To Have and Have Another

The floor trembled as I felt a powerful presence sidle up to the bar and plop down beside me.

“I’ll have a bowl of conch chowder with a Kalik beer and keep the beers coming.” his loud voice boomed.

The time was in the mid 1930’s and I was nursing a beer at the Compleat Angler in Bimini, Bahamas at 11:30 in the morning, trying to cure a hangover from the night before, when Ernest Hemingway sat down beside me.

“Whatcha doing in Bimini?” I asked, trying to start a conversation with this colorful character.

“I’m tired of sitting down at my typewriter and bleeding,” he laughed in reply. “I like to swim, eat, drink, work, read and talk but I can’t drink while I’m working or I’ll never get anything done! My motto is To Have and Have Another.

I knew him by his reputation as a famous writer but he was not at all intimidating. In fact, he jousted with me as if he were an old friend. Since his notoriety preceded him, I realized that he was most at home on a barstool.

“If you want to know a culture, spend a night in its bars,” he joked. “I try to remember to always do sober what I said I’d do drunk to teach myself to keep my mouth shut!”

“Are you enjoying your stay in Bimini?” I asked trying to keep up the conversation with this revered man.

“Well,” he chuckled, “I Iike to fish, fight and drink, so this little corner of heaven in perfect!”

As I looked around the Compleat Angler Bar and Hotel, I noticed pictures of Hemingway plastered on the walls holding out marlins, tuna and swordfish, showing his bravado and ruggedness! There was a much-repeated myth of him being “King” on Bimini!

“I’m writing a novel,” he intoned, “called Islands in the Stream but it’s taking longer than I thought it would because there are too many temptations here." At that moment, a beautiful Hispanic girl sat down beside him and kissed him with familiarity.

Soon, I noticed them both drinking dry martinis and paying attention only to each other. I left the bar, joining some friends on their boat and never saw him again.

In 1961, I was saddened to read that Hemingway died of a self-inflicted shotgun wound in Ketchum, Idaho which his fourth wife claimed was accidental. His novel, Islands in the Stream, penned in Bimini was released posthumously, found among his works by his wife. His last words ever uttered were, “Goodnight, Kitten!” I felt like I had lost a friend.

Footnote: The bar so loved by Hemingway, The Compleat Angler burned to the ground on Friday the 13th, 2006. I felt almost like it was playing homage to its favorite customer! (How could it continue to go on without him?"