IS STILTSVILLE FACING ITS LAST STAND? IT'S NOT HISTORIC ENOUGH TO PRESERVE, OFFICIALS SAY. BUT IT HOLDS SO MANY OF MIAMI'S MEMORIES.

May 28, 1999
By MIKE WILLIAMS, Staff

Miami-- Long before movie stars like Sly Stallone and Madonna stalked this sultry city's night streets, larger-than-life characters like Plucky Pierre wrote the local legends. Their haunt was a seagoing gathering of shacks built on pilings in the sand flats of Biscayne Bay, a place called Stiltsville. Starting in the 1930s, the ad hoc neighborhood was a place where families snoozed away lazy summer afternoons fishing from front porches, while night-going partyers reveled till dawn in racy joints like the Bikini Club and the Quarterdeck.

Stiltsville's glory days faded decades ago, as Miami morphed into a Sunbelt vacation mecca, then transitioned again into the de facto capital of Latin America, then spun once more with glitzy South Beach becoming a '90s American Riviera. Funky old Stiltsville remained, its hurricane-battered cabins dwindling in number, but still a time-worn testament to a slower, simpler time.

Now Stiltsville could be on its last legs, with a government-imposed deadline threatening the few remaining bungalows with the wrecking ball.

The owners of the seven remaining structures hoped to escape demolition with a bid to have their homes placed on the National Register of Historic Places, but that effort failed.

Their leases with Biscayne National Park expire July 1, and without some sort of last-minute reprieve, the owners will have to tear down the cabins. But a groundswell of support for saving Stiltsville seems to be growing, perhaps born of young Miami's need to hang on to the little bit of history it has managed to accrue in 100 short years.

"We've gotten over 25,000 signatures on petitions from people we don't even know who say they want Stiltsville saved," said Chris Knight, a Miami lawyer who grew up fishing in Stiltsville and purchased one of the homes in the mid-1980s with several partners. "You can't understand it until you've been there. Anybody who grew up down here on the water knows about it."

National park officials say they appreciate Stiltsville's popularity, but feel their hands are tied.

"Our superintendent feels there is no alternative," said Gary Bremen, a spokesman for Biscayne National Park, which owns the bay bottom the houses are built on. "All our direction from Congress tells us that this is something we can't keep. It's an interesting story, but it doesn't meet the criteria established in our policies."

That policy allows private ownership of buildings in national parks if they are on the national register. To get listed, the structures must be historically significant and more than 50 years old. Younger buildings can be listed if they are deemed exceptionally important.

Stiltsville's buildings are all younger than 50 years, but residents --- and some local historians --- believe that the structures should qualify as an exceptional part of Miami's history.

"Miami is a very unique place," said local historian Arva Moore Parks, who has lobbied to preserve Stiltsville. "We don't fit the standard mold. Stiltsville is particularly meaningful because of our lifestyle. We're surrounded by Biscayne Bay."

Stiltsville was "founded" in the 1930s, when Miami was a hot, sleepy Southern vacation town with a short winter season. Residents then boated, fished and explored a much wilder Biscayne Bay, stalking elusive bonefish, crabbing and floundering the wide, shallow waters.

Stiltsville's founder and first resident was "Crawfish" Walker, who opened a bait-and-beer shack that struck up a thriving business with passing fishermen.

Soon several more shacks sprung up, some built by prominent Miami leaders and businessmen.

But the place really took off in the 1940s, when the Quarterdeck opened, featuring electricity, a bar, a dining room and gaming tables. A Life magazine spread in 1941 helped spread Stiltsville's reputation, glamorizing the laid-back South Florida lifestyle.

But the lure of the taboo was also woven in the community's history: the Quarterdeck and another club that soon opened had a wide-open, anything-goes atmosphere. Scantily clad waitresses, illegal gambling and even prostitution flourished in the offshore haven, free from mainland regulation and law enforcement.

However, the cops eventually took notice.

The first police raid reportedly took place in the 1950s, when exotic dancers were arrested and gambling tables were confiscated from a party at the Quarterdeck.

Through the years, hurricanes also took their toll, with Donna in 1960s destroying 20 of the 27 homes.

In 1962, though, a revival of sorts came when Plucky Pierre --- his real name was Harry Churchville --- grounded a 150-foot yacht on the flats and christened it the "Bikini Club."

Pierre ran his joint, featuring waitresses in bikinis, until 1965, when the state shut him down for serving booze without a liquor license.

Soon another hurricane, Betsy, leveled more of the homes, and complaints from residents of nearby Key Biscayne led state and local officials to crack down on those who rebuilt.

Owners got leases from the state in 1968. In 1980, the bay bottom became part of Biscayne National Park, and owners were told they could stay until 1999, when their leases would expire and they would be required to tear down the cabins at their own expense.

The owners began negotiating several years ago with park officials, hoping to extend their leases or gain some other type of reprieve. Park Superintendent Dick Frost told them the National Historic Register designation would go a long way toward helping their cause, so they applied.

Last year the state's review board, which makes recommendations to the national panel, voted unanimously to support Stiltsville's preservation. But the national board rejected the application, ruling that the remaining homes were too young and that Stiltsville's history is nothing that extraordinary.

"I was really surprised by that," said local historian Paul George, who researched the community and made a presentation to the state board. "Usually a unanimous vote by a state board is tantamount to being placed on the national register."

The residents aren't giving up yet. They set up a Web site, www.stiltsville.org, and have enlisted the support of their local congressional delegation, as well as that of Gov. Jeb Bush, a former Miami resident.

"I think our odds are good if these people use common sense rather than being bureaucrats with blinders on saying they have to follow policy," Knight said.

George is also hopeful, saying a town with such a young history needs to hold on to a sense of its past.

"It really is an only-in-Miami kind of thing," he said. "It had an aura, a rascally mischievous past. But it was also just a place people could go to enjoy getting away. It would be a terrible loss."