OCR Text |
Show 2, Jeffries, Islamorada [Section 2] days, dollars, deposit. Dory Clayton pedaled it out across Truman Boulevard, to watch the pelicans at the marinas, and down back alleys behind the old shipwright homes. He rode it out to the municipal beach for a swim, and in the evenings to George Mira's little pizzeria for spaghetti. Where they still talk of George's famous left-handed pass for the University of Miami that beat Georgia. A piece of writing was taking shape in his head. An editor from Gallery seemed interested. Such an article to be titled Vacation of an Energy Pig. The premise was of a young man who'd put his sports car up on blocks, and was checking into the forty-eight contiguous states by Greyhound. He worked over the first installment, and he took it down to the city paper, and a lady named Dorothy Raymer was kind enough to run it in her Conch Chowder column in the Key West Citizen. The energy pig took the old name for the island, Bone Island, after the terrible Indian battle, and wrote: The color of the rising sun, just east of the Martyrs, old Ponce's sainted Keys, is the color of golden coins in a sunken plate fleet. Of course, there was the old town, and the steamboat Gothic architecture, and The old pirate faces, the mustached Hemingway-faces coming out of the historic Conch woodwork |