EDITOR'S NOTE: Ellen Sugarman is a nationally known investigative reporter. She has given KWTN permission to serialize her new book about environmental terrorism in the Florida Keys.
In Chapter One, officials from County Code Enforcement, the Sheriff's Office and the Florida Marine Patrol— off duty and in civilian clothes, but armed— pay an unofficial visit to property owners on Little Knockemdown Key. A few days later, the owners were cited, ordering them to tear down unpermitted structures— even though many of those structures had been there prior to the law requiring permitting. In Chapter Two, Sugarman used Fantasy Fest as a backdrop to introduce us to her cast of characters. In Chapter Three, an investigative reporter hears about an alleged conspiracy by multiple government agencies to take over private property in the Keys and, in Chapter 4, she starts to look into it. Chapter 5: Officials "raid" Little Torch Key. Chapter 6: Government officials charge a Sugarloaf resident with environmental infractions and, in Chapter 7, they take his house. Chapters 8 and 9: Code Enforcement records begin to reveal a pattern of deceit. Chapter 10: A lawyer tells a property owner, in jail on seemingly trumped up environmental charges, that he can get him off if he will sell his property cheap to a prominent conservation organization. To read previous chapters of The Willing Seller, see our website— www.kwtn.com.
Kate called Gideon Emerson at the newspaper office the next afternoon. She had come to the point in her research where she wanted to talk about it with somebody knowledgeable, someone she could trust. Gideon was her man; there was nothing that went on in the Keys or the state of Florida, for that matter, that he didn't have an inside line to. Like every other member of the Fourth Estate, Gideon wanted to be in on things, so he kept his ear to the ground.
As soon as he was told who was calling, Gideon came on the line. As always, he was delighted to hear from Kate and, as always, he had a joke for her. "You hear the one about the rich woman who's driving home one day and sees this poor homeless man standing by the side of the road with a sign, Will work for food? She stops and takes him to her place where she tells him she wants him to paint the porch. They go into the garage and she gets a can of grey deck paint and a brush, tells him when he's done painting to knock on the back door and she'll have a meal waiting for him. About half an hour later, he knocks at the door and says he's done. She says, My that was quick. Well, come in, I've prepared a nice hot meal for you. The man says `Gracias' and comes in. But, first he has something to tell her: Lady, `ese not a Porsche, `ese a Mercedes.
They both laughed, Gideon enjoying it as much as Kate did. Then he stopped laughing and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"
Kate said there was something she was working on she'd like to talk about. If he didn't have anything on this evening, she thought she'd get a jug of cheap wine and come over and pick his brain.
"My dear, you know I love it when you talk dirty," Gideon chuckled. "Pick my brain indeed. No, I have nothing planned except a solitary meal this evening. Why don't you join me for dinner about eight? We both know you never feed yourself properly." He didn't ask for any details knowing she wouldn't want to discuss it on the phone.
Kate accepted gladly and hung up the phone looking forward to the evening ahead. What Gideon had said was true, of course, she never fed herself properly—at least not by Gideon's standards. By a solitary meal, he meant an elaborate gourmet repast like the ones he cooked for himself every night he ate in.
Gideon Emerson was a popular Bon Vivant who was famous in Key West for a lot of things, not the least of these being, as he loved to point out, that he owned the only pair of size eleven pumps in town. A longtime newspaper man from Savannah, he'd kicked the traces of middle-class married life and migrated to the Keys in the seventies. He was informed, intelligent, witty and gay, not necessarily in that order. He'd acquired a nickname— the Silver Fox— from his history of carousing as much as his mane of prematurely gray hair. One of his oft-repeated quips was his description of Key West: a place where you could do anything you wanted— as long as you told everyone about it.
At eight, Kate and Bruiser set out for Gideon's. He lived a few blocks away in a large old Conch house he'd graciously restored and filled with antiques and the art of local artists. The rooms of the house were what decorators would call `busy,' meaning anywhere your eyes landed there was something to look at and ponder. The man was simply a collector. No matter how many times you'd been to Gideon's, there was always something new to see.
Kate let herself in through the front gate, made her way around back and went in the kitchen door, which was never locked. Bruiser scampered ahead to greet an old pal of his, a silver Persian cat named Rita who was twice his size and not nearly as outgoing by nature. The kitchen was a spacious, welcoming room, full of classical music— Vivaldi— and heavenly scents that made Kate feel faint. She called "Hey" to announce her presence, set the bottle of wine on the table, and looked around.
Gideon was standing at the Wolf range with his back to her, poised over a heavy cast iron pot that was the source of the magical smells. He pirouetted like a dancer and shouted, "Kate darling. You look lovely." He had a frilly chintz apron over shorts, a blue and white striped tee-shirt, rubber flip-flops on his feet, a wooden spoon in one hand and a potholder in the other. A brown Gauloise cigarette dangled from his lips. Kate walked over to him and they kissed cheek-to-cheek, in the European manner. Gideon spent his summers in Paris, "the continent" as he called it, and cultivated its continental ways.
"Your timing is perfect, dinner's almost ready, another minute or two," Gideon assured her, handing her a corkscrew and waving the spoon in the direction of the table before he returned to his ministrations.
