Category: Miami Stories

I’m one of the rare ones – a pre-Boomer (1942) who was born and raised in “Myam-uh” (natives still pronounce it that way) and still lives in South Florida.

My parents, first generation Sicilian-Americans, were a founding family of St. Michael’s Catholic Church in the ’40s, which celebrated mass in Miami High’s cafeteria, and later in the Dade County Auditorium.

Ours was the fourth house built on Second Terrace and 43rd Avenue – behind the Miami Children’s Hospital. FPL bought the corner in the late ’50s, and the hospital buildings were donated to become St. Dominic’s Catholic Church on Northwest Seventh Street. My parents were asked to be a founding family there, as well.

Mom was a bookkeeper for the fabled Zissen’s Bowery nightclub on North Miami Avenue and 17th Street. A longtime Miami and tourist favorite – sawdust on the floor, insulting waiters, bowls of fresh roasted peanuts and big steins of beer. Everyone got into the act or went “to jail” until the rest of their party bailed them out or they sang a song.

Dad was the sales manager at Modern Beauty Supply along the FEC Railway, north of the Miami-Dade County Courthouse, and then later at Daisy Beauty Supply on Southwest Eighth Street. Later, they owned the Andalusia Beauty Salon in Coral Gables behind the Miracle Theatre.

Me? I was an entrepreneur.

At 10, I had my first shoeshine stand, at Carl’s Market on Flagler and 43rd Avenue. I charged 10¢ a shine and ladies were my biggest customers – “drop ‘em off going in, pick ‘em up on the way out.” By 11, I had five shoeshine stands – 15¢ a shine, four of them manned by others who kicked me a nickel for every shine they did. Trust me, they all paid up – did I mention I’m Sicilian? My personal location by then was the gas station on the northwest corner of Flagler and Le Jeune. Everyone pumped their own gas, a perfect target for the “Shine, Mister?” pitch and, of course, with shines at 15¢ and gas at 25¢ a gallon, the odds of getting flipped a quarter (“keep the change, kid”) were pretty good. You had to be fast and good. I was, and got flipped a lot of quarters.

I went to a series of schools, including St. Theresa’s for kindergarten, Gesu Catholic in 1st grade, Kinloch Park for grades 2 and 3, the legendary Miami Military Academy in Miami Shores for grades 4, 5, and 6 (there’s a story for another time), St Michael’s Catholic School for grade 7, and Kinloch Park Jr. High, grades 8 and 9. Because we lived in a “neutral zone” for high schools, I had several choices. I chose Miami High along with most of my friends from Kinloch. We graduated in the class of 1960. Ours was the last class of our era, with more than 200 attendees at our 50th reunion. GO STINGS ’60!

Depending on which crowd you ran with, you either hung out for lunch (or more) at Shirley’s on Flagler, or Campus Corner, a glorious park in front of Miami High, later turned into a parking lot. At night, you cruised Paley’s Big Wheel Drive-In on Southwest 32nd Avenue and Coral Way, or the Pizza Palace on “The Trail” at 30th Avenue. A hot date was to pile into Dennis Craig’s Olds 88 convertible with our current “steady girls” and head to the Le Jeune Drive-In theater to make out, while trying to sneak in a load of friends in the trunk.

By 11th grade, I dated a girl living on Key Biscayne. It was quite a feat to hitchhike from Flagler and Le Jeune to Fernwood Road on the Key for a date, but hey, teenage hormones can overcome any obstacle – unless she scored her dad’s car and made the trek to the mainland.

The ‘50s in Miami was the greatest time to be a teenager. WWII had just ended, we had a benevolent president in the White House, an economy that was rocking (not to mention rock ’n’ roll), and the most stress you had was an algebra test on Monday.

There was so much to do (yet we always complained, “There ain’t nuthin’ ta do ‘round here”). There was the Monkey Jungle, Parrot Jungle, Matheson Hammock, and the Crandon Park Zoo. Bill Haas milked King cobras at the Serpentarium, and at Coral Castle a Latvian immigrant built a monument to teenage angst. A trip to Homestead down U.S. 1 for key lime pie was an adventure, as the tires went clakity-clak over the rubber expansion strips between each section of the highway.

On the weekends, we had Police Athletic League (PAL) dances at Bayfront Park Auditorium with WQAM’s Rick Shaw or the Police Benevolent Association (PBA) Hall on Northwest 14th Street, where WINZ’s Jerry Wichner would spin.

