THE BEST OF BOB

BOB tiny, but powerfully interesting.

Today BOB takes us back to the Key West days when honest and powerful citizens discovered marijuana was the path to easy money. Big money.

Integrity took a back seat.

Key West’s location made it a perfect place to bring marijuana into the country. The Business as it was known developed. A cottage industry. No ties to organized crime. Simple small town folks making an extra dollar.

Boats and planes dropped bales of marijuana into the ocean. The bales became known as square grouper. Locals would boat out and pick up the bales. The bales were brought into Key West and unloaded next to the Coast Guard dock. Then taken home and left in front yards and on roof tops to dry.

An open industry. No one concerned about getting caught.

After dried, the bales were put on a U.S. Mail tractor-trailer for delivery to Miami. The Mail vehicle made the trip every day.

Arrangements were made prior to each trip to accommodate the Sheriff’s Department. If not made, the U.S. Mail vehicle was stopped and fined half the marijuana load.

This scenario went on quite some time. Eventually, the federal government became aware. The “federales” cracked down on the operation. Arrests were made. Trials. Some prominent Key Westers received jail time.

Such the next part of the story. Referred to by BOB as the Afro Sheen Caper. For another day.

Spent last night with Cheryl and Roger. Former Key West snowbirds now living in Cape Coral.

We started the evening at Aqua for Dueling Bartenders. Tom Luna and Rick Dery their usual great selves.

Then to Antonia’s for dinner.

I was surprised how packed Antonia’s was. We are into off season. Restaurants generally empty. Not Antonia’s last night. It must be Antonia’s summer time special. Pasta $10 a serving.

We got the last table.

I like Cheryl and Roger. Interesting people. Sincere. Call it as it is.

A good time was had. We sat and chatted a while after dinner.

I am getting hooked on the Key West Citizen weatherman. Today’s prediction, 89 degrees. In fine print below: “…..afternoon t-storms; bad hair day.”

The bad hair day I found intriguing. Must refer to the humidity. Not a problem for me. My head is shaved bald.

Robots back in the news! A new IBM artificial intelligence creature debated last week in San Francisco two of the world’s champion debaters. The robot held his own. The topic was made known at the start of the debate. No prior preparation for the two human debaters and the robot.

Yesterday’s Justice Building Blog commented on Trump’s announcement that he wanted to close down the immigration courts. Merely arrest and deport. No hearing, no due process.

Such would mean we are a nation of men, not laws. Exactly what we have not been. The Occupied America writer wrote “…..we are occupied by a narcissistic man of limited intelligence, his followers who are equally self obsessed, lacking in self esteem and poorly educated. And the power we fight is nothing less than evil ignorance seeking to end our democracy.”

The looming trade war nothing less than a disaster, also. For the world. The U.S. already hurt. Harley-Davidson’s announcement yesterday that they were moving to Europe. To remain in the U.S. under the tariff percentages being discussed would mean a loss of $100 million a year.

Thank you, Donald Trump!

The EU says the world is heading for a “trade apocalypse.” The World Trade Organization is facing an all but certain demise.

Good job, Mr. President!

All because of one man who does not know what he is doing. I fail to understand how Trump keeps his followers.

On this day in 1956, Congress approved the Federal Highway Act. Thirty billion dollars to construct 41 million miles of interstate highways.

The bill was actually Eisenhower’s baby. He conceived  it and got everyone to work together in a bipartisan effort to bring it to realization. The Highway Act is considered Eisenhower’s greatest domestic achievement.

The bill passed the Senate with one dissenting vote. The House passed it by voice vote. Eisenhower signed it into law three days later.

Cooperation by both parties, the two legislative houses, and the President. Not today! We live in a different world. One bred from hate and evolving because of evil.

A side note. I benefited from the new law. The summer of 1957 found me between college and law school. I drove a dump truck on a highway project outside Rome, NY.

Tonight, podcast time! My podcast. Tuesday Talk with Key West Lou. Nine, my time. A quick half hour of me venting. My likes and dislikes. Many topics discussed are eye openers. Hidden from public view.

Join me. www.blogtalkradio.com/key-west-lou.

Enjoy your day!

HE RODE INTO TOWN ON A DONKEY

Today is Palm Sunday. A Christian holiday. The day Jesus Christ rode into Jerusalem on a donkey.

A donkey instead of a horse. Reasons two fold. First, to show humility. Second, to evidence to the people that He came in peace and not as a warrior king.

The people scattered palm branches in front of Jesus.

His entry into Jerusalem triumphal.

Less than a week later, Jesus would be dead.

Though not a major holiday, Palm Sunday was one my Italian family celebrated. Generally at my grandparents’. The whole family. Aunts, uncles and cousins.

