Singh’s efforts have generally gone down well among the blithe spirits of Key West. Without Singh, the Truman Annex might have become “Meldorado,” a pirate theme park. But if islanders appreciate having a developer as sensitive as Pritam Singh, they are also worried that he is exerting a more profound influence on the island, as an apostle of good taste in a place long known for exuberant tackiness.

Key West has begun cracking down on noise, street vendors, store windows filled with obscene T shirts. Singh acknowledges his power to influence this trend: he will in time be paying 25% of the island’s tax revenues. Before the recent election, two of the five city commissioners were, by amazing coincidence, slated to have shops in his coveted retail space. But he argues that the city would be adjusting its image, growing up, even without him.

It’s possible to grow up, he suggests, without becoming dull. Among other anarchic touches, he plans to rent office space in his complex to environmental groups that “will drive other developers crazy.” He is restoring the Little White House to its tacky Truman-era splendor, spending $15,000 just to repair the Sears, Roebuck fluorescent lights on the porch. Presidential bad taste doesn’t trouble him, in part because he has income projections for his planned Truman museum. “The Little White House is a little gold mine,” he says. But he also claims he does not mean to make Key West precious and yuppified.

“Yeah, you’ve got the nice guardhouse,” he says. “You’ve also got Harry Truman in the middle, and across the street you’ve got the Peekaboo Lounge.” For the foreseeable future, Key West also has Singh, who is weird enough all by himself to keep the place interesting.

“Eh,” he shrugs. “It works.”

12.11.89