Best Of Miami® 2003 Winners
People & Places
Outhouse of mirrors. First drink: It's a fun house. Second drink: It's the ever-receding reflection of your sense of self. Third drink: It's the Versailles (the one in France, not Little Havana)!
ANDREA CURTO-RANDAZZO & FRANK RANDAZZO
TALULA, 210 23rd Street, Miami Beach,305-672-0778
They could be Best Power Couple. Andrea Curto-Randazzo and husband Frank Randazzo individually have made big waves in the culinary world. But now they're teaming up for a new venture, Talula Restaurant & Bar, and their combined talents might well unleash a tsunami. While zooming up the culinary ladder, Andrea and Frank twice worked together before tying the knot -- at the famed Tribeca Grill in New York and at The Heights (formerly Pacific Heights) in Coral Gables. Frank then launched the Gaucho Room at the Loews Miami Beach while Andrea took over at Wish, both in South Beach and both of which brought them international acclaim. Love changes everything, of course. They married, quit their jobs, had a baby girl, and now are ready to unveil Talula by the end of this month. The name? It's a simplified version of Andrea's childhood nickname, after actress Tallulah Bankhead -- an early indication of her dramatic flair.
BEST LOCAL LANDMARK
Jimbo's on Virginia Key. A real hidden treasure and so much more than a bait shop. Pulling up by boat through Shrimper's Lagoon is the only way to arrive. It's such a cool place, the opposite of Miami's polished side. Jim Luznar opened this landmark in 1954 and it remains the best place in Miami for fresh smoked fish and cheap cold beer.
BEST CHEAP THRILL
Tourists and newcomers are always told that Ocean Drive and Lincoln Road are the best places to people-watch, but those of us who live here know that the Publix on Twentieth Street is really the place. Stroll up and down the aisles and you will see everyone you know, even those you didn't think knew how to cook. Most men don't like to go grocery shopping, but Frank doesn't mind it because the scenery is so good.
BEST NATURAL HIGH
Each time we drive back to Miami Beach we remember how pretty it is here. I grew up here and sometimes take the place for granted but Frank reminds me by talking about the beauty. From our balcony we get to see the cruise ships leave. It's the perfect view and it is so cool.
BEST PLACE TO SAVOR THE FLAVOR OF MIAMI
When we think of local flavor we think of Cuban food, and we are fortunate that Nelson DeLeon, architect for Talula and a local of Cuban heritage, took us to a place we really like -- La Casita Restaurant in Coral Gables. La Casita has a casual, friendly atmosphere where everyone is comfortable.
BEST REASON TO LIVE IN MIAMI
We were tired of the snow up north and enjoy simplicity. Miami Beach seemed like the right place at the right time. Everything is within walking distance, just around the corner. We are simple people who want a simple, laid-back lifestyle. We found it here.
RECIPE
CALABAZA AND MUSHROOM RISOTTO
Serves 6-8
1 1/2 pounds sautéed mushrooms (shiitake, portobello, oyster, and/or crimini)
2 cups calabaza, diced and cooked (approximately a quarter of 1 calabaza)
1/2 pound butter
1 large onion (diced small)
1 pound arborio rice
2 bay leaves
2 cups white wine
1 gallon vegetable or chicken stock (hot)
2 tablespoons lime zest
1 cup Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (grated)
2 tablespoons truffle oil (white or black)
Salt
White pepper
Wooden spoon
To sauté mushrooms:
Preheat large sauté pan over medium heat. Slice mushrooms lengthwise (be sure to trim down oversize portobellos). Add 1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter to sauté pan. When butter melts, add mushrooms and sauté for 5 minutes stirring often. Season with salt and white pepper. Reserve.
To cook calabaza:
Remove skin from calabaza and dice into quarter-inch cubes, removing seeds and pulp. Place in salted boiling water and simmer until tender (about 5 minutes). Strain and cool immediately.
To prepare risotto:
Add 2 tablespoons olive oil and melt 3 tablespoons butter in a preheated rondeau. Add diced onion and sauté on medium heat until onions are tender and translucent. Add arborio and bay leaf and stir with wooden spoon until coated with butter. Add 2 cups white wine and stir, simmer until wine is absorbed. Add 1 cup hot stock at a time, stirring until absorbed. Continue adding stock slowly, 1 cup at a time, stirring very often until rice is tender and creamy. Stir in mushrooms, calabaza, herbs, lime zest, cheese, and remaining butter. Season with salt and white pepper. Drizzle in truffle oil. Serve immediately.
BEST 2 REASONS TO LEAVE MOVIEMAKING TO HOLLYWOOD
Bad Boys II and 2 Fast 2 Furious
BEST BANK FOR THE BUSY
Beach Bank
555 Arthur Godfrey Road
Miami Beach
305-695-7400
Ahh, the impersonal nature of banking. Sure, that ATM perennially spouting cash is convenient, and that check card can be pretty handy too (even though your account's been drained three times by retail-sector thieves). And yes, online banking means you can monitor funds and pay bills right at your desk -- just like your boss does when he isn't watching his stocks! But admit it, you yearn for the days when banks would dole out toasters and clock radios as a reward for opening a new account, when lots of smiling tellers would utter their names and mean it when they said: "May I help you," and when the darned places were open on Saturday. Because who has the time to sneak away from the job and deal with money matters during the week? Well, a number of banks have begun throwing their doors open on Saturdays. But only Beach Bank can boast Sunday hours. The official day of rest for many is a day of work for them. Located in mid-Miami Beach, home to a heavily Orthodox Jewish population, the financial institution caters to those who don't do squat on Saturdays -- by religious mandate or not. But come Sunday, from 9:00 a.m. to noon, anybody can take care of his financial business.
