Randy Wayne White; photos by Bill Hirschman
I once visited a brothel.
Now that I’ve got your attention, let me explain.
My visit to this house of ill repute located on a quiet, residential street in Jackson, Miss., was because a colleague and I at the Clarion-Ledger were doing a series of articles on prostitution. The house was one of the most well-known secrets in town. I believe a police detective told us where to find it.
I remember us ringing the door-bell, stammering to the middle-aged woman who answered the door that we were doing a story on prostitution and she looking us and saying, “Well, that’s my thing, come on in.”
So for a couple of hours, my colleague, Joe, and I sat in her spic-and-span living room decorated with pictures of her 12 children (“That one’s a teacher, that one’s a doctor, those 3 are still in college.”) as she told us about her work, showed us a photo album of the girls who worked for her and served us coffee and cookies.
Later, for that same series, I was to meet a “working girl” at her apartment, an interview set up by her attorney. I waited outside for about an hour, but she never answered the door. Eventually – and I still don’t remember how this played out – I went in when the pest control man showed up, only to be confronted by her sleepy – and naked – pimp.
That was also the day my parents were coming to visit and no one at the newspaper would tell them where I was. (I ended up interviewing the woman at her attorney’s office.)
I had been working as a journalist for all of three months.
I tell you this story because that was the only unusual thing that happened to me while I was conducting interviews for a story.
That is until I interviewed Randy Wayne White, which is the lead story for this issue of Mystery Scene.
And just what does my story more than 30 years ago have to do with Florida author Randy Wayne White?
My interview with Randy will be one of those I will long remember, and with more fondness.
Never before has a person I was to interview asked me to bring towels, a hat and some water to the interview.
Randy, as my Mystery Scene story says, was going to swim across Tampa Bay with the Navy SEALS as a fund-raiser. I was to meet him at the end of the swim and, because he was unsure if his wife would be able to get this car over to the finish in time, I was to meet him with the towels to keep him warm after the swim.
So, at 7:30 a.m. Jan. 2, 2010, on one of the coldest mornings Tampa has seen, my husband, Bill Hirschman, and I waited at the park where the SEALS were to land. We were the only ones there and began to wonder if we were in the wrong place. Around 9 a.m. a swoosh of cars drove up, many with SEAL decals, and we knew were in the right place. (The swim had gotten started late.)
I was able to connect with his wife, the singer Wendy Webb who has a lovely voice, and we waited on the beach for the swimmers to stop all that foolishness and land. Because of the tide, they landed about a half-mile from where they were supposed to.
It was an amazing sight and no could help but be moved by watching these hearty men and women come ashore, freezing, but happy and knowing they had just raised money for a SEAL who had been disabled fighting for our country.
Bill took photographs of Randy when he came out of the water – one of those pictures accompanies my story. We lent him some towels and he sat in our car while his wife went to get their car. (We finally vacuumed the sand out a few days ago.)
We also had brought some snacks in case he was hungry. (I also brought along a tape recorder and a notebook, but those were for me.)
Randy’s swim plays a prominent part in my profile of him. I hope the story gives you Mystery Scene readers a different view of this author whose latest book is Deep Shadow, his 17th novel about Doc Ford, a marine biologist and former government op who lives on Florida’s Sanibel Island.
The swim certainly gave me a different view….and it beats my visit to the brothel by a mile.
