There should have been trumpets blaring. At least that’s what I thought years later, pondering the moment’s significance in the launch of Jimmy Buffett’s Margaritaville empire. Or if not trumpets, there should have been dramatic background music — the kind that underscores a pivotal movie scene.
Instead, there was the chatter of happy-hour patrons, the soft wash of waves on tiny Dog Beach and the clink of cocktail glasses on the tray I carried toward a table of waiting customers.
It was 1984, a few months after Jimmy had hired me to transcribe his handwritten in-progress movie script. Key West was enjoying a relatively new tourism-based prosperity, but still had an outlaw vibe that drew well-known writers, celebrities and adventurers. At dusk there was still a tingle of electricity in the air, as though the coming night would bring something special and unforgettable.
That night, it did — because Jimmy and Sunshine Smith waylaid me on the oceanfront Afterdeck Bar at Louie’s Backyard restaurant, where I was a part-time waitress, with an announcement and a proposal.
Jimmy was going to open a place called the Margaritaville Store, he said, to sell T-shirts and memorabilia connected to his music and the lifestyle he sang about.
Sunshine was his business partner, and they wanted me to run the store’s planned mail-order division and write its monthly newsletter — to be named the “Coconut Telegraph” after Jimmy’s 1981 album.
Focused on delivering my tray of drinks, I was oblivious to the offer’s magnitude.
“Ummm … sure, Jimmy,” I said. “But I’m kind of busy now. Could we talk about it tomorrow?”
Several months later, after learning enough about mail-order to be vaguely competent, I sat on my apartment floor surrounded by children and 650 copies of the “Coconut Telegraph’s” first issue. We couldn’t afford a direct-mail service, so Sunshine’s young sons and their friends had been bribed to stick printed address labels and stamps on each copy.
“Jimmy Buffett Opens Margaritaville Store,” read the newsletter headline. My carefully crafted lead story described the store as “a cheerfully shabby place, with its weathered front porch, well-used rocking chair, and lobster-trap display cases.”
Located in Key West’s waterfront Lands End Village, the store was hardly bigger than a large hotel room and filled with vivid Buffett-themed and island-style merchandise. Its opening on Jan. 28, 1985, was marked by festivities including the Margaritaville Film Festival — featuring screenings of Buffett videos, classic films shot in the Keys and lively commentary by Jimmy himself.
Behind the store was a closet-sized office with desks for intuitive leader Sunshine, store manager Lauri McLaughlin and me. We shared the office with huge boxes of T-shirts, a counter for folding and shipping them, a lovely woman named Cas and later the irreplaceable Sharon Lehmann. Together, they guided the store’s growth.
As for me, I wrote and edited the “Coconut Telegraph” for nearly three years. Story topics included Jimmy’s environmental work to save manatees, his debut of “Last Mango in Paris” about Key West’s famed Captain Tony, and his 1985 visit to the Spanish galleon Atocha wreck site when the salvage crew discovered its priceless “mother lode” of treasure and artifacts.
There was even a periodic “Dirt from the Road” column, contributed by Jimmy’s Coral Reefer Band member Fingers Taylor, about exploits on tour.
It was all great fun. Eventually, though, I was offered an irresistible journalism gig and moved on.
The “Coconut Telegraph” and mail-order enterprise expanded significantly under the skilled leadership of Marty Lehmann. The Margaritaville Store relocated to Duval Street, where it still flourishes, and inspired the creation of today’s multifaceted business empire.
Yet those early days — days spent writing the first few “Coconut Telegraph” issues and watching Jimmy’s dream come to life — remain a magical memory. We were almost convinced, back then, that Margaritaville was the center of the universe.
There really should have been trumpets.