Or should we say "bus benches" -- because who are we trying to fool? We all know these new contraptions are lucrative mini-billboards disguised by Sarmiento Advertising Group as seating units for the bus-riding masses. And as bus-riders themselves will tell you, the proof is in the scorching heat that radiates from the benches' metal bars after a few hours absorbing solar radiation in 95-degree heat. In some locations Sarmiento didn't even bother with the bench decoy; only the sign. City of Miami planning directors, former Manager Carlos Gimenez, and all five city commissioners fell for the company's crafty sales pitch, in which the billboards were described as "street furniture." Apparently Sarmiento's metallic sofas looked so cool in photos that city officials agreed to let the company place some right next to those old advertising-delivery devices known as "bus shelters," and even alongside the old wooden "bus benches" the new ones were to replace. But they turned out to be so uncool that Sarmiento executives were soon scrambling to apply a heat-repellant coating to protect the tax-paying public's backsides, as well as their own.
At the Eden Roc it's always the Fifties, baby. Just like it oughta be. You walk into the lobby, with its staircase floating down from the mezzanine, fluted rosewood columns, and ornate terrazzo floors. Spin in a circle. So much open space it's breathtaking. You can almost see Sammy Davis, Jr., tapping across the floor toward Harry's bar, where Frank Sinatra is ordering a martini and chatting up Liz Taylor. The Roc opened in the mid-Fifties, a creation of purest swank from the mind of daffy architectural genius Morris Lapidus. After Hollywood left, though, the 349-room hotel was sold and renovated many times, resulting in a creeping horror of Seventies and Eighties-era notions of style covering the old splendor. In 1999 new owners pumped millions into a makeover that essentially restored the grand dame to her original self. And we like her, yes we do.
Miami-Dade Transit's Route B is a study in contrasts. Originating downtown, your bus soon offers a postcard view of the concrete jungle you left behind and of the Brickell skyline as it crosses the Rickenbacker Causeway on the way to the manicured municipality of Key Biscayne. This trip affords access to several of Miami's prime recreation locales. You can hop off to visit Virginia Key's sandy coves or Seaquarium; the golf course, tennis courts, and beach of Crandon Park; or stay to the end of the line to reach Bill Baggs Cape Florida State Park (for the park, the bus sign must indicate "Key Biscayne by Way of Crandon Boulevard"). By taking public transport you also save on the Bill Baggs admission fee.
Nestled in a classy residential neighborhood just south of Sunset Drive, this designated historical landmark is the last resting place for more than 200 Miami pioneers, many of them unidentified, most buried in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries. It officially became a cemetery in 1906, but settlers south of the Miami River were buried there as early as 1855, making it the oldest cemetery in the region. (Prior to Miami's 1896 incorporation, people living north of the river buried dead kin on their properties.) Not long ago a Boy Scout troop cleared out a lot of the overgrown brush as part of a renovation project, but the place is still dense and lush. Depending on your frame of mind, it's even a bit spooky in its lonely silence. Some tombstones have been restored or replaced by preservation societies and living relatives, while others are weathered beyond recognition. Confederate soldiers are among those interred here, and you can see the C.S.A. insignia along with the Stars and Bars on some markers. A section along the east side mutely testifies to an intriguing family tragedy. This is where the Brook family buried their young. The firstborn, Virginia, died in 1921 before she turned two. Beside her lie siblings Patrick (girl), Patrick (boy), Brown, and Scott, all born between 1923 and 1934, none having lived more than two years.
The Calle Ocho street festival isn't just sweaty Spandex, lip-synching, hip-swinging, and flag-waving. It's also a multimillion-dollar fundraiser that allows the Kiwanis Club of Little Havana to provide desperately needed services to the neediest residents of the poorest city in the United States. With more than 150 volunteer members and a full-time staff of five, Los Kiwanis are busy year-round: running basketball, soccer, and baseball leagues for inner-city kids; building playgrounds and parks throughout the city; caring and feeding for senior citizens and the homeless; funding a scholarship program that currently puts 48 students through Florida universities. But the list doesn't end there. The Kiwanis Club runs voter-registration drives, plants palms along city streets, and passes out presents to kids at Christmastime and school supplies come September. They send cash-strapped softball teams to championships, urban teens to camp, and drug addicts to treatment. There is hardly a charity in town that has not benefited from Kiwanis largesse, from the Catholic Home for Children and Boystown to the Children's Miracle Network, Capernaum House, Deed Cancer Clinic, and Dade County Public Schools. Chances are if somebody needs help in Miami-Dade County, the Kiwanis Club of Little Havana will figure out a way to lend a hand.
The Miccosukee Resort's Café Hammock has the best steak-and-lobster dinner deal in town: $6.95 for surf and turf at the tribe's Eighth Street and Krome Avenue gaming palace on the edge of the Everglades. After the bargain meal you can lose all the money you saved on the food by sitting down at the casino's poker tables, slot machines, or in the cavernous bingo hall.
Three years ago we said Ricker was our Best Gadfly. Given his dedication and perseverance, this new honor, Best Citizen, is well deserved. Ricker goes to 2500 mind-melting meetings annually, from the Public Health Trust's purchasing subcommittee to the Efficiency and Competition Commission to the Alliance for Human Services' nominating council to the school board's audit committee. Sometimes he's the only public observer. Object: to be the Public Citizen for all those out there who can't attend, and to connect and serve as an information bridge among the special-interest-dominated Miami-Dade governmental institutions that seem so problematic and indifferent to the democratic process. This month his e-mail newsletter, The Watchdog Report, celebrates its fourth anniversary. In a former life Ricker made a handsome living as an international salesman of heart pacemakers. As the hard-working publisher of Watchdog, though, he's struggling financially -- this despite the fact that his weekly compendium of meeting summaries, analysis, interviews, and commentary has become essential reading for anyone involved in public affairs. What his written work may lack in polish, it more than makes up for in comprehensiveness. So raise a toast to the man whose official slogan says it all: "A community education resource -- I go when you cannot!"
