Category: Miami Stories

My father, Jacob Siegel, came to Florida from Livingston Manor in the Catskill Mountains in New York State. That was in 1925 during the boom in Miami. He and a friend started a concrete block plant in Little River. He went back home to see if the family was well in 1926. He had my mother, brothers George and Harold, and my sister Frances and me. While he was gone the great 1926 hurricane struck and completely wiped out the concrete block plant. He loved Miami and always wanted to return.

In time he had three gas stations on Route 25 in New Jersey: two in Rahway and one in Avenel. When the Depression hit in 1929, the banks foreclosed the mortgages on the three stations and he lost everything again. At that point he decided to start a new life in Florida. My brother George was working on a ship that went from Miami to Argentina so my father brought my mother, my brother Harold and me to Miami. He bought a gas station on Northwest 7th Avenue in Little River.

I was 10 years old and no one wanted to rent a room to anyone with a child. My father then bought what was called a railroad shack in Little River on 79th Street and it had an outhouse in the back yard. Within a week we had indoor plumbing and a bathroom. There wasn’t anything my father couldn’t do. We lived there for about a year and I went to Little River School.

He was looking for something he could do to make a living. He had been a painter and decorator in New York before moving to New Jersey so he started a painting company in Miami, Siegel Painting Company. He painted the Army barracks in Jacksonville and several other Army installations. He had painted some buildings in Clewiston and made many friends there.

One weekend when he was getting ready to return to Miami, he stopped at a gas station and asked them to check a tire on the car. He thought that it was low and might have a slow leak. When he left the station it was getting dark. As you drive past Clewiston there is a small hill. As he was coming down the hill the tire flew off and the car crashed sideways into a tree.

It just so happened to be close to a home where a friend lived. The man heard the crash and came running out. A paint can had fallen from the back of the car and hit my father on the head. The man recognized my father and called out “Oh Mr. Siegel, are you alright?” He helped my father, cleaned him up and took him to the Greyhound bus station so he could get a ride home. When my father got to Miami he just took a bus home. When I saw him come in with a banged head and bloody shirt, I nearly died. He came in the house and took a shower. He then got dressed and sat down to have dinner. He was famished. He ate like he had not had food in a week.

He bought a new car on Sunday and was ready to go back to work in Jacksonville on Monday. This was way before the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. We were living in a house that my cousin owned on Southwest 20th Road. My mother was taking care of my cousin’s two children. My father was a member of the Workmen’s Circle and on the Board of Jewish Education in Miami. I was going to Ada Merritt School. We lived there for about 2 years. Later we moved to Southwest 6th Street and 22nd Avenue. I finished at Ada Merritt School and then attended Miami High School.

I used to go to the Young Men’s Hebrew Association (YMHA) and play ping pong and dance to the songs on a juke box. When we were teenagers we would go to 8th Street to the Puritan Ice Cream Parlor and get ice cream cones and sit outside at a table. While we were sitting there, William Reiser and another boy came and rode their bicycles with their ice cream cones around our table. Bill’s ice cream fell out of the cone. We all laughed but I guess it wasn’t funny. After that Bill started coming to the YMHA to dance with me.

Bill and his parents lived on Ohio Street in Coconut Grove. When they first came to Miami in 1934, they lived near Southwest 27th Avenue. Bill used to go across the street and shoot rabbits in the woods on the west side of 27th Avenue. Bill’s father was a WWI veteran and he belonged to the Harvey Seeds American Legion Post and played a bugle in their marching band.
Bill learned to be a dental technician and worked in a dental laboratory in the Huntington Building downtown. Miami was still a very small town. Then after Pearl Harbor, Miami and Miami Beach became a training area for the Army and Navy. The band from the aircraft carrier Yorktown was sent to Miami to wait for a new Yorktown to be commissioned. It took so long for a new Yorktown to be built that they were afraid to send them back to sea. They became the 7th Naval District band and played at service centers where the servicemen danced. The girls had to be sponsored by an official in order to dance there. Bill enlisted in the Army.

