Return of the Gator

Back in 1995, when my second Tony Lowell Mystery, Eye of the Gator was published (with all due acclaim) my then-publisher, St. Martin's Press, sent me to Gainesville, Florida, for a booksigning. Of course those in the sports world know Gainesville to be home of the University of Florida (and thus, presumably, lots of educated people as well, interested in the themes I was hoping to bring to the table) and naturally, anything with 'Gator' in the title should resonate loudly there. Besides, my laid-back P.I. was (albeit fictional) an alumnus of that fabled school. Unfortunately, I quickly discovered that, even in the hometown of the Florida Gator, anything that didn't involve All American quarterbacks, NBA-bound point guards, or at least Ted Bundy or Tom Petty, didn't qualify. Thus my books, and presence, were met with resounding yawns.

What my book was actually about, of course, in fact had little to do with the sports Gators and their fans. In fact, it had nothing to do with them whatsoever, other than that both were set in Florida, and there were alligators lurking somewhere around. My 'Gator' had been inspired by a recent event in central Florida, in a region chillingly known as 'Bone Valley.' There is a once-lovely river there called the Alafia, which flows through what is now phosphate mining country. Back in the '90s people living along that river were met one morning with the spectacle of thousands of dead bodies floating downstream. It reminded me of the Mekong River post Pol Pot. But this was a clear and present danger, taking place right here in tourist country, and it was a major shock. Of course most of these bodies floating down the Alafia weren't human. They were, however, pretty much everything else that had once lived in that river, which, thanks to a chemical spill by the aforementioned phospate mines, was now dead. Including more than a few hundred alligators, now belly-up for all the world to see. And smell.

My subsequent book, while a mystery novel, was about domestic violence, race relations, a toxic chemical spill, and a murderous attempt to cover it up. This was, in fact, arguably the original eco-thriller. But I should add that there was also a sports star involved in my plot: an ethically and morally challenged former baseball Hall of Famer with a penchant for violence his adoring public was all-too willing to forgive. This, of course, being a novel, was a character completely unrelated to anyone living or dead. I mention all this because Eye of the Gator is now back in print. It seems that all of these events, while perhaps seemingly unrelated to the college scene in Gainesville then or now, has everything to do with what is still happening in our world. Perhaps even more so than in 1995. Hopefully this time the yawns won't be quite so loud. My ears are still ringing.