THE JAUNDICED EYE

The Associated Press recently reported that a Friends of Libraries, U.S.A., list of National Literary Landmarks includes “the Algonquin Hotel in New York, the Edgar Allen Poe house in Philadelphia and the Robert Frost cottage in Key West, Fla.”

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Never forget that Christmas engagement party he threw for Jayne Mansfield and Mickey Hargitay. “Oh-oh,” everybody said around 3 a.m., “the Frost Man’s going into his Ed Sullivan bit!” He and Peter Lawford were “batching it” in Key West that winter. People said it was Sam Giancana who built him that New Hampshire-shaped front yard pool, but it was actually screenwriting money from “The Sound of Music.” He’d belly-flop into it--tweeds, scarf and all--the minute he arrived after the endless train ride south from New England. The sign he hand-lettered still hangs from the cabana: “Fences make good neighbors, and they keep them the hell out of my pool!”

“Stopping By the Greyhound Track on a Humid Evening.” That sequel was the only poem Bobby ever wrote in Key West. Not good. The missus burned it later. Had a legend to maintain, you see. But the muse was on hold. Bobby got down there to get down, so to say, and he went tropical all the way.

Those long, lonely Northern winters, he wanted to forget ‘em! There’s no parlor in the house, just a big party room. Bamboo furniture, wet bar, those kitschy knickknacks his pals brought him--like that cute little outhouse table lighter, a gift from Fidel. Fidel and Bobby! Inseparable! His car had that “I (Heart) Havana” bumper sticker, remember? Upstairs in the house, the circular bed and mirrored ceiling are just as they were. His flamingo-pink golf bag still leans against the wall. Mediocre short-iron game but his drives--boom! Hemingway quit playing with him rather than keep losing.

The study, though, always seems to disappoint Frost fans. You know, where’s the roll-top desk, the kerosene lamp, the inkstand? Hey, Frosty came to Key West to kick back! Barcalounger, pinball machine. The Library of Congress got all those 8x10 glossies on the wall: Bobby with Miss Everglades, Bobby with the mayor of Key West, Bobby at Hialeah with J. Edgar, Bobby with the maitre d’ from Tony’s Italian.

He was still of the north, of course. Like that huge picture window, letting in the sultry Florida light, overlooking the barbecue pit--with all that corny fake snow in the corners.

Altogether, a four-star rating for a lit landmark. But you do wish the tour guides would drop their fake New England accents and just toss those awful Bobby Frost wigs with the bangs in front. And somebody please deep-six that background music tape. “Sleighride,” “Frosty the Snow Man,” “Let it Snow”--Frost in Key West was slightly weird. That music in his Key West cottage is downright grotesque!