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Change HAPPENS

From the beginning of the agricultural era, humans have made their presence on this earth obvious. In fact, we have started to dominate the earth by changing the landscape in extreme proportions to accommodate our needs. Some of those changes attempt to minimize impacts to natural habitats and their inhabitants; unfortunately most do not. People who have figured out ways to co-exist with the birds, reptiles, mammals, insects, and all that sustains them eventually mitigate society’s major mistakes, like the plans proposed for the Homestead Air Force Base. These plans did not contemplate co-existence; their sole purpose was to continue developing south Florida to accommodate more people, businesses, industries, and a few politicians.

In the early 1900s, Henry Flagler built a rail line that connected north Florida to Key West to service Florida’s residents. This line allowed for easy transport and, therefore, permanent settlement along its route. Miami began as a small town and grew into a bustling city of investors and developers. By the mid-1900s, more land was needed for the numerous people wanting to settle in the area, for their homes, businesses, and agricultural needs. However, the free-flowing water systems seamlessly weaving throughout the region created a host of swamp and wetland habitats that were, simply put, an obstacle. To overcome this difficulty, the Corps of Engineers designed massive drainage systems that crisscrossed the small peninsula. In doing so, changes occurred. Land dried up. Animals moved out, and people moved in.

Rapid population growth coupled with a sharp distinction between the classes shoved Miami into several decades of crime and corruption— corruption that could be found on every street corner, in many boardrooms, and in most government chambers. Interestingly, the region earned its “Banana Republic” reputation from this era of twisted campaign financing, questionable political appointments, and lucrative contracts.

By 1990, Miami was slowly changing its reputation. The community was becoming increasingly interested in knowing what was going on behind closed doors, in addition to being involved in its own governance.

However, for those who profited from it, the scandalous culture endured and, lacking direct consequences, persisted. Conviction, perseverance, and higher levels of government were needed to expose selfish and misdirected decisions of some very influential people.

Miami’s connection to Latin America had caught the attention of national policy-makers for some time, causing a heightened interest in the happenings of south Florida. It is not surprising that Miami, to this day, embraces its Latin American connection and promotes it as one of the region’s most promising drivers of change and growth. International financing, commerce, and tourism are the foundation for this connection, and Miami International Airport profits from and contributes to all three aspects. Financiers, businessmen and women, tourists, and cargo pass through the airport on a daily basis. It is one of the busiest airports in the country, and plans for its expansion have been discussed
and considered for years. However, in 1990, its downtown location limited any possibilities for growth. Alternatives were necessary to fuel further development and economic growth in Miami and surrounding Miami-Dade County.

A Fateful Discovery

Planners and decision-makers noticed the sleepy area forty miles to the south. The city of Homestead and Florida City had not been previously considered as an alternative location for an airport during the rapid change in downtown Miami largely because of their rural location, agricultural base, and being home to three large federal areas: Biscayne National Park, Everglades National Park, and the Homestead Air Force Base. The two small towns, their adjoining unincorporated areas, and their federally regulated neighbors demonstrated a successful mix of diverse cultures: military and support personnel, military retirees, farmers, and local businesses. The small, thirteen-square-mile city of Homestead was, in fact, the center of Miami-Dade County’s agricultural industry, which was the dominant land use in the area. Rows of tomatoes, beans, potatoes, and squash filled the wide, flat fields. Other land was used for cultivating fruit orchards and landscaping nurseries. The prevalent architectural style included wooden farm homes and one- and two-story single-family homes surrounded by yards, gardens, and outbuildings. The rural area sharply contrasted the cosmopolitan climate of downtown Miami with its international business, rapid development, and swelling population only a short drive to the north.

Homestead Air Force Base anchored rural south Miami-Dade County’s economy, employing 8,700 personnel with an annual payroll of $152 million. The base pumped an estimated $430 million into the local economy and provided desirable services, health care, and pharmacy and recreational facilities to more than 30,000 military retirees in south Florida. Its one-mile runway was capable of handling the largest airplanes flown at the time, and airport expansion planners coveted its layout. In fact, they envisioned another era for a facility that had experienced many changes in its history.

