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Recently in Salon People

Nothing Personal
The frog prince of Bel-Air
Batgirl caught in amphibian love nest! Plus: I cc NY? Carl Swanson e-goofs, Toby Young attacks. And: Hillary is just so dateable.com!
By Amy Reiter
[01/28/00]

People Feature
Price of fame
Puffy was there, and the Goo Goo Dolls, and I almost ran over Kurt Loder. But everyone was working. So, all of a sudden, we missed the lame party with the imported transvestites.
By David Goodman
[01/28/00]

People Feature
A conversation with Errol Morris
Eating a reality sandwich at the Carnegie Deli with a connoisseur of the ironic, the naive and the appalling.
By Rex Doane
[01/29/00]

Nothing Personal
"Pink Gerbils"?
Yikes! John Waters is coming back; Marianne Faithfull puts an end to vicious ancient rumors, starts new ones. Plus: A slap in the face and a sock in the pants: Tom Cruise gets his Calvins in a wad.
By Amy Reiter
[01/29/00]

Nothing Personal
Oo! Wah dat?
Naked Philippines actress: "I was the fifth Teletubby"; Dean Cain's steely resolve; Posh Spice on spin/bladder control; and Monica opens her big mouth again!
By Amy Reiter
[01/31/00]

Complete archives for People

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"But in your heart, don't you feel, Get out of my territory?" I ask.

"No," he says. "I don't have a choice. My work at the newspaper is so much fuel to burn. I was on the investigation team at the [Miami] Herald. And that particular kind of newspaper work, you can go months without writing. You're up to your ass in files. You're putting together these big projects, but you're not writing every day. If you like to write, at the end of the day you're gnawing on your fingernails. I wrote because I needed to write."

Our fish arrives. As we anoint it with squeezed citrus I bring up an old TV show: "Florida really became the capital of noir with 'Miami Vice.'"

"That had a lot to do with it," he agrees. "Which is funny because the show really was a cartoon. Every year I'd do an end-of-the-season body count on 'Miami Vice.' It was hilarious the number of people who'd die on that show. It's still big in Europe." He then tells how the titles of his first books were changed when they were translated to German. "The name 'Tourist Season' didn't mean anything to them. Another one was called 'Double Whammy.' And 'Skin Tight.' They changed everything. One was 'Miami Murder.' The other was 'Miami Death.' And the other was something like -- 'Miami Gangsters.'" He gives a good laugh. "Everyone has a blazing gun on the cover. Nothing to do with the book. Very funny."

I eat some fish. It's almost tasteless. But it seems somehow like the height of civilization. Thinking of such things, I start slamming Key West.

"Key West," Hiaasen says, rolling his eyes. He tells me the Russian mafia run some of the T-shirt stores on Duvall Street. "Key West trades in on the name 'Hemingway,'" he says. "You can't take a leak without seeing Hemingway this and Hemingway that. And the irony is, if Hemingway were alive today he'd take a blowtorch to Duvall Street."

"Is there any kind of literary community in Florida?" I ask.

"In terms of location or spiritual community?" he asks back.

"A hierarchy."

Hiaasen laughs. "I live on Islamorada, which is halfway between Miami and Key West. I can tell you there's no literati there. It's a fishing community. If I was a Miami city person I would be plugged into the literary hierarchy. There are a lot of people writing books there. A lot of people writing about the Cuban experience -- which is good because it's something the rest of us are completely unqualified to write about."

"You're not the first Floridian I've lunched with," I say. "I had lunch with big deal lawyer Roy Black, who told me Miami was the capital of Latin America."

Hiaasen nods. "Look at what's happened in the papers the last couple of weeks. This 6-year-old kid. Unbelievable." I instantly know he means the Cuban kid whose mother drowned smuggling him to Florida. "Their idea to get public sympathy for this child's cause is to block intersections," Hiaasen says. "Someone is going to get killed over this. It's insanity."

We continue eating our innocuous fish and discuss his career as a columnist vs. his novels. "It's hard to explain," he says. "The books are wonderful. They stick around and the columns are in the bird cage in a couple days. [No they aren't! Hiaasen's columns have been recently collected in "Kick Ass."] But in terms of immediate impact, when the juices are running the hottest and the public attention is the most intense, the columns are wonderful."

He tells me the Cuban kid is a good example. "A book about this case started today wouldn't be out for a year and half. A column can be out the next day. You can say, 'Stop this madness. Get this boy back to his father.' You can get in the paper. And people are talking about you. Screaming about you on talk radio. But in the middle of the fray, writing a novel is a much different muscle to be exercised. Writing-wise it's more challenging. More absorbing. A column is more of an extravagance. Not a duty, but something I feel a real strong moral obligation to do." He pauses. "If I stood at a rally and said -- as some Cubans did -- maybe this boy's father should be given some consideration, I'd be booed. Jeered. Chased. And this has been going on for 15 years. Dissension is not tolerated by the people who fled Fidel Castro in the name of tolerance."

"Have you been stalked by Cubans?" I ask.

"No," Hiaasen answers. "You know why? Because I'm not Cuban myself. I remember walking into the newsroom. There was a young Hispanic reporter in tears at her desk. She'd just had a death threat for the most innocuous story imaginable. For daring to suggest that there are two sides to every issue."

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