Bill went through maneuvers in North Carolina and when he was ready to be sent overseas, a desperate call came from Camp Cook in California for dental technicians. They had a lone dentist who needed a technician to make gold crowns and inlays for the men who were going overseas. Bill was also an artist and it was simple for the dentist to teach Bill to do preps for the crowns as well.

When he was sure that he was staying at Camp Cook, he came home on furlough and we got married at my parents’ home by a rabbi. We went back to Camp Cook and stayed there until the war ended. We came home to Miami when he was discharged by the Army.

At 92, I still call Miami my home and although times have changed, I still love it here. This is a picture of me with three cousins on South Beach in 1934. That is the “Million Dollar Pier” in the background with the Minsky’s Burlesque sign.

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 may be the only person who can say they were born on Sesame Street.

I did not live with Big Bird, but instead in a house at 1216 Sesame St., in Opa-locka, where I was born in 1934. I lived there with my parents, my brother Danny and my sister Judi until my marriage to Larry Ricke in 1953.

My family has been in Dade County since the late 1800s. My great-grandfather, Bartholomy DeWinkler, was the first postmaster at Arch Creek. He arrived in Arch Creek, now known as North Miami, in 1904, and my father Wilbur Dale was born there in 1908.

My mother Margaret Anderson Dale moved to Opa-locka from Wisconsin in 1926. Her father Charles Anderson was persuaded to move after her grandmother returned from a visit to Miami and called it “paradise.” My mother’s family of nine traveled to Opa-locka in a flatbed truck on which my grandfather built a small structure, rather like today’s mobile home or camper. When they arrived, they removed the structure and lived in it and tents until they could build a permanent home. My grandfather got a job right away with the city of Opa-locka doing general maintenance and landscaping and stayed until his retirement.

My parents both attended Dade County Agricultural High School, which later became Miami Edison High. They met at a local dance that was held on the tennis court in Opa-locka. (I like to play tennis and my mother said it was because my parents met there). They were married and settled in Opa-locka in 1934. My father held various positions with the city, including city manager, commissioner and mayor. My grandmother, May Anderson, started the Opa-Locka Woman’s Club and the city library.

My brother and I went to school at Opa-locka Elementary, William Jennings Bryan Junior High, and Miami Edison Senior High. The elementary school was within walking distance, but we had to travel by school bus to junior and senior high. Our younger sister is quite a bit younger than we and attended Westview Junior High and Hialeah High, which were closer to home.

Growing up in Opa-locka was a lot of fun. We had so much freedom to walk around town, and play basketball, tennis and softball at the park behind the City Hall. After the U.S. Naval Reserve air base was closed, the city took over some of the facilities and we had access to swimming pools, a movie theater, an outdoor skating rink, and a bowling alley, where my brother worked as a pin setter.

The theater was where I first saw Gone with the Wind, which was so long it required an intermission. We also participated in the Arabian Nights festivals by dressing up in our Arabian costumes and parading on the main street, Sharazad Boulevard.

Even as preteens, my brother and I were able to travel safely by bus without our parents. We loved to go to the movies at the Center Theater in Edison Center. There was always a cartoon, a short subject and a serial episode before the main feature. The serial always ended with a “cliff-hanger” that kept you in suspense until the next week. The main feature could be a western, Tarzan, or Abbott and Costello.

Sometimes we even traveled all the way to downtown Miami by bus to see a movie in one of the movie theaters on Flagler Street. The most interesting theater was the Olympia Theater (The Gusman), with its beautiful architecture and lighted ceiling that was painted to look like the night sky. At the Olympia, there was also a live stage show with a comedian, singer or magician before the movie.

On our walks around downtown, we might stop in the five-and-dime stores like McCrory’s or Woolworth’s to see a live demonstration of the latest toy or kitchen gadget. We might pass by the shop of Jahn the Magic Man to see the magic tricks and games, or pass by the psychic, Dr. Seward. Of course, we never went into Dr. Seward’s establishment, but he was a fascination to say the least. Some kids nicknamed him Dr. Seeweed.

Right next to the bus stop where we waited for the bus to go back to Opa-locka was a fruit stand that sold fresh-squeezed orange juice. I can still remember the aroma of oranges and other fruits. We could spend the whole day in downtown for around a dollar, including the bus fare. My brother and I are now amazed at the freedom we had to travel around safely.

