Peter Anderson’s Continuing

Story of the Conch Republic

 

Fort Jefferson: A shut and open case for the Republic

 

AS TOLD TO MARK HOWELL

 

In 1995, just before Thanksgiving, the U.S. government shut itself down for the first time in living memory.

National parks and monuments were closed, passports offices were closed, art exhibits in government-owned museums were closed. It was a nightmare.

The Conch Republic, however, remained open and Secretary General Peter Anderson set about letting the world know it. Those were the days of fax machines and Anderson had a formidable list of fax numbers for news organizations around the country.

He began sending out daily fax blasts: “Day 7, Conch Republic remains open…passports available.”

Then one fine day, actually on Thanksgiving Day, Anderson picked up his Miami Herald to discover a masthead editorial headlined: “A stab at Nationmaking,” sub headed “THE CONCH REPUBLIC or how to secede in Key West without really trying.”

In this editorial from the editorial board of the Herald, Anderson was quoted thusly: “We realize the shutdown in Washington may further delay processing of the foreign aid we requested from Washington in 1982, but since we have been waiting for 13 years, a few more days or weeks won’t matter.”

It also listed the phone number of the Office of the Secretary General for anyone needing a Conch Republic Passport. “Really!” it said.

Anderson considered it a day to be truly thankful for.

In its bizarre way, the U.S. government shut down once again just before Christmas.

Conch Republic tour operators to Fort Jefferson (run by the National Park Service), having lost the lucrative Thanksgiving holiday to the first shutdown, were now losing the even busier Christmas to New Year’s business as well.

Feeling a deep responsibility to the economic wellbeing of the Conch Republic, and having learned that private funds had reopened the Vermeer exhibit in Philadelphia (also shut down), Anderson sought to reopen the Fort with private donations. Learning that a mere $1,000 a day was all that was required, he contacted the tour operators to see if they’d underwrite the expense. “Happily,” was the response.

Frustratingly, Anderson discovered that there was “no one home” in regard to whom one could negotiate to open the Fort with private funds. It was Christmas, after all, and offices were closed.

A call to the headquarters of Conch Republic Air Force General and Commanding Officer Freddy Cabanas produced a private seaplane to take the Secretary General to the Fort to deliver a check and declare it open for Conch Republic business.

Anderson sent out a press release stating that the Conch Republic would storm the Fort by seaplane to reopen it and that we would bomb the Fort with stale Cuban bread prior to landing in order to “soften them up” for the assault.

Since entering a closed federal area is a serious misdemeanor, Anderson, a single father at the time and needing to be home to cook his daughter dinner, decided to call Dick Ring, Park Superintendent, to inquire as to how he might be received at the Fort.

Dick Ring (you can’t make this up) told Anderson that there was a serious rat problem at the Fort and dropping bread could be considered as a pretty serious environmental crime. Other than that, Anderson would face a citation but not arrest.

Anderson, vastly relieved, climbed aboard a small Cessna seaplane along with the pilot, an experienced co-pilot with a lot of experience landing in the Dry Tortugas, and a beautiful young blonde reporter from the Citizen.

As they approached the Fort, it became apparent that the weather was turning sour and the wind and waves in the harbor had become dicey for such a small plane.

But given the urgency of the mission, the pilots decided to set down anyway and the plane landed and taxied up to the beach. A contingent of Rangers met them. Anderson had brought copies of the Sunday newspapers that the Rangers were thrilled to receive; their supply boat was tied to the dock in Key West, thanks to the government’s closure.

Anderson presented a Proclamation declaring the park open and gave the Rangers a check for $1,000 to pay for the first day of operation. They attempted to refuse the check but Anderson insisted that it was a great souvenir. (Later, in court, “Did you accept a check from Secretary Anderson…yes or no?”)

As the pilots were getting quite nervous over the increasingly worsening weather, Anderson asked for his citation for entering a closed Federal area. The Rangers protested that they did not want to give him a ticket.

Anderson insisted, stating his refusal to leave.

Climbing back into the plane, the pilots turned it into the wind and waves coming over the reef for the takeoff run. The faster they went, the steeper the waves coming in over the reef became, and their tiny seaplane was being thrown into the air repeatedly…long before they’d reached sufficient speed to actually fly.

Finally they came off of one big wave that was not going to let them return to the surface of the sea without crashing. With the stall warning blaring, they struggled into the sky.

There was not a dry seat on that airplane.

 

Next week: “A story that has never been made public in the last 13 years — the day, 10 days after Sept. 11, 2001, when the entire Key West office of the FBI came to the Office of the Secretary General….

 

[livemarket market_name="KONK Life LiveMarket" limit=3 category=“” show_signup=0 show_more=0]