mary

"Mary" is an old weather beaten and blistered replica of an 1850's era salvage vessel.
The wooden sailing ship has been run aground as decoration on Mallory Square since longer than I know.

Sadly, between the painted coconut and straw hat kiosks, the aquarium, shipwreck museum, conch trains and trolleys, hot dog vendors and the sponge warehouse (an overblown gift shop), not many people pay her much mind.

But me? I've got double trouble here. . .
I sail and, I aspire to be an historian if I ever grow up.
So Mary stands out for me.

Key West, of course, made it's bones on salvaging.
Ships sailing between Spain and Cuba would often run aground on the Florida reef.
Poor navigation, stormy seas and overloaded cargo ships, that were harder to control while tacking into the wind, were the main causes of the shipwrecks.


If the lookouts spotted a ship on the rocks, they'd holler " wreck ashore" and the salvage crews would man their boats, much like Mary, and race to the wreck.
The rule, as I understand it, was the first Captain to reach the wreck would be the"salvage master" and entitled to the lion's share of the plunder. Plunder which, after it was hauled back to town, could be either kept by the salvage master or
sold at auction.


In the early 1800s the Navy came to town and soon after that, Key West became an official U.S. port of entry. That drew more cargo ships directly here and more ships meant more wrecks and by about the time of the American Civil War the wrecking industry had made Key West the richest city in the United States.


Inevitably, with Yankee ingenuity being what it is, more lighthouses were built, nautical charts and navigation techniques were improved; and all that meant, less wrecks.


By and by, as the salvage industry faded, it was replaced by sponge harvesting and cigar making and those are stories for another time. But I can't imagine either was ever as lucrative as salvaging.
Key West's "golden age" was over.


Today Key West is a tourist economy (also not as lucrative as salvaging) and there sits Mary, weather beaten and blistered with chickens roosting in her hold; a strangely romantic reminder of a better time.

One last thing. . .

I've added a movie link; "Reap the Wild Wind" is all about Key West wreckers.
It stars Paulette Goddard, Ray Milland and John Wayne.
Released in 1942, it was produced and directed by Cecil B. DeMille (so you know the cinematography is first rate).
Some scenes get a little sappy (hell, it's an old movie) but you don't need to sit through all 2 hours of the story to get the overall flavor of Key West's golden age of salvaging.

spring break

It's been Spring Break in Key West for the past couple
of weeks.

I saw this and thought, somebody had a real good time!!

artman's new e-mail address

Just a quick heads up my friends, I've changed my phone and internet service provider from at&t to Comcast.

My phone number remains the same but my e-mail address has changed.

The new e-mail address is. . .
art.winstanley@comcast.net

My thanks, as always, for all of you staying tuned in. - Art

key west wildlife center

we are not saints

Anchors Aweigh is a 501(c)3 and has been Key West’s help center serving those seeking recovery from drug and alcohol addiction in the Lower Keys for the past
29 years.
The Anchors Aweigh Club is member-owned and supported.

Although Anchors Aweigh embraces the 12 step program of "Bill W." and "Dr. Bob", they are independent of
Alcoholics Anonymous.

I attended Sunday morning meetings at Anchors Aweigh a few years ago when I decided that I was liking my beer just a little too much. (a small problem by comparison but addiction is addiction and ultimately it's all about mindset)

The reliability and work ethic of the clean and sober employees at Anchors Aweigh was caring, concerned, supportive and, at the end of the day, beneficial to my health.

So with my thanks, I'm very happy to give a little something back and help hype a special fundraiser for my old friends at Anchors Aweigh. . .

•

The nationally known "Recovery Comedy Team", presenting “We Are Not Saints” returns by popular demand to share amazing personal stories of recovery through bold, riotous stand-up comedy and their poignant, unique experiences with addiction, recovery and change.
The performance features Amy Dresner, Felon O'Reilly
and Ian Harvie

The public is invited to attend at Anchors Aweigh,
404 Virginia Street, Key West. Tickets are $20 in advance
or $25 at the door.
The comedy show is recommended for ages 16 and over.

For more information, contact: Steve at 305 849-5418.

And to learn more about Anchors Aweigh, please visit. . .
anchorsaweighclub.com

bamboo-zle

The dictionary defines the word bamboozle this way. . .
1. "to deceive by underhanded methods"
2. "to confuse, frustrate, or throw off thoroughly
or completely"

The Thesaurus offers these synonyms. . .
"deceive, delude, dupe, con, fake out, fool, misguide, mislead and misinform."

In my own lexicon the synonyms start with "sucker, scam, shaft" and get dramatically more colorful. I'd love to share but, this being a family show, I won't.

And yeah you're right, this is gonna be an ArtMan rant.

