0: quirky cemetery, the careless count, bum farto, polydactyls, first flight, danger

March 17, 2025

hanging out in Key West the day before I leave

This post, somewhat long, has nothing to do with touring. Even so, wandering around the city was entertaining.

This is where I stored my bike and gear before boarding the ship last night. We were only allowed two items on board. It's free for 72 hours, but I had to go to the hardware store to buy a padlock.

In order to stuff everything inside, I had to turn my handlebars sideways. After all my gear was crammed it, there wasn't any room left and I could barely shut the door.

We caught the 9AM ship-to-shore shuttle, then started the day with an exploration of the Key West Cemetery. I had heard it's a very quirky place with some interesting headstones so I thought we'd go take a look. In addition to having a hypochondriac buried there (B.P. Roberts, whose epitaph reads "I told you I was sick"), there are a couple of literary references: "So Long, and Thanks for All The Fish" (Douglas Adams) and "GROK - Look It Up" (Robert Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land). Some other epitaphs read "Jesus Christ, These People Are Horrible," "I'm Just Resting My Eyes," "Devoted Fan of Julio Iglesias," and "If You're Reading This, You Desperately Need A Hobby."

Please, God, please tell me this person didn't have a lisp.

This one is a bit creepy, especially since I was raised in the city where The Candy Man was a serial killer, Dean Corll.

I tried to find the reference but wasn't able to determine where it came from. I like it, though.

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One peculiar, somewhat morbid cemetery story, relates to Maria Elena Milagro de Hoyos who was buried here, and Count Von Cosel, aka Carl Tänzler. The Count fell in love with Elena but she contracted tuberculosis and, despite his ministrations which included a variety of treatments, all of which he paid for (including x-rays - he was trained as a radiology technician), she died in 1931.

He remained obsessed with her and two years later secretly dug up her body and took it to his house. He reattached the bones with piano wire and supplied her with glass eyes. When her skin continued to decompose he replaced it with silk cloth soaked in wax and plaster of Paris, and when her hair fell out he made a wig from the hair he previously obtained from her mother (how much would he have needed, and how much would her mother have had??). The Count filled the corpse's abdominal and chest cavity with rags to keep the original form, dressed her in stockings, jewelry, and gloves.

The bedroom (he kept her in his bed) became so rank that he used massive amounts of perfume, disinfectant, and preserving agents to mask the smell, and to slow the decomposition. He was eventually confronted and caught, likely due to the fact that he was seen through an open window dancing with her corpse.

Almost as weird as the story itself is the fact that after the body was recovered and examined by pathologists, it was put on public display at the Dean-Lopez Funeral home where 6,800 people came to view it. Once the viewing was over, it was returned to the Key West Cemetery but was placed in an unmarked grave in a secret location to prevent further "tampering."

I think we can all agree that the moral of the story here is that if you're going to disinter a body, stuff it with rags and keep it in your bed, you should never, ever dance with it when you're visible to passersby looking in your window. Careless, Count, very careless.

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From there we went to Ernest Hemingway's house. Hemingway lived here from 1928 to 1939 and wrote several books at this 907 Whitehead Street residence, including The Old Man and the Sea (Nobel Prize Winner), Islands in the Stream, and To Have and Have Not. The house is now The Ernest Hemingway Home & Museum and after waiting in line for about 15 minutes we paid the $19.00 admission fee.

There was a guided tour, but we didn't want to wait 45 minutes so we downloaded the self-guided tour. It was a .pdf file that was a photo of a typed piece of paper. It appeared to have come from a typewriter as old as Hemingway's Underwood, and after the first three misspellings I couldn't look at it any longer so we just wandered around.

While living here Hemingway accepted a gift from a ship captain: a polydactyl (six-toed) cat named Snow White and, consequently, there are now about 50 cats living here, about half of which are polydactyl.

This is one of the six-toed cats. How do I know that this apparently five-toed cat has six toes?

The reason I know the five-toed cat previously pictured is a six-toed cat is because the others have four toes, making them five-toed cats. It makes perfect sense.

The sign says "Help us preserve our history. Please do not sit on the furniture." Unless you're a cat.

Why are there two chairs in the bathroom? And my, those are really large windows in there... attached to the balcony.

