The “Big Three of Sunny Isles”
I imagine that some of our readers might be unsure of where or what Sunny Isles was, and may not be aware that some years ago, when it became a city in Miami-Dade County, the name was changed to “Sunny Isles Beach,” and it was your correspondent who was given the honor of being asked to write the history of that great city by then-mayor Norman Edelcup. That book, titled “From Sandbar to Sophistication: The Story of Sunny Isles Beach,” is available from The Bramson Archive, here or from the local bookstores in South Florida.
Today, there are only three, maybe four motels or hotels left in what is now a city, but which, at one time, was primarily, particularly on the ocean front (the east side of Collins Avenue) nothing but motels with only one or two having the surname “Hotel” rather than “Motel,” the latter conveying the thought and idea of a less formal and generally quite informal hostelry. The west side of Collins Avenue, which did have a number of “strip” shopping centers and restaurants, did have several motels, they, for the most part, being a good bit smaller and offering less in the way of guest entertainments, activities or “perks” such as a swimming pool, tennis courts or even coffee shops, but they, too, had their followings and in the winter almost every one of the venues on either side of Collins were generally full or close thereto from late November until mid-to-late April, when what used to be called “the season” ended.
The first of the motels came into existence in the late 1940s and by the early 1950s Sunny Isles was a-boom with construction, most of one and two and a very few three story entities, many with fanciful names such as “The Blue Grass,” “The Sahara,” “The Pan American” one of the very, very few which had facilities on either side of Collins; “The Driftwood,” “The Mercury” and a good few others, almost all of them with swimming pools, a coffee shop, sometimes a shuffleboard court and even a cocktail lounge, but they did not compete with the Miami Beach hotels for business, for the most part often catering to a less-affluent crowd.
“So where, then,” you ask (if you are reading this and are not familiar with South Florida) “was Sunny Isles,” and I am glad you did!
Sunny Isles began (and the city begins) at the north end of Haulover Beach, separated from Bal Harbour (a separate city on the oceanside island from Surfside, which it borders on the South and Miami Beach, which the town of Surfside borders to its south) by a “cut” by which boaters can traverse the Atlantic to Biscayne Bay in either direction. Haulover Beach is, in actuality, separated from Bal Harbour by the Haulover Cut, a waterway similar to an enlarged canal at the south end of Haulover Beach, that name arising from the fac that, prior to the “Cut” or canal being dug through from Biscayne Bay to the Atlantic Ocean, small boats were hauled by mules, horses or strong humans across what was then dry land at that point, hence the name “Haulover.” The Town of Golden Beach, an all private-residence enclave—borders Sunny Isles to the north.
Access to Sunny Isles Beach from the mainland is via either the 163rd Street Causeway or the William Lehman Causeway, the west entrance of which is at Northeast 192nd Street, hence access to Sunny Isles was and to today’s Sunny Isles Beach is convenient from ocean or mainland side.
Today the city is, on the oceanfront side, almost all and totally condominiums and apartment houses with a few (I believe it might be two, possibly three) public beaches) amidst the high-rises and the very few motels or hotels therein. The west side of Collins Avenue (named for Miami Beach pioneer John S. Collins) today is, for the most part, businesses in strip shopping centers as well as offices and some restaurants with, a bit further west, some very nice private homes along with a Miami-Dade Fire-Rescue Station and municipal offices.
While only one or two of the former goodly number of smaller motels still exist (might even by only one!) two of the three bigger properties are still standing and we will address the one that is no longer extant first, that one being Joe Hart’s Castaways.
The Castaways became famous for it’s renowned Wreck Bar, complete with “the Wreckettes,” the beautiful young women who were the cocktail servers. That bar became a gathering spot because it had terrific bands and was a wonderful meeting place. In addition, the Castaways, which had actually started as several smaller motels and were combined into one by Mr. Hart (he started out with a great chain of fried chicken restaurants, three on Miami Beach and one at 90th Street and Biscayne Boulevard on the Miami side called “Pickin’ Chicken”). When Mr. Hart filled in the island on the west side of Collins Avenue across from the ocean front motel, he then built a several story addition to the Castaways, much larger than the smaller properties but maintaining the Castaways name, and it was there that the well-enlarged Wreck Bar gained prominence, as much for it being a great and exciting meeting place for mostly-single young adults but because the assistant manager was a beloved personage who just happened to be a ninth degree karate black belt by the name of Johnny Pachivas.
After a several month stint following my graduation from the School of Hotel Administration with a small hotel chain in Dallas and Atlanta (one of the most poorly-run organizations I had and have ever seen, now long out of existence) I returned to Miami Beach and was hired almost immediately as assistant manager of the Castaways, with which I stayed on a few months as I was given the opportunity to become assistant manager at the high-rise motel just north of the Castaways, the Newport, owned by a fellow Cornellian (he a 1935 graduate of the College of Engineering), the late Irving Pollack and what a time I had for my almost two years there.
Besides being the home of the Seven Seas Lounge (which was where I met Ike and Tina, Little Richard and a great and famous Vegas band, “The Mob”) I learned, from manager Al Ruska and Mr. Pollack, how to run a hotel and along with my co-assistant manager, Henry Trenka, we were there day and night to assist in the operation of that hotel, which, along with the Seven Seas Lounge, was the location of one of Miami’s greatest food and beverage operations, the Newport Pub Restaurant, which was a leased operation owned by Wolfie Cohen (Wolfie’s and the Rascal House) and Saul Kaplan, who, along with his brother, Walter, owned the famous Embers Restaurant on 22nd Street on Miami Beach.
Stan was pool manager at the Newport and the late Jack Ross, who has a street named for him in North Miami Beach was the entertainment director so, and like the Castaways, the Newport was a wonderful place at which to learn the business.
Eventually, I was offered another, more lucrative position and moved on but never lost touch, until his passing, with Irving Pollack, while remaining close friends with the host/maitre d’ at the Pub, Mario Talucci for many years.
A third high-rise type property eventually opened at the north end of Sunny Isles, that being the Marco Polo, which, along with the Castaways and the Newport was a fine operation with all the accouterments of a fine hotel including a bar/night club, a coffee shop and an excellent restaurant.
As America’s single most-published Florida history book author (now working on numbers 34—38, none self-published), with one of those being the history of Sunny isles Beach, it was my honor, pleasure and privilege to have been as the expression goes, “at the right place at the right time” to experience not only what few other people ever had the opportunity to do, but, and in addition, to write about it!
Be well, all, stay safe, and, as always, hope and trust that you have enjoyed reading about the past in South Florida.
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