I worked in Fast Buck Freddie's warehouse for a almost six months on William Street and never bothered to take a walk down Sawyer Lane, just across the street from me. The entrance to Sawyer off William is pretty enough in the usual Old Town sort of way. By day:
And by night:
The house on the other side of the entrance is less fancy but equally Key West-ish:
The porch has an emphasis on outdoor activity, required no doubt in a small house. The porch becomes an extra space, a place to store stuff or get stuff done, more than just sitting in a rocking chair and drinking lemonade.
This house is also framed by some yellow plants which I cannot identify, but I am reliably informed are the tropical standard frangipani:
What struck me about Sawyer Lane was the greenery and the flowers all over the place. The lane is but a block long and full of stuff sprouting:
I think the pink plants are hibiscus though I could be wrong though I should know if for no reason than that they were blooming in profusion:
Sawyer Lane is a bit of a canyon as the homes seem very tall and they in turn are overshadowed by old growth trees:
J Wills Burke in Streets of Key West says Sawyer Lane is named for one Benjamin Sawyer, mayor of the city from 1844 to 1846, which seems a short enough term to have accomplished much. Preferred candidates are General Abe Sawyer a famous dwarf who lived in the city and is now buried there. famous for what other than being short isn't specified. There are also two Sawyer bothers buried in the city cemetery, James and John who Wills Burke identifies as being the oldest residents therein. James' death occurring in 1829 and John in 1843. Who knew... I did spot what I thought was an exceptionally tall eyebrow house, one of those constructions with large overhangs in front:
I've mentioned it before but the idea behind the "eyebrow" was to allow windows to remain open out of the way of rain or sun but the overhang apparently traps hot air. It still looks pretty:
White picket fences are frequently derided as suburban stereotypes but on Sawyer Lane the picket fence looks perfect, naturally also displaying a plant or two:
This fence was unusual in that it was a double row of pickets, for what purpose, if any, I know not. Wills Burke notes that Sawyer Lane meets Roberts Lane at the end of the block, which in Google maps is shown as Roberto Lane. Mind you they also show Sawyer as Sawyers Lane so there is room for extra vowels and consonants in their mapping, good though it is. While I walked the two lanes I parked the Bonneville at their confluence:
Roberts Lane comes off Caroline Street next to Key West Marine Hardware known to boaters locally as Cuban Joe's, with the store's long private driveway parallel to Roberts:
Which ends in a gravel driveway to a large parking area, which, not to put too fine a point on it doesn't look like a public roadway:
It always causes me to wonder how such a small crowded island has all these unused spaces. Long may they stay that way. A final view of Sawyer Lane at night:.jpg)
Dark, leafy indistinct, as it should be on a warm tropical night.
I've mentioned it before but the idea behind the "eyebrow" was to allow windows to remain open out of the way of rain or sun but the overhang apparently traps hot air. It still looks pretty:White picket fences are frequently derided as suburban stereotypes but on Sawyer Lane the picket fence looks perfect, naturally also displaying a plant or two:This fence was unusual in that it was a double row of pickets, for what purpose, if any, I know not. Wills Burke notes that Sawyer Lane meets Roberts Lane at the end of the block, which in Google maps is shown as Roberto Lane. Mind you they also show Sawyer as Sawyers Lane so there is room for extra vowels and consonants in their mapping, good though it is. While I walked the two lanes I parked the Bonneville at their confluence:Roberts Lane comes off Caroline Street next to Key West Marine Hardware known to boaters locally as Cuban Joe's, with the store's long private driveway parallel to Roberts:Which ends in a gravel driveway to a large parking area, which, not to put too fine a point on it doesn't look like a public roadway:It always causes me to wonder how such a small crowded island has all these unused spaces. Long may they stay that way. A final view of Sawyer Lane at night:Dark, leafy indistinct, as it should be on a warm tropical night.
It happened in 1982 that the Federal Government had one it's periodic crack downs and the Border Patrol as was set up a check point on Highway One to make sure "illegal aliens" weren't using the Keys as a back door entry to the US. This unaccustomed heavy handedness caused tourist operators to fear the worst for their income and they did the all American thing and took the Immigration and Naturalization Service (as was) to court.
The story goes that pressed by reporters on what he was going to do next, Mayor Dennis Wardlow, in consultation with his advisers huddled for a moment in the courthouse lobby sought and found the inspiration that sometimes strikes the desperate. So he announced that he was going to secede from the United States. A declaration that made headlines. And so it was that the Border Patrol (as was) found itself shamed into taking down the check point and restored easy travel between the US and the Conch Republic, which in the meantime, having got into the spirit of the moment pressed the US government to fork over some "foreign aid," seeing as how the islands were blockaded from the mainland. And so people gather under cloudless blue skies to watch other people make gentle asses of themselves in public:
In an effort to keep the revenue up for the "hospitality industry" the latter part of April is a time set aside for celebrations in Key West to mark the ever popular act of secession. Much of it involves the usual drinking, parading, and bikini contests with the addition of a "sea battle" which the Coastguard joins with local boats, and the whole thing wraps up with a bed race up Duval Street.
"Where else but Key West," my wife the former public defender wondered out loud, "would you find the cops escorting beds down the street?" 
The Conch Republic is big business for one week and they hire off duty cops to keep order, which needn't be a tough assignment at a family event like a bed race. Officer Standerwick was keeping an eye on the crowds as the start line:
When one says a "family affair" this is one human family, not at all like the Swiss Canton of Appenzell Innerrhoden which the BBC reports has voted by popular acclamation to outlaw naked alpine hiking, a problem I hadn't previously known to have existed. Key West doesn't actually allow nudity on the streets, but the One Human Family label covers a multitude of sins where the benefits of commerce are involved and peculiar garb, and the less of it the better, is designed to attract crowds and their money:
So they line the beds up two by two, and they push them down the street, raising money for charity, laughs for the crowds and cans of beer for refreshment:
Duval Street was closed for several hours on Saturday afternoon as the pushers pushed and the crowds cheered them on. Between pairs of beds Eaton Street was opened to traffic by Officers O'Connell:
And Jewell:
Rob O'Neal, a photographer from the Citizen was busy documenting the speeding beds, and we exchanged a few pleasantries on the future of Cuba, and the hope that the embargo might soon vanish:
Not least no doubt because the fuel is this:
Lest you imagine this chaos is the Beginning of the End of law and order in the Conch Republic, let me assure you Officers Villareal and Hartle (pictured) were carefully escorting each pair of racing bed frames down the city's main drag:
And my goodness what a strange assortment of beds they were:
One of the few rules that I could figure out is that there has to be someone riding in the bed in some manner. And there has to be motive power of course, which take their role more or less seriously depending on what they came out to do, preen, push or be pushed: 
A Key West husky:
Vital Key West cargo for safe delivery:
And there were a few spectators on their balcony at La Concha wondering what planet they had woken up on:
No longer in Kansas, I'm afraid, "Look at that!" One hopes the family album gets judicious editing before public display.