If you were raised a faithful Parrothead, as I was, then Key West is a sort of mecca. If Jimmy Buffett hadn’t gone to Key West, then he might just have been a failed country singer. But instead, he went to Miami for a show, only to find it cancelled. Jerry Jeff Walker drove him down A1A to Key West and the rest is history. All the good old Jimmy Buffett albums were made there. This was back in the day before Jimmy Buffett became a brand and started selling $400 margarita makers. This was back when Jimmy had a guitar and a boat (just one) and did a lot of drugs. When cruise ships didn’t stop in Key West but instead there might have been real pirates. It sounds kind of awesome.
Since I listened to nothing but Jimmy Buffett until I was like 12, I knew there were many locales we should be looking for as self-respecting Parrotheads. We found one early enough: Caroline Street. According to Jimmy, at one point, there was a “woman going crazy on Caroline Street.” In the song, the woman drinks beers and hits on men from shrimping boats. Jimmy sings it, “she slowly guzzles twenty five cent beers.” I only recently realized that there might be a hyphen between twenty and five. I thought she drank twenty beers that cost a nickel. I guess 25 cent beers might be more realistic in any economy. But when I thought that lady could put away 20 beers, I really thought she was a badass. So anyway, there is a picture of me going crazy on Caroline Street, but it’s not on my camera so I can’t show you.
Now, Jimmy sings one song about how “Duval Street was rocking,” which caused his eyes to start a popping. That street was very easy to see because it’s the main drag in Key West, and we walked the length of it. Off Duval, though, is Capt. Tony’s, which is mentioned in the song “Last Mango in Paris.” But I knew all about it from my family’s repeated listenings to the 1990 live album, “Feeding Frenzy,” in which that song gets an extended intro that goes:
“I’d like to do a song that was written about a good friend of mine down in Key West, where I spend a little bit of time. This particular friend ran a bar in Key West for a long time before we got fed up with all the other alternatives to politicians and elected our favorite bartender mayor. Our mayor’s name is Captain Tony Tarracino (Molly’s note: when I was little, I thought Jimmy said, “our mayor’s name is Captain Tony Terry you know him?” and I would always think, no, Jimmy, how am I supposed to know this guy?) He has a little place called Captain Tony’s saloon.” (Molly’s second note: Even years later, I can remember that intro by heart. I am SICK)
And here I am at Captain Tony’s!
There are bras on the ceiling! (not pictured)
Now, Captain Tony’s brings us to Ernest Hemingway, for Captain Tony’s Saloon was the original spot for Sloppy Joe’s, a bar that is now famed as Ernest Hemingway’s hangout. First off, I am not a very big Hemingway fan; I haven’t read much of his work and I will not be able to rattle off random passages or lines as I just did for Jimmy Buffett.
But being a writer myself, I did want to have a drink where Papa did, to see if I could catch any of that Hemingway magic. Maybe come back with an idea for a book about bulls or war or safari. I had a margarita, voted the best in Florida. Well, that was one strong margarita, about as strong as my mom’s daiquiri, and as my dad put it, we’re lucky Hemingway wrote anything at all that made any sense. And I certainly hope he didn’t drive himself home afterward.
Unfortunately, I don’t think Ernie would like Sloppy Joe’s much now, as it’s mostly a tourist attraction. I guess if he liked seeing himself on t-shirts he might like it. But given how he ended his life I am not sure he would.
Here is Sloppy Joe’s.
We didn’t have time to tour the Hemingway house, but I think I caught a little of his spirit, and I did have many a photo opp with him:
I'd like to think that in this last picture I qualify as his "Catch of the Day." (He is holding a fishing rod. It might be kind of hard to see at the smaller size.)
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