O'Malley's Alley allegedly near Fort Myers Beach

"The Alley"

"O'Malley's Alley" is one of the few bars on Estuary Beach that hasn't evolved to be 'touristy.' The owner didn't care what you do for a living or are retired from as long as you behave. They've welcomed working men and women for nearly 30 years along with every character on the island. When the city evolved, that didn't endear them to the 'newcomer' city council.

And it all started in the early 1960's when a group of local real estate brokers and developers joined together to form a grocery co-op. The civic-minded group wanted to have a modern facility to serve their growing but isolated community. A mid-60's hurricane doomed that plan and the store was vacant for several years.

Patrick 'Buzz' O'Malley retired from commercial fishing and approached the owners of the vacant grocery store about opening a bar in part of the building. The owners insisted he lease the whole building with the caveat to sub-lease when and as much as he needed, with their approval of course. Buzz was a shrewd business man himself who learned how to sell his fish catch for the highest price. He negotiated the lease to include a 99 year lease on the bar space and he sub-leased the rest of the store to a grocery chain. Having the original lease saved the alley many times.

When Buzz applied for a liquor they turned down the name “Buzz's Place.” It became 'O'Malley's' by default but Buzz owned the concept and design. The interior was a miss-mash of donated crab traps, commercial fishing gear and assorted memorabilia all hung by the waterborne locals.

The big items like the actual half moon bar and stage came from a used restaurant supply company. The coin operated laundry machines were supplied by a company who later went out of business and never picked them up.

The narrow lane is used by delivery trucks to reach the store's loading dock and as the only parking lot for the bar. The other access to O'Malley's Alley is the mangrove-lined canal that dead-ends a short 100 feet behind the building. The commercial fleet and anchorage's live-aboard boaters use the canal to reach the grocery store, the bar and the small laundromat.

O'Malley had been a successful commercial fisherman for over forty years. Buzz bought his first boat when he was 19 and went bottom fishing for grouper and snapper with a small crew. "The fish didn't jump into the boat then but it sure was better fishing," O'Malley told any interested party that would drink in his bar and listen to his tales of the old days.

"I fished with Mick's and Daigos and Niggers and Spics but my best of all crewman was a Greek boy name Sam! He stayed with me for 12 years," Buzz told his audience for the hundredth time. "He married and had two babies working with me. Then his wife went loony and shot him in his bed."

'Jeez, that's to bad,' someone at the bar would say and Buzz would continue with another story. When he really got going, he'd buy a round of draft beer for the six or eight customers at the bar. Draft beer was cheap and he loved telling his mostly true tall tales. 

He very rarely mentioned that the Greek survived the shooting and raised the kids while the wife was in the mental hospital. Nor, did he mention that he wouldn't take the Greek back as crew because he thought he shouldn't leave his wife alone with the kids.

He concentrated on the stories about the long trips. Up to a month away from home. Three men sleeping in close quarters for 3 and 4 weeks. Very little entertainment aboard except a record player. Far out in the Gulf of Mexico, 200 miles or more sometimes. O'Malley almost never needed to be out that long because his crew believed he could smell the fish. 

Even before the use of sophisticated depth finders, O'Malley knew where the fish were. He favored the area southwest of Estuary Beach near the Dry Tortugas (Turtles). In his early days the commercial fishing boats could fish right up to Fort Jefferson. In the protected anchorage the crews could take a little rest and relaxation while exploring the giant brick fort and trading fish for beer.


"Inside the park boundaries were the biggest fish you could imagine," Buzz laughed as he demonstrated by holding his hands farther and farther apart. "Then them government bastards closed the interior portion of the boundaries to commercial boats. Hell, today you can't fish hardly none of it!"

This blog/column is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Do not read while operating a vehicle or heavy machinery. Keep sending those great questions and comments! (Contact) boatguied@aol.com