About 3 weeks ago, I was happily working away at my smoothly running computer when the phone rang. Without looking up at my caller I.D., I instinctively picked up the call.
It was a sales dude from at&t. I don't normally answer sales calls but this time they snagged me and sure, I could have ended the call really quick but he seemed warm and personable and I guess I was having one of my very rare mental moments of weakness so I listened to what he
had to say.

He wanted to offer me an upgraded service that would make my internet speed faster than a speeding bullet, give me wider access wireless networks and, the best part, would lower my phone bill by $25 - $30.
Well faster speed and wireless didn't thrill me but a smaller phone bill?
In this economy, what the hell could it hurt?
So in my moment of weakness, I agreed to the upgrade.

The product is called "U-Verse" and it was gonna be the best thing since sliced bread.

Two weeks later UPS delivered and I installed the new, unnecessarily large modem, a phone guy came over and strung a new wire from the pole to the house. Was I back in business as usual?
Well, not so much.

While I could still get on-line and still receive e-mail, I couldn't send e-mail. (I was e-mute).
Now, among the pile of papers that came with all this crap was a customer support number; I called it. . .
The "tech" on the other end told me I couldn't access the
e-mail server because I hadn't closed out my DSL account by paying the final bill. (no one had mentioned that before. . .)

Wasn't I dealing with the same company?
Well yes, but we do separate billing.
My thought was "you've been bamboo-zled."
Then the games began. . .

I logged on-line to the BellSouth website (which is how I've paid my bill for the last 10 years) but the bitch wouldn't let me in. So I called BellSouth but my call was automatically routed to "U-Verse". All I wanted to pay is my last DSL bill to clear the way for the new service and get back to work.
Long story short, it took, I kid you not, a half a day to finally find someone who could handle the transaction.

At that point it was 4:30 in the afternoon and the bill was paid but I was more aggravated than I'd been in a year.
It was time to just let it go, crack open a cold one and find something to eat.
"U-Verse" will keep until tomorrow.

The next morning, in much better spirits after a good night's sleep, I'm back at the computer checking the incoming e-mail (like I do every morning) and start drafting replies. No soap; the server isn't recognizing any of my addresses.

I'm back on the phone to customer support. . .

I explain the problem and suggest that with the "upgrade" maybe the port settings have changed. The customer support guy agrees (no one had mentioned that before. . .) and he gives me the new numbers.
While we're talking, I ask him how often he has to walk customers through these pain-in-the-ass problems. "Every day, 10 times a day, we have problems with the system" was his exasperated reply.

New settings in hand, I ended the call, punched in the numbers but still, no soap.
I was receiving e-mail but still couldn't send.


By now I'm in the heavy workload part of my week and it's time to "out-think the machine". I log-in to att.com and access my e-mail from there and from there, it turns out, I can send. (improvise and overcome)

Confident that I've found an effective stop-gap solution to get me through the rest of my work week, I called it, a day.

The next morning, again in much better spirits after a good night's sleep, I'm back at the computer checking the incoming e-mail. I log on to att.com (just like did the day before) but it won't let me in.
So much for my pleasant morning mood; now this is all a real pain-in-the-balls!
I've got a dozen clients looking for answers and I can't reply.
I could lose a few bucks over this!

Back on the phone to customer support. . .

After 10 minutes of "please hold muzak", a dude comes on, I explain the problem and now he's directing me to a Yahoo website to try and get at my e-mail.

A Yahoo website?? WTF???

Keep in mind, I'm not running a "dinosaur of a computer" system over here. It's a MAC 10 point something, running Adobe CS4 programs and I have 2 e-mail programs. Every thing works, every thing is backed up and the back-ups are backed up. The problem is not on my end!
I tell the support dude all that, ask him a few tech questions and he says, "we're not trained to deal with those kinds of problems" and gives me yet another number for the "Connection Specialists" (already another half day is lost on this mess).

I call, get another 10 minutes of "please hold muzak", some one answers and I explain my problem again. The voice on the other end confirms that they get calls like mine very often and they can help me. But for that help I'd need to subscribe to a maintenance service contract for $15 a month with a commitment for 12 months and would like to put that on my credit card today?

I think to myself, now let me get this straight. . .
I've been told by 3 separate support people that at&t knows "U-Verse" has problems only at&t can fix them. But to get them fixed, I've got pay for the privilege.
In my head that translated to, "you were dumb enough to get bamboo-zled into this sub-standard upgrade scam and now we're holding your internet capabilities for ransom."
This I could not abide.

Come Monday, all my on-line and land-line services will be moved to Comcast.
Going forward, I'll keep you all up to speed on
address changes.
And o sh*t, I'll have to reprint my business cards.

waterfront playhouse

Back in about 1940 a cast of local thespians and some Navy dudes came together to form the Key West Players.

