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: The meeting. Chapter 14: Kate meets Clive Farrell and asks for an interview. Chapters 15 and 16: The interview.
Chapter 17: Another government raid. Chapter 18: Kate does her homework. Chapters 19 and 20: She attends a Code Enforcement meeting.
CHAPTER 21
For Sam's second story, he interviewed some of the Suiteland plaintiffs—a largely sympathetic group, small property owners who were about to be ruined by an overzealous fed. He wrote his last piece a week later, when the Judge ruled in favor of the government, upholding Fish and Wildlife's right to `take' private property on the basis of a landowner's "significant habitat modification or degradation." He allowed himself a short riff on the small landowner as an endangered species, questioning the decision in view of the Fifth Amendment, which guaranteed property owners just compensation in the event of a taking. He closed with the plaintiff attorney's vow to carry the case all the way to the Supreme Court, which would take years and probably add another half mill in legal fees. Sam didn't feel right about the outcome of the trial. He'd expected the opposite verdict.
As he put a call through to the Herald to file the story, he felt a growing reluctance to return home. So, when they had finished going over the checkpoints, he asked the operator to patch him over to Vernon's phone. He had another story idea he wanted to run by him, about a unique little South Florida community called Stiltsville— a bunch of little houses on stilts out in Biscayne Bay. Of the original 25 that had been erected 70 years ago, seven of them were still standing. Right now there was a battle going on between the people who used them as weekend getaways and officials of Biscayne National Park, who wanted them vacated.
"They see them as, let's see," Sam told Vernon, taking out a notebook and flipping pages until he found the exact quote, "threats to the ecology of the Bay. That's the head of the Biscayne National Park talking, a Park Service veteran. Yeah, they're evicting them. In a couple days . . . No, I'm not kidding. Here, let me fill you in a little. These places have been there about 70 years. They're really only used now and then. The tenants . . . there are no owners, they're owned by the national park . . . People rent them and go out there by boat, hang out, fish, party a little.
"Most of the time, they're empty . . . Well, when the Park was designated in'68, the owners were given longterm leases. But those leases are up. And now the Park Service wants everyone out . . . The Service says they'll continue to maintain these places, but someone I talked to said it's just an excuse to let them rot or be destroyed by weather . . . Yeah, it may be a bit of a stretch, but it's an interesting story."
Vern said he'd give him that, it was "interesting." But what was also interesting was the lengths Sam would go to just to keep a few states between him and Lisa. "You talked to her? Why don't you two just call it a day?" he asked.
Sam said, No. He hadn't talked to her. She'd left a couple messages on his voice mail, but he hadn't called her back.
Vernon finally gave him a green light on the story, as Sam knew he would. Vern knew a good quirky story when it bit him in the ass. "Okay, with this Stiltsville? How far is this place from where you are now? How much time do you need?"
Sam told him, Not far, a little over an hour. He could drive down, rent a boat, go out there and eyeball the houses, talk to people. Maybe the same day. He'd just keep the rental car. What he didn't tell Vern, not yet, was that he was thinking about continuing down South to a house an uncle of his owned on Big Pine Key.
"Get some photos, okay?" Vern told him. "And try to keep the expenses down, will you? Listen, I'm humoring you buddy. Understand?"
Sam ignored that and told him thanks. Vernon probably liked the idea from the get-go, just didn't want to give Sam the okay without making him do a pitch. Before they hung up, Vern asked if Sam had been surprised by the verdict.
"Disappointed is more like it," Sam answered. "I really read it all wrong, I was certain the judge would give the plaintiffs some relief. Establish precedent."
"You and a lotta people," Vern said. "That's the way it sometimes goes, you know how it is. In a court of law, you just never can predict an outcome, no matter how close you watch. Too damn much going on behind the scenes, in the locker room. Other things are in play and we never get to know what. I've seen it happen too many times myself."
Then he told Sam to be sure to stay in touch and the line went dead.
Steering Committee meetings were casual, informal and off the record. Compared to them, the bimonthly Board meetings, which were open to the public, were staged and circumspect. The Steering Committee team dealt with real nuts-and-bolts stuff in a private forum where people could just roll up their sleeves, let their hair down, thrash things out.
No minutes were kept and there was a tacit agreement not to talk about anything that went on. Only the most trusted insiders were allowed and attendance, which was by invitation only, varied according to the agenda. For today's meeting, six people were seated at the big conference table—Clive, Donald, and four others. Next to Clive, wearing a tailored navy blue suit and pearls, was Lynn Howard, an attorney from the home office in Washington, D.C. Lynn was a small, grandmotherly woman with a head of curly gray hair, soft features, dimples and baby blue eyes that gave her a wistful look that belied her true personality. In reality, she was a somber heavy-hitter entirely lacking in humor.
Among her colleagues, Lynn was known as someone you could count on in a clinch. She was very smart. Beside being their lead attorney, she was the author of most of the League's big money strategies.
Then came Dave Matthews, from the Tallahassee office, a trim dark man in his fifties with a long sad face and an angular bony frame. An experienced realtor, Dave had been with Fish and Wildlife for over a decade before he came to work for the League— both excellent qualifications for the man in charge of Florida land acquisitions.
