One Last Treasure To Find

Tampa -
Twenty-five years ago, when the nation wondered "Who shot J.R.?" Tampa was riveted by its own cliffhanger.

Ours involved a multimillionaire who had an affinity for cowboy hats, hard liquor and beautiful women. Our leading man struck it rich, not in oil, but in seafood. And we wanted to know: Was Gene Holloway alive or dead?

We followed his exploits - the mysterious fires, faked death, prison term - and his attempts to rebuild his business and reputation. We watched his priceless art collection auctioned off piece by piece. We gawked when he dared to bring Chippendales dancers to conservative Citrus County.

But Tampa hasn't heard from Gene Holloway in a while.

The man who once craved publicity like oxygen now values his privacy. He earned his first millions by his 35th birthday but now lives on Social Security in a modest ranch home in Odessa. After five failed marriages, he found a woman he could stay with, despite her failing health. He has spent the past 14 years on a quest to find a buried treasure.

Gene Holloway is 69. For the first time, he's at peace.

"I've been rich. I've been in jail. I've had beautiful women. I've had big, beautiful homes. I've done it," Holloway said. "I'm happy that in my waning years, I have a challenge that keeps my heart light."

The Showman

Born in Sulphur Springs in 1937, Hudson Eugene Holloway grew to become a folk hero in his hometown of Tampa. Impoverished as a child, he turned a successful food sales career into a seafood empire as the main supplier for the Red Lobster restaurant chain. He opened his first Sea Wolf restaurant in Lakeland to rave reviews.

He spent millions in 1979 to build Tampa's Sea Wolf, the most fabulous and elegant restaurant of its time. The sprawling complex sat on 14 acres across from Busch Gardens. It seated 500 but was so successful that customers sometimes had to wait hours to be get a table. By the end of its first year, the Sea Wolf was one of the top 10 grossing restaurants in the nation.

Tampa native Mary Copeland remembers meeting the charming owner on her first visit to the Sea Wolf.

"We were just in awe," she said. "It was just so beautiful and full of antiques. You just felt like you were someplace else, and he was such a gentleman. He was so proud of everything. He took us on a personal tour of the gardens."

When he built the Sea Wolf, Holloway wanted it to be the anti-Red Lobster. There would be no anchors or fish netting on the walls. "I just knew I wanted it to be classy," he said.

He plunked much of his personal fortune into the restaurant. Every wall was covered with hand-carved, wormy chestnut paneling. Each room became a gallery for Holloway's growing collection of art, antiques and exotic animals. Rooms were designed to accommodate numerous panes of Louis Tiffany stained glass, a Steinway grand piano or two 1,000-gallon aquariums. Windows overlooked the lush gardens, where peacocks roamed amid enormous palms and tropical plants.

Andrew Huse, who is writing a book about Tampa's historical restaurants, said the Sea Wolf and its owner signified the excesses of the disco era.

"He could have built a Red Lobster there, and the thing would have run itself," Huse said. "But instead he built this big, beautiful restaurant just because he could. And it was affordable. You may not be able to afford to take the family to Busch Gardens, but you could go out to eat at the Sea Wolf."

Holloway's ability to keep prices low was a testament to his connections in the business. Every item on the lunch menu was $4 or less.

The popular Sea Wolf platter, priced at $5.85, included a half lobster tail with crab stuffing, shrimp, scallops, a fish fillet, hush puppies and a trip to the salad bar.

On its busiest days, the Sea Wolf served more than 6,000 meals. "To be able to feed as many people as we did, our kitchen worked like a Swiss watch," Holloway said.

Holloway and his glamorous fourth wife, the former Debbie Jean Ponton, were part of the draw. He had crafted an image that was part folk hero and part movie star. He had climbed mountains, earned millions, romanced beautiful women.

Debbie Holloway was a former Miss Tampa who enjoyed skydiving and collecting exotic animals. They raised tigers, cougars, panthers and other large cats on their 60-acre Thonotosassa ranch. They kept a stable full of Clydesdale horses that would ferry customers from the parking lot to the restaurant.

"Tampa's elite is either really boring or just creepy," Huse said. " Holloway never went out of character. People love the rags-to-riches story. He was emblematic of the time."

When he reflects on those days, Holloway describes himself as "young and dumb and full of juice." He had a short temper and was known to hold a grudge. He called it his checkerboard - mind games he would play to get even with people who had wronged him, such as the employees who tried to unionize the restaurant.

Within six months, Holloway had fired them all. "I nailed their fannies to the cross," he said.

Holloway associated with known drug dealers, and the Florida Department of Law Enforcement suspected he was involved to some degree. "We think he was running with the big dogs, but he played a peripheral role," investigator Kent McGregor said.

In 1979, with the gasoline shortage cutting into his profits and the nation embarrassed about the Iran hostage crisis, Holloway decided America needed "a real man" in the White House. A heavy night of drinking with fellow Rough Riders krewe members convinced Holloway he was the man.

He sold his original Lakeland restaurant to finance the campaign.

Julie Harris was a college student then. She enjoyed hanging out at the Sea Wolf's Roosevelt Lounge. "Back then, the drinking age was 18," she said. One night, she struck up a conversation with Holloway about politics and caught the bug. She volunteered on his presidential campaign.

"I don't know that any of us took it seriously," she said. "But we stuffed envelopes. It was the first campaign I ever worked on. I still have a T-shirt."

The ill-fated campaign cost Holloway $65,000. He never made it onto a ballot. By 1980, his marriage was falling apart, and Holloway had lost interest in running the restaurant.

