Sunday, August 17, 2014

Mallory Square: A Challenge

A friend of mine wants to publish a collection of photos of Key West warts and all. Mallory Square epitomizes the challenge that faces a city that welcomes two and a half million visitors a year to a climate that accommodates al fresco living year round.

The end of the day will see throngs of people ready to tip performers and shop at the mobile vendor stalls that set up here to take advantage of the sunset celebration tradition. Meanwhile it is a constitutionally protected public space.

Mallory Square also welcomes dozens of cruise ships, smaller ones dock right here, full sized ones dock a short walk away at the Westin Pier B. On the top deck I could see small human heads bobbing rhythmically into view and out of sight as the cocooned passengers took their exercise, quite properly considering the emphasis on food onboard.

A few hardy souls were busy exploring the waterfront in their brightly colored gear, reminding the wrecks of Mallory Square that we all start out in life hoping for the best. Stephen Mallory after whom this space is named was a rising political star until he decided to become the Secretary of the Navy in the doomed Confederacy. I dare say he dreamed a different dream for himself.

Dreams get deferred, then defeated sometimes.

Paradise is an unmolested nap on a bench. A modest enough goal, I suppose.

Do something the middle class burghers tell the city. What exactly? Is the confused reply. The War on Poverty suffered from battle fatigue to be replaced by other sexier wars and so our mentally deranged drift around Key West to universal disapproval. You've got to be tough to be destitute: keep working and doing as you're told good burghers else you'll end up like this, is the burden of the message these wrecks carry on their hopeless shoulders.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Doors On White Street

The 600 block of White Street early in the day.

What got into me I don't know.

But it dawned on me each door was lovely or different.

The Elizabeth Bishop house, below, as unloved as ever.

I like greenery that I can hide behind at home; as a photographer not so suave.

This white porch below reminds me of classic California beach cottage style.

Those columns are highlighted in yellow: lovely.

Bold turquoise, gorgeous.

Picket fence heaven: small town America made weird.

Key West.

Friday, August 15, 2014

Party Town Key West

Upton Sinclair

"It is difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it."


Upton Sinclair
There is change in the air in America, and as odd as it seems Key West is finding its place, if not at the forefront, at least in the front of the second rank. Most recently Judge Garcia ruled Florida's marriage laws are unconstitutional by virtue of prohibiting same gender unions. Other judges across the state have found their gonads and are lining up to put themselves on the right side of history. So far so good.
From Huffpo:

In a recent interview on conservative radio show Faith & Liberty, U.S. Rep. Michele Bachmann (R-Minnesota) warned that the gay community ultimately wants to "abolish age-of-consent laws, which means we will do away with statutory-rape laws so that adults will be able to freely prey on little children sexually. That's the deviance that we're seeing embraced in our culture today."

That this sort of arrant nonsense is being spread by an elected member of Congress puts Key West's thus far Quixotic gesture among the ranks of either the heroically cutting edge or politically suicidally inept. As much as Northeners like to argue that Florida isn't truly part of the South I would argue that it is. Not perhaps in the blue enclaves of Miami and Fort Lauderdale but if you check out the rest of the state you will get a different perspective. Florida is a melting pot similar to California and just as ungovernable and unpredictable and like the Golden State it will have a regional impact on the anti-progressive states in the South. Starting from Key West's revolutionary judgement favoring the astonishingly revolutionary idea that marriage is good, and good for everyone.

I have been married (to a woman) for twenty years and our California marriage has been accepted as fact by the State of Florida as required by the US Constituion. Marriage is a civil rite which may also be celebrated by religious groups, but the civil rights it confers are absolute and far reaching. Marriage changes the relationship of the family inasmuch as the person you marry becomes responsible for you, in place of the family members you were born to. I see no reason why sclerotic religious groups that cannot bend their minds enough to marry same gender couples should be required to do so; indeed that would be illegal by the same Constituion. By the same token these religious groups denying other religions or civil authorities the right to marry same gender couples seems not only illegal (as Judge Garcia in fact ruled) but also immoral.

I read a letter in the Citizen fulminating against this idea of same sex marriage becoming law in Florida over the will of the majority of voters (I told you Florida really is part of Dixie). Proof enough I suppose that the author was sleeping during civics class in school. The courts' job is in part to defend the rights of the minority and ensure them equal access to the law, as explained by Judge Garcia. Which would be an astonishing concept to that dolt who has forgotten any of his nation's history he may once have known. If we had had to wait for the majority to vote down slavery we'd still be waiting.

But then again slavery is different they tell us, and the Southernmost City's reaction to it was also. Key West was nowhere near the front line on that battle. A fortuitous act (occupying a Fort Zachary) by a quick thinking Union officer stationed in Key West kept the important port city in the Union throughout the war but city leaders were not in the least abolitionists or pro-Union. In point of fact Key West has always been a military stronghold, and far from the popular image of debauched pirates that populate the tourist mythology. Commodore David Porter was given the job of suppressing piracy in the Western Caribbean and he did a fine job of it with innovative tactics and an iron will. Such was his devotion to duty he pissed off his superiors and ended up in exile for a while by joining the Mexican Navy. Not exactly the laid back image party town promotes.