We saw the Fontainebleau replace the old Firestone Estate at 41st and Collins, cruised Collins Avenue from Lincoln Road to 71st Street, sneaking into the Wreck Bar at the Castaways for great rock ‘n’ roll, and for great jazz to the Johnina Hotel or Play Lounge on 79th Street Causeway, ending at Wolfie’s at 21st Street on Miami Beach for baskets of rolls and coffee.

Sundays, you were on a blanket with your sweetie at Crandon Park or 41st Street on “The Beach,” and you “danced Latin” at the 21st Street Beach Pavilion, near the Seagull Hotel where “Sleepy Time Gal” broadcast till dawn on WKAT.

Yeah… ‘50s Myam-uh… Dem were da dayz!

My mom and dad came to Miami around the turn of the century. The Everglades reached eastward to about where Milam Dairy Road is now located (named after the dairy that used to occupy the land).

The first half of my life was spent watching the effort to drain the Everglades. Without dry land, there would be no place for newcomers to live. Now we are trying to put the water back. When I was born, the Tamiami Trail (US 41) was still under construction. Fill for the roadway was dredged with a walking barge.

My earliest memory is of the 1926 hurricane, which devastated South Florida. The family was gathered in our house, a two-story, box-like wooden affair located at 529 NW 28 Street. We had not received a warning — we didn’t have a radio, but even with a radio, warnings were sparse.

My oldest brother (14 years older than I) was caught in the early part of the storm on Miami Beach at a beach party. He said waves were breaking over the roadway and they were almost blown into Government Cut.

During the storm cleanup, accomplished by residents, there was no looting. The National Guard was deployed with orders to shoot to kill anyone seen looting. An almost-demolished grocery store displayed a sign, “If you can’t pay, pay me later.”

We lived with various neighbors for months, until Dad could build another house – with borrowed money and voluntary labor. The other storms that followed, we tolerated them well.

For the next five years, we lived beside a rock road and had no electricity, running water, sewage, or any of the modern conveniences. There were no welfare programs or government help of any kind. Churches, Salvation Army and Red Cross did the best they could, but neighbors did more. I didn’t know we were poor, because everyone I knew had it tough. Water came from a well with a hand pump.

Dad built a small out house (privy) out back – a two holer with just enough room inside to drop your pants. Some sections of the city did not receive sewage until after World War II. I think the last privy to be removed was in Coral Gables. When the sewer was installed, it was piped underground to outlets along the shore of Biscayne Bay.

It was Sunday school and church every Sunday at Stanton Memorial Baptist on NW 2 Avenue and 29 Street, where my uncle Bill was a deacon. The church has since moved to North Miami. Buena Vista Elementary School was located just a block north. I rarely wore shoes to school, but always to church.

In the second grade I was allowed to work in the cafeteria and earn a free lunch. I must have been about ten years old the first time Dad took me to see the Olympia Theater. I can still visualize the rounded ceiling with twinkling stars and variety shows. The famous, buxom Mae West always drew large crowds.

There were many fishing trips down to the Keys. US 1 ended at Lower Matecumbe and the railroad continued on to Key West. There was a ferry if you wanted to take your car. When a hurricane destroyed the tracks, US 1 was extended along the same route, using some of the railroads supports. The road was narrow and rough, and we had a ball, bumping along on the back of a flat-bed truck. Wild lime trees grew on most of the larger islands, and some of the residents grew rock melons.

In my adult life I have never seen another rock melon. They looked something like a cantaloupe, but tasted better.

My schooling after elementary school was Robert E. Lee Junior High, just a few blocks from home. Like most teenagers in the ninth grade, I went a little bit crazy, skipping school so much it made passing unthinkable. I quit school and suffered a failed attempt to join the Marine Corps. I lied about my age, got a chauffeur’s driver’s license, and a job driving a delivery truck for Biscayne Chemical Co., located on Miami Avenue and NW 37 Street.

Seared into my mind is the memory of delivering, with no help, 50-gallon drums of chemicals to businesses on Flagler Street in the heart of Miami. After that work experience I was more than ready to return to school. Miami Edison High was six miles away. There were only three high schools. Transportation was provided by Mama, neighbors, or hitchhiking.

Miami Edison High consistently had the best football team in the state, sometimes the best in the nation. There was no age limit for football players until about 1938. When I graduated, the age limit was 20. Every Thanksgiving Day, Edison and Miami High played in the Orange Bowl. The game was always sold out, a feat the small University of Miami was never able to duplicate. Betting was widespread.