Begun in the mid-1900s as an isolated airstrip operated by the Army Air Corps, the facility endured 10 years of inactive status before being reactivated with B-47s carrying atom bombs and B-52s that later carried hydrogen bombs. With heightened awareness of the country’s vulnerability to a Cuban assault, the base was most active in the 1960s. The prestigious 31st Tactical Fighter Wing moved from the George Air Force Base in California to the Homestead Air Force Base in Florida, and the base’s population grew to tens of thousands. Clear flying weather and open-water flight paths allowed for the finest flying operations. During the 1980s and early 1990s, training was the base’s primary concern,
with its F-4 fighter crews. Its pilots claimed many awards and honors, and it was regarded as a distinguished assignment with a critical mission, strong community support, and desirable surroundings.

would occur from thoughtless development nearby, and of the numerous people who valued the resources and their conviction to preserve them. However, their lack of awareness was about to change.

 

The Landscape

The south Florida peninsula, a web of tropical life shaped and interconnected by wind and water, is far different from most of the continent. Interesting plants and animals find home in the distinct habitats here. The low-lying, flat plane, inundated much of the year by slow moving freshwater, is known as the Everglades. Small islands peek above the water that is one to two feet deep, interrupting the characteristic open prairies of sawgrass, home to colorful birds. Called hammocks, these islands provide refuge for a variety of wildlife. Flowing water is guided by geologic formations much like riverbanks. Larger than hammock islands, pine rocklands provide habitat for larger animals, including the Florida panther. Further along in its journey, freshwater meets saltwater, and the mix is a playground for plants and animals. This is the only place on earth where alligators and crocodiles coexist.

The shallow Florida Bay boasts some of the best fishing in the state for those willing to venture through the twisting passages hidden by the many mangrove forests. Modern navigation devices prove useless in the maze. With manatees and dolphins as guides, it is the great escape for people searching for the tranquility of nature. From osprey in the trees to algae squeezed through a fistful of plankton, abundant nature welcomes anyone interested in it.

Florida Bay’s sisters to the northeast are Barnes Sound, Card Sound, and Biscayne Bay. Similar to family bloodlines, water from Florida Bay travels through both of the Sounds and into Biscayne Bay. Here, it becomes one with the ocean, nourishing abundant marine life. Biscayne Bay’s western mangrove coastline anchors the shore and filters pollutants from freshwater before it enters the bay. Infant shrimp, crabs, fishes, and birds nestle within the protective roots and limbs of these mangroves. Adolescent siblings thrive in seagrasses of the shallow estuarine bay. Manatees, dolphins, and sea turtles have been here for hundreds of years.

A chain of emerald islands, the Florida Keys, make the intermingling between bay water and ocean water possible with each changing tide. The islands interrupt an otherwise continuous mix of fresh and salt water that creates currents around and between them. Nutrient-rich bay water finds its way to hungry fishes, microscopic organisms, and phytoplankton of the coral reef platform.

The water that connects these habitats also provides a protective barrier from terrestrial onlookers who do not immerse themselves in it. And those that do are tourists in another world. The underwater world invites visitors, but keeps each visit short. Its mystery constantly evolves for the few who venture down under. Coral reefs and their fishes and animals excite observers and inspire wonder. Each year, divers and snorkelers marvel at the variety of colors and shapes, underwater sounds, and perpetual movement. The blanket of water levitates and separates these visitors to safe vantage points of the underwater world.

Humans living in these challenging environments have relied on bounties of the sea for thousands of years. Conch shell middens recall a time when the daily catch sustained the few who lived there. A robust shipping industry provided for the exchange of goods and people from other lands. Ancillary to exploration and the shipping industry was the wrecking industry, which thrived because of the many maritime casualties succumbing to the extensive reef system hidden below the water’s surface. Piracy claimed a few more. Agriculture further inland sustained larger populations.

Realizing the changes affecting this landscape, Congress established the Everglades National Park on December 6, 1947, to ensure 460,000 acres of land would remain unaltered. The enabling legislation directed “Everglades National Park to be wilderness, (where) no development… or plan for the entertainment of visitors shall be undertaken which will interfere with the preservation intact of the unique flora and fauna of the essential primitive natural conditions now prevailing in this area.” This preservation mandate is one of the strongest in the legislative history of the National Park Service (NPS).

 

Truman reflected, “Here are no lofty peaks seeking the sky, no mighty glaciers or rushing streams wearing away the uplifted land. Here is land, tranquil in its quiet beauty, serving not as the source of water, but as the last receiver of it. To its natural abundance we owe the spectacular plant and animal life that distinguishes this place from all others in our country.”

Further east is another national park, born of development proposals brewing in the early 1960s. An oil refinery, Sea Dade, was proposed on the shores of Biscayne Bay, and a tropical resort, Islandia, was proposed on Elliott Key. Listening to an active group of conservationists, Congress established the 65,000-acre Biscayne National Monument on October 18, 1968, then enlarged it to 173,000 acres and changed its name to Biscayne National Park in 1980. In doing so, Congress recognized the special qualities of this unique area and directed the National Park Service to “preserve and protect for the education, inspiration, recreation, and enjoyment of present and future generations a rare combination of terrestrial, marine, and amphibious life in a tropical setting of
great natural beauty.”

