How I got here: Henry Geiger

His folks safely pulling out of the driveway my dad waited in the family room while his burly German grandfather Robert emerged from the guest room clutching a black leather satchel. Unbelting it he opened the two halves and laid it flat on the table before the wide and curious eyes of my 9 years old dad. Neatly held within the case were rows of egg sized leather hoods and curved glittering knife blades with short leather straps tied to one end.

My great grandfather had come to visit Sacramento from Florida not only to sell insurance as he told everyone else. Dad's grandpa Robert was a dirty rotten cock fighter. Talk about skeletons.

Family stories don't get passed down through the generations the way they used to. The old oral traditions were an important way of not only honoring our family past, they served as a kind of entertainment in a time before electronics and other distractions. Has anyone else had the chance to play a "parlor game" emceed by their grandmother before the term completely faded away? I did.

My dad was thoroughly entranced by this near stranger from a far away land, and now he was the sole keeper of the old man's great secret. He was ripe for believing whatever grandpa had to offer next. And what followed was a whopper.

We were descendants of pirates, Grandpa Robert said. Yes, the real types of pirates who took treasure from the ships of others and then buried it on an exotic isle that was named nothing less than the "Geiger Keys" somewhere off the Florida coast. The treasure was still there, he promised, hidden beneath trees planted long ago to conceal it's location. My dad's eyes must have been bugged out of his head.

Naturally this story got passed on to me when I was young, but it seemed so far away and so long ago that any search would be futile--assuming that the story was true at all. And of course it wasn't true, or at least not entirely.

The truth was Captain John Geiger did live in Key West, but he wasn't a pirate. He was the regions first marine pilot and a wrecker in the early and mid-1800's. Which meant if you didn't hire him as guide through the shallow ports and reefs you risked running aground and wrecking your ship, where he would salvage the mess. Sort of a pay me now or pay me later type of business. Smart guy and he got rich doing this.

Captain John was good friends with John Audubon, the famous studier and painter of birds. It was local myth that each time Audubon returned to visit the Geiger house, fresh from some exotic port, he would gift his host some type of tree or shrub. With each new planting, or so the legend goes, the good Captain used the occasion to conceal booty, much more than he ever claimed in his accounting books. Today the trees and garden still thrive behind the old mansion, although the place now carries the misnomer "Audubon House" in Key West. Weddings and other social events take place there and I have to wonder if anyone knows enough to consider what might be just below their feet.

Good story. Real good story. Too bad I'm not related to Captain John Geiger.

No, but I am a descendant of his poor brother Henry! You might say the forgotten Geiger of south Florida. So forgotten in fact that the Geiger Keys (they really do exist) of Boca Chica are now incorrectly attributed to John who lived more than 10 miles away.

Henry moved to Key West as a part of the "Armed Occupation Act", which was the governments way of driving out the Seminole Indians. He cleared the land, raised crops and tanned animal hides for the Key West markets, signaling passing ships with a long pole set up on the beach outside his small gabled house. Henry also sold firewood at $3.50 a cord to his more local clients. He lived in the small place and worked it's 160 acres for nearly 30 years and although he probably never married--he did have a son. And thank goodness for that or my kids wouldn't have me to teach them how to shave when they get older.

Someday I'm going to take my boys to the Geiger Key Marina and Smokehouse which sits on the site of the old farm and we'll drink a toast to old Henry!

Henry's line stayed in Florida until my grandfather moved from there to California with his family in the early 30's. Which is one reason Robert Geiger came to visit his son and my dad years later during that illicit "sales trip".

He brought with him his family tales, both real and...not so real.

http://www.geigerkeymarina.com

http://www.audubonhouse.com