I graduated in midterm 1940, after flunking English twice. By the fall of that year I had learned the rudiments of welding and was hired by Eastern Airlines as a cleaner.

My Miami experience began in 1958 when we moved from Tampa, which was considered the big city, compared to Miami. Miami was the small town and just a place for tourists to visit, where Tampa, old and established, had it all.

In November 1958, we loaded up the ubiquitous ’57 Chevy station wagon and headed south to Miami down U.S. 41, the Tamiami Trail.

We rented a home in the Westwood Lakes area of southwest Miami while searching for a new home in southwest Dade, where my father’s job was located. Travel was not an easy affair, since the Palmetto (826) Expressway had not been built and all other roads were two lanes in all directions. Any trips north, south, east, or west always seemed to take a full day so we planned accordingly.

In the fall of 1959, my mother found our new home in the Builder Estates development located between Coral Way and Bird Road. These lots were barren, no trees and maybe no grass – sod was only available for additional dollars, and of course there was no air conditioning.

Our home was so close to Tropical Park race track, we could hear the horse races. For Saturday night entertainment, we would go to a drive-in movie at one of the two drive-ins located close by, Coral Way or Tropicaire. As with the rest of the country, drive-in theatres are now just in the history books.

There were no shopping malls close by, so shopping meant traveling down Bird Road or to Coral Gables. The closest, Red Bird Center, was located at the corner of Red and Bird roads. Grocery stores also were different. I remember Grand Union, Kwik Chek (Winn Dixie) and Stevens Market.

So many department stores came and went – Zayre, Treasury, Gold Triangle, Jackson’s (J Byrons), Jordan Marsh and, unfortunately, Richards and Burdines.

In June 1961, the Palmetto Expressway opened with much fanfare. I recall that to prepare the right of way for this road, houses at the end of our street were jacked up and hauled away on trailers to their new location. Before it opened to traffic, it was a great place to race our bikes and to play. After it opened, travel to other parts of the county was much easier. On Saturdays, my father and mother would pack us into the car and go on an adventure to explore parts of the county that, at that time, were completely undeveloped. Many trips took us to areas along Old Cutler Road and then to dirt roads to the bay; no homes were there and it was open to all. We would fish or look for things that had fallen off freighters making their way either to Miami or to some other far-off place.

Other trips took us way out to the one-lane Kendall Drive, where we would pick vegetables or fruit. In that same year, we began to hear of a proposed mall that was to be built on the property border by Kendall Drive and the new Palmetto Expressway. Everyone thought the developers were crazy, as this was out in the boondocks. In 1962, Dadeland Mall opened as an open-air mall with the seahorse fountain at the center and a grocery store. Business, as expected, was terrible given the far-out location, and many stores closed in the first few years.

My brother, sister and I attended public schools: Emerson, West Miami, Southwest and Miami-Dade Junior College. Because of the large population shifts into the south part of the county, many additional schools were being built, it seemed on every corner. No longer were the high schools few and far between. Soon, Coral Park, Killian and South Miami were built to relieve Southwest and Gables.

Another important piece of “history” was the Dade County Science Fair. Back in the early years, it really wasn’t a fair; it was where students presented incredible projects they had built. The Youth Fair part came later. The Science Fair originally was located at Dinner Key in Coconut Grove. Due to its popularity and the traffic problems, it was moved to its current location on Coral Way.

The old Pier 5 downtown was for our Sunday excursions and to see the fish that were being caught right off our door step. Today, those old piers have been replaced with offices or condominiums.

The places that used to seem so far away, such as Cutler Ridge, I now call home. My family lives in the Lakes by the Bay community, and we were there when Hurricane Andrew hit. Andrew was not like any storm we had ever experienced. Our house, with us inside, was basically destroyed around us. If it weren’t for the downstairs bath located under the stairs, we (four of us, two dogs, bird and hamster) most likely would have been injured, or worse. Andrew took everything, but we rebuilt and stayed in the Cutler Ridge area.

My first job was with Richards in 1971 at the Midway Mall, now called Mall of the Americas. After a while, I was promoted and spent some years in the downtown Miami store, which was a classic in both architecture and layout. Before my time, it had a second floor tea room that opened to the first floor. The other interesting feature was the basement store, which was actually a basement.

I am now semi-retired from the public schools, and I am enjoying my family. The memories of the old Miami will always stay with me and I like to share them with my friends and others about the way it was. They are memories of my childhood that I will always treasure.

