photograph by michael blades
Refugees of the Culture Wars
essay by Lynne Bentley-Kemp
The search for one’s soul begins with a will toward independence and authenticity. It is a journey for the impulsive and courageous, not the fainthearted. You have to wear your spirit on the outside. That’s what poets, artists and outlaws do.
Key West is like a magnet for the ones who inhabit the fringes of society and the ones who would like to be there, if only temporarily. Here we can be transcendentalists in the way that Emerson and Thoreau were. Here we can practice individualism at its best and most interesting. Nonconformists, iconoclasts, contrarians all — we belong to a community of saints and sinners. We come to rest in a tropical stew of eccentricity, vulnerability and drunkenness.
The outlaws exist to remind everyone else that there is another way of looking at things. It’s a pain in the ass really. You have to be tolerant and allow your sensibilities to be trampled sometimes. No gated communities allowed. The culture wars rage on.
Here’s to the refugees of the culture wars at the end of the road — jesters and visionaries — dressing up for the revolution. Long may they reign.
- issue #3, the secret of salt
a sincere thanks to everyone who made this such a beautiful evening …
florida keys council of the arts, our contributors, sponsors & advertisers, cricket desmarais, nadja hansen, gregory henke, emily dunn, marky pierson, desnudo productions & key west burlesque, ganesha dance theatre, christine gorham, dj ray, sheil, cory heydon, brady thomas, jennifer o’lear, eric anfinson, key west tara mandala, michael forster, thomas suylan, che stein, christine marguerite, svea & steve, mawari, rick keith, waterfront market, creperie, banana cafe, la trattoria, la dichosa, crossiants de france, louie’s backyard, the cafe, the bottlecap, pepe’s, blue heaven, the beach club, mangia mangia, green parrot, mary ann & tim, revati, victoria, marlene, key west innkeepers association, marci, carol morin & stephanie, solares hill, the keynoter, paradise, michael marrero, captain tony and last but not least … our covergirl, frances crowe stahl (she made her own hats.)
and it was a beautiful evening … one of the highlights was cricket reading her story to the legend himself, captain tony … more images and video to come.
photograph by michael blades
THE LAST MANGO IN PARIS l CAPTAIN TONY TARRACINO
by Cricket Desmarais
I’m sitting in a world-famous bar built around a tree from which 77 criminals were hung, feeling a bit like a rebel drinking a Corona on a Tuesday afternoon. I’m not there to drink, per se, or to enjoy the live music I’ve heard for so many years emanating out of this little dark bar covered in business cards and bras, so much as I am to collect the real story about a man that’s so infamously famous, he’s been dubbed “the salt of Key West” by the New York Times.
And I’m a little nervous he may have forgotten about me. He is, after all, nearing 91. But then a car pulls up and I see a flash of white hair and feet decked out with house slippers behind the car door that is now slowly opening. Out steps the ultimate rebel himself — Captain Tony Tarracino — former bookie, shrimper, gun-runner, gravedigger and mayor, as well as father, husband and general legend of lust, love and lore.
We make our introductions and tuck ourselves into a corner to keep us free from distractions, where I quickly learn there is no such thing when it comes to this man. Captain Tony is like a rock star or a celebrity of sorts — people recognize him and want a little piece of who he is. He is more than happy to oblige. Within minutes, a small crowd has gathered nearby.
“My daughter,” he announces to the crowd, motioning to Josie, who has just returned from parking the car. “One of 13.”
They balk, kindly.
“Where you folks from?” he starts in. The bantering goes on for some time, and then he says “I’m gonna tell you a joke to make you happy.” He points to me and says, “I’m taking you home.”
Laughter.
“I gotta tell you girls,” he adds. “The advantage you have. Every woman has a little bit of whore in them.”
More laughter, except from me. Sure, I’m half-smiling, but my professional footing feels more than a bit shaky. I figure I better roll with it, though, or I’m in for a tough run with this legendary figure who clearly plays by his own set of rules. But this captain’s not insensitive, either; He sees my discomfort and quickly shifts his game. Later he’ll confess that, “in the end, if you want to win people, go to sex. It’s the bottom line.” …
the backyard whispers to me in the dark of night
we want a party, the avocados chant
we want dancing girls, the vines giggle
we want a treehouse, the fruit rats cheer
and i want to hear the story, chimes in ‘alfred green’ (the iguana)
i can hear the voice of ‘the old lady who makes her own hats’ softly singing
on the wind … “i can’t wait to be a star again”
book launch: issue #3 writers, ramblers, poets & outlaws
(in the backyard under the avocado trees)
saturday, january 19th
7 - 10ish
performance by ganesha dance theatre, key west burlesque and other surprises!
for more info, call 305.296.4763
Epitaph for the Last Poet … by Sandy McKinney
I am the poet. I will be heard.
I speak for the mute, the fallen bird
bereft of flute and flutter,
for the damned
the dim, the daft, the desperate
the ewe new-lambed in winter
the mutter of worms, the spider’s fantasy
Forget my name, but by God remember the leaf
floating windless without wings
and the cold sod
that receives it, the seed
ungerminated, the need
for light on growing things.
.
in·dig·e·nous
1 Originating and living or occurring naturally in an area or environment.
See native.
2 Intrinsic; innate.
“This is our story.” — Solares Hill, in a review by Rosalind Brackenbury
The secret of salt: an indigenous journal is a bi-annual collection of fiction, poetry, essays, interviews & images inspired by our unique environment.
The journal explores a new theme with each issue and encourages thoughtful artistic expression. We celebrate our diverse island community … artists, writers, healers … fishermen, sailors, dreamers … and are grateful for the opportunity to live in a place where we can really be ourselves.
Emerging artists, as well as those long established, are included in our pages. It is our vision for the journal to be a container for our stories … a record over time and a beautiful gift to share with those who are just passing through.