But that's not how Key West sells itself. Talking with friends we briefly mentioned the lack of vision in the city, hoping perhaps for better in the election coming up. There is though that same fear of intervention that permeates a lot if southern states and that leads to a free market weighed in favor of wealth, and bad taste.

There is much lamentation about the conversion of the supremely local, eclectic Fast Buck Freddie's into yet another CVS store (minus the pharmacy they promise) in a town saturated not only by CVS and Walgreens but also by other national chains. There are ways to favor local business but not in this town. Duval Street is ideally placed to be a dynamic live/work active shopping downtown but instead it is a place most residents avoid like the plague that it is. City workers struggle to clean it up every morning but the smell of stale beer permeates everything, the sidewalks are crusty and fresh paint is an unknown concept.

Important people in the city make money from this degraded state of affairs and as Upton Sinclair noted they won't change a thing. It is tempting to imagine a city where urban planning might direct visitor money to a less alcohol fueled focus, but when proposals to create a pedestrian only zone were bruited the idea was shot down. Not because it might fail, but because the merchants outside the zone thought it might be too successful! This isn't the Conch Republic, it's Ruritania. Though where we might find right minded people ready to set civic standards beats me.

The thing is the current mindset of anything goes makes money, property values are absurdly high, such that a modest storefront on Duval commands a $30,000 a month rent. Which leads one to wonder how many Crocs does the Croc store sell to make the rent, never mind the other fixed costs? Upset that Apple cart if you dare! Who needs a pedestrian zone? Carts draped in funereal plastic do not apparently violate city aesthetic codes:

I love these inspirational quotations that crop up on Duval Street as well as all over Facebook. So easy to "share," so hard to live up to. Jesus had his head in the clouds and his feet on the ground and the peanut gallery happily gave him up to excruciating crucification in favor of giving the crook Barabbas his freedom. I don't doubt the same would happen today even as people mindlessly post these uplifting hopes on their public pages.

I wonder if Duval Street can get better or is it just destined to be party town forever?

 

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Far End Of The Earth

Those red diamonds mark the end of any road that cuts a path through the mangroves away from Highway One. These two are about eight miles from the main road, about as far as it's possible to drive from the Overseas Highway. Even Key Deer Boulevard on Big Pine Key is less than five miles long.

Not far enough to escape the inevitable illegal dumping that plagues these islands. Reverence for the natural environment is not high on the list. Blame the high cost of living but I doubt this pile taken to the dump would cost $20. Better to make a public mess.

I love these wide open spaces that remind me of the desert. The wind whistles in your ears and the birds cry plaintively, and you are alone with your dog.

More dumping, slightly more discreetly down a path. These were once valuable imported tiles but now they are ugly crap blighting the countryside!

Cheyenne found a tea time snack and choked down. Remnants of a Key deer probably, injured possibly by a car and crawled off to return to the earth whence it came.

Even though it's eight miles by car, the road twists and turns so there is open water glimpsed in the distance.

It's been a while since I came to the end of Dorn Road but it is not likely that the very end will be accessible by car for much longer.

There are two houses out here. This one carefully labelled with a No Trespassing sign as though the gate weren't message enough.

This one for sale for almost two hundred thousand dollars. Which may sound like deal until you figure it's off the grid, fifteen minutes from the highway and on the edge of cell phone reception. Which could make it even more desireable if you can figure how to grow vegetables in land that floods periodically.

The road to the last two houses is starting to show signs of decrepitude though I suppose the county will be obliged to keep this section open at vast public expense.

There are houses dotted along the lower reaches of Dorn Road but out here there is nothing, except road signs and dips that fill with rain water, sinkholes to come perhaps.

Nature is reclaiming the road because this is as wilderness as it gets around here.

A couple of miles before the end the electric wires peter out:

Poles to the right, none to the left:

And the last cluster of houses clinging to the civility of the grid:

I wish I could stand the idea of living unencumbered by the world.

 

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Trash

I like to share my wry view of the world with unsuspecting strangers. Usually my skewed take on something apparently obvious falls totally flat. I shrug and move on. Sometimes though my low key performance art hits a bull's eye. This guy was loading large roadside trash into his hauler.

Me: Hey dude! You know...this isn't Miami Beach?
Trash Hauler: (Looking startled) What?
Me: No! This isn't Miami Beach. You're in the wrong place!
Him: Really? That GPS...
Me: Never trust technology.
Lots of trash though, everywhere. I love the way Cheyenne treats it as a treasure trove. Other peoples' cast offs.

The epitome of longing. A pig in a fur coat.