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 website: www.kwtn.com.
In Chapter 1, 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 2, Sugarman used Fantasy Fest as a backdrop to introduce us to her cast of characters. In Chapter 3, investigative reporter Kate Anderson hears about an allegfed conspiracy by multiple government agencies to take over private property in the Keys. 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: Kate's review of Code Enforcement records seem 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. Chapter 13: Kate meets Clive Farrell and asks for an interview. Chapter 14: The interview begins.
Chapter 15
Just as he said, Clive was in when Kate dropped by the Conservation League offices the next morning. She waited in reception while a classy looking blonde in a designer suit and hose called for Clive. Forget grassroots, think global, Kate told herself as she looked around, impressed by the opulence. Plenty of bucks had gone into the decor, exposed bricks on the wall behind the receptionist, to the expensive high design teak office furniture, plush leather couches and chairs, oriental carpets and large potted plants. A female gardener with an apron and clogs direct from one of those yuppie gardening boutiques was attending to the plants with little clippers and a lucite watering can —not one of the legion of `greens' the League must have at its disposal, but very much the highly paid professional. There was a five-by-eight foot aquarium on one wall filled with beautiful iridescent tropical fish. If all that weren't convincing, the address was costly: one of the few genuinely high-rent commercial areas on the island.
Kate heard Clive approaching before she saw him, his cowboy boots beating a rhythmic tattoo on the terra cotta tiled floor. She turned and saw him just as he rounded the corner. He was wearing an outfit that would have fit in better in Nashville—bright blue shirt, jeans, the heavy initialed belt, a string tie with a chunky turquoise-and-silver pin. The look was slightly jarring in the subdued decor, just as the sound of his heels had cut through the silence of the rooms. Greeting her, his voice boomed out.
"Well, Ms. Anderson. Glad you took me up on my invite." He walked over and clapped her on the back. "So, how d'you like my little place? Actually, we're kinda proud of it, these're our new digs. We've only been here . . . What is it now, Honey? About six, seven months?" he asked the blond at the front desk.
"Just seven months, Reverend," the woman answered, breathlessly, giving him a big red smile. She had a thick Southern accent that sounded like Georgia, `Honey' might actually be her name thought Kate.
The Rev flashed a smile and put an arm around Kate's shoulder, propelling her toward the fish tank. "Just look at these jewels. Aren't they something? All indigenous, by the way. Plucked right out the waters off the Keys. You probably recognize them. Ever go snorkeling? Parrotfish, Damselfish, Angelfish..." He pointed and tapped on the glass as they floated by, each more beautiful and surreal than the no look at them. Now, don't I speak the truth?"
Kate allowed as he did. They were psychedelic and peaceful, she could see why people collected tropicals and spent hours just watching them swim around.
Then Clive said why didn't they head for his office, he'd give her a little tour on the way. He led Kate down a corridor with pearl gray walls and a thick moss green carpet. On both sides hung a gallery of photos of plants and animals, endangered critters Clive and his pals were trying to save. Some Kate recalled from last night's slide show. Others, like African elephant, silver back gorillas, and the giant Panda were more exotic, but apparently equally in need of help. Among the photos of Keys' flora Kate recognized were the corals and black and white mangroves—she was learning a lot about them these days. Everything you ever wanted to know about mangroves, she'd told herself ironically just the other night. More than she ever wanted to know.
He stopped at a door and pushed it open, then stood aside for Kate to look in. "This is our conference room, we conduct most of our business here," he said, his tone suggesting that the large room with its massive teak table and chairs would impress. What Kate noticed, though, was the aerial view photos of the Keys and maps that covered its walls, the kind you'd expect to find in any Monroe County realty office. No endangered critters in here, the place was clearly a setting for bid-ness.
They continued walking down the hall. At the end a door stood ajar. They went inside. Clive's office was simply furnished with a typical Keys' decor. Rattan furniture, a large white desk, the colorful fabrics popularized by Key West Handprints. A large window looked out on palm trees, docks and the water. Here the atmosphere was much more in keeping with the organization's mission: posters and photos showing animals and local properties, most likely places the League had saved.