For 20 years, the troupe would stage productions wherever they could find space around town and sometimes even on Navy ships that were stationed in Key West during
World War Two.

Then in 1960, with the help of Tennessee Williams, the Players got hold of an old and run-down ice warehouse, built in the 1880s, on Mallory Square.

They renovated the warehouse, transforming it into an intimate 150 seat theatre.
The Key West Players finally had a permanent home.
They christened it, the WaterFront PlayHouse.

These days, when the sun sets, the curtain rises at the
not-for-profit venue for a regular schedule of theatrical, dance and musical performances during "season" that features our pool of local talent as well as internationally
known performers.

I've been there many several times and if you're local and like live performance art, you can see what they've
got cooking at. . .
The WaterFront PlayHouse

a keys kinda weekend

There's always a lot going on in Key West and this weekend was no exception.
Yesterday I divided my time between the Schooner Wharf "Open Air Art & Music Affair" and the OIRF "ConchShell Blowing Contest".
Both were good excuses to get out and about among the
mischievous masses and enjoy a day under the sun and a cloudless blue sky.

I don't really have much to say about either event, but here are a few prime pix and some Conch Honking sound. . .


Schooner Wharf Bar, Open Air Art & Music Affair



This is my friend Mally, who's work I have always admired.
Make a minute to have a look at mallyweaver.com





OIRF ConchShell Blowing Contest at the Oldest
House Museum









. . .and if you've never heard what a ConchShell sounds like, here's a sound bite. . .


Click the arrow to start video. Run time, 1:14

the key west claw

I've got it in my head that if I ever get to where I need to find a "real job", I want this one.

This dude, with his broad brimmed straw hat and leather work gloves, works for Waste Management, the garbage gurus
of the galaxy.
He drives around all day picking up all manner of stuff left out on the curb. He pulls a lever and a big-ass claw comes out of the back of his giant dump truck to hoist refrigerators, washing machines, sofas, mattresses, hugh piles of palm fronds and volkswagons (well no, I made that one up. But I'll bet he could.) Then he drives it off to God only knows where and all that stuff is never seen or heard from again.

The dude is totally happy in his work (and he didn't want his picture taken). And why wouldn't he be happy? Not only does he get to drive around paradise all day without a boss looking over his shoulder and probably pulls down a pretty good salary, but he gets to play with a ginormous version of one of those grab the teddy-bear with the claw Asbury Park
arcade games.

Outside of the arts, that's the job for me.

wayward prayer

Remember being a kid and grown-ups asking, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"
I always thought that was the dumbest-assed question
in the world.
What does a kid who's age is still in single digits know
(or care) about careers and job markets?

But when my age got to early double digits, I got it in my head that I wanted to be a Catholic Priest.
I mean, it made perfect sense. I was already an alter-boy, could recite the Mass in Latin and just loved the smell
of the incense.

That notion of becoming a Catholic Priest stayed with me for a few years until two things happened. . .
First, I discovered girls.
And second, I learned the definition of the word "celibate".
My hormonally charged, adolescent response was, "you've got to be f*#kin' kidding!!"
And so began my lifelong study of comparative religion. . .
(There just had to be a tradition where I could be a Holy Man and still get laid?)

painting of Augustine by Botticelli

Well yeah, there were plenty, of course, but none of them climbed the fléche and rang my bell.
Then by and by I discovered Buddhism; and I knew for sure I was no longer Catholic. (if I had ever really been a Catholic in the first place)
"God" was no longer some figment of my imagination living up in the clouds;
"God" was within. . .

As an adult, I've been blessed with two inspirational spiritual teachers; Paramahansa Yogananda and Joseph Campbell.
Enlightened by what I've learned from those two men, I took up Yoga and Meditation and the search for "Nirvanic Bliss" was on.

The trouble, as I discovered, is once you cross "the Rubicon" to Nirvanic bliss, you either couldn't or wouldn't want to come back. It's a one way trip!

I've come pretty damned close to the water's edge more than a few times in meditation but for one reason or another, (like a good Cuban cigar or a SuperBowl party or another pretty young woman coming along) I haven't climbed aboard the Mahayana to sail to the yonder shore.

All the same, one day during this incarnation, I know I'll put my earthly desires (Kama) down and make the
Nirvanic crossing.
But until I do, to keep my options open, I've adopted
St. Augustine's "Wayward Prayer". . .

"Lord make me pure. . .
. . .But not yet."

at the end of the day

I'm guessing it was two years after I came to live in Key West before I saw my first proper sunset, (and by proper I mean, lounging out on the Gulf shore for the hour or two it takes to watch the day turns to dusk as the sun sinks into the sea).