Today, park visitors realize Congress’ wisdom in preserving this wonderful treasure. They imagine the past, discover the present, and contemplate the future reflected in the Biscayne National Park waters that connect a variety of natural communities to each other as well as to the human spirit.

 

Preserving the Landscape

The Everglades and Biscayne National Parks preserve the distinction between man and nature, symbolizing the hope that one day there won’t be a distinction. Both parks allow people to visit a world governed by weather, wind, and water—in a word, nature. In these places, people escape from their everyday lives and are enriched by the experience. However, the establishment of an area as a national park is not the end of its preservation. Continuous pressure and changes in the landscape have far reaching effects. For example, the alteration of the water flow in south Florida so that the newly dry land could support additional people and agriculture may have been an engineering wonder, but it will require the nation’s largest restoration effort to undo. Many people, including elected officials, believe preserving the area’s wetlands and
not using them to further the growth of Miami is the best use of these resources. They work individually and collectively to foster various programs and policies in support of an inclusive, coordinated approach to Everglades restoration. In addition, conservation groups closely monitor their activities.

In 1983, Florida Governor Bob Graham launched the “Save Our Everglades” program—a partnership between the South Florida Water Management District and federal and state government agencies designed to work toward restoring the ecosystem by year 2000. The affected area consists of 9,000 square miles, including the Kissimmee River Basin; Lake Okeechobee; the Everglades; the Big Cypress swamp; and the estuaries of Florida Bay, Biscayne Bay, and Ten Thousand Islands.

In 1985, Florida strengthened existing planning laws by adopting the Local Government Comprehensive Planning and Land Development Regulation to foster orderly and sustainable state growth. Miami planners and decision-makers were bound by its requirements and had to devise ways to work with or around them. The regulation required each local jurisdiction to prepare a comprehensive development master plan furthering the goals and policies of the state law. The local plans had to describe distribution, location, and extent of general land uses, as well as be linked to plans of adjacent cities and counties, the region, and the state. Miami-Dade County’s plans in the 1990s drew an urban development boundary just north of the Homestead Air Force Base and outside of Biscayne and Everglades National Parks. Nevertheless, changing the
master plan to coincide with new ideas for growth was an undertaking many considered easy to accomplish.

 

The End is the Beginning

The opportunity to sidestep state regulations on growth and develop rural south Miami‑Dade County arrived abruptly on the morning of August 24, 1992. Hurricane Andrew, the season’s first and the nation’s most costly natural disaster to date, ravaged south Florida with wind gusts over 175 miles per hour. At 4:30 a.m., the eye of the storm passed over Biscayne National Park headquarters before striking Homestead and other areas in south Miami-Dade County. Hurricane Andrew, the most powerful hurricane to strike the southeast Florida coast, produced a record storm tide of nearly 17 feet. During its attack, Hurricane Andrew ripped apart homes and buildings, felled trees, and destroyed lives. Seven inches of rain exposed and drowned furniture, clothes, and memories as roofs and walls were reduced to a twisted, mangled mess
of splintered wood and debris. The storm destroyed over 28,000 homes, damaged another 107,000, and killed fifteen people. Sadly, cleanup from the storm claimed an additional twenty-nine lives.

The storm damaged all of the Homestead Air Base’s residential structures and over half its industrial facilities: aircraft hangars, air flight traffic control facilities, administrative buildings, and maintenance facilities. A C-130 aircraft, fuselage ripped apart and wheel-less, remained on the runway where it had been poised for takeoff before the storm hit.

The Everglades and Biscayne National Parks’ administrative and maintenance facilities were also destroyed. Visitor facilities suffered major damage. Natural resources in national parks, however, naturally sustain these cycles of extreme events like floods, fires, and storms. When the timeframe is indefinite, something as short as Hurricane Andrew is nothing more than a small scratch. In the natural world, these events renew and maintain the delicate balance.

Although part of the natural cycle, Hurricane Andrew ended a way of life in south Florida. Recovering and rebuilding required thoughtful consideration of all the area’s wild inhabitants (sea turtles, manatee, alligators, herons, and ospreys), their habitats, as well as the needs of local residents. Respect and honor for natural habitats, wildlife, sights, and sounds ought to have governed decisions. The question is, did they?