At Home on the Beach, in Key Biscayne! HEREs something different that I hoped youd enjoy. Since as it happens theres an empty paragraph between right now and the real story, Ill take the opportunity to briefly introduce to you to the one-of-a-kind community leader and attorney Dan Paul (Jul. 22, 1924 – Jan. 24, 2010). Dan became a friend, and something of a mentor to me, in the last 10-12 years of his life. He was widely known as the best First Amendment attorney in town, representing the Miami Herald and a slew of others. He was at the same time both highly idealistic, (successfully preventing the planned construction of an airport in the Everglades (!), championing the Metro-Dade system of government, at the time an innovative concept that he believed would yield better results for the People), and utterly practical. He remained his whole life long something of a ninja civic gadfly, possessed of an evil genius for keeping all the right people on their toes, tending to draw sharp lines on their inevitable lapses into arrogance, duplicity, or complacency. My God, how we could use someone like him today. There. Now that you have a sketch of the man, and since weve reached the promised land of paragraph #2, lets get on with the real story! Its not really about Dan Paul, or even any of the ripples set into motion by his many deeds in the course of a big lifetime. Its more about a sweet and simple dream thats been shared by numberless generations, most likely since the dawn of time: living on the Beach. Especially, Its about the luxury of calling home a comfortable place ensconced in almost forty lush acres as its yard and garden, offering absolute privacy, on a beach like Key Biscaynes. Within earshot only of the rhythmical crashing of the waves, the wind through the trees, the occasional cry of the seagulls, and... peaceful quiet. And doing so right here in Miami, and in a time frame relatively recent, as opposed to the long-ago, challenging, and removed era of pioneer wilderness. This feature article from the Miami News of July 25, 1969, provides a glimpse of a way of life on which the curtain was even then falling. After the Matheson brothers had sold off their one-time family homestead and its luxuriant grounds and pocketed their millions in return, there would never again be a private beachfront home just by the seashore on Key Biscayne.( I regret that I dont have the end of the article, but its mostly there.) [Further, I was so preoccupied trying to make the font in the article readable (no simple task!) that I forgot altogether to add the critical headline: GOODBYE TO ALL THIS, A HOTELS COMING SOON! ] Late one afternoon over at his place on Star Island which Id always known as his home (until he finally agreed to sell to Leona Helsmley though the house had not been for sale, such was her offer!) Dan invited me to sit down with him in his wonderful library. He had something he wanted to share with me. I shall never forget the moment. (The library was an unusual room, painted the kind of deep crimson one might see on the walls of Pompeii, with wonderful cabinets in brushed metal, with few straight lines. It had been custom-designed by an extremely famous Italian designer whose name I never tried to remember. All around the upper walls of the room were windows, as one might imagine a castles tower from the inside (especially if one had enjoyed enough good red wine!), and the last of the days sun poured in, molten, until retreating into the gentle pastels of its quietude. It was then that Dan took in hand a big portfolio, and told me that for a time, in his younger days, he had lived in the Mathesons old family home on the Beach, in Key Biscayne. As he flipped through the stunning array, I could think only of 1) the inside of the bottle in I Dream of Jeannie, (the leopard skin on which hes shown reclining is only the beginning, I assure you!); 2) the staging in Fellinis great film Satyricon, and 3) a dawning realization that despite the cavalier tone affected by the young sophisticate who (after all) had always known he couldnt stay, had felt his heart break inside of him with the unspeakable loss, and (in the next moment) be made whole again by the sheer wonder of the experience. He grew quiet, and slowed down in flipping the pages. Then he said, ever so slowly, Oh, Paul, the stars... and fell silent. Id been transfixed by the photos, and turned up to look at him. I saw his gaze fixed on an image nowhere in the album, but instead (I felt) forever burned into his heart, and living memory. What he saw was the reason that we take photographs, but also that which can never, ever truly be captured, even on the finest film. I gave him a moment, then said something like Oh! Really amazing? It didnt matter what I said; but I had to say something. He turned to me, the tips of his fingers resting gently upon his face, and said in softest voice,My God. My god. Our eyes met, and in that moment I saw a Dan Paul that I was quite certain very few had ever been given a chance to see. There is no describing it; but it was a gift I shall treasure always. And then it was another swig of his gin and tonic and he was back, flipping through the pages, relating any number of outrageous tales about the whole experience that were far too bizarre, or wonderful, not to be true. ________________________________________________________ I hope that you may be inspired to take a moment, whenever, to imagine life at your home on the Beach. Sincere thanks for joining me on this journey.
Posted on: Thu, 31 Jul 2014 00:51:59 +0000
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