You see, the second or third thing I did when I got to town was land a job in the at the Citizen (and for my out-of-towner readers, that's our local daily newspaper, the Key West Citizen).
Anyway the gig was from 4pm - 12am so, I'd be inside while the sun took it's ride.


After I'd finally freed myself of that mess I thought, "living in Key West and not seeing sunsets was as take it all for granted as living in New York City and not visiting the Statue of Liberty." So from every angle I could think of: Mallory Square, Fort Zach, Sunset Key or a barstool at Schooner Wharf. . .
I filled my head with sunsets.
"It's a beautiful time of day", I thought, "small wonder all these folks come down to see it."

Ever since I've made it a point, at least once or twice a week,
to find my way to the west edge of our island
at the end of the day.

henry flagler

When Henry Morrison Flagler was born in Hopewell New York in January 1830, he didn't have a "silver spoon"
in his mouth.
Thomas Jefferson had only been dead for 31/2 years, Andrew Jackson was President of the United States (there were only 23 states), Davey Crockett was a Congressman and the battle at the Alamo wasn't about to happen for another 6 years.
This is some really old old stuff and I love it.

Flagler statue beside the SteamPlant in Key West

With an 8th grade education, at age 14, Henry went to work at his uncle Lamon G. Harkness' grain store in Ohio for really grunt wages, $5/month. Within 5 years though, he was promoted to the sales staff and his salary rose to $400/month.

Smelling the odor of opportunity, in 1862, Henry left Ohio to start the "Flagler & York Salt Company" in Michigan.
See, there was no refrigeration back then and so to keep meats fresh, it was packed in salt. Sensing the increased demand for salt packed meats with the American Civil War going on, Henry got in on it. But when the war ended in 1865, the demand for salt ended with it. The "Flagler & York Salt Company" collapsed and Henry was $100k in the hole.
But what does he say, "hells bells I'm a failure" and plant his head in the sand? Nope, he tells himself he must be more thorough when investigating possible investments.

Henry Flagler, wife Mary (behind) & her sister Isabelle, c.1850

Anyway, Henry headed back to his uncle's grain company in Ohio where before too long he met John D. Rockefeller. Rockefeller needed capital to start an oil refining business in Cleveland (at that time the oil refinery capitol of the world). Flagler borrowed and invested $100,000 and, in time, the venture became the monopolistic "Standard Oil".
I'm guessing that at this point, money was no longer an issue for Henry.
This was the beginning of was America's Guilded Age.

Toward the middle of the 1870s, Flagler's first wife (he'd ultimately have 3) Flagler's first wife, Mary, became seriously ill. Her doctor recommended the couple travel to the warmer climates of Florida for the winter. They did but Mary continued to fade and after a few years she died.

Henry in his prime

After a couple of years Henry remarried. This time to Ida who was one of Mary's caregivers. For their honeymoon, the couple traveled to St. Augustine, Florida. He loved the place but found it's accommodations and transportation system wanting.
So he invested in and built the "Ponce De León", a 540 room luxury hotel and then bought three short line railroads to carry visitors to it.
And that was the start of the "Florida East Coast Railway".

Over the next several years Henry expanded his holdings in Florida; buying a hotel here building a hotel there and, all the while, extending the range of the railway south along the Florida coast until by 1894 the Flagler franchise stretched as far south as West Palm.
Still, 60 miles south was an unincorporated little town. Henry again extended the railway, dredged mangroves, built roads developed a city and opened the "Royal Palm Hotel" in 1897. That city? Miami.
Henry is remembered as the "father of Miami".

Now it was time to take a break. Henry divorced Ida on grounds of insanity and married his third wife, Mary Lily and built her a 55 room home in Palm Beach as a wedding present.
The year was 1902.

Flagler disembarks the train in Key West

In 1905 the U.S. Government started digging the Panama Canal and again Henry Flagler smelled the odor of opportunity. If he could extend his railway to Key West, he might cash in on trade from Cuba and South America and from the west, that the completed canal was sure to bring.
Key West was the closest deep water port to the canal.

So down went another 156 miles of track, mostly over water, and in 1912 one of the most ambitious engineering projects, the "Florida OverSeas Railway" was complete.
Henry took the train ride himself that same year and Key West gave him a hero's welcome.

Key West turns out to greet Henry Flagler

The next year, 1913 at age 83, Flagler fell down a flight of marble stairs in his home in Palm Beach.
(God, it hurts just to write that!)
The fall ultimately killed him. He is buried in St. Augustine beside his first wife Mary.

a matured & successful Henry Flagler

The year Henry Flagler died, Woodrow Wilson was President of the United States, the U.S. Government introduced the income tax, the Brooklyn Dodgers opened Ebbets Field, Charlie Chaplin began his film career and WWI was still a year in the future.
This is some really old old stuff and I love it.