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. Here is a synopsis of previous chapters. For complete chapters, see our websire: www.kwtn.com.
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, investigative reporter Kate Anderson 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. In 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 the Conservation League. In Chapter 11, Kate shares her suspicians with the editor of a local newspaper . Chapter 12: The editor suggests that she take a close look at Rev. Clive Farrell and the Conservation League. Kate and a freind head down to Bahama Village to hear Farrell address a meeting of Last Chance.
Which was why he was still sitting in his office hours after touching down at Dulles instead of going straight home. Once he started answering her questions, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop. He knew the tape, what she'd say, what he'd say. He'd have to defend himself for being unable to commit, a complaint that wasn't exactly new to him. Then he'd find himself in the sticky position of having to do the right thing by asking her to marry him, which he really didn't want to do. Or the bigger hassle of breaking up, something he didn't want to do either. Just thinking about it made him feel exhausted.
His thoughts were interrupted by the jarring noise of the telephone. He checked the Caller I.D. It was Lisa, probably wondering where he was. He didn't pick up the receiver, just let it ring until it stopped. He waited a minute or two, then checked the voice mail. Lisa sounded stressed. Without even listening to the whole
They were early, but a number of people were milling around outside the church, talking, and others were already inside. Sara and Kate locked their bikes to a street light and went in. They stood for a moment at the back of the room, looking around. St. Matthews was tiny, of course— tiny and poor, with old well worn wooden benches, a single hand-painted glass window, a candle-lit front altar that sagged like an old porch— and that contributed to the appearance of its being full to bursting. On the other hand, the early turnout, which looked to be some fifty people, was impressive. Drawn by the promise of Clive Farrell in the speaker's slot, Kate thought.
She scanned the crowd. People of all ages, some black, most of them white. Bright eager energized faces full of the urgency of their mission. She knew some of them, but many in the crowd were new to her. From a corner, Diane and Everett waved frantically, trying to catch her attention. Glad to see Kate joining their ranks. Kate waved back, smiling. Thinking this was probably the only time she'd see Everett in a pew; attending church was not his style. Bars and honkytonk more suited his rowdy nature.
Last Chance, or `Last Gasp', as its critics and political foes called it, had started out a few years back when a large time-share company purchased a popular beachfront icon and polarized the community. Nearly a year of contention, picketing, even some half-hearted sabotage, had failed to stop the developers and the funky old hotel was torn down as the big money project went forward. But from the dust of the demolition rose a mighty political machine— Last Chance.
These days, Last Chance was rumored to have a hundred registered voters, all of them zealots, on their rolls. Which meant it had enormous political clout. They'd even succeeded in getting one of their own elected as Mayor. So far as the locals were concerned, though, they were just a bunch of liberal snowbirds - - `liberal' being a pejorative - - people with no history in the Keys who wanted to remake it in their vision. Determined to save the locals from themselves and show them the error of their ways. This large group of environmentalists was determined to halt development in the Keys, `save' all undeveloped land, protect Keys critters and drag the place into the 21st century, whether it needed it or not.
Not that Kate didn't sometimes see their point. It was hard to ignore the record. Florida had been guilty of plenty of blatant environmental abuses, excesses that cried out for redress. The abuse was legendary, so were the scams. Like the questionable habit of building developments in swamps, on lots that weren't much more than fill, and sometimes less. Ask the thousands of retirees who had antied up month after month for a Florida homestead, only to arrive and find that what awaited them was an uninhabitable plot in a swamp.
There had also been a flagrant disregard for the flora and fauna, everyone knew that. Nightmare decades when plume hunters pretty much stripped the Glades of its exotic birds and unchecked overfishing cut marine populations radically. But, that was then and this was now. Kate was ever-conscious of the human tendency to err in the opposite direction when a social ill was identified. And she still had a major problem with these relatively new arrivals whose arrogance made them think they had the right to tell the locals what to do. Because they knew better.
Then without further ado, he said, "Get up here, Clive. You're the one all these nice people are here for." Which led to more applause as a tall, dark figure in the first row stood, turned for a moment to glance back at the audience— eliciting shouts and even louder applause— then sprang up the stairs to join Garth.
The men embraced; the audience loved this evidence of male bonding. Then Garth took a seat in the shadows at one side of the altar, and Clive positioned himself behind the podium, staring out at the audience with a big easy smile. He raised his hands over his head and waved them to stop the applause and the room grew quiet. He closed his eyes and stood for a moment as though he was about to deliver a benediction. Then he opened them and smiled again, thanking everyone for coming.
His voice was gravelly and had enough natural timbre to carry to the back of the room without a microphone. His words came out in a slow Southern drawl. He reminded Kate of one of those TV ministers, flashy with lots of star quality, and the Lord on his side. He was dark with craggy good looks and intense black eyes under bushy black eyebrows. He had a slightly pock marked, ruddy complexion.
