290: I WAS THE STAR OF THE ‘TRUMAN SHOW’ IN KEY WEST’S LITTLE WHITE HOUSE

When my photographer’s alarm rang at 6:00am on Friday April 26, 2024, I was anxious for our second morning in Key West, Florida to begin. While the three of us didn’t do anything but relax after we arrived at the Parrot Key Hotel & Villas on Wednesday afternoon, we spent the entire day on Thursday touring Fort Jefferson in the Dry Tortugas National Park. Although the fort where Dr. Samuel Mudd was imprisoned was awesome and had a shirt-tail Presidential connection because the doctor was convicted as a co-conspirator in Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, Friday morning’s first site was one that had been high on my bucket list for a while. For the past four months, once Tom had secured two tickets to tour Truman’s Little White House, I’ve had high expectations for the home where our 33rd President stayed for 175 days during eleven separate visits to Key West during his administration.

Once my companions had packed-up all of their belongings, including me, the three of us boarded their Jeep Grand Cherokee shortly after it had arrived at the hotel’s valet station. That early morning three-mile drive took us into the Old Town section of Key West where Vicki anticipated she’d have to pay righteous bucks to park near the Little White House. The previous day, while on the boat, we heard there was no place to park for free in Key West. But that information turned out to be incorrect as my photographer’s wife found a nice spot along Emma Street – and the free street parking was just over a half mile from the historic site. I knew Tom wouldn’t walk a mile for a camel, but he’d walk a half mile to see a Presidential home.

Tom carried me through the front gate and onto the property at 8:40am, even though the grounds didn’t officially open until nine o’clock. My photographer wanted an early start so he could capture all of his exterior images before other visitors got in his way. As we walked up the sidewalk towards the historic home, both of our jaws dropped – there was scaffolding and a tarp covering the north side of the building. To make matters worse, the grounds were swarming with contractors who were in the process of renovating the windows on the structure.

For the next forty minutes or so, my photographer had me pose at numerous locations on the east and west sides of the house. At one point, he placed me on the ground where President Truman once sat as he entertained guests. With each image Tom captured, he did his best to keep the unsightly equipment, along with the even more unsightly contractors, out of his pictures.

But then it happened – as the clock grew closer to the time of our tour, which was 9:30am, Tom saw a sign posted near the entrance that made both of our hearts sink. The second rule on “The Sign of Despair” was ‘Still or video photography is prohibited’. The two of us were not only disappointed, but we were also completely devastated. Truman’s Little White House was one of the biggest anticipated highlights for both Tom and me; and since it was located within a mile or so of the southern-most point in the continental United States, we knew this might be our only visit to this remote Presidential site. We had finally made the journey all the way out to Key West, only to discover interior photography was outlawed. And to make matters worse, it appeared Tom, Vicki, and I would be the only ones on the tour, which would be problematic for my photographer to covertly snap an interior picture or two.

A few minutes before the scheduled tour-time, the door opened, and a man walked out onto the brick steps. The guy looked at us and said, “My name is Steve and I’ll be your tour guide today. How are you doing this morning and where are you from?” This was Tom’s chance to deliver his usual spiel and if he worked his magic, maybe Steven would allow a single interior picture. “We’re from Michigan and I’m a Presidential historian. I travel all around the United States visiting Presidential sites with this Thomas Jefferson bobble head and I photograph him at each site. To date, I’ve travelled with the bobble head for over seventy-thousand miles and have been nearly everywhere – including the Oval Office inside the Big White House. Now we’ve made it all the way down to Key West to tour Truman’s Little White House, and I gotta tell you Steve, I couldn’t have been more disappointed when I saw your sign that said, ‘no photography’. I’ve taken pictures inside the White House; inside Monticello; inside Mount Vernon; inside the Hermitage; but now I won’t be able to take pictures here. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been more disappointed on one of our trips.”

As Tom finished his heart-felt speech, a huge smile filled Steve’s face. “Well today, I’m not going to pay attention to that rule. You’re on my tour and I’m going to let you take pictures inside; just don’t tell anyone. We have that rule listed because if a tour group is large, say fifteen to twenty people, it delays the timing inside as everyone wants to get their pictures. But since it looks like it’ll just be the three of us, you’ll be able to take all the pictures you want.”