During high school at Miami Edison High, I was a member of the Miami Edison Cadettes Marching Team. We marched in the New Year’s Eve parade and during the half time at Miami Edison football games. My brother was on the first Edison High football team to beat Miami High in 28 years. There was fierce rivalry between Miami High and Edison High and the Thanksgiving Day football game at the Orange Bowl was well attended.

My husband’s family moved to Miami from Chicago when Larry was an infant. We met through mutual friends at Edison High, were married in 1953 and bought a house in Opa-locka. We had nine children and all but one, who was born in Germany when Larry was in the Army, were born in Dade County. Most of our 17 grandchildren were born in Dade County as well. We now have a fifth generation born in Florida, a great-granddaughter born in Jacksonville and a great-grandson born in Orlando.

South Florida has changed greatly in my 78 years. Now I am a great-grandmother and I agree with my great-grandmother that it is still paradise.

Miami became my home in February 1960 when I was based here as a Delta stewardess.

I lived in Miami Springs, on a lake, with three other stewardesses – one from Eastern, one from National, and one from Delta. Other airlines were flourishing at that time, too; there was a large contingent of personnel from Pan American and TWA, as well as a number of South American airlines and Flying Tiger cargo airline.

During that era, we got new expressways that connected the mainland to Miami Beach. And culturally, we had opera. During the ensuing 54 years, I have seen our incredible city grow into a most amazing and iconic location between North and South America.

Back then, we thought we were big city dwellers, but the limits of the “city” at the time only went as far west as eastern Hialeah and the Opa-locka airport. To the south was the University of Miami and U.S. 1 to the Keys. The Palmetto Expressway was originally constructed in the late 1950s and early 1960s, but by the 1970s, various sections of the 16-mile corridor were expanded to six lanes. That connected motorists to the west to places such as the Doral Hotel and Country Club.

As the 1980s began, our community exploded. The Dolphin Expressway connected to the Palmetto, and I-95 and I-75 expanded the breadth of our amazing South Florida locale.

Among the highlights for me were the creation of the Miami City Ballet with the help of Toby Lerner Ansin. The inaugural performance was on Oct. 17, 1986, under the artistic direction of Edward Villella. The New World Symphony was established in 1987, co-founded by Lin and Ted Arison with conductor Michael Tilson Thomas. Bringing the genius of conductor Thomas to our growing Miami venue and securing the Lincoln Theatre on Miami Beach for concerts also elevated the cultural magnificence of our city.

In the late 1980s, the Miami Heat basketball team was founded, and later came the Florida Panthers hockey team. The first Miami Arena was built downtown, and sometimes there were games as many as five nights a week. So many Miami sports fans nearly lived in that arena.

At the same time, the University of Miami was expanding and became an internationally recognized and respected university.

Additionally, we had the Grand Bay Hotel in Coconut Grove. It housed the internationally known “Regine’s” nightclub. Michael Jackson and his entourage occupied the top floors during their stay in 1984 before the late singer’s Orange Bowl Victory Tour concert.

As the city grew, so did the need for broader cultural experience. That paved the way for the construction of the Adrienne Arsht Center for the Performing Arts. A new sports arena also rose downtown, now known as the AmericanAirlines Arena.

Major shopping facilities were opening everywhere, although the Bal Harbour Shops, which officially opened in 1965, continued to grow throughout the next three decades and it is still known as a high-end spot to shop.

Miami Beach and South Beach began to blossom in the late 1980s. Before that, many hotel pools were green with algae and doors leading out to the beach were boarded up.

South Beach had many unique stages of growth and attracted flocks of Europeans, South Americans and celebrities. New nightclubs were springing up weekly. During that time, there was also the Miami-Dade Cultural Center with the Historical Museum of Southern Florida and the Miami Art Museum, which was relocated downtown from its original Bayfront Park site.

In more recent years, Miami and Miami Beach also became home to Art Basel, the internationally acclaimed art fair. With the Art Basel venue here, art sophistication exploded and very positively impacted our South Florida environment.