Ever since the Miami Herald killed Balmaseda's column last June, the paper just hasn't been the same. Frankly, we miss the flood of woeful tales about hapless Cuban immigrants who pine for the homeland. Her weepy prose was like a warm blanket. We also miss the fact that when it was pointed out she wrote endless columns about hapless immigrants who miss Cuba, she reminded us she won a Pulitzer Prize. And of course we miss the way she injected herself into the story, like the time she joined a prayer vigil at Elian Gonzalez's house. But we understand, however reluctantly, that change is good and necessary, though Balmaseda is quick to point out she's still writing for the paper, as well as working on screenplays. There was a time when her writing had genuine intensity. And she did kick butt years ago with her immigration reporting. So here's hoping that a newly invigorated Balmaseda emerges from the ashes of the old one.
Ever since the Miami Herald killed Balmaseda's column last June, the paper just hasn't been the same. Frankly, we miss the flood of woeful tales about hapless Cuban immigrants who pine for the homeland. Her weepy prose was like a warm blanket. We also miss the fact that when it was pointed out she wrote endless columns about hapless immigrants who miss Cuba, she reminded us she won a Pulitzer Prize. And of course we miss the way she injected herself into the story, like the time she joined a prayer vigil at Elian Gonzalez's house. But we understand, however reluctantly, that change is good and necessary, though Balmaseda is quick to point out she's still writing for the paper, as well as working on screenplays. There was a time when her writing had genuine intensity. And she did kick butt years ago with her immigration reporting. So here's hoping that a newly invigorated Balmaseda emerges from the ashes of the old one.
When a guy can afford to donate his salary to charity, you know he's loaded. Arriola, Miami's blue-eyed angel of death -- er, city manager -- made off with a cool $42 million when he sold Avanti/Case-Hoyt, his family's printing business, two years ago. Since then he's done a magnificent job of flaunting his wealth. First he joined Merrett Stierheim's team trying to straighten out the public-school system (salary: one dollar), then quit in a huff, but not before insulting Stierheim by calling him a "horrible leader" who "doesn't respect women, or blacks, or Hispanics." More recently Arriola publicly insulted the reform-minded chairman of the county's Public Health Trust, attorney Michael Kosnitzky, labeling him a "cancer" in that organization. Then he accepted Miami Mayor Manny Diaz's offer to become city manager and loudly proclaimed he'd donate his six-figure salary to the United Way, but not before unceremoniously, gleefully, firing several veteran city officials. Is this what it means to be filthy rich?
The terrible situation that has befallen the country that was once the most solidly middle-class in Latin America has resulted in an exodus. Many Argentineans, especially the younger generation, have relocated to Miami. It is our gain and their homeland's unfortunate loss. Yes, we recognize that a hefty percentage are here illegally, but like other immigrant groups before them, we appreciate their willingness to work (it seems every valet and restaurant hostess hails from Argentina) and the cultural and culinary sensibilities they carry with them. Argentineans have long embraced café culture; even the most humble of their establishments here will have tables and chairs inside as well as outside if there's room. Plus they have a special way with a number of key food groups: beef, pasta, pizza, gelato, dulce de leche, and coffee. ¡Che, bienvenidos!
Nothing like it has ever happened here -- a spectacular success for both Miami and the world that came to see it. It was also a quince of sorts, our own coming out and maturing party. We were ready to host the planet's biggest international art fair and to impress those who followed it here. The Switzerland-based event dropped into the Miami Beach Convention Center with thousands of pieces of the most vaunted contemporary art; local collectors opened their doors and were received with international applause; local artists put their very best faces forward at the Design District's ancillary event -- and everyone smiled. Did people party? Yes. Did art sell? Yes. Were the well-heeled global art-setters awed? Yes. Will the fair return bigger and most likely better next year? Yes.
Readers Choice: Coconut Grove Arts Festival
The Count, as he's known at Miami Beach City Hall, is a small man struggling to balance magnificent obsession with an abiding interest in historical minutiae. Both qualities are satisfied by the Count's 27-year quest to claim a share of the European fortune of distant German relatives, lost somewhere between the demise of Prussia and the Holocaust. But since 1994, when the Count moved from New York to Miami Beach, local politics has been his all-consuming hobby. Nearly every day he can be spotted lurking around city hall's fourth floor, sometimes smoking a cigar on a balcony and keeping a keen eye on the comings and goings of the movers shaking down the latest city deal. "To be honest with you, I have nothing to do," he shrugs. The Count's passions run to public access and the rights of the working class, from opposing the closing of public roads to demanding low-cost housing, to promoting candidates he feels aren't beholden to the Beach's entrenched power structure. "The greed here is unbelievable," he observes. "If I can do a little to upset that, it's a good thing." Of course the Count has his detractors. Some believe he's actually evil, having cast a spell over weak-minded elected officials, and that he has subverted the best intentions of well-meaning bureaucrats. The Count merely laughs at that. "My objections are philosophical, not personal," he says. "I mean, I love these people, but it's one thing after another."
You know who you are. On September 10, 2002, you voted to maintain the county's human-rights ordinance after a bruising campaign spearheaded by religious fanatics who wanted to delete the words "gays and lesbians" from the local anti-discrimination law. For many the repeal effort evoked the days of Anita Bryant's vicious anti-gay campaign, the stain of which still clings. You kept us from becoming a poster city for backward-thinking and intolerance. But it was close. The SAVE Dade campaign squeaked by with just 53 percent of the vote. That's why you're heroes. You voted when it counted.
Most drivers en route between Miami Beach and Miami via North Bay Village likely pass unawares through this North Beach neighborhood. Overshadowed by nearby Little Buenos Aires (Collins in the Seventies), Normandy Isle is a discrete entity, surrounded by the bay and canals, including one that divides the island in two, offering many residents water access and providing a training ground for crew teams and skullers out of the Miami Beach Watersports Center. The northern half is rooted by the Normandy Shores Municipal Golf Course while the southern half has the commercial district centered around the fountain, informally dubbed the Place Vendome (nearly all the Normandy Sud streets have French names). With sections of single-family homes and predominantly small apartment buildings dating from the Forties and Fifties, it's home to a mix of long-time residents and newer arrivals, Anglos and Latinos (of which Cubans and Argentineans are only the most visible), families and singles (straight and gay), who manage to co-exist. The area is in transition, though, as Section 8 rentals give way to condo conversions, with the accompanying dislocations. But the City of Miami Beach is also investing millions in fixing up the streetscapes and in refurbishing the Normandy Isle Park, to the benefit of all.