And Dave's sidekick, Bernie Abrams— one-time director of the South Florida Water Management District, currently head of the Tallahassee office. Bernie was overweight and bald, with jowly chins, little dark eyes that had a permanent squint, a smile with a bit of a sneer.
Annette Hall-Adams rounded out the group. The slim, attractive redhead, had recently been hired to replace a D.C. firm that had been deemed not aggressive enough in handling the League's lobbying efforts.
Dave opened with an update on the Jupiter Dunes project. He was happy to report that a few weeks ago, voters in Palm Beach had passed a $200 million bond issue for land conservation. "Everybody worked long and hard to get that measure passed. We had a slew of volunteers manning the office of a PAC we set up, name of Friends of the Dunes Futures.
"Of course, the League stayed in the background. Little Patty O'Hara ran the whole thing, she was incredible. Well, y'all know the drill. A couple weeks before the election things really het up. We were on the phones all day and night, talking to constituents, giving them our pitch. Kids were out canvassing neighborhoods, and so on.
"I sincerely believe we've got a model guaranteed to work. And, in the case of Palm Beach County, there's money and genuine concern. Here, let me backtrack a little, tell you a bit about the Dunes Beach initiative . . ."
Dave took a gulp of water, then continued. "First we went to landowners and negotiated option contracts to purchase their property. Following Lynn's direction, we paid about 75% fair market value, based on three appraisals.
"Then we went to CARL to get them to rank the project high enough to qualify for state matching funds. The County was unwilling to pop for the full purchase price. Since we already had binding bargain sale rankings, that was what turned the tide. Now the County will benefit from a state match of about $9.5 million."
"Also $4 million worth of owner discounts," Lynn added.
"Right. Bernie, why don't you tell us about Martin County?"
"Martin County came to us regarding a 900-acre tract that Gulf was going to develop. The property had been appraised at $24 mill, Martin County only had about $6 million to commit. So, we negotiated an option with Gulf for $19 million. In effect, they donated $5 million dollars. I'm sure you saw the press release." People nodded and Bernie went on. "We'll be closing the deal in about six months."
Bernie stopped talking, Dave spoke up. "Scrub Jay State Park, that one's really moving along. We've worked on it, um, I wanna say three years. About that. We were invited in by Sarasota County and the Florida Division of Recreation and Parks. They needed help negotiating the purchase of a 900-acre piece of land they wanted to add to the Park. We got an option for $10 million, $2 million below the state's appraisal. The land protected three bald eagle nest sites, active. And the only Scrub Jay population in the county. Plus two or three rare plant species . . ."
"The lovable Scrub Jay", Bernie interjected, quoting the League literature. Everyone laughed.
" . . . indigo snake, sandy crane, whatever," Dave added. "Anyhow, we closed the deal . . . or let's say, the County closed the deal, less than nine months after we came aboard."
"That's a real success story. It reminds me of the Green Forest in Broward. Remember that, Dave?" Lynn asked.
"This was a bit before your time, Clive, but you may have heard of it. That was a real win for us, an early one. Now, the Forest had long been a priority, 16 rare plant and animal species that lived nowhere else. And small populations of most of the endangered plants and animals in the county.
"But the County had no real money for conservation and the landowner wanted $15 million, so we stepped in. First, we helped the county pass a $50 million bond issue to purchase environmentally threatened land. Then, we got some insider information that the property owner was in serious financial difficulty. That really helped. We took a hard-line approach and absolutely refused to entertain the owner's price or negotiate. Negotiations broke down, I think for well over a year it was in limbo. Finally, the bank that held the mortgage began foreclosing proceeding."
"With a little nudge from us?" Bernie asked.
"With a little nudge from some of our friends. We had some business with them, we made our position on this known," Lynn replied, displaying a small private smile. "An auction was held, two auctions in fact. The bidder in the first couldn't come up with the final payment, so it went up again. We bought the entire parcel on the courthouse steps for a sweet $10 million. That actually amounted to $100 over the mortgage. I love it when that happens. We then conveyed the property to Broward County, after helping them get a large sum from the Florida Land Trust . . . "
"Making?" Bernie wanted to know.
"$150,000 for our trouble," Lynn answered. "Entre nous."
"Rightfully earned," Dave put in. "Y'know, our legal staff has developed such great expertise on every facet of conservation land acquisition. We offer so much assistance to communities. Coordinate closings for them, help develop legal documents, explain all the procedural requirements and so on . . ."
Bernie interrupted. "Which is why, Annette, we work with everyone." He began to tick them off: "U.S. Forest Service, Fish and Wildlife, Division of State Lands, Save-Our-Rivers, Conservation and Recreational Lands, Florida Communities Trust, Division of Forestry, Division of State Lands, Department of Interior." Bernie stopped to draw a breath and Dave added, "And every single county in the state of Florida . . . By the way, Annette. How're things going? Are you and your staff up and running?"
