Letter digitally coded from original for faster download and easier reading

April 13, 1999

Ms. Marilyn Harper
National Register of Historic Places
Department of the Interior
P.O. Box37127
Washington, DC 20013-7127

Dear Ms. Harper,

The maxim is chillingly appropriate: we most appreciate the value of our treasures only when we have lost them. I write this before we lose another, in the hope that you will intercede by helping overturn the death sentence levied on the uniquely wonderful—and wonderfully unique—"Stiltsville" in Miami’s Biscayne Bay. It deserves no less.

No, I have no proprietary interest in Stiltsville, only a longtime South Floridians love for it. But I am sure I could summons many others like myself who would submit that the arguments used to fix Stiltsville’s fate badly missed the point, not to say the larger picture. Now, when they would disservice the area that the people who wielded them are supposed to protect, those arguments need to be challenged.

To be sure, by strict definition the houses still standing in Stiltsville are less than the 50 years a site is supposed to have aged to obtain "historical" sanctuary. It could easily be proved that the origins of the place go back much further than that, but never mind. Staying power should never be the deciding factor in determining value. The Freedom Tower in downtown Miami was embraced for posterity not for its age but because it had special meaning that came long after its original services as a newspaper’s home. Today, when it is virtually inaccessible (another argument used against Stiltsville) the tower’s honored place on the Miami waterfront alone makes it worth saving.

The point indeed was made again that Stiltsville is not open to the "general public." As you know, not all protected areas are, and if, say, the Washington Monument were declared structurally unfit to visitors, I doubt you would let anybody knock it down. But the truth is that Stiltsville IS accessible to the public, in ways your office would understand, and has been for all the years of its life.

It is accessible, first, because it’s there, framed uniquely (that important word again) against the Miami skyline. I didn’t appreciate it myself so much until I moved to New York to write for a magazine and noted how often airplane pilots bringing passengers in from the Atlantic would dip a wing to the view and say, "On your left, a special place in Miami: Stiltsville. Houses on stilts right in the water!" When I moved back, and began experiencing Biscayne Bay on more intimate terms, I found other things to appreciate about Stiltsville. That it was, in every way, a boater’s and artist’s delight. I know about the later because my wife is one (an artist) and has put it to canvas many times. Fishermen like myself would argue that it not only serves well as a navigational aid, but is a pleasure just to pass through and fish around. The seven houses still standing rise unthreateningly from the flats on either side of the channel that connects the bay to the ocean, and their pilings and shadows have become perpetual havens for fish and other sea life. The benefits, therefore, are mutual all around.

On that front, I doubt that very many of the thousands who now avail themselves of the area would object - or even know or care - that Stiltsville was once a "haven for the wealthy," used by owners to beat Prohibition laws or to party unrestrained. If it had that reputation once upon a time, so what? The image no longer applies. And on those occasions lately when I have actually spent time in the houses themselves, the activities shared were about as racy as you can imagine when Boy Scouts (in my charge) and Girls Scouts (my wife’s troop) are involved. I know of one owner who regularly invites exchange students through the Rotary Club, so maybe as a requirement for sanction you could extract written promises that the houses would open their doors to similar activities. But the truth is that it’s not necessary to sleep in one to appreciate their worth. To the contrary. I took a columnist friend from Georgia for dinner there one night and when he subsequently wrote about it his enthusiasm was lavished not on the barbecue but on the "breathtaking" views and the boat ride back and forth, and on how much more there was to Miami than the negative images he had been fed by the national media.

So how and when does some place or thing deserve being saved for generations to come? I am sure you have a more sophisticated answer, but I would think simply when the ethos of an area is noticeably improved by its presence, and the knowledge that its ‘footprints" will play out positively over the long haul. Stiltsville is every bit as important to my sense of place, and as impressive to my eye, as The Arch would be if I lived in St. Louis, or the Golden Gate bridge if I lived in San Francisco. Accessibility, after all, is a relative thing. I don’t have to touch the figures on Mount Rushmore to enjoy their being there, and if I had never set foot in the Empire State Building, I still wouldn’t want to see it leveled.

One last point. It has been implied that Stiltsville somehow infringes on and impairs the pristine waters of Biscayne National Park. Nothing could be further from the truth. To begin with, Stiltsville perches on the northernmost extreme of the park, and the channel that splits it would teem with traffic and fisherman whether the houses were there or not. If anything, the park infringes on Stiltsville. But there is no reason the two should not be allowed to lived happily ever after. The State of Florida has already seen it that way, in a unanimous vote of its Division of Historical Places. Should the federal government, then, be in the business of breaking up a good marriage? I think not, and hope you feel the same.

Sincerely,

John Underwood

c: Bob Graham, Senator

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