The trick is to stash your skank bag (the sizable trash or cloth sacks in which the homeless drag their stuff around) somewhere else before you start holding up a palm tree. That way the cops won't know you're one of them. Then you get a pair of shades, clean up as much as feasible, hide your bottle of Natural Ice behind your back, and sleep in peace. (The homeless are always tired because cops chase them around at night when they see them on the street.) Lummus is a glorious green oasis, and you can dream of the rich babes just across Ocean at the News Café, the Cardozo, or the Tides, who might discover you here, and unlike most other folks, recognize your good qualities.
This hotel has its own creative director! You know the place by its former name, the Banana Bungalow, perched there at the tail end of Indian Creek on Collins Avenue. It still has that fabulous, sweeping-roofed glass-encased lobby. The Fifties rooms have not been remodeled. But the Signature Rooms have been "redecorated" by artists and designers. You can take the Honeymoon Suite, with lingerie, panties, necklaces, and bra hung on a lamp, painted in red on the walls. Or the room covered with little red plaques -- if you take one off, you can write a "secret" message on the white wall underneath. Or you can leave another message in the Message in a Bottle room, with glass bottles hanging in a corner. And the cheesy Gold Lamé room is killer. The rooms will most likely be redone by other artists next year. Down at the poolside patio there's electronica lounge music in the evening, a barbecue on Saturday afternoons and a hip, urban feel 24/7. With rates that can drop below $100, this little island can make South Beach feel cool again.
Readers Choice: Delano Hotel
Every day he assaults the senses of the unprepared and quickens the mirth of the accustomed. Trapped in crawling traffic beneath his welcoming gaze, thousands of worker bees trying to make downtown-Miami money without actually having to live there contemplate his message. Is it a commandment? A suggestion? A calling? A joke? "For a Healthy Clean Tush," Mr. Bidet advises. His stick-figure form, painted on the side of a building, is bent into a sitting position, a large triangle symbolizing a spout of water aimed at his derriere. Even now, a pack of teens with a cell phone is calling the advertised telephone number, snickering, hanging up. Taking pictures. Calling back to ask, "Is this for real?" You bet. Mr. Bidet is but one of the faces of Arnold and Donna Cohen, South Florida's bidet barons, whose bathroom devices have been getting the job done since the Seventies. Donna rattles off a long list of loyal customers, including actors, ex-presidents, CEOs, and TV weathermen. Thanks to what Cohen describes as "a little office out in Los Angeles," this includes notables such as Jack Lemmon, Barbra Streisand, John Wayne ("When he was still alive"), Dr. Joyce Brothers, and Jimmy Carter ("It's what keeps him smiling"). "We thought we'd send one to Clinton, but he was in enough trouble," Cohen quips. Beware the lure of the bidet: Once you've soaked, mere paper becomes almost heretical. "It becomes like a little cult," Mrs. Bidet confides.
Happiness is a bumper lane. On a Friday night. With dance music blaring and all kinds of crazy shapes glowing purple, yellow, and green in the black-light strobes. Kids roll the ball between their legs with both hands; punch in silly names on Don Carter's fancy score-keeping computers; and if Mom and Dad get to paying too much attention to that pitcher of beer, even go shooting halfway down the lane with little fingers still stuck in the ball!
Readers Choice: Miami-Dade County Youth Fair
Why? Because he's so damn entertaining. Because he's not afraid to lie down in a $1000 suit in front of a jury to approximate a corpse. Because he comes up with cute nicknames for opposing counsel (he mockingly told a jury that if federal prosecutor Allan Kaiser got his way, police would blow kisses to criminals rather than arrest them; he called it the "Kaiser Kiss"). Because he moves his arms constantly when summarizing. Because there's not a gag order around that can shut him up. Because if you're a cop accused of something very, very bad, so bad you don't think you have a prayer, this is the guy who will put on a show that just might distract the jury enough to get you off.
Well, okay, the Lord never said, "Thou shalt not defraud thy neighbor with electoral fraud." But Tony! Neither did He say, "Go forth and bear false witness to petition signatures because homosexuals belongeth to an axis of evil." In the absence of an explicit prohibition, our local Christian Coalition leader apparently figured there'd be no problem. The issue was repeal of the Miami-Dade law forbidding discrimination against our neighbors because they are gay, lesbian, bi, straight, or asexual. Last August state law-enforcement officers arrested Verdugo and charged him with one felony count of false swearing during the Take Back Miami-Dade petition drive that forced this repeal question onto the September 10, 2002 ballot. (Agents also arrested three others in the Take Back family.) A few hours later Verdugo was out on bond, unrepentant, and preaching on AM radio about how he had been framed by Miami-Dade Mayor Alex Penelas, the supervisor of elections, various prosecutors, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, and other members of the homosexualist Mafia. Verdugo hit bottom, however, when he took little Elian's name in vain. He told listeners that his own arrest reminded him of that early morning in April 2000 when federal agents swooped in and snatched the miracle child. Verdugo now knows the power of mercy, if he didn't before. Because he was a first-time offender, prosecutors gave him the option of performing community service instead of standing trial. And so the charge was dropped.
We're not jealous of you Jorge, we're proud! We've seen your handsome face adorning those humorous videos, and we know the rest of the world has been chuckling with them as well. We watched you win Best New Artist at the Latin Grammys, then go on to be nominated for Best Latin Pop Album at the non-Latin Grammys. You were one of the first signed up to Madonna's new label Maverick, and not just because of those looks -- we all know the other pretty boys on the charts don't write their own songs and play their own instruments like you did for Jorge Moreno. That disc that gave us the exhilarating homage to Desi Arnaz in "Babalú," and highlighted your own songwriting skills -- and mixture of styles from pop to tropical to son -- on "Mi Sufrimiento" and "Despertare." And you can still laugh at yourself. You Cuban-American honest-to-God high-quality-product-of-Miami, you go boy!