"I built it with the idea that someone else would run it," he said. "I love to build things, get them going and then sell them. But the complexity of this thing, it was just too much."

Debbie Holloway agreed. "It's a very tough business," she said. "There were nights we didn't get out of there until 2 or 3 in the morning."

Gene Holloway always had been a heavy drinker, but he also began abusing drugs. Women were another addiction. Debbie filed for divorce in spring 1981. The next night, the couple's ranch house burned to the ground. Fire investigators found evidence of arson.

They could never prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he did it. Holloway bragged to friends that he torched the place. Now he just smiles and says, "I played a mean game of checkers."

Overboard

When he disappeared off a boat in the Keys a few months later, law enforcement officials were suspicious.

Al Scuderi worked in the FBI's Tampa office. "Nobody believed it when he supposedly went overboard," Scuderi said.

The Coast Guard searched for a body. Every day, local newspapers published detailed accounts of the search. There were stories of $16 million life insurance policies, drug connections, affairs, stolen yachts and alleged sightings. A suspicious fire broke out in the offices of the Sea Wolf.

The mystery lasted 38 days.

In November 1981, police arrested Holloway in a Toronto hotel with a new girlfriend, a new name and a briefcase full of cash. He had a new face, thanks to minor plastic surgery and hair dye. But with his full-length fur coats, feathered cowboy hats and $100 bills, Holloway hadn't exactly blended in.

"I really felt like I was on vacation," he said. "I had always planned to come back."

Retired detective Brian Clark remembers the case like it was yesterday. When Holloway finally acknowledged his true identity, the two shared a drink of Jack Daniel's in the Toronto police station. "He struck me as a bit of a gentleman," Clark said.

Holloway's rogue act made him a national celebrity. Radio stations played songs about him. Johnny Carson joked about him. There were look-alike contests. He had become a caricature of his earlier self.

"Whoever looked over me knew my lifestyle had to change," he said. "I needed to be put under wraps for a while."

Treasure Hunter

After being acquitted in the ranch house arson case, Holloway pleaded guilty to a single count of conspiracy to commit fraud in exchange for a five-year sentence. He was released from prison in 1985 and attempted to re-create the Sea Wolf's magic with scaled-down versions in south Tampa and on Busch Boulevard. Holloway still had a following, but the new restaurants didn't have the panache of the original.

He teamed with adult-business tycoon Joe Redner to bring the Sea Wolf to Homosassa Springs in 1989. It was his last attempt at making it in the restaurant business. The landmark restaurant on Busch burned to the ground in 1991 - another arson. About that time, Holloway found a new passion.

"I'm a dyed-in-the-wool treasure hunter," he said.

Holloway has spent the past 14 years on his buddy's boat or combing the riverbanks of Pasco County with a molecular frequency discriminator built to his specifications. He is fine-tuning the equipment so that when he gets back on the water, he'll be able to find what he is looking for.

Holloway has claims on three shipwrecks in the Gulf of Mexico below 300 feet of water. His photographs show the barely recognizable outlines of cannons on the ocean floor. And beneath the surface? "About $200 million in buried gold, silver, emeralds and diamonds," he said. "It's out there. If I don't find it now, it's because I'm not smart enough."

His close friends, the ones who have stuck by him through the rough times, think he'll find his treasure.

"I hope he does," Harris said. "I think you'll never find it if you don't look for it."

(CHART) TIMELINE

May 1, 1937: Hudson Eugene Holloway is born in Tampa. He is one of four children.

1955: He graduates from Hillsborough High School and enlists in the Navy.

1958: Holloway volunteers for Operation Deep Freeze and climbs Mount Erebus in Antarctica.

1973: He sells his seafood distribution company to General Mills for millions.

1977: He opens the first Sea Wolf restaurant in Lakeland and starts building a Sea Wolf on Busch Boulevard in Tampa. He marries a former Miss Tampa, Debbie Jean Ponton, his fourth wife, and collects exotic animals, including Bengal tigers.

1979: Tampa's Sea Wolf generates $5 million in revenue in its first year and is named the eighth-largest restaurant in the nation based on sales.

1980: Holloway sells the Lakeland restaurant and runs for president under the Bull Moose Party.

April 1981: His wife files for divorce. The couple's ranch house burns to the ground. Arson is suspected.

September 1981: Gene Holloway is reported missing and assumed drowned in the Keys. Two weeks later, a fire breaks out in the offices of Sea Wolf.

Nov. 12, 1981: Holloway is arrested in Toronto using an alias and carrying $270,000 in cash.

Dec. 10, 1981: Holloway is indicted on conspiracy, mail fraud, wire fraud and perjury charges. Days later, the Internal Revenue Service announces plans to auction off his antiques and art collection.

Jan. 18-29, 1982: Holloway is tried on arson and insurance fraud charges related to the fire at his ranch. He is acquitted.

March 25, 1982: Holloway and three co-defendants plead guilty to one count each of conspiracy. Holloway is sentenced to five years in federal prison; the others get probation. While in prison, Holloway divorces Debbie and marries Susan Wall, whom he met while on the lam in Canada.

1985-90: He is released from prison and reopens the Sea Wolf at Best Western on Busch Boulevard and one in south Tampa. Both restaurants fail. He partners with Joe Redner to open Sea Wolf in Citrus County.

1991: The empty Tobacco Co. restaurant, the site of the original Busch Boulevard Sea Wolf, is destroyed by fire. Arson is suspected.

1992: Holloway starts his final pursuit, deep-sea treasure hunting.

Reporter Laura Kinsler can be reached at (813) 865-4844.