The uniquely Florida voice of Jimmy Buffett | Editorial

Jimmy Buffett left us at at the start of a long Labor Day weekend, as good a time as any for the Bard of Beach Bums to settle his tab.

Very few people are so readily identified in the public mind with Florida. Buffett is and always will be, and he worked very hard to maintain the cultivated image of a carefree roamer with sand between his toes. The tropical shirt. The chilled Margarita. The yearning to escape. The perpetual tan.

Behind that persona, however, was a shrewd businessman who was passionately devoted to his adopted state’s well-being and whose advocacy helped rescue our beloved manatees when they were on the brink of disappearing from Florida waters.

Buffett died Friday at age 76 in Sag Harbor, N.Y. from a long battle with a rare form of skin cancer, his official website said.

By his own admission, he wasn’t a great singer or an especially gifted guitarist. But he had remarkable staying power for six decades, with songs that evoked a dramatic sense of place in the same way that Bruce Springsteen embodied the gritty reality of working-class New Jersey or John Prine explored the hushed complexities of the Midwest. Even seeming digressions, such as Buffett’s mention of the “beaches of old Beirut” in a lesser-known treasure of a song called “Floridays” — make sense when viewed in the light of the Sunshine State’s long-standing and complicated history as a haven for combat-shredded veterans.

Not bad for a guy who couldn’t cut it in Nashville when he first tried to make it as a country singer.

He found his unique voice in Key West in the mid-’70s. It became the soundtrack for two generations with songs such as “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” “Come Monday,” “Bama Breeze,” and his signature song, “Margaritaville.”

Many of the troubadour’s obituaries were about the perceived contrast between Buffett the musician, who made Margaritaville the song famous; and Buffett the business tycoon, who spun gold with Margaritaville®. A trademarked brand, it became a business empire of hotels, condos, casinos, casual wear, wine coolers and even Latitude Margaritaville retirement communities.

He may have looked like he never worked a day in his life, but in real life he was a workaholic.

A shrewd businessman, too

He last had a solo chart hit with “Margaritaville” in 1977, but stayed on tour, performing for live crowds that seemed to get larger every year. A shrewd businessman, he became one of the richest recording artists in popular music history with an estimated net worth of up to $1 billion (more than Mick Jagger or Bruce Springsteen).

His fanatically devoted fans, known as Parrotheads, were in on the joke. Buffett even wrote a song called “Mailbox Money” about cashing royalty checks. What kept the myth alive was that he kept the common touch with his fans and his Key West roots, and his followers returned the loyalty.

To them, Buffett was about possibilities.

The possibility that somewhere there was a place along a gorgeous beach where just enough money could be made to keep a roof over your head and a drink in your hand. That we would all be comfortable in that life and not missing the small comforts and many more complications that have chained us to our modern lives. The possibility that however old he and we grew, that life was never out of reach, and it would never be too late to try.

He really knew his audience

Like any artist with a hard-core, dedicated following, a Buffett concert was as much about communion as it was about the music, and that was especially true in South Florida, where Buffett enjoyed a home-field advantage. The fans came out early, with leis and flamingos and parrots and tropical floral prints of an impossible variety, and, well, the margaritas flowed like wine.

Just as his business empire will roll on, producing revenue for the Buffett estate for decades to come, so will the idea that spawned it.

The patron saint of South Florida may be gone, but as long as there’s a ratty Hawaiian shirt in the closet and an open tab at the tiki bar, it’ll still be 5 o’clock in Margaritaville.

Broad political appeal

Buffett’s cultural appeal in Florida was so strong for so long that he was in high demand by Democratic politicians for endorsements or gestures of support, often with an environmental emphasis.

0Jimmy Buffett and Gov. Bob Graham hamming it up at the Florida Press Corps skits in Tallahassee in 1984.He strongly opposed offshore oil drilling and, with a close political ally, Gov. Bob Graham, founded the Save the Manatee Club in 1981.

Buffett recorded radio and TV messages to promote awareness of the plight of the endangered sea mammals and in 1989 lent his support to creation of the Save the Manatee specialty license plate.

Buffett performed a duet with Graham in Tallahassee during the annual press corps skits in 1984, as the two men swapped roles on stage. It may be the only known photo of Buffett in a jacket and tie.

Buffett gave Florida a sense of place, and he always remained close to his audience. His last Florida concert was in Key West in February, and his final public appearance was with one of his bandmates at an oceanside bar in Rhode Island on the Fourth of July weekend.

It was an improbable journey for a Catholic kid from Pascagoula, Miss. But in the end, Buffett lived out the lyric of his song, “Growing Older But Not Up”: “I’d rather die while I’m livin’ than live while I’m dead.”

The Orlando Sentinel Editorial Board includes Editor-in-chief Julie Anderson, Opinion Editor Krys Fluker and Viewpoints Editor Jay Reddick. The Sun Sentinel Editorial Board consists of Editorial Page Editor Steve Bousquet, Deputy Editorial Page Editor Dan Sweeney, editorial writer Martin Dyckman and Anderson. Email letters to insight@orlandosentinel.com.