Readers Choice: Alex Rodriguez
Cuban immigrant Gerardo Gonzalez was one of the most popular boxers of the Fifties. As "Kid Gavilan" he won a world title against Johnny Bratton in 1951 at Madison Square Garden. He was inducted into the Boxing Hall of Fame in 1990. Gavilan was notorious for overwhelming his opponents with flurries of punches coming from all angles, and coined a notorious strike called the "bolo punch," a potentially lethal uppercut. He retired at age 32 with a record of 107 wins and 30 losses (28 KOs). In 1958 Gavilan returned to revolutionary Cuba only to have his property confiscated. Like so many others he escaped to that intermediary land of Miami, where he remained a vital source of information and energy in the boxing world. Gonzalez died of a heart attack February 13, 2002, in Miami. He was 77 years old. Papers in England, Scotland, and Australia wrote obituaries commemorating his career.
She came from St. Louis to Miami, innocent and earnest, to get her degree in physical therapy from UM. She got it and began aiding old folks and kids with accident or disease-based problems. An admirable life of helping others. But then she caught a glimpse of the Miami Heat dancers and succumbed to her inner star complex. It's been downhill ever since. Before long Trista was in Los Angeles, a popular finalist on ABC's dreadful The Bachelor, in which a guy goes through 25 hapless ladies to see which one he'll marry. True love on reality TV? Many in here shuddered to think she represented, however tenuously, the best Miami had to offer. When she didn't make the final cut, her audience popularity (imagine that audience...) led boob tube honchos to give her a spinoff all her own: The Bachelorette. This time she got to go through 25 guys and dump 24 of them. Just in time for the final episode, and with commercial sponsors lining up for the kill, she picked a poetry-writing fireman. "We're still together and in love," she recently ventured, adding (to no one's surprise) that she was now looking for a more permanent TV or movie job.
On May 6, 2003, by a unanimous vote of the U.S. Senate, Altonaga became the nation's first female Cuban-American federal judge. President George W. Bush personally nominated her, sidestepping a list of South Florida candidates forwarded by the state's two senators, Bill Nelson and Bob Graham. The move provoked cries of foul. It's clear Bush wanted a Cuban female in the position, and in Altonaga he found a winner. The Yale-educated Coral Gables resident was a career prosecutor with the Miami-Dade State Attorney's Office until she became a county court judge in 1996 and then circuit court judge three years later. Even Nelson and Graham, two Democrats, conceded the point of her qualifications and ended up backing the president's pick.
Readers Choice: Gloria Estefan
Her passport put her age at 82, but relatives think she was at least 90 when this nation's grande dame of the sleazy art film departed Miami this past August 10 on a nudist cruise to hell. At least that was the destination Doris Wishman always thought she'd booked, owing to the naughty nature of her movies. Indeed her reputed cult classic is Bad Girls Go to Hell. But so extensive was this Coral Gables denizen's following that the boat surely dropped her off at that cinema paradiso in the sky, probably still wearing an imitation leopard-skin suit and retro sunglasses. In the Sixties Wishman's low-budget shoots explored a strange universe of nudism. They include Hideout in the Sun, in which two bank robbers hide from the police in a nudist camp, and Blaze Starr Goes Nudist. Another classic overlooked by the Academy was Nude on the Moon, in which astronauts touch down and find a welcoming committee of naked women with antennas and bouffant hairdos. She even delved into heavy international political themes with Behind the Nudist Curtain. As the decade progressed, the self-taught director gradually refined her grainy black-and-white melodramas in which crude men tended to abuse scantily clad women. Critics raved about her jarring jump-cut closeups to ashtrays, squirrels, heaving breasts. Her filmography is a veritable review of Sixties history: Another Day, Another Man; The Sex Perils of Paulette; Bad Girls Go to Hell; Indecent Desires; A Taste of Her Flesh. Perhaps it was a lust for money that led to her mid-Seventies hardcore phase (Come With Me, My Love). But mostly she eschewed explicit sex in her art, preferring to revel instead in tasteless weirdness. A few years later the prolific filmmaker culminated her dream of making a horror flick with A Day to Dismember, about a female porn actress turned psycho-killer. After a long hiatus and a stint working at the Pink Pussycat sex boutique in Coconut Grove, Wishman returned in the new millennium with the lyrical Dildo Heaven and the violent yet sexy Satan Was a Lady. She was editing Each Time I Kill at the time of her death. In the end, she was a crazy sweetheart. "I made all my films out of love," Wishman purred.