"Your timing was perfect," she corrected, "All I did was show up." She went over to the round oak table and sat on the wooden chair opposite Gideon's, his being a comfortable easy chair heaped with pillows he'd needlepointed himself. He had the table set formally, colorful linens and candles, crystal and sterling, a large pot of freshly picked flowers. Being at Gideon's always gave her a wonderful sense of well-being. Kate dispatched the cork on the wine and poured out two glasses, sipping hers with a sigh of contentment.
Moments later Gideon walked over balancing two steaming plates. He slid one in front of Kate, put the other down at his place. Then he bustled back over to the stove, took a long loaf of Cuban bread out of the oven, grabbed a salad from the counter, hurried back and dumped them on the table. He removed the apron, slinging it over an empty chair, and ground out his cigarette in an ashtray.
Kate sat poised over her plate with her eyes closed, breathing in the seductive aromas of fish and spices. "Grits and grunts," Gideon informed her. "With just a little Louisiana improvisation I think you'll enjoy." He took his seat and brought his glass of wine to his lips after glancing approvingly at the bottle. "Pepperwood merlot, jug wine indeed. Well, here's to us. Bon Appetite!" He took a sip, ripped off a hunk of bread and slathered it with butter, and dug in.
Kate followed suit. The fish was incredible. For a few minutes they both sat eating steadily without a word. Then the pace of their chewing slowed down and they began to chit chat. When Gideon had taken the final bite, he served himself salad in the same plate, mopping up the juices with the greens. Still chewing, he raised his thick eyebrows, which gave him a sardonic look, and stared over at Kate. "So? What is it you're into now? Tell Uncle Gideon. As you know, I'm your greatest fan."
In fact, Kate considered him her mentor; she didn't know what she'd do without Gideon. She took a gulp of wine and began the story. "I've been looking into some interesting county code enforcement activity on some of the out islands. Summerland, Sugarloaf. Big Pine. A few others. At first, I was thinking of busting `em on selective enforcement."
"But that's such old news here in the Keys," Gideon cut in. "Enforcement here's always been political. Either that or it's personal, someone has a flatout grudge against someone, so they nail him. Use their influence to make him miserable."
"Yeah. Anyhow, now I think there's more, a lot more. The scenario seems to revolve around Carl. You know Carl, of course." Gideon's eyebrows lifted off again and he nodded. "Well, what if I told you certain county agencies were acting in collusion to scam people out of their property if it happens to lie in a Carl project?" Kate asked.
"I can't say that I'd be that surprised. I'm familiar with the state land acquisition program, it's very aggressive here in Monroe County. I think something like 95-percent of the undeveloped land is currently either in government hands or earmarked for one or another project. But, tell me how this works."
"For one thing, code enforcement's been targeting parcels that are on the Carl list. At whose direction, or what's the Big picture, I couldn't say. Not yet. And there's more." Kate went on to describe the tactics that were used with the Warners. Gideon listened with great interest.
When she finished, he nodded and said, "That's what I love about you, Kate. Not only are you a delightfully obsessive investigator, your analytical powers are so bold, so daring. In the old days, I would have killed for a reporter like you."
"Thanks, honey," Kate teased, pursing her lips and throwing him a kiss.
"You know, I've heard rumors," Gideon continued. "About the county and the feds tag-teaming people to drive them off their land, using regulations and retroactive zoning to beat them out of desires parcels. But that's all it's been, just rumors. People bitching about big government, all these excessive restrictions. People unhappy with a permitting process that has become pretty cumbersome. People bitch
"One hears a lot of things. But what you're describing certainly fits the M.O. Tell me, what happens to these properties once they're taken? Have you chased the paper that far yet?"
Kate shook her head. "I'm really just beginning. And I could sure use some guidance, which is why I'm here."
"Not my culinary talents? Or my charm?"
"Well, certainly your cooking. God, Gideon! This was absolutely wonderful! I don't know how you do it. Find the time to produce a meal like this and still make so much trouble. There aren't enough hours in a day."
Gideon laughed, poured them each some more wine, lit a thin brown cigarette and leaned back in his chair for a moment, quietly watching the smoke. Then he said, "Why don't you and I do some brainstorming?"
To be continued next week.
Willing Seller is a work of fiction. The events and characters portrayed are imaginary. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is coincidental.
Ellen Sugarman's writing has appeared in publications such as Newsday, Time, Vogue, Ms., Penthouse, New York Times Magazine, the San Francisco Chronicle, the Chicago Sun Times, and the Miami Herald's Tropic Magazine.
As a freelance television producer, she has worked with ABC, Fox News, A&E and the BBC. Several years ago, she produced a segment on environmental terrorism in the Florida Keys for ABC's 20/20. Although scheduled to run several times, the show was ultimately killed, reportedly because of pressure from the Nature Conservancy.
The program did air in the Keys, however, after activist Peter Anderson was able to obtain a videotape of the show and paid for time to run it on local cable television.
Among a number of shocking revelations, the program documents that State Attorney Kirk Zuelch, while a member of the local Nature Conservancy board, offered to drop charges against property owners accused of environmental crimes if they would sell or give their land to the Nature Conservancy. Zuelch quickly resigned from the Nature Conservancy board after he was interviewed by 20/20.
Anderson encouraged viewers to tape the show when it ran on local TV. If you want to see this show, KWTN has a couple of loaner copies. Info: 292-2108.