This is the building in which he wrote the novels, separate from the living quarters. You can see it from the bathroom window in the previous picture.

Asa Tift, the man who designed and built this house (second highest point in Key West) is as interesting as the house itself. After his wife and two daughters died from yellow fever, he was tasked with building an inexpensive ironclad vessel for the Confederate navy. He had almost completed three, designed and paid for out of his own pocket, when Union troops captured New Orleans. His ships were burned to avoid capture.

Overall, the tour was fairly interesting. It held the typical museum items such a lot of pictures/paintings of Hemingway, period furniture, and ancillary information about people related to him.

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Back to the quirky: At the Key West Firehouse Museum I learned about "Bum" Farto. My first thought was how this guy ever had a chance in life, having two names by which your junior high classmates would happily crush your self esteem forever.

Bum was Key West’s fire chief who mysteriously disappeared in 1976. As a young man he hung out at the fire station where he was eventually given a job handling hoses, then worked his way up to fire chief. In spite of his name, or perhaps because of it, Farto was self-important and dressed in flaming red leisure suits and rose-tinted glasses, draping himself in gold chains, bracelets, watches, and rings. His chief’s badge was custom-made of gold and encrusted with gems, and he drove an expensive lime green car with a large golden eagle hood ornament and the words El Jefe (“The Boss”) on the license plates.

Where did he get the money? Drugs, apparently. After being caught on camera trading cocaine for gaudy jewelry to an undercover agent, a jury found him guilty in less than 30 minutes of deliberation. So, when Bum was looking at anywhere from 15 to 31 years in prison, he decided to skip town. He rented a car, later found at the Miami airport, and was never heard of again. Some people believed he fled to Spain or Central America, others that he was killed by drug connections.

Jimmy Buffett referred to him in his song “Landfall” and frequently wore a Where Is Bum Farto? t-shirt. I went into almost every t-shirt shop on the island in an attempt to buy a shirt like that, but it appears they're no longer available. I did, however, hear from a cashier that there's new evidence that he might have been buried on the island. The cemetery, with its history, would be a good fit.

Curious to see if "Farto" was Spanish for anything (else, why wouldn't they change their name upon entering the country?), I found it that it doesn't, but does mean "fed up" in Portuguese.

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On occasion during our travels, Heather and I will go to places of "firsts." It's not usually intentional, but when we're at a "first" place we try to partake in whatever it is. That doesn't make much sense, so here are some examples:

+ The piña colada was created in San Juan, Puerto Rico, so we had one there when we were at a conference.
+ We drank a tequila sunrise at the Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix where it was created by Gene Sulit.
+ Many years ago, we ate a sacher torte at the Sacher Hotel in Vienna.
+ We drank a Dr. Pepper in Dublin, Texas, where it was originally bottled (FYI, the FDA ruled that it isn't a cola, a root beer, or a fruit-flavored fruit drink; they declared it to be its own category: a "pepper drink")
+ Coffee at the original Starbucks in Seattle
+ Last year we drank a Guinness at the Dublin brewery in Ireland
+ We ate a Philly cheesesteak about a decade ago in Philadelphia
+ At the Palmer House in Chicago we ate a brownie
+ We drank some Tavel wine in Tavel, port in Porto, and riesling on the Rhine river

So, here in Key West, I feel compelled to eat some Key Lime pie. There's a saying, "as American as apple pie," but apple pie isn't original to the United States. 1381 documentation shows an "tartys in applis" so, perhaps instead we should say "as American as key lime pie."

A little history, if you're up for it: Key Lime pie began in Key West during the 1800s when hookers (which is what sponge fishermen were called back then) would eat limes in an attempt to prevent scurvy. They eventually started mixing the juice with sweetened condensed milk, wild bird eggs, or sea turtle eggs, then pour the mixture over stale Cuban bread and leave it in the sun for a bit to set. The recipe was modified by putting the mixture into a pie crust, which became a dessert staple of the middle class. It remained a local treat until a woman named "Aunt Sally" started serving it at a restaurant, after which it caught on and was carried to other locations. There are a number of origin theories, but this one seems to have the strongest historical evidence.

We bought some Key Lime pie at the Key Lime Pie Bakery.

Here are some pictures taken throughout the day.

"Viewblockers" are farther north. In this area, this IS the view.