We now have the Perez Art Museum Miami (PAMM), which opened in December on the same weekend as Art Basel. Coming soon to the Museum Park is the anticipated opening in 2015 of the Patricia and Phillip Frost Museum of Science and planetarium.

When I look out my windows at our incredible city, I marvel at what Miami has become. It is now a destination for people from all over the globe. Still underway is the continuing expansion of the Miami Design District as well as significant additions at Mary Brickell Village.

I have been living and working as an interior designer in our great city for these past decades, creating residences of some of Miami’s most interesting, accomplished and extraordinary families. The progress makes me so appreciative of all who have dreamed, struggled and created what this amazing Florida community is today. I feel so privileged to have passed this way during these times.

My father came to the Magic City in 1916 at the tender age of 3. His mother had taken a new job and moved from Chicago. She wanted to start a new life in what was truly a “frontier” on Biscayne Bay.

With perhaps only 10,000 people calling Miami home, it was a tropical paradise with inexpensive land and crystal blue waters teeming with marine life.

My grandmother, Althea Altemus, brought my father Robert to Miami after accepting the job of James Deering’s private secretary at the new “Gilded Age” mansion, Vizcaya. She spent seven years attending to the wealthy industrialist’s business needs while he was in South Florida.

I vaguely recall stories of my grandmother “rubbing elbows” with the Deering brothers (James and Charles), Phineas Paist (associate architect of Vizcaya, who would later design many landmark Coral Gables buildings) and the politician, William Jennings Bryan, who was once Deering’s neighbor and a major contributor to Miami’s real estate boom of the 1920s.

Dad would graduate in 1931 from the then high school, Ponce De Leon. He would go on to become a prominent CPA and banker. My brother Robert, who passed away earlier this year, and I started our own journey in South Miami, living east of U.S. 1 on Kendall Drive, across the street from where Gulliver Academy stands today. I rode my bicycle to Pinecrest Elementary at Southwest 104th Street and Red Road.

There was no development for miles, which left peaceful woods and fields to explore and fuel a child’s imagination. No one bothered to lock homes or car doors when going into South Miami to shop or eat. I drive by my first school, Pinecrest Elementary, every workday morning on my commute to my Coral Gables office. Seeing the children in the playground reminds me of a “simpler Miami.”

My father’s generation, often called the “greatest generation,” was tough-minded and persevered through one of the most difficult periods in U.S. history. As I enter the fourth quarter of my business career, I now realize what my father passed on to me. I am a banker who has survived over 40 years in the financial service industry. After navigating six bank mergers since 1980, I am still employed. Thank you Dad, for your silent and enduring strength and what it stands for.

My father was not a “communicator.” What little I learned about him and his mother strangely came from my mother Rosemarie.

In 1985, when I got married at Vizcaya, the destination was solely based on its beauty. At that time, I had little knowledge of my father’s and his mother’s intimate experiences at Miami’s landmark residence. My father would ride his bicycle after school to Vizcaya to wait for his mother to get off work. Fishing off of Vizcaya’s famous barge would quickly yield a boat full of fish and lobster. Miami then was the Bahamas of today.

Last year, my limited knowledge of my father and grandmother’s role in early Miami history quickly changed with a discovery of a long-forgotten manuscript, written by Althea Altemus, following a chance encounter with Joel Hoffman, the current executive director of Vizcaya Museum and Gardens.

The encounter has contributed to a wealth of knowledge about Deering and his famous actor guests and other industrialists who would come to inspect the newest home of the “Gilded Age.”

Althea Altemus was employed at Vizcaya for seven years, leaving in 1923 to return to Chicago before returning to Miami a second time to retire.

The discovery of my grandmother’s ties to Vizcaya and its famous people in early 1900s Miami has driven a renewed interest in our family tree. Think of the excitement of the moment, if I had known more about my father’s relationship to this grand estate! I can only hope that he felt some nostalgia for his youth and early Miami experiences.

Miami is a very young city, unlike Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., with their excess of written history. Now that Miami is an important international city, it is important that families contribute to “her story” by sharing their experiences. Without the knowledge of how our city came to be, Miami cannot be truly appreciated.

As our city continues along its evolutionary timeline, don’t forget to speak to your sons and daughters.