Kick Ass (41 page)

Fifty years ago, the Mathesons never imagined that the county would give away the park. When donating the land, they composed the deeds in language that seemed straightforward.

Understandably, family heirs were upset when the county allowed a private sports venture to take over part of Crandon. They’ve argued adamantly that the tract wasn’t intended for commercial exploitation and that the original deed prohibited it.

By ruling against the Mathesons, Judge Wetherington essentially announced that it didn’t matter what the family might have intendeda tennis stadium would be built. No clearer message could be sent to future donors of public parks. The county will betray you in a flash unless the deed is airtight:

“I, (YOUR NAME) , hereby give and bequeath the property located at (LEGAL DESCRIPTION) to Dade County, for use exclusively as a park. This deed shall hereby exclude the following commercial events: tennis tournaments, automobile races, soccer, skeet shooting, rodeos, croquet, lacrosse, monster-truck pulls, Wrestlemania or any Battle of the Network Superstars.

“For the purposes of this deed, the term ‘public park’ strictly shall be defined as a place for public recreation and enjoyment at all times. Turnstiles are forbidden.”

Miami lawyer Dan Paul, who helped write the county charter, favors an amendment that will protect the parks from Lipton-type development. Under his proposal, no park could be leased, built upon, or turned over to a commercial enterprise without a countywide referendum.

Ironically, Judge Wetherington’s Crandon giveaway came on the same day that plans were revealed to turn Miami’s troubled Bicentennial Park into an enormous dock for cruise ships.

It won’t be the first time the place is remodeled in the name of private profit. The city previously leased Bicentennial to promoter Ralph Sanchez, who paved it for a Grand Prix. (He’ll soon be getting $9 million of tourist tax money to upgrade the racetrack, which is used exactly twice a year.)

Now Carmen Lunetta, czar of the Port of Miami, wants to expand Bicentennial and adjacent property into a fancy harborage for cruise liners. New shops and restaurants would be featured (even though nearby Bayside is gasping for survival). To keep Sanchez happy, Lunetta is tossing in an extra 6,000 seats for the Grand Prix.

Voters bought the Miami waterfront for use as a park, not a commercial port. But, as Judge Wetherington says, times have changed. What’s a park these days without taxis, buses, jillions of harried cruise-ship passengers and the occasional nine-pound wharf rat. I’m already packing my picnic basket.

If Lipton should fall, let Avino’s crew shovel it

May 10, 1992

The Lipton tennis boondoggle is in deep trouble, all of it self-made.

On Friday, Dade Circuit Judge Jon Gordon halted construction of a tax-funded, $16.5 million stadium on Key Biscayne. In an emphatic ruling, Gordon said the land was deeded for use exclusively as a public park, not a commercial tennis operation. The decision was a victory for the Matheson family, which donated the tract 52 years ago.

Dade officials appear typically numb and bewildered. County Manager Joaquin Avino is moaning that Gordon’s decision will cost taxpayers millions of dollars.

That’s not the fault of the judge or the Mathesons. It was Avino and that sorry crew of commissioners who recklessly launched construction of the Lipton stadium, knowing that the project faced stiff court challenges.

Whether it was arrogance or sheer stupidity, the county blew it. They gambled and lost. Now, having squandered tons of tax money, the county’s legal wizards are forging blindly ahead to squander even more. Yes, folks, they’re trudging back to the courthouse for another try.

None of this nonsense was necessary. From day one, Dade officials knew they were on shaky legal ground by putting the Lipton in Crandon Park. They’d privately taken their plans for the tournament to the Matheson heirs, who objected strenuously. The family saw the Lipton center as unadulterated commercialization, which it is. They threatened to sue to enforce the deed.

At that point, the tournament, the stadium and millions of bucks could’ve been saved by relocating the Lipton to another site. Nothing prevented promoters from buying their own tract and putting up a first-class facility wherever they wanted.

But that’s not how it’s done in Dade County. Why pay for something out of your own pocket when taxpayers will do it for you? The lure of free Key Biscayne real estate was impossible to refuse. Behind the scenes, high-priced lobbyists and political power brokers worked to keep the Lipton on the island, despite the opposition of many residents.