At the last possible moment, just as Steve was about to lead Tom, Vicki and me into the historic home, two other couples arrived on the scene for a tour. I figured for sure our guide would have a change of heart due to the additional people, but he dispelled my fears when he mentioned they could take photos as well.

Now known as Truman’s Little White House, the seven-bedroom, 9,000-square-foot home was built in 1890 along the waterfront and was originally the first officer’s quarters at the U.S. naval station in Key West. The first Presidential visit to the home came in December 1912 when William Howard Taft stayed in Key West before he departed to Panama to inspect the canal. Thirty-four years later, another President came to Key West at the suggestion of his doctor to help combat his physical exhaustion. When President Harry Truman arrived in November 1946, he loved the place so much, he returned ten more time during his administration – spending a total of 175 days of his Presidency at the home. Truman’s philosophy became ‘wherever the President was, the White House was’, which was aided when technology became advanced enough to allow him to be away from Washington for a greater length of time.

In the Spring of 1952, President Harry Truman walked through the doors of the Little White House for the last time, even though he returned to Key West five additional times after leaving office. Since Truman’s last visit, three other Presidents stayed at the historic home. While Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton spent time in the home after they left office, John F. Kennedy stayed there twice during his Presidency. JFK’s first visit came on March 26, 1961, and he returned on November 26, 1962, less than a month after the Cuban Missile Crisis ended. I guess Kennedy felt he needed to keep an eye on Cuba, which was only 90 miles away.

When our entire group finally walked through the same doors President Truman had used, we saw the interior of the home had been renovated to the year 1949. A few minutes after we walked into the first room, I began posing for photos. Tom snapped images at a record pace, just in case Steve changed his mind. But that never happened. As a matter of fact, just the opposite occurred. As I posed for a photo next to Truman’s poker table in the bar area, Steve said to my photographer, “Why don’t you go ahead and set him on that table for a picture. As a matter of fact, you can set your bobble head on anything in this entire house.” I nearly pooped my breeches; we had gone from a ‘No Photography” rule all the way to me standing for pictures on all of the historic furnishings in the home – and in the span of about ten minutes.

While the buck stopped here, Tom’s pictures are just starting. Please enjoy the photos from our tour of the Truman Little White House – which to be honest, wasn’t all that little.

For forty-plus minutes, Steve led our small group through the Little White House room by room. We began our tour in the bar where Truman began most of his mornings; we continued through the dining room where he developed the Department of Defense; and after visiting the upstairs bedrooms where the President and First Lady spent their nights, we finished our visit in the living room where Truman conducted most of his official business in Key West. Throughout the entire tour, my photographer and I were mesmerized by our tour guide’s style and storytelling. Steve painted a verbal picture of what life was like in that home during Truman’s administration; and he did it with a factual-yet-humorous flair. When the three of us walked out of the building and stood in the back yard near the barbeque grill, I heard Tom say to Steve, “I’ve been on hundreds of tours at different historical sites all around the country – some were good tours, and some weren’t as good. I’ll tell you one thing for certain, Steve, you just might be the best tour guide who’s ever led me through any historical site. You made every room in that home come to life, your stories and information were interesting and funny, and you’re one of the friendliest guys I’ve ever met on any trip. When it comes to tour guides, they don’t come any better than you.”

At that moment, the most unbelievable thing happened right before my painted resin eyes. My thrifty photographer attempted to tip our tour guide for a job well done – and Steve refused any money. As a matter of fact, the docent said just knowing how much a historian like my photographer enjoyed his tour was reward enough. And with that, we made the half-mile hike back to the Jeep.

The morning was rapidly slipping away as we made our way to our final stop in Key West, which was the marker erected close to the site of the southernmost point in the continental United States. Even though Steve told my photographer there’s usually hundreds of people flocked around that marker most every day, our bigger concern was going to be parking.