Sunny Isles goes up, Fontainebleau mural goes down, DCF kids go missing, Rilya still missing, Stierheim stays, rain stays, Mas Santos seeks a dialogue, Alonso seeks a defense fund, gay rights are challenged, priests are accused, more rain, more DCF kids missing, DeFede goes mainstream, Beach Memorial Day goes on, Stiltsville goes public, Cubans get smuggled, Warshaw gets released, Alex Diaz de la Portilla gets off, cops kill, DCF kills, lightning kills, Elena Burke dies, Leonard Miller dies, George Batchelor dies, more priests are accused, more rain falls, more Haitians arrive, Nicole Guillemet arrives, Carrie Meek retires, Kendrick Meek is anointed, Reno hits the road, Bad Boys II hits town, traffic stops, tempers flare, temperatures rise, summertime sizzles, bus benches sizzle, more priests are accused, more DCF kids are missing, Haitian kids kill, Maysie Beller dies, Ellen Morphonios dies, Humbertico gets released, Al Gutman gets released, Ecstasy smugglers get busted, anti-gay activists get busted, Miami poverty gets famous, Marcos Jiménez takes charge, Joe Arriola takes charge, Alonso is charged again, Muhammad Ali returns, classics return to radio, the Gusman returns to splendor, Shiver meddles at MIA, MIA's Richard Mendez is convicted, Sal Magluta is convicted, Vaclav Havel arrives, Oswaldo Payá arrives, election monitors arrive, Hurricane Andrew turns 10, Calle Ocho turns 25, Bushwacker Lounge dies, Mike Gordon's dies, the Taurus dies, gay rights survive, Natacha Seijas threatens, Rick Sanchez threatens to return, elections turn to chaos, more cops shoot, more Haitian kids shoot, Art Basel arrives, David Leahy quits, Carlos Gimenez quits, Chuck Lanza quits, Ira Clark quits, Florida Philharmonic goes bust, Performing Arts Center busts budget, Miami Beach busts lobbyists, hurricanes stay away, tornadoes arrive, Bill Perry dies, Maurice Gibb dies, Laurie Horn dies, Reno tanks, Dolphins tank, Canes tank, Cubans hijack, Graham runs, cruise ships sicken, Haitians still detained, DCF still kills, but finally some good news for those who think the bad guys always win: North Miami Beach detectives were after Henry Box, Jr., wanted for attempted murder. They got a hot tip and chased it. After securing the area where they hoped to apprehend the suspect, they had a clerk get on the intercom: "Mr. Box, please come to the front office. Mr. Henry Box." He did just that, sauntering from the jury-pool room at the criminal courthouse, where he was doing his duty, into waiting handcuffs and a short stroll across the street to jail.
Everything you ever wanted to know about local education (from pre-k to post-doc) and so much more. History professor Peterson, a slight man with glasses, a limp, and a sardonic smile, creates somewhere between seven and ten e-mail newsletters weekly and sends them to a few hundred people. The newsletters are partly a compendium of education-related articles in major newspapers and journals, studies, and statistics. But they also serve as a repository of Peterson's analysis of political trends, bald advocacy of ideological positions, parsing of the smallest potential motives behind every decision made by the school board, and tweaking the administration and politicos by endlessly speculating on their essentially corrupt natures. To subscribe, send an e-mail to [email protected] with "subscribe MER" in the subject line.
The Miami Herald was a favorite DeFede target for the ten and a half years he was employed by this newspaper. Now that he's toiling away in the belly of the beast, his crusade against corruption, incompetence, malfeasance, official mediocrity, and, well, official idiocy appears to continue unencumbered by the powers-that-be -- at least so far. The first page of the Herald's local section is a far more interesting read thanks to him (and an inspired internal shakeup that affected the other columnists at the paper). Are we sorry to have lost him? Of course. Is he making us proud nonetheless? You bet.
BEST MILE OF MIAMI
Biscayne Boulevard from Sixth Street to Nineteenth Street
This rapidly evolving stretch of Miami's signature thoroughfare embodies the highest of human aspirations and the lowest of human avarice. A few landmarks heading north from Sixth Street: The Freedom Tower and its symbolic representation of mankind's yearning for liberty; a hulking American Airlines Arena as proof that power and money always trump the public's interest; Bicentennial Park, now protected and awaiting rebirth, standing as a very rare victory for that public interest; across the street, a string of parcels bought by a politically connected speculator who expects their value to skyrocket; just beyond the noxious concrete mass of I-395, the grandiose Performing Arts Center rising amid hopes of a cultural renaissance and growing fears of insolvency; and approaching the mile marker, construction cranes erecting a concrete wall of condominiums that will permanently block public access to the bay while enriching developers enabled by politicians whose vision of the future does not extend beyond the next election.
For closing down the MacArthur Causeway, BBII lived up to its name. But we're willing to bet that once the film opens, all will be forgiven. The original Bad Boys was arguably the first film to portray Miami as a truly urban center, with all its glitz and its grit, and we have similar expectations for the sequel. Besides the reteaming of Will Smith and Martin Lawrence, aren't you just a teeny bit curious about that causeway sequence? Special mention goes to the practically straight-to-video Big Trouble. Based on the book by Dave Barry, the subject of a nuclear device on a passenger plane was too hot to handle post 9/11. Despite its many flaws, the film boasts some memorable moments of Barry's spot-on skewering of the local scene and its population.
BEST NEW BUILDING
Miami Rescue Mission Community Activity Center
You know immediately that something is different about this warehouse. It's the same height as the others but the roof forms some nice angles. The tri-color scheme -- terracotta, olive, and clay -- on its tripartite front wall tells you maybe it's not a warehouse at all. "It's about uplifting you," architect Marilyn Avery says of her creation, located in a downtrodden section of the Wynwood warehouse district. And who needs more of a lift than someone who has spent a little too much time on the streets (like a homeless mom). Rather than plopping down a bizarre-looking "object-building," Avery drew from the zone's indigenous warehouse vernacular. "I took that form and just made it exuberant," she explains, looking up from the sidewalk at the richly colored front wall. The parking lot is hidden in back so as not to clutter the exuberance of the entrance. When they step inside, parents and kids look up to a 40-foot-tall ceiling gently illuminated by outdoor light streaming in through the clerestory windows. There is also something soothing, even primal, about the natural materials. Shiny black granite and glossy medium-brown birch form a large reception desk. Waist-high birch panels run horizontally along the slate walls, and there's more wood inside the four classrooms in the form of cabinets and window panes. Then there's the Zenlike beauty of the smooth concrete floors. Much thought went into the indirectly illuminated basketball gym, with the help of lighting guru William Lam. Thanks to more clerestory windows and the reflective properties of various white surfaces (the walls and the fabric suspended from the ceiling), there are no glaring bulbs to mess up someone's game. All the lighting is indirect. "You never lose the ball up there," Avery affirms.