He was dressed in an expensive dark suit, a white shirt, a colorful tie with a tropical print, and cowboy boots. You couldn't miss the Rolex on his wrist, the big diamond pinky ring or the heavy brass belt buckle with his initials, CF.
He started to speak in the soothing Southern drawl. "As I was telling a friend just the other day, all we really need to do is think about it and act with conscience. That's it in a nutshell, friends. Think about what's right." He paused, smiling broadly, and the audience smiled back.
He nodded to someone in the back of the sanctuary who cut the lights and switched on a slide projector. The room grew suddenly dark and on the wall behind Clive, a cheery parade of animals began. Owls, little wrens, turtles and toads, more birds, adorable families of deer, some shiny snails on a leaf. Clouds of butterflies reminiscent of an old Walt Disney movie. A large red-cheeked monkey with long limbs and a looped prehensile tail.
"Stop it right there, Earl," Clive called out, and the monkey was caught in a bright freeze frame. "Now, this is a monkey most of you probably have never seen, not in a picture, not in a zoo. She's called Miss Waldrous' Red Colobus, she's found in the rainforest of Ghana and, you know what? You're never goin' t' get a chance to see one of these monkeys. Because this little Red Colobus has the questionable distinction of being one of the first primates ever to become extinct. That's right, folks." He waited a moment for that to sink in, then nodded to Earl to continue the slide show. The animals started up their parade again as the Reverend kept talking.
"As to these others, they're all closer to home—indigenous Keys' critters. And believe it or not, folks, ever' last one of them is facing certain extinction. Unless we do something about it, and do it fast."
"You want to know what we can do, of course? Well, like I was tellin' my friend. It's very simple. All we have to do is be good citizens of the planet and carry out the Lord's work, as far as His creatures are concerned. Just pay attention. Like at home, when you see somethin' is broke, you're gonna fix it. No one has t' tell you that. If you study all the abundance around us, the beauty and the blessings, you'll see for yourself when something is broken. That's your opportunity to do your bit and give something back to the Creator."
As Clive caught his stride, he slipped easily into the body language and the cadences of a Southern Baptist minister. His voice rose, his posture altered, he became a charismatic preacher, stirring his congregation to believe. The dark room was hushed, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Clive turned and waved his hand at the slide show of God's creatures and said, "All we're tryin' t'do is help Mother Nature save these little Keys' critters. Would you believe it, like I said, everyone of them is in danger. We each need t'do something to help stem the tide."
A simple suggestion, Kate was thinking. Who could argue with that? Certainly no one in that room.
"Here in the Keys, our own Garden of Eden has been severely and irreversibly damaged. Violated. By the presence of humans. All these harmless little critters are being wiped out because they're the victims of the large scale habitat destruction that has gone on for decades. We need to put a stop to it, to save them. And do our part," Clive waved an arm and called to Earl to put the lights on. The room was immediately illuminated, the slide show disappeared.
Kate felt Sara poke her and looked over. Her friend was grinning at her. She leaned over and whispered, "See what I mean?" Kate nodded. He was good all right. She half expected the collection plates to be passed. But Clive just went on sermonizing.
"It's not just the animals, as you know. It's their habitat. You know, someone sent me a copy of something called the Red List. Any of you familiar with this?" Some in the room nodded. "Well, according to these people, one out of every eight plant species world wide—world wide, my friends—is threatened with extinction. In America, turns out it's even worse. One out of Three. And it's all about development, plain and simple. It's them or us, at least that's the way it's gonna be if we keep livin' in our selfishness. Why, in Florida, right now, almost twenty percent of the state's native plants are endangered. The plants on these islands are especially vulnerable. Now that's a damn shame, if you'll excuse my French."
He stopped and hung his head as people murmured their agreement.
"Before I turn this meeting back over to John, who has some Last Chance business that I know y'all are going to be interested in, I just want to add one thing. Right now, here in the Keys, there's an ideological struggle goin' on. Between individual property and God's property, that's the crux of it. Now, if you think about it in strictly human terms, there should be no argument at all. My friends, let me say this right out. We don't own the planet, we don't own Mother Earth, the whole idea of MY property and YOUR property is wrong. This beautiful planet has been loaned to us and we're the Lord's stewards. If you want
o know what I think, we have been fallin' down on the job."
Then, without a moment's pause, he shouted, Thank you! and turned and hurried down the steps. John Garth took his place at the podium, waited for the applause to die down, then thanked Clive and said, as many of you know, we have been asked to endorse an initiative earmarking a third of the Preservation 2000 bonds for South Florida preservation. That means us, of course, in the sense that it will target the Keys. I know most of you support the plan. In my opinion, it's a gift. The Governor and his Cabinet have endorse the project. Shall we take vote without further ado?"
Without further ado, he called for a show of hands. Nearly everyone in the room voted for the proposal. When Garth called out, Opposed, Kate couldn't see a single person who wanted to register dissent.
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.