After a short 1.2-mile drive south, the 12-foot-tall concrete buoy that had been erected in 1983 to mark the southernmost point came into view. Steve was right – an unbelievable throng of people were gathered around the gawdy, painted buoy. And to make matters worse, an endless line stretched along South Street where people stood for their turn in front of the marker. With no available parking within eyesight, Tom made the executive decision to not ask his wife drive around in search of a place to stash our Jeep. Instead, he asked Vicki to drive past the marker slowly and he’d photograph the marker while holding me up at the opened window. While it would’ve been cool for me to stand at the buoy instead of doing a drive by shooting of the tourist trap, the fact the marker wasn’t situated at the actual furthest point south in the continental United States made it easier for me to swallow Tom’s decision. There were technically a couple of locations on the island of Key West that were geographically further south by several hundred feet. And for us purists who strive for perfection, Florida’s Ballast Key, which was located ten miles south and west of Key West, was the actual furthest point south in the continental United States.

We were nearly halfway through the ninth day of our 16-day adventure, and we reached the furthest point south on the trip. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and time to begin the long journey home. I knew my companions were happy to be leaving Key West, at least with their credit cards still intact. While our stay on the paradise island was nice, and we accomplished our goal of visiting the two major historical sites, I heard both Tom and Vicki say they weren’t anxious to ever return to Key West, Florida.

Roughly an hour into our drive north, just after we crossed the Seven-Mile Bridge, my photographer and his wife decided it was time for their lunch, or early dinner. After making a quick search on the internet for a place to eat, the three of us ended up at a trendy, outdoor eatery called Burdine’s Waterfront – which was located along the Boot Key Harbor near the town of Marathon.

When Tom and Vicki finished their meal, we sat in the parking lot of Burdine’s Waterfront while my photographer made reservations for an Everglades airboat ride scheduled for early the following morning. Unlike most of our other stops where we had advanced reservations, Tom wanted to see the weather forecast before obtaining the tickets for the hour-long Everglades tour.

Like it had been on Wednesday, the drive through the Keys was slow and steady, which surprised my two companions. They figured most people would be headed south for the weekend, but there seemed to be just as much traffic headed north on that early Friday afternoon.

Once we left the Florida Keys behind and were back on the mainland, the route through Homestead and along the west side of Miami wasn’t much better traffic-wise. And to add insult to injury, the south Florida countryside we passed wasn’t postcard-worthy either. As a matter of fact, the area in and around Homestead was very dirty, unkempt, and quite frankly, it looked like a dangerous place to be driving through. But once we had escaped that area with our lives intact, the remaining sixty miles of roadway along the eastern edge of the Everglades seemed a lot safer, as long as our Jeep didn’t break down out in the middle of nowhere.

At roughly 5:31pm, we finally made it to our hotel when Vicki pulled into the parking lot of the Double Tree by Hilton Hotel near Sunrise, Florida. We were staying in the perfect location – the hotel was less than two miles from the Everglades, and the Everglades Swamp Tours where we had airboat reservations was only twenty miles to the west of us.

Tom unpacked the Jeep while Vicki registered in the hotel’s lobby. Once we were in our room for the night, my photographer placed me alongside the television set where we watched the second round of the NFL Draft, followed by a couple episodes of the Andy Griffith Show.

When my camera guy turned off the room’s lights at 9:45pm, I was alone in the darkness where my imagination ran wild. At one point, shortly after my photographer began to snore, I envisioned the three of us were out in the middle of the Everglades when Tom held me over the edge of our airboat while a hungry alligator approached. My careless camera guy wanted to capture an action shot, when suddenly, he accidentally dropped me into the water. I was in full-blown panic mode. Luckily for me, I landed on a large clump of sawgrass, which kept me from sinking to the bottom of the swamp.

I wasn’t too concerned about my dream or premonition, as it was highly unlikely we’d see any alligators during our morning’s one-hour tour, let alone get close to one. My reasoning was justified because I overheard Tom tell his wife he might have seen the tail of a gator on his airboat ride in 1977, but he wasn’t totally sure if it was an alligator or not. It might have been a large fish.

With nothing to fear, or to keep me from wanting to board the airboat in the morning, no alligator was going to hinder my next adventure. In the words of the late, great Bill Haley, “See you later alligator, after ‘while crocodile. Can’t you see you’re in my way now, don’t you know you cramp my style. See you later alligator, after ‘while crocodile. See you later alligator, so long, that’s all, goodbye.”

** This post is dedicated to Steve, the most amazing tour guide I’ve ever crossed paths with. When it comes to keeping his audience engaged, the buck stops here with Steve. **