Miami is poor, poor, poor. Miami is so poor it's not even funny. Almost one-third of city residents live in poverty, according to the 2000 Census. More than eleven percent are unemployed, and per capita income overall is less than the cost of an economy car. Almost half our residents never graduated from high school. Don't even get us started on the lack of home-ownership. The reasons for all this are many and varied and stretch back in time for decades. But in 2002 a glimmer of hope shined through when Miami Mayor Manny Diaz (pressured by the good folks at the Human Services Coalition of Miami-Dade County, among others) announced his intention to make fighting poverty a priority of his administration. To this end the mayor said he would funnel city funds into existing anti-poverty initiatives, encourage residents to take advantage of tax credits and save money, promote small businesses, and attempt to adopt a living-wage ordinance. Not overly ambitious, but certainly a refreshing change from the city's usual strategy of frittering away federal funds for years while the inner cities rot. The mettle of Mayor Diaz has yet to be tested, and the results of this initiative (coordinated by HSC, the United Way, and others) measured, but at least now our people's pain is out in the open. That's something of a victory.
BEST NEW LAW
Miami Beachs ordinance restricting campaign contributions by lobbyists
The revolution may or may not be televised but it certainly will be litigated. The revolt here is aimed at decreasing the power of money over candidates and the civic process generally. Last year Miami Beach commissioners passed an ordinance to require lobbyists working the city to disclose their fees. They and their clients make money from the public so shouldn't the public know how much is going to lobbyists? Maybe if we knew how much a company with a city contract pays its lobbyists, we wouldn't pay the company so darn much. Lobbyist Rodney Barreto sees it differently and has challenged it in court. That was a good law but an even better one bans the mayor and city commissioners from accepting campaign contributions from a distinctive group of people: Miami Beach lobbyists who represent real estate developers or companies that sell things to the city, or are trying to. Under the law, the developers and vendors themselves also are forbidden from contributing to campaign accounts. Cool, huh? Let's hope it stands up under further review by the city commission.
BEST NEW TRAFFIC JAM
SW 152nd Street, 117th Avenue, and the Florida Turnpike on-ramp
As the city spills ever outward, formerly rural residential land becomes densely populated suburban sprawl. This particular traffic nightmare -- about a mile east of Metrozoo -- is a maze of too-short turn lanes spilling stopped traffic onto busy SW 152nd Street, traffic lights at seemingly random intervals, horn-honking motorists, and general craziness that makes people wonder whatever happened to their once-idyllic neighborhood.
BEST NOT-SO-CHEAP THRILL
Harley-Davidson rental
American Road Collection
Sometimes the safety and efficiency of your Toyota sedan is positively suffocating. With so many SUVs hogging the road and polluting the air, yours screams mindless conformity. There are times when you need to break free and feel a liquid-cooled, 115-horsepower, 1130cc fuel-injected Harley engine vibrating between your legs as the wind blows through your hair. American Road Collection has daily and weekly rates for its Fat Boys, Road Kings, V-Rods, and Electra Glide Classics. At roughly $150 per day, that's likely to get your motor running. Think of it as an investment in your inner wild child.
Dan normally strolls Lincoln Road, but he can also be seen on Collins up around 21st Street. He claims this award because of his attitude and his sad story. He has no problem discussing his life. Mainly the subject is what happened to his left hand. All that's left is a nub resembling a potato. He says he lost it in a meat-grinder accident working at his father's old factory. But the hand tragedy isn't all there is to Dan. He's undoubtedly the most polite bum on South Beach. Though he is smallish, and weathered in that distinctly homeless way, his stature is a sight to see when he's panhandling. He stands ramrod straight, looking positively confident. When he asks for spare change, his tone is quiet, almost meek. And if the answer is No, it's "Thank you, have a nice day," and that's the end of it. He never asks twice.
BEST PARKING IN MIAMI BEACH
Twelfth Street between Alton and Michigan avenues
Psssst, this is a good one. Absolutely free parking, with only the thinnest of strings attached. A two-block stretch of Twelfth Street next to Flamingo Park's athletic field is reserved for school buses during high school games, mainly football. It's busy a handful of nights a year. The rest of the time? Absolutely free unlimited parking. No residential permit required, no meters, no threat of getting towed. Park there and it's a quick walk to Lincoln Road, Washington Avenue, and the beach. It's such a good spot it'd be a shame to, you know, publicize it in some free weekly.
Indomitable party czar Barton G knows more than anyone the elements needed for a successful social gathering: a fabulous setting, plenty of tasty food, and endlessly flowing drink. Add to that a couple of aloof giraffes, a friendly chimp, half-naked dancing girls, a selection of disco stars, and teeming hordes struggling to get in and you have the ultimate affair, which he threw this past October to inaugurate his namesake Barton G the Restaurant. With military precision more than 800 guests arrived at a parking lot near the Miami Beach Convention Center, checked in, and then boarded shuttle buses that took them on a short jaunt to Fourteenth Street and West Avenue, formerly home to Gatti's and Starfish. Beyond the velvet ropes loomed one of this town's truly over-the-top bacchanals. Giraffes posed lackadaisically on the sidewalk like detached supermodels. Sabrina the chimp, dressed in a chef's uniform and toque, signed autographs and waved the crowd into a large air-conditioned tent filled with food stations. There, cooks made pasta dishes to order, served up miniature hot dogs, cheeseburgers, and lamb chops. Several bars offered a plethora of beverages. A cornucopia of cookies, cakes, brownies, and tiny candy apples beckoned by the door. The neighboring twinkly lit garden featured a similar setup. But back at the tent was where the entertainment dazzled. Dancers sporting feathery headdresses and not much else energetically kicked up their heels. The Trammps, Thelma Houston, Evelyn "Champagne" King, and Gloria Gaynor crooned their greatest hits under a glittering disco ball. Celebs such as Sopranos star Joe Pantoliano hobnobbed with the little people. Alas, close to midnight the spell was broken and the merrymaking had to end. But knowing the eatery's first anniversary is a scant five months away, we eagerly await what the brilliant Mr. G has up his sleeve for the next bash.
