In early 2000, Conch Republic Secretary General Sir Peter Anderson became concerned about some of the people getting Conch Republic passports.
People were calling and explaining that they were in the United States illegally and wondering if their Conch Republic passport would help them to stay.
“No,” was Anderson’s unequivocal answer, but a number of these conversations would degenerate into, “…what part of ‘NO’ don’t you understand, Sir?”
And yet, according to Anderson, these people were getting the passports anyway. Baffling, but true.
Anderson became worried … sleepless nights worried. He felt as if there was a “train” coming down the track (in the form of some blue-suited guys knocking on his door) and he wanted to figure out a way to get aboard the train at the station in a first class cabin, instead of getting run over by it on the track.
But how to accomplish that was enigmatic to say the least. In May, Secretary Anderson decided he needed a credible back channel to what was then called the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) of the U.S. to express the Conch Republic’s concerns about some of the people getting Conch Republic passports. But how? — and who? An even more enigmatic dilemma.
One sleepless night at around 3 a.m., pondering these questions, the Secretary General had an inspired thought. Why not ask Dave Burns for advice? Burns had a private investigation business, was the Conch Republic’s longtime Ambassador to Ecuador, is a fabulous jazz pianist and composer and an all-around good guy. It was also long rumored that Ambassador Burns had some sort of relationship with U.S. Intelligence agencies. Unconfirmed rumors, of course…
Anderson called Ambassador Burns that very morning: “Mr. Ambassador, might you come over to my office? I need your advice.”
“Of course, Mr. Secretary, I’ll be right there.”
When Ambassador Burns arrived, Anderson showed him through a number of applications for Conch Republic passports that he knew were from persons possibly abiding illegally in the United States. Expressing his concerns, Anderson asked Burns if he would be comfortable approaching INS on behalf of the Conch Republic, explain to them these concerns and inform them that “The Conch Republic would respond positively to a polite request to share our records with them.”
Amazed and impressed with the quality of the records the Secretary General was keeping on all persons getting Conch Republic passports, and fully convinced that these could be important to INS, Ambassador Burns readily agreed to contact INS on his behalf.
Anderson says he breathed a sigh of relief after months of stress. “It just felt right, it felt like the way nations do things. We weren’t going to ‘drop a dime’ on any of our citizens, but would with respect respond positively to a polite request — nation to nation.” Perfect.
Several weeks passed, and Anderson got a call from Ambassador Burns, “Have you heard from anyone?”
“No.”
“Well, let me make a few more calls…” he said.
More weeks passed. Same story. Burns offered to continue to try to interest INS in the Conch Republic records.
Finally, in early September, Burns called Anderson and said, “I guess they’re just not interested. Lord knows I’ve made all the calls I know how to make.”
Said Anderson, “Dave, please write me a report on your letterhead chronicling your efforts on our behalf.”
Dave took the letter over to the Secretary’s office that very afternoon. Anderson stuck it into the bookcase next to his desk “against the day” the train came down the track. When the “blue suits” came to the door one day, Anderson felt ready for them. He had no idea what day that might be, but he felt secure he could now board the train at the station and not get run over by it on the track.
Burns’ report was dated Sept. 6, 2000.
On or about the 21st of September 2001, 10 days after Sept. 11, there came a pounding on the door of the office of the Secretary General. Anderson was in the middle of his morning briefing with his Chief of Staff who went to open the door. There on the other side were all three Key West agents of the FBI, badges in hand. His Chief of Staff fled to their upstairs offices where three typists were busy creating Conch Republic passports. (Anderson says today that he longs for those days when it took a Chief of Staff and three typists to keep up with demand.)
The Special Agent In Charge (SAC) stormed up to Anderson’s desk and, using her most intimidating FBI voice and demeanor, barked: “You can imagine why we are here…”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Anderson, while carefully and slowly getting up from his desk to get Dave Burns’ report from his bookcase. Handing the report to the SAC, Anderson said, “Please read this.”
She did. When she was finished, she silently handed it to her partner sitting next to her and he read through it. When he looked up, Anderson said, “So what can the Conch Republic do for you all today?”
They had no answer for this question. Knowing that he now owned the meeting, Anderson quickly added, “Let me take you upstairs and show you what we do and how we do it, and you can decide what you would like to do from there.”
They readily agreed.
Anderson recalls that he once told this story to a senior member of the Sheriff’s Department as a classic law enforcement story. The Sheriff countered, “Mr. Secretary, that is not a ‘law enforcement’ story — that is history!”
Next week: More of this incredible saga in those dark days after 9/11… Did the Conch Republic issue a passport to a terrorist?
[livemarket market_name="KONK Life LiveMarket" limit=3 category=“” show_signup=0 show_more=0]
No Comment