The meal not unusual. That would come next week on Easter Sunday. A huge bowl of ziti. If a special touch at all, melted mozzarella on top of the ziti. A meat sauce, of course. Meat consisted of the meatballs, beef and pork which were part of the sauce. A huge pasta bowl of such meats. Salad. The meal concluded with espresso and fruit.

My grandfather would start dinner with a blessing. He would take a small piece of palm and dip it into a bottle of Holy Water he kept. He would say a few words and sprinkle us.

The palms were a big deal. You had to go to Church to get palms. They were given out during Mass. When I was a kid, all the palms a person wanted. In later years, each person attending Church got one. Cost, scarcity, or what? I could never figure it out.

My uncles were pros at making crosses and other things out of palms. Small crosses, large crosses. Horses and other animals. Like the balloons of today which can be molded into anything.

The Italian custom was to visit the homes of friends after Mass. To exchange palms. A hug and kiss. Followed by a Happy Palm Sunday!

I was invited by friends on Sugarloaf to party last night. Drinks at someone’s house first. Then dinner at Square Grouper.

About 20 miles each way. Too far for me if I was drinking. I wanted to have a few drinks since I have been avoiding as best possible alcohol while on a diet.

So, I opted for Berlin’s alone.

Shawn and Gage bartending. The lovely Bria singing. Tuna for dinner.

After dinner, I sat in the lounge for a while listening to Bria sing and sipping a Bally’s Irish Cream.

While at the bar, a hug from behind. It was Lynda Frechette. Together with husband Bob, ML and Brad. All good people. Especially Lynda who does for everyone. They were having dinner inside at A&B.

Bob was wearing a blazer. Confirmed my thought expressed earlier this week that the no jacket Key West no longer existed. Bob had jumped over the fence.

Another couple was listening to Bria also. Charlie and Margo. Margo visiting from Maine. Charlie originally from Fonda, New York. Like 70 miles from my home town Utica. Small world.

Bob now lives full time in Key West. On a boat located in a Stock Island marina.

Walmart, where fort art thou Walmart?

Roughly 10 years since it was announced that a private group was going to build a Walmart on Rockland Key. 335,000 square feet with some smaller stores.

Still not built. Key West Citizen reported yesterday size now 150,000 feet. No date to begin construction advised.

The problem has involved the land owners and developers. Ten years of fighting over money, including a court case.

I wish they would get the project off the ground. We need a Walmart in the lower keys. We wear shorts and t-shirts. Brooks Brothers we are not.

We also need a cheaper place to purchase groceries.

The Key West Citizen wrote on the first page of this morning’s paper that taxis are going the way of the dinosaur. No question about it. Such the case, the City Commission should get off its ass and approve Uber and Lyft for Key West operation.

Let me finish with Trump’s bombing of Syria.

I was/am generally opposed. Not our war. I don’t see the English, French or Germans bombing anyone. They’re too smart.

On the other hand, once the Rubicon has been crossed, Trump should have done the job correctly. Destroyed Assad’s Air Force.

What did Trump do? Fifty nine missiles. Directed at one air base. Twenty planes destroyed. Twelve killed.

In retaliation for 70 plus lives lost. Proportionate? No way!

Even worse, not one of the runways was damaged. It is said the U.S. spoke with Russia in the afternoon and advised what we were going to do. I suspect that during any conversations, Russia said no potholes in the runways, please.

The Democrats describe the bombing as a pin prick. I have to agree. Not a political conclusion on my part. A common sense one.

Enjoy your Sunday!

 

 

DON RICKLES

Don Rickles died this past week. He was 90 years old.

Rickles was a comedian extraordinaire! His type comedy off the beaten track. Insulting! Over the top so!

A stand up comedian, he was like a bull getting the best of the matador. He gored his subject matter. Generally, some one in the audience.

I was his victim one time.

It was the mid 1970’s. I was staying at the Plaza in New York City. Rickles was performing at the Copacabana. The shows were 7 and 9. I wanted to see the 9 o’clock show. No room at the inn. Seating only available for the 7 o’clock show.

I would not be seeing Rickles.

My room was on the back side of the Plaza. I had to use the small elevator at the back of the first floor to get to my room.

In was late afternoon when I got in the elevator. No one else on the elevator. As the doors were closing, a body came bursting through. It was Don Rickles.

We nodded to each other. I started in. Explained my desire to see the 9 o’clock show, no room, etc. Could he help? Took a piece of paper and pen out of his pocket. Asked my name and wrote it down.

He told me to enter through the front door of the Copa. Ignore the long line waiting to get in. Ask for a Mr. somebody. The elevator stopped, doors opened and Rickles was gone.

I was thrilled.

I was dressed and ready early. The Copa was walking distance from the Plaza. As I walked by the Pierre, I decided there was time for a drink. The Pierre bar one of the most intimate in New York City.

As luck would have it, I met a young lady from Paris. We started talking. I asked if she would like to join me for the Don Rickles show at the Copa.