Picture an enchanted jungle village with coral walkways leading to cozy stone cottages with arched doorways and Spanish-tile roofs. Picture flowers and birds and some fairy tale only you could write. Gladys Margarita Diaz and Ray Jourdain live here in this secluded estate, built from native rock in the Twenties, and they rent the smaller cottages. But they and all their tenants will move out for anyone who wants to rent the whole place and its Eden atmospherics. Built by Ohio banker and real estate developer Warren W. Zinsmaster, this lushly landscaped relic of a grander age also includes an open dance floor, a 30-foot coral rock tunnel, and a pond.
This place is so over the top that even if you and your date are not a match made in heaven, you'll have to have a good time. Yes, the first-act dancers wear big fruit headdresses, but then the fun really begins. How about Rolando Salazar -- the "funniest comedian of the moment" -- dressed up as Venezuelan strongman Hugo Chavez! Or Lissette the diva dressed in a Fifties sweater and singing Havana nostalgia. Or a teenager called Divine singing "disco" hits from the Seventies. There's also the Imperial Circus. On Saturdays you'll find the sure-hit Willy Chirino. And come on, it's in the Fontainebleau, keeper of all things Fifties kitsch, in a ballroom with sparkling lights and ice-tinkling highball glasses. You've got your table, you've got your drinks, and neighbors of all ages who are living it up. The two of you have had so much fun you're tempted to return for our own version of Merv Griffin, local TV host Jaime Bayly!
Readers Choice: The Wallflower Gallery
Think global, act local. Camillus House has been serving Miami's poor and homeless for more than 40 years, and given the way the economy is going, their unfortunate ranks are likely to grow. So start exploring your closets and dressers with this rule in mind: If it hasn't been worn in a year, it's time to go. Don't fret that those trendy togs may one day come back in style. Giving is always in fashion.
Take some advice from Art History 101. Sit on one of the benches in the center of the main gallery and fix your eyes on a far corner of the room. Then take a visual sweep along the walls, making smaller and smaller circles, until you see an intriguing piece of ... art. Sidle into the side gallery behind your whimsically dressed, scruffily coifed subject. Pretend you are engaged in a "happening." If he shares your conceptual bent, invite him to the garden where courtship will commence to the atonal strains of some IDM DJ. If you're really lucky, you can then lead him into some sort of throbbing, dimly lit, vaguely perverted installation in the former crack house next door.
A good body is not enough for you. You're also looking for a good soul and a good mind. And so is she. Only those serious about complete body-mind development study the strenuous practice at Prana. She is not doing this for you. But if you are strong and faithful and prove yourself worthy, that Tantric future you are visualizing really might come true.
Who's not looking for a handyman? But aren't all the tool-toting studs at Home Depot engaged in some kind of home improvement project for the little missus? Maybe, but Home Depot delivers testosterone in such bulk it really doesn't matter if a high percentage are married. And unlike the bar scene, few married men here think to remove their wedding rings before heading down the hardware aisle. The Home Depot in North Miami Beach offers not just volume but variety as well: penthouse dwellers from Aventura, single dads from the Shores, snazzy decorators from Belle Meade, beefy working stiffs from along I-95. Whatever job you would like done, Home Depot has the man to do it for you. For upscale mates, we recommend lingering by the whirlpools. For successful contractors, try the "professionals" aisle. For apprentices, wander by the benches near the hot dog stand out front. That's where the employees rest their orange aprons and check out the chicks in an easy-to-crack code. If the assessment sounds good, double back, order an all-beef dog and squeeze in.
Two words: after workout. A South Beach body cannot live on liposuction alone. After a strenuous ab workout, a girl's gotta eat -- and this brightly lit carbohydrate refueling station is just a brisk walk from Gold's, Crunch, Ironworks, Idol's, and David Barton -- making it a favorite meeting place for the aerobics-enhanced. Remember, for nearly an hour after vigorous exercise she will be flushed with endorphins and look on all around her with love. Good thing Einstein Bros. is always so crowded. Is this seat taken?
Now, any Presidente supermarket is inherently interesting. Something about those crowded shelves and even more crowded aisles brings all the excitement and hot tempers of an urban Latin American street market indoors. But plop a Presidente down in the midst of a huge Haitian community and you have the beginnings of a whole new language. What does the skinny teenage new arrival from Havana say to the prodigious matron from Port-au-Prince blocking the rice aisle? How does the Haitian husband picking up a sensitive item for his wife communicate this to the Argentine stock boy? The linguistic invention is nothing short of poetic. But when it comes to the cash register, there is one thing all the customers seem to agree on. It's best to speak dollars and cents in English.
Is it the cakes in the bakery display cases, which look like a quinceñera's dress on steroids? Is it the crowd outside the to-go window sipping café cubano from thimble-size plastic cups while vigorously debating the topic du jour? Is it the muckety-mucks working the room in the main restaurant while the hoi polloi -- and some tourists -- consume gargantuan portions of Cuban fare surrounded by mirrors and chandeliers? The combination of all the above, plus a certain je ne sais quoi, make this Calle Ocho fixture the place to soak up the city's atmosphere, along with hearty eats.
BEST POLITICAL MISCALCULATION
Annie Betancourts anti-embargo gambit in the race for U.S. House District 25
Here's how it (and she) went down: In October 2002 Democratic state Representative Betancourt became the first elected Cuban American in Miami-Dade County to openly oppose the U.S. trade embargo against Cuba. Her foe, state Rep. Mario Diaz-Balart, claimed the embargo was Betancourt's only issue. It didn't matter to Diaz-Balart, a Republican, that Betancourt actually did have other issues: prescription drug benefits for the elderly, a clean environment, and the hundreds of thousands of dollars her opponent was getting from greedy special-interest groups. For a while it seemed that Diaz-Balart's only issue was his claim that Betancourt had only one issue. But like Betancourt, he had others: prescription drug benefits for the elderly, a clean environment, and the hundreds of thousands of dollars he was getting from civic-minded special-interest groups. In the end Diaz-Balart crushed Betancourt 65 percent to 35 percent (74,424 votes to 40,438). Three months after Betancourt's loss, a Schroth opinion poll provided an explanation: A