Brushing off the threat of lawsuits, the commissioners giddily pressed ahead with the tennis extravaganza. Anything promoter Butch Buchholz wanted, he gotincluding public financing of the stadium he once promised to build with private funds. Meanwhile, the county was spending a fortune on legal feesagain, your moneyto fight the Mathesons.

Avino acted as if the family was just a pesky annoyance. The possibility of losing the case didn’t seem to cross his mind. Talk about cocky: Bulldozers went to work on the 14,000-seat stadium on April 1three weeks before Circuit Judge Gerald Wetherington was scheduled to hear the lawsuit.

Though Wetherington ruled in the county’s favor, he abruptly changed his mind and took himself off the case. Construction on the Lipton proceeded as if nothing were amiss.

For developers, it’s the oldest trick in the book. The more you can build and the faster you can build it, the harder for opponents to get it torn down. That’s Avino’s woeful defense: Dade taxpayers have invested so much in the Lipton that it’s too expensive to turn back. Gee, Joaquin, whose fault is that?

While the county fights Judge Gordon’s decision, the digging and destruction will likely resume on Key Biscayne. Drive out there and take a lookafter all, you’re paying for it.

But remember that if the Mathesons prevail (and there’s a good chance they will), the stadium will come tumbling down. If that happens, shovels should be distributed immediately to the county manager and each gung-ho commissioner. Bus them to Crandon Park and make them clean up their mess.

Sort of an old-fashioned groundbreaking, in reverse.

Metro tumbled into sand trap with golf club

June 26, 1994

If P.T. Barnum were alive to watch the Metro Commission in action, he’d probably revise his famous axiom. Not only are suckers born every minute, they invariably get elected to political office.

Dade politicians are big suckers for sports. They’ve got a history of blowing public funds on extravaganzas that fail to produce the windfall promised by hungry promoters. The most infamous entitlement programs are the Lipton tennis tournament and the Miami Grand Prix.

Now another sport is sucking precious dollars out of the county coffer: golf. So far, unsuspecting taxpayers have forked out $8.9 million on the Golf Club of Miami. That’s not a typo: $8.9 millionwith about $8 million more to come.

Even using silk flags and the lushest Bermuda grass, it hardly seems possible to spend so much to spruce up a few fairways.

Here’s what happened. Five years ago, the county contracted with the PGA Tour to rejuvenate the Golf Club of Miami in North Dade. The courses had gotten ratty, and worried neighbors voted to tax themselves to purchase much of the property. The county had the rest.

The PGA Tour eagerly offered to run the place and touted itself as capable and experienced. The prestige of attaching the Tour’s name was supposed to attract a luxury hotel and hordes of golf-crazy tourists.

As it turned out, a bunch of chimpanzees couldn’t have negotiated a worse contract than the one approved by Metro commissioners. Ironically, the only one opposed to it was then-Mayor Steve Clark, the county’s undisputed authority on all golfing matters. Clark said the Golf Club of Miami deal was no good, and he was right.

Oh, the courses are in better shape today, and they’re finally making a modest profit. Unfortunately, the county’s seeing little of it; $500,000 annually comes off the top, for the PGA.

How bad was the contract? Item: new cart paths. The Tour’s price tag: $558,000, or about three times the going rate. The Caddyshack Commission said sure. Since 1989, the Golf Club of Miami has drained a small fortune from the county’s general fund, including $863,000 a year in bond payments. We’re stuck with those until 2004.

Of course, the big luxury hotel never materialized, costing Metro another $4.2 million in bed taxes to repay investors. Incredibly, the Parks Department also “loaned” the golf club $4. i million to construct a third course, an executive-style par 62. Not only was the price higher than many first-class par 725, but the short course lost a tidy $460,000 in its first two years.

The county claims all of that money eventually will be paid back out of future revenues from the golf club. Sure. When they raise the greens fees to $2,000 a day.

In addition to the $8.9 million in general funds, the Golf Club of Miami has received much more from other public sources. Metro commissioners grabbed $3.5 million from the sports-franchise bed tax and built a new clubhouse dedicated to one of their own, Sherman Winn. His name on the building is a fitting reminder of the suckers who paid for it.

Defending the project, county officials say the funds spent on the Golf Club of Miami aren’t a total waste. Said one: “At least we’ve gotten into public ownership three pretty nice golf courses.”