Lynn answered for her. "Actually, Dave, Annette is fabulous. The woman knows everyone on the hill. And they listen to her, too." She gave Annette a smile. "Her husband, Will, was in the House for years, he was on the Transportation Committee. They really got around. Annette and her people are doing fine. I'm so glad to find someone who can put our budget to real use. We worked so hard to get those funds in play, we needed some bang for our bucks."
"If you want, I can send you a little report," Annette offered. But, Dave said it wasn't necessary, Lynn's evaluation was good enough for him.
Lynn smiled and said, "Back to what we were talking about. These are all monster projects, Annette. Sometimes it doesn't go so easily, we all know that. Owners are unwilling to sell or they're greedy, they want more than we can pay. Then we have to buy these projects piece-meal, or shall I say, the state does.
"I think the momma of them all is your Key Deer Preserve, Clive. You and your people are so creative. Why don't you bring us up to speed? C'mon, Reverend. Please don't be modest. Tell us what's happening to protect those little deer."
To be continued next week.
When she said that, everyone guffawed, because no one could ever accuse the Reverend Clive of shyness. Dave took the opportunity to go refill his coffee, gesturing to the others to see if anyone wanted more. Lynn and Donald held up their cups, so Dave walked over and poured. As he went back to replace the thermos, Clive told him to bring the cookies closer. Dave put the tray in front of him and Clive grabbed a cookie and took a big bite, then started talking, waving the uneaten half in the air.
"As long as you mentioned it, Lynn. We are DAMN pleased with the way things are moving along. We been at this for some time, years. Ever since one of our scientist discovered that the Pine Rocklands on Big Pine Key was the only habitat for that little deer. And they weren't being protected."
"Dennis, that was Dennis Jones," Donald said.
"Jones, that was the man. Anyhow, that was somewhere around '89, wasn't it, Donny?" Donald nodded. "So, that's just about as long as I've been here. Whew! Back then, Fish and Wildlife had a little money from Congress. Enough for some limited, and I do mean LIMITED, acquisitions on Big Pine. Some on Little Torch. The areas on these two Keys that had valuable fresh water had pretty much already been subdivided. We got on that too late." Thinking about it, Clive's brow furled and he shook his head. "Anyhow, far as the rest goes, there were 1000 different owners." He smiled. "For once, I'm not even exaggerating. Donny here was IT for the League in those days. Tell them what it was like. Go ahead."
A collective sigh passed around the group as Donny picked up the thread. "Clive is right, there were a lot of owners. Most of them owned one little lot, some two. We went to work. Relied on telephones and direct mail. Owner-contact methodology. We were getting about one deal a day, it was great, we just kept plugging. Then we developed something called a Dutch Auction . . ."
"Dutch Auction. Yeah, I remember. It worked pretty good," Clive said.
"Pretty good?" Lynn questioned. "It was brilliant, Donny's own creation. Here's how it works. You give sellers a chance to determine their own acquisition priority via discounts. A great concept, I've used it since myself. Do you happen to have a copy of your Key-Deer-Buy-Cash generic letter?" Donny nodded, stood to go locate it. "How many landowners did you reach with that? What was the sell rate?"
Donny kept talking as he walked over to a shelf and started riffling some papers. "We blanketed the area, every property owner received a copy. Followed up with a phone call, maybe a meeting. Kept things low-keyed and very personal. Let's see...oh, here it is." He pulled a paper from a stack, walked back and handed it to Lynn. "A forty percent sell rate. At our prices, of course." Bernie shook his head and pursed his lips. Amanda smiled. "By then, the building moratorium was working with us."
"Thanks to Dave," Clive was quick to add. "A brilliant idea."
"Actually, it was very simple. We developed the concept that, until the endangered deer were protected, there should be no development on either Key."
"And managed to put it through," Clive added.
"With a little help from our friends. In this case, we tweaked a couple of the County Commissioners who had an eye on state politics, for their future. You rub my back, I'll rub yours. They though it was a very prudent idea to protect the deer and were willing to suspend all building on the two Keys to accomplish it." Donny smiled.
"By the end of '92, the League had assisted in protecting a thousand acres, obligating $400 million of our preservation fund. Some, I'm thinking two hundred separate transactions. Now, that's what I mean by piece-meal," Lynn said.
"We are determined to save all the remaining Key Deer habitat," Clive said.
"We also got Fish and Wildlife, the South Florida Water Management District, thanks to you two," Donny said, smiling and nodding toward Dave and Bernie. "And Carl, of course. To match these amounts."
Clive spoke up. "And just recently, to nearly double them. We're also acting as partners with Fish and Wildlife to manage the property. In fact, Donny here just oversaw our first prescribed burn on five hundred acres."
"See what I mean, Amanda?" Lynn asked. "Land conservation practice at its very best." Amanda nodded, looking impressed.
"Well, well," Clive said, looking out the window at the glowing red orb that was beginning its descent. "Anyone want to join me in an old Keys' tradition, drink a toast to sunset?" He got up, went over to a cupboard and opened it, displaying a full bar. "Let me see, we have pretty much everything. Scotch, bourbon, gin, how about a gin tonic? What'll it be? As the man says, Name yer poison. Dave?"
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.