My perception of Duval Street, the most touristy section of the city, is that it's crowded with a lot of drunk people, loud, and frequently smells of marijuana and, on occasion, vomit.

I saw dozens of painfully sunburned people.

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We stopped in for a quick drink at the appropriately-named First Flight, which is famous for a couple of reasons. First, Kelly McGinnis, the female lead in the movie Top Gun, owned this house for many years. It was Key West's first microbrewery, which she ran until selling it in 2017.

This location, at 301 Whitehead Street, is also where Pan Am Airlines originated. Pan Am was the largest of all international airlines in the US between 1927 and 1991. Tickets were sold out of this house.

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As we were wandering around, we came upon Danger Charters. My immediate thought was that unless the owner’s last name is Danger (it isn’t. I looked.), then what's the rationale for naming this company. It seems like“Danger Charters” is the equivalent of starting a company called “Extremely Heavy Ice Fishing Huts” or “Glass Shard Toilet Paper.” It’s like they’re advertising that there’s a chance that you just might not make it this time. Sure, you’ve had some close calls in the past - like that time at Disneyland when you smelled alcohol on the guy that snugged you into the roller coaster, or when you went for a hike and forgot your jacket and had to turn around to retrieve it after a couple of minutes - but this is risky. No, actually dangerous.

Upon further reflection, the only reason I can see is to attract people who WANT to think what they’re doing is risky, but aren’t. A middle-aged man named... let's say, Chip, or Kip, who excelled in sports in high school but now has a bit of a beer gut. After coming back from his vacation he's at the golf course with his coworker. Gazing down the 11th hole at two over par, he tells his coworker: "Yeah, man, I looked around at the options and decided on (here he pauses a beat and pins his friend with a steely-eyed gaze) Danger Charters. Then slowly nods.

When I looked at their website, it says
“We seek calm, crystal-clear water so that you can enjoy the very best of the beautiful Florida Keys,”
and
“We treat you to the Key West that’s inspired countless paintings and poetry,” and
“Danger Charters is proud to serve carefully-selected wines from around the world, top quality beer, and market-procured hors d’oeuvres.”

I dunno, maybe the real danger lies in fatty liver disease, or falling asleep and getting sunburned.

I really wanted to get this shirt and post a picture of me wearing it, but you can only buy it online, and only in children's sizes.

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At last, it was time to head back to the ship.

This is actually a boat you can rent. It's not on pylons.

Taken as we were touring the boat. I really couldn't ask for a better sister.

Captain Ryan mentioned something called "Keys Disease," in which you become really lazy. I get it. Fifteen minutes after we arrived, I felt completely chill and relaxed, with not a care in the world.

Over the two nights on the ship, we met several other passengers: Whit (from Branson, going into the Coast Guard), Luke (Canadian) and his girlfriend Abby (Valdosta), and Nicole (Virginia Beach).

I had a great conversation with this lovely French couple, Paulette and Dorian.

We were extremely fortunate to be able to stay on the ship because 1 April is the last day Ryan will be hosting travelers. He's moving to Miami for his next adventure.

Ryan, the captain of his ship, and of his destiny.

Sunsets are frequently spectacular in the Keys, and particularly out on the water.

I can't believe that after a year of planning and preparation (none of it in the saddle) I start my tour tomorrow. Wish me luck.

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Mark BinghamINGREDIENTS:
4 eggs, separated
1/2 cup key lime juice
14-oz. can sweetened condensed milk
1/3 cup sugar
Graham cracker crust in 8-inch pie pan

DIRECTIONS:
Beat egg yolks until light and thick. Blend in lime juice, then milk, stirring until mixture thickens. Pour mixture into pie shell. Beat egg whites with cream of tartar until stiff. Gradually beat in sugar, beating until glossy peaks form. Spread egg whites over surface of pie to edge of crust. Bake at 350 degrees F. until golden brown, about 20 minutes. Chill before serving.
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1 week ago

Lyle McLeodThis is sooo good, hard to pick a favourite. Lisping L. Rust Hills? The Fire Chief? Golfing Chip and his Danger Tour? I’m going with the Chicken. Why?
Just because.
Have a great tour!
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1 week ago

Mark BinghamTo Lyle McLeodThanks, Lyle!
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1 week ago