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: We get a peek inside a Steering Committee meeting of the Conservation League.
Chapter 22
"Please don't be modest," Lynn said. "Tell us what's happening to protect those little deer," Clive.
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."
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 call 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 acting as partners with Fish and Wildlife to manage the property. In fact, Donny here just saw to 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?"
Even though he thought he knew all about it, Sam was totally unprepared for the beauty and oddity of Stiltsville. As Shawn Derby, the scrawny young flats fishing guide he'd hired for half a day, slowly approached the clutch of little weather beaten houses, it made Sam think of a book he sometimes threatened to write, Weird Wonders of the Western World. Stiltsville was like no place he'd ever seen—or even imagined. Surreal, that was the only word for it. The houses, each a little different than its neighbor through years of changes made by myriad owners, seemed to hang suspended in the shallow flats of Biscayne Bay. The stilts that held them up were obscured by light and shadow and the play of the waves. The wood houses themselves, backlit by the rising morning sun, glowed and shimmered like strange boats dancing on the tide.
"I know a woman lives here, you wanna see if she's home?" Shawn shouted at him, pointing to a stilt house that had been painted blue at one time but was weathered to a moody gray. Sam nodded. Shawn cut the motor and took up a long pole to guide the boat under the house and tied up to the dock. Following Shawn, Sam climbed out, admiring the fact that the kid—Shawn must be nineteen or twenty—was agile as a monkey. He scampered up a ladder onto the deck and pounded on the sliding glass door as Sam made his way up more carefully, taking time to enjoy the spectacle of the view. All around them, the water sparkled and roiled. Overhead, the pale blue sky seemed to melt into the waves at the horizon. Far off, in the main channel, two boats were passing by. Otherwise, it was just them and the birds.
"Helen, you home?" Shawn shouted, turning to reassure Sam with, "Probably. Her boat's here." Just then, a hand pulled a curtain aside, the door slid open and Helen appeared. A golden water sprite in a green bikini, long straight platinum hair, a pug nose with freckles, and the requisite muscles to manage this lifestyle.
"Hey, Shawn. Whatcha doin' here?" she asked, grasping her friend in a hug and managing to give Sam a big smile over Shawn's shoulder. "And who did you bring with you?"
Shawn made the introductions, explaining that Sam was here to write a story about the problems they'd been having here in Stiltsville. At this, Helen's smile grew even larger and she released Shawn, came over and enclosed Sam in a hug. "Hey, that's great. So you heard about Stiltstown? Where?" Before Sam could answer, she gestured for them to follow and went inside for some cold beers.
Sam looked around the split level house, one large main room and a loft. One entire wall was glass, there were skylights in the ceiling. It was spiffy and comfortably furnished, old rattan furniture, a turquoise plastic table and chairs, bright pillows, bookshelves, a portable CD player and tv. "She's got a great hot tub, too," Shawn offered. "The kitchen's in the back, all the modern conveniences. Plus, a fine barbecue grill." Sam walked up three stairs and peeked into the loft. A double wide futon, a dresser, a rocking chair and a brightly colored rug.
"This is really a nice place you have," he told Helen, who had walked over to the stairs and was holding out a cold can of beer.
"Thanks."
"How long have you lived here?"
"I don't actually live here, but I do hang here. Whenever I can. I have a condo on the mainland. Key Biscayne. I've been coming here, oh, about seven years."
They went back outside. Helen sat on a deck chair and gestured for them to join her. At one end of the deck, a couple of fishing poles were lined up, ready for action. "Helen loves to fish. Hey, check this out," Shawn said, walking around the corner of the deck and returning with a spear gun. "She's a certified diver, there's nothing this lady can't do."
They sat and sipped their beers quietly for a minute, taking in the view and the silence. Then Helen asked Sam what he wanted to know, then launched into it without needing an answer. The story, of course, wasn't new to Sam. But he let her ramble her way through the outrage, as he relaxed and enjoyed the feel of the air and the sun on his face. He wondered what it must be like to be able to drop out and spend your days exactly like this. Helen was a lady of independent means, apparently, she liked to hang out here on the water, but lived in a fancy condo most of the time. She told him she'd been renting this same stilt house for nearly eight years and she wasn't happy about having to give up the lifestyle. She said it was a mugging, that was what she called the eviction.
"Hell, it's just an excuse for a takeover. They're not gonna take care of these houses, you'll see. They're gonna wait until a big wind comes along and really messes them up. Then they'll just demolish them and say there was nothing else they could do. The thing is, these places take an enormous amount of maintenance. Constant care. Am I right, Shawn?" Shawn nodded. "Otherwise, they'd disappear like the others did. Did you know there used to be twenty-five? Now there's only seven."
Sam nodded to indicate that he knew. He planned to drop by the Park Headquarters later, interview some official. He knew exactly what they would say when he asked them about it. Of course they'd maintain the houses, that's what they had to do.
"Well, won't be long after we leave before there's nothing here to remind anyone of lovely old Stiltsville," Helen wailed, plaintively. Then she shrugged her shoulders and looked at Sam. "Really, what can I say? They're rats, we're the victims. They want to crush the last vestiges of an outlaw way of life. Destroy another culture. We haven't got a move in our favor. Whatever they want, they're gonna do. Did I say the leases on these places were up?"
Park headquarters consisted of a prefab looking wooden building on one floor. It was situated on a small rise and had an incredible view of seashore and water, palm trees, waves, and little else. Sam was able to speak with Miss Linda Merryweather, the director. She was a neat little lady with nothing remarkable about her, short ginger colored hair, brown eyes, small and stocky and very polite. She reiterated to Sam just what he'd already heard. The leases on the houses were up, the park service had been entirely generous, they had to do what they had to do.
"Those people don't own those houses, you understand that, don't you?" They never owned them, they're just tenants. They don't even live there, just vacation out on the water. Actually, we have to do this to protect the houses and make them available to the public. We're thinking of turning Stiltsville into an ecological park."
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.