Kate walked around and studied the photos. Clive at local functions, surrounded by well-known Keys' characters. The obligatory shots of Clive on fishing boats and docks displaying what appeared to be hard-won trophy fish, Clive wearing ball caps, tropical shirts, cutoffs and dark shades. One photo showed him in a wet suit with a tank on his back, about to jump off a dock. Another showed him with a group of VF 45 top gun fighter pilots, the flyers looking cool in their sexy flight suits, Clive in jeans and a Cuban shirt, grinning, proud to be there. It had been taken out at Boca Chica, the Naval Air Station. When Kate looked closer she saw an F-16 in the background. Another black-and-white photo showed him in a jolly group of fighter jocks at a bar, all of them several sheets to the wind. Then a shot of Clive at the wheel of a 25-30 foot navy blue Morgan sailboat. She squinted to make out the name of the boat, the LUCKY LADY.
"Lucky Lady. Nice boat. Is she yours?" she asked.
Clive nodded, his face breaking out in a big sheepish grin. "I'm afraid so, she's the lady in my life."
"I gather you do some fishing? Sport fishing? Do you dive?"
"I surely do, whenever I get the chance. Which is rare these days. Oh, as far as the trophy fish. We release them, of course."
"Of course," Kate echoed, walking over and sitting down in an easy chair that gave her a view out the window. Clive came and sat across from her. "You have a terrific view," Kate said, letting her gaze sweep the horizon and the tremendous aquamarine expanse of the Gulf. "Beautiful. Very relaxing."
"Beautiful day, another day in Paradise," Clive answered. "Day that makes a man thankful for the blessings. Yes, indeed." For a moment, they sat there, not speaking.
Then Kate took out a reporter's notebook and a pen and asked a throwaway question. "How long did you say you've been here? And before that?" Easing into the interview.
"I arrived in the Keys four years ago. Would you believe, I had never even set foot here before I was given the opportunity to head the Conservation League in Monroe County? Prior to that, six years in the desert, New Mexico. Quite different. Nothing to prepare me for the tropics, no siree. As you can imagine it was quite a challenge, acclimating to the climate alone. Not to mention the difference in ways. But, y'know something? I took to it, right away . . ."
". . . like a fish to water."
The Reverend grinned. "I could not have put it better. I took to it, right away. I love it here. I really do. By the way, young lady. Do you fish yourself?"
Kate nodded. Some. Would you please describe your job here, your mission, as you see it. Tell me what you do."
"Let's say, I do whatever I have to, anything I have to..." Kate couldn't help staring at his choice of words, words that would come back to haunt her. ". . . whatever is necessary to save this poor Godforsaken Eden from the folks that're just lovin' it to death."
"Loving it to death? That's good, I hear you. I like that quote," Kate said, writing it down.
"MY point, you see, it's not the people who haven't any feelin' for the Keys who're ruining it. It's the ones who adore the place who abuse it the most." He sat back and stared across at Kate, waiting for that to sink in. "You understand me, I can tell. You and me, Kate. I can call you Kate, can't I?" She nodded. "You and me, Kate. We're on the exact same page.
He jumped up and went and took some papers from a pile on a shelf, walked back and handed them to her. "Look at this, will you. It'll give you an idea of what all we've been doing."
The top sheet was a map of Florida pin-pointing Conservation League holdings. The list was impressive. It was also just a little scary, since the League had started up here, they'd saved 500,000 Florida acres. And now it seemed no property in Monroe County was safe. "500,000 acres. That much?" Kate asked, looked up at the Reverend.
He nodded. "Yes indeed. We been busy." He began to tick off all the properties they'd saved in the Keys, with Kate doing her best to write them down. Then he paused to say he'd be glad to provide her with a copy of their Annual Report, which held a good deal of the information she was interested in. Including saved lands, which were described in some detail. Kate thanked him and went on taking notes.
"What has really helped catapult the acquisitions is, about a year ago, we were fortunate to enter into a partnership with the state land conservation program. Preservation 2000. You familiar with it?"
"Some. I know what it is." Nothing in Kate's manner would suggest that she'd spent weeks digging into P2000.
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 former 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.