder as the infection numbers start to go back up. Patience is a virtue I keep telling myself.

Heat On Duval

Forgive me if I have been sounding a bit whiny about the heat this year but as you can see I really am not alone. It is hot and humid this year and we are as usual getting a  little antsy for relief. 

Five o'clock on Duval Street and the sweat is think in my eyebrows fogging up my viewfinder and turning my shrt into a limp sweat soaked rag. Walking past the Pegasus Hotel on the corner of Southard Street I saw a display of red and blue not previously seen, all Art Deco through the trees.

We've had a mild cool front which caused temperatures to tumble Up North. but gave us only a momentary relief from the humidity. We will probably have to wait another month for winter to set in around here.

The bridge into Key West has been repaired and completed months ahead of schedule which is great. North Roosevelt Boulevard hasn't flooded at all despite the heavy rains which shows the engineering project that tore up the main road a few years ago has been well done. Front Street is where the flooding seems to be worst though there are places all around Key West where streets can go under water. Not North Roosevelt though, the flooding there really does seem to be solved for now.

Construction on Duval Street is a good thing to see as many storefronts are closed. I was glad to see one building being gutted and got ready for new occupants.

The optimism of construction. 

I read about lock downs coming back in parts of Europe as they get more cases of coronavirus, a period they are choosing to call the second wave. I don't know how they do it, financially or emotionally. I wish we could get a handle on mask wearing and social distancing to get ahead of things. Aside from the financial stress lockdowns don't seem viable to me as the virus pops up after the lockdown ends. 

I get calls at work from people who want to visit the Keys and call the police to ask weird questions. Why they don't call the chamber of commerce I don't know and when I suggest they do they make noises like they don't know why I would suggest such an outlandish idea. Except I know nothing about the tourist industry, or where to stay and what to do except in the broadest and vaguest terms. That's the Chamber's job; my job is to send ambulances and stuff. Theses days travel is a more intimate choice than ever and if you can't go through life without eating our or drinking in a bar you have to make your own choices. I don't know what to tell you except that I'm ordering food to go and avoiding crowds and planes and indoor seating and gyms until the scientists tell me otherwise.

There is no secret code to going on vacation in the Keys. The roads are open, hotels are operating and bars and restaurants are open by order of the governor. In a month what will happen? I hope we have a strong cold front by then to cool us down and I hope everyone will  be wearing masks to get us out of this wretched pandemic. One seems likely, the other not so much.

 

Balloon Sunrise

I treat Fat Albert as my weather gauge. Not only does the blimp show which way the wind is blowing, but the balloon also shows when the weather is predicted to be gnarly. Those are the days the blimp isn't flying and is pulled down to the safety of sea level.

It is tethered to the ground and uses devices to monitor boat and aircraft traffic across the Straits of Florida. It is a small outpost of civilization set back in the mangroves of Cudjoe Key, an area filled with salt water and stunted bushes and any chance a nearby boat ramp.

I find Fat Albert's presence in the sky, visible from far away on the Overseas Highway, to be a reassurance that everything is as it should be and that is good. The blimp is its own reminder that we are on the edge of the country, an outpost pushed far out to sea, a corner in the traffic lanes of ships at sea. The blimp is a reminder of the reach of the US as much as little league on North Roosevelt Boulevard is a reminder that the flag and apple pie are the symbols stereotyped for all to see that this is America, a small piece, no matter how far out to sea we find ourselves.

You have time to think these thoughts as you wander aimlessly one more dead end side street, socially distanced, alone with your dog and your camera wishing the humidity would go down just a little bit and let some air into the atmosphere.

This is the first year of all the decades I have spent enjoying the tropics that I find summer to be just a bit too much. I'd like to imagine it is my resistance that has been beaten down but everyone seems to be saying the same thing. Even Rusty has been less energetic than usual and he doesn't mind the heat.

There was a Serious Photographer at the end of blimp road this last time I was there and he had not one but two expensive cameras on tripods aimed in the general direction of the pink tinted clouds that promised the arrival of the sun. He seemed rather reluctant to share good mornings with the guy with the dog so we steered a wide course around his expensive apparatus and I amused myself with the my cheap pocket Panasonic.

We wandered away, Rusty and I with expensive tripods unmolested and the silent photographer happily snapping away at the sunrise and I was thus reminded how lucky I am to see this stiff any day I feel like. 

I am also lucky that Rusty is smart and sensible and stays away from people that don't want him around. He seems like he cam read my mind sometimes, another reason to keep my thoughts pure when I am out with him.

Upside down reflected in the water, or right side up a firm speck against the wafting clouds there it sits, the blimp of Cudjoe Key.  So all is well.