I always felt special because I was born in Miami. My parents, like so many others, came from someplace else.

My father Jack Moore grew up in Waycross, Georgia and my mother Anne Parker in Maysville, Kentucky. My grandfather, John J. Moore, a lawyer and judge, moved to Florida during the great 1920s boom and settled in Stuart. My father moved to Miami as a young lawyer in 1930. It was at the height of the Great Depression. Times were tough he always reminded us

My mother came to Florida to attend Florida State College for Women, now FSU, in 1929. With the luck of the draw, she roomed with my father’s sister. She stayed only a year in Florida and graduated from the University of Kentucky and became an elementary school teacher there. During the summer of 1936, she visited her old roommate in Miami and at that time met my father. After a whirlwind romance, they married.

When I was born, the Moore family, which included my sister Pat and brother Bill, lived at 1367 SW Third St. in an area then called Riverside, now Little Havana. Our home was a wooden bungalow with a screened-in front porch. It was a perfect way to live before air conditioning. There were many children in the neighborhood and we spent most of our days outdoors — skating, biking and playing kick-the-can. I walked to Riverside Elementary and even came home for lunch.

We frequented two neighborhood shopping areas — one on Flagler Street and the other on what we called the Trail, now Calle Ocho. Every Saturday, my brother, sister and I walked to the Tower Theater to watch movies, cartoons, news reels and adventure serials. Twenty-five cents would buy admission, a drink and a bag of popcorn.

My family went to a downtown church so from my earliest years I was in downtown Miami at least once a week. As a result, I feel very much at home in downtown Miami, even today. There were four churches within walking distance of each other and their members frequently went to Luke’s Drug Store between Sunday school and church. Attending a downtown church made it possible to know people from all over Greater Miami. In high school, we even dated across town through friends we met in church youth groups. Because of these friends, I always saw Miami as a whole and not just as a sum of many parts.

When I was in the fourth grade we moved to Miami Shores. I thought we had moved to Jacksonville. Although this was considered an upward move for my family, I missed the old neighborhood and my friends. But I made new friends in Miami Shores, especially my best friend, Adele Khoury. We were the two tallest girls in the class and liked to call ourselves “back row” girls because we were always together on the back row in school pictures. We rode our bikes everywhere. We also went downtown on Bus 11 for a day at the movies and lunch at Royal Castle where hamburgers cost five cents. She remains my closest friend today.

I got my sense of history and my passion for Miami from my father. He always had his nose in a history book, taught me historical facts, a love for the constitution and took me around and told me things about Miami. “Remember this,” he would say. He ran for the City of Miami Commission when I was 5 and I remember passing out brochures at a rally in Bayfront Park. He and my mother set a good example by being involved in the community.

My family was ethnically Southern and I could talk and eat Southern-style. When it came to race, however, they were unlike most others who lived in then-segregated Miami. I was taught to respect everyone regardless of their race, religion, gender or ethnicity. My father often spoke out against segregation and anti-Semitism. Once, I remember being very embarrassed when he spoke out in a restaurant because the management would not admit black patrons. Years later, I realized how remarkable he was and how blessed I was to grow up in such an inclusive environment.

I went to college and my first career was an American history and government teacher. I taught at Miami Edison Senior High, my alma mater, the first year it was integrated. I also had a large group of young Cuban refugees in my class — many of whom had been sent to Miami without their parents. They taught me through example to respect the Cuban exiles who were moving to Miami. Many invited me to come visit them when they returned home to Cuba. Little did any of us realize that they would not be able to return for many years, if ever.

How lucky I was to be born and grow up in Miami.

Miami taught me to be open to change and to adapt to the unexpected. It taught me to accept people and welcome newcomers. It gave me an eagerness to learn. When I began writing Miami history and working to preserve its important places, I called on all these memories of people, places and events to help me. When I write about Miami, I always include everyone in the story. Each day, I realize more and more that there is no better place to live if you want a jump start on America’s future and always have a great story to tell.

I grew up in Miami. In 1964 my family relocated to Miami from Rhode Island, at the time I was six years old. The three of us, my mother, my sister, and my younger brother lived in a small house in the Roads section of Miami.

One of the first things I remember is the aroma of the mango trees. I had never been exposed to the abundance of tropical fruit trees or beaches with palm trees. The Miami architecture compared to nothing else. The school I had left in Rhode Island was brand new, very square, and very modern. The Miami schools had a Spanish style, and homes had red barrel tile roofs.