And a dandy bargain it is. Let’s see

54 holes at a minimum final cost of $24.6 million. That comes to about $455,555 per fairway.

From now on, golfers will have an option of replacing their divots, or listing them with Century 21.

Wayne skating on thin ice of fan loyalty

July 23, 1995

Wayne Huizenga says he’s moving or selling the Florida Panthers if somebody doesn’t build him a new arena. Gonna get the puck out, he says.

The announcement came at a press conference during which a testy Huizenga expressed no fondness for Broward officials, who’d rejected a tax on tourists or restaurants to finance a new $ 165 million hockey rink.

Instead, the county had rashly suggested that Mr. Blockbuster himself should pony up a heftier chunk of the arena moneyan option no self-respecting sports tycoon likes to contemplate.

The common philosophy is that sports fans should be so darned grateful to have a big-league franchise that they ought to subsidize it with taxes.

It’s not enough to pay for overpriced parking, overpriced tickets, overpriced junk food and overpriced souvenirs. No, you should pay for the overpriced facilities, too.

Happens all over. That’s how St. Louis lured the Rams from Los Angeles: new stadium, sweet deal. For many owners it’s proved a successful extortion: Build me a new place to play, or I’ll take my team elsewhere.

When the ungrateful citizenry of Broward balked at bankrolling a hockey stadium, Huizenga stomped off. Even if the county comes crawling back, he declared, the deal’s off.

So there. Nah, nah, nah.

Huizenga says he needs help because the team is losing $1 million a month by sharing the Miami Arena with the Heat. He wants a new ice palace tiered with posh, high-priced skyboxes.

Not so long ago, politicians would’ve bellied across broken glass to appease Huizenga. The mood today is slightly less worshipful, and the reason is simple. Voters are tired of using public monies to enrich millionaire sports owners.

South Floridians have contributed heavily, if not knowingly, to the downtown arena, as well as a private Grand Prix track and a tennis stadium. It’s welfare for the rich, disguised as civic boosterism.

Huizenga’s grim account of the Panthers’ finances is troubling. Here’s a team (unlike other local franchises) that plays to 97 percent capacity, yet still manages to bleed red ink. That’s quite a trick.

How did such a sharp businessman fall into such a stinky deal? Clearly, Huizenga agreed to share the arena only because he was sure he’d be getting a new one soon, courtesy of some hockey-crazed municipality. Unfortunately, he misjudged.

His assertion that more luxury skyboxes will save the Panthers is equally suspect, considering that the relatively few skyboxes in the Miami Arena aren’t sold out.

One positive thing to come from Huizenga’s tantrum is a possible partnership with Heat owner Micky Arisen, also in the market for a new venue. Together, they’ve got more capital to invest, and a better chance of turning a profit.

A similar joint deal worked well in Chicago. There, the basketball and hockey teams split both the cost and revenues from the new $175 million United Center. Both teams are making money.

But here’s the real shocker: The Chicago arena was constructed largely with private funds. The owners, not taxpayers, picked up the tab. What a radical concept.

Unfortunately, building a new arena here would kill the old one, which isn’t that old and wasn’t so cheap. It would be better if Huizenga and Arisen joined forces (and bankers) to refurbish the current Miami Arena in the high style they desire.

Right now, the most valuable part of the Panthers franchise is fan loyalty, but that can change quickly. An owner’s ultimatum for luxury skyboxes cuts no ice with the folks in the cheap seats.

Let Broward have its arenaand the debt

February 1, 1996

Dade taxpayers should breathe a collective sigh of relief this week. They might be off the hook for a new sports arena.

Broward County has impulsively offered to build a basketball-hockey emporium to keep both the restless Miami Heat and the money-losing Florida Panthers in South Florida.

Price tag: $212 million, minimum. Most of the dough would come from a 2 percent hotel-bed tax, backed by county bonds.

Broward voters haven’t been asked for their opinion, as a public outpouring of skepticism might discourage Heat owner Micky Arisen (who has already threatened to move his team) and Panthers owner Wayne Huizenga (who’s supposedly trying to sell his).

By a 51 vote, Broward commissioners vowed to spring for a new arena if the teams sign in advance and agree to share revenues with the county. The deal is far from sealed, and Dade officials are hurriedly polishing a new pitch of their own.