She was as thrilled as I was. She picked her extra long mink off the back of her chair and dragged it behind her as we went out the door.

The Copa at this point was two blocks away. We arrived. The line was long outside. I followed Rickles’  instructions. We walked in without waiting. Mr. somebody was there. He asked us to sit at a table on the side and brought us drinks.

The show at the Copa was not on the first floor where we were seated. The show room was in the basement.

After the long line had gone through, my Parisian friend and I were alone in what was a big room also. Had we been forgotten?

Mr. somebody suddenly appeared and escorted us downstairs. The room was packed. He snapped his fingers and all of a sudden two waiters showed up, one carrying a small table above his head. We and the table were escorted right up front. Not even first row. A step beyond.

A bottle of champagne appeared.

To truly image the Copa, recall Goodfellas. Several scenes were shot in the room.

I thought how lucky I was to have run into Rickles. The treatment was top shelf.

Rickles came out. It took him all of three minutes to attack me. I was the show! For a half hour. He beat me, abused me, made fun of me.

Told the crowd how I asked him for help in getting a reservation. Who did I think I was, he asked. Made fun of my nose which he said was large. I did not know it was large till that moment. Accused me of being a Jew.

As to Paris, he said she’s too good looking to be your wife. Has to be your girl friend. Asked her if I was taking good care of her. Figured I must be as he pointed out her mink coat on the back of her chair which was partially lying on the floor. Then looked at me and asked if she was good.

So it went for thirty minutes. Not one second’s break. Everyone laughing, including me.

After the show, he came over, shook hands and apologized. Which was not required. We chatted  a few minutes and he was off.

There was no charge for anything.

A fun evening.

Enjoy your day!

SQUARE GROUPER / COFFEE BUTLER

A pleasant afternoon and early evening yesterday.

Visited with a friend in Sugarloaf. Then to an early dinner at the Square Grouper.

The company good! The place special! The meal outstanding!  Enjoyed fried oysters and a crispy fried hogfish.

Tonight special, also. Coffee Butler sings!

Coffee was born and raised in Key West. Sang all over the island. Retired in 2oo5.

Tonight, he and many others will sing soul. Key West soul. The show is called A Night of Key West Soul. A similar show was held last year. A hit! Tonight’s should be also.

Many local luminaries will join with Coffee. One is my friend Tom Luna. He joins with Will Thompson in singing Who Put the Pepper in the Vaseline. One example of Key West soul.

Tonight at 7 at the Key West Theater on Eaton.

This afternoon Sloan. Tons of little things to work on.

Tonight, I am not sure. Either Tavern ‘n Town or Duval for Lobsterfest.

Enjoy your day!

SCREW OFF DAY

Wednesday is my friday. First day of no writing, except for my daily blog. Ergo, I refer to it as my screw off day. This week thursday joined the club. I enjoyed a second simple day and evening.

Hogfish for lunch. Season over. Not crowded.

La Trattoria on the Ocean for dinner. At the bar. Stephanie bartending. First time I met her. A go getter.

She has been a bartender 30 years. Been in Key West 2 years. Originally from Long Island.

Stephanie is going into business. She is opening an organic fruit drink bar at Body Zone in the Winn-Dixie Shopping Center. Work underway. Should open in three weeks. Drinks will be available street side and inside.

I wish her well.

That takes care of lunch and dinner. Nothing else till 9 in the evening.

Last night watched the Clinton/Sanders Debate from the comfort of my bed. A boxing match. Both equally good. Hillary’s major fault is she can be evasive and fail to respond to a question.

I recently ate at Square Grouper. Discovered where the name came from.

In the 1970s, the lower Keys were the U.S. entrance for fisherman carrying bales of marijuana. A bale of marijuana was also known as a square grouper.

James Fenimore Cooper. An acknowledged and respected writer. Especially of Indian tales. Last of the Mohicans and Leatherstocking Tales. He also authored non Indian stories.

One was venued in the Florida Keys. The name Jack Tier, or, the Florida Reef. Set on a naval ship. Cooper early in his life had been a midshipman in the U.S. Navy.

The story involves a sailor and ship captain. The relationship appears to verge on a homoerotic relationship. At the end of the book, it is discovered the sailor is a woman. Not just a woman. The captain’s wife.

The book gathers dust to this day. Was not popular when written nor is it today.

Cooper’s home was Otsego Hall in Cooperstown. A 40 mile drive from my home town Utica. Cooperstown the home of the Baseball Hall of Fame, also. Otsego Hall has been rebuilt. It is a tourist attraction. Also site of many cocktail parties. Several of which I was fortunate to attend.

This week’s KONK Life column is Shakespeare Incidentals. It was linked this morning to Key West Lou. .keywestlou.com. It also appears in todays KONK News E-Blast.

Enjoy your day!