When I started second grade at Coral Way Elementary I was thrust in a program referred to as an “experiment” with bilingual schooling. I had half a day in English and half a day in Spanish. I had never been exposed to anything like it, and I loved it. I stayed in the program until middle school.

I had neighbors that were American, Jewish or Cuban. Rabbi Landau lived on the next block, and my best friends were Cuban refugees who had relocated to Miami Fidel Castro had taken over their home in Cuba and turned it into a military school for boys.

The Martinez/Herrera family had opened an auto parts store on 8th street. After school I would walk with my friends to their store. We went next door to the lunch counter and had Cuban bread with melted butter and a Coke.

Their family had their grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles all living in the same large house. Each person had a different duty and they ran their home so efficiently. My friends showed me a world filled with Cuban culture, palomilla, Cuban coffee; the excitement of their Quinceañera and the special bond between fathers and daughters. Through the Gouz family I learned about Bar Mitzvahs, Hanukkah, exposure to Jewish foods and the Temple Beth David.

My high school years were spent at Miami Senior High School. Now a historic landmark, my alma mater was built in 1928. The detail and architecture compare to no other.

Like Heidi Gouz and my sister before me, I joined the Miami Senior High School Band and became a Flagette. I twirled a flag and my life was filled with football games each week.

Not to be played at any an old football field, not for us, we performed in the Orange Bowl – with Astro-Turf back then. Our proms were not held in the gym – no, our proms were held at the Fontainebleau or the Eden Roc on South Beach.

New Year’s Eve always meant the Orange Bowl Parade, with Brickell Avenue painted white in preparation. We lined up at the DuPont Plaza hours in advance. Chuck Zink hosted as we marched through Downtown Miami. I loved being on TV.

Growing up in Miami gave my life such diversity and exposure to multiple cultures.

Miami enriched my life in a way that could never have been found anywhere else.

It was 1941. I was born at St. Francis Hospital on Miami Beach. My parents had met on the 14th Street beach a few years before.

This story is actually about my parents, Josie and Lou Adler. My mom and dad really made an impact in Miami musically. In the pictures, you will see a photo of my dad at the Deauville Hotel on Miami Beach where he was the head of the Lou Adler Orchestra. He also played the bass fiddle at the Delano, Saxony, and the Americana, to name a few. Those were great days.

We lived on Northeast 50th Street and Second Avenue, now the Design District. My dad’s orchestra was playing on Miami Beach and all the rehearsals were at my house. I was the most popular kid on the block. He and my mother, who was the organist at Temple Israel for more than 30 years, played for many weddings and bar mitzvahs over the years.

We loved to eat at the Boulevard Cafeteria and at Edith & Fritz, for lobster. We went to the Olympia and the Boulevard theaters for movies and went shopping at Richards and Lerner’s on Flagler Street. After Sunday school, my mother and I would go downtown to Burdines to the cafe inside and have the Snow Princess dessert. This was a beautiful doll with an ice cream skirt with silver sprinkles all around the skirt.

My brother, father and I joined the Jim Dooley fishing club and went fishing often. We took lessons on a big boat at the port, which is now the Port of Miami.

I went to Shadowlawn Elementary school, Edison Junior High and Edison High. The pep rallies rocked the school. All the kids would go to the Red Diamond Inn for pizza and to The Big Wheel drive-in. I became a “Debs” girl and attended many dances and had a great time at Temple Beth David on Coral Way.

I love to dance. My friend Sherna Simonhoff and I took dancing lessons with Hildegard, and my mother played for the dancers. Sherna and I danced around in her beautiful house in Morningside in our ballet pink. She and I loved to take the bus downtown; it was10 cents. To this day, when I’m here in the winter, Sherna, now Sherna Brody, and I still hang out.

I finished my last two years at Miami High in the concert orchestra playing the viola. Southwest Miami was a new world to me. I was introduced to “Little Jerusalem,” and L.J., as it was known, was loaded with kids from that part of town. I remember a Dick Clark’s American Bandstand broadcast and we danced like crazy. The only way my parents could find me in the crowd was to look for the lilacs in my hair.

I went to the University of Miami and became a teacher. I was at Treasure Island Elementary School for more than 30 years. I met my wonderful husband Norman and we have two beautiful children, Gregg and Jennifer. Those were the good old days. Miami is a wonderful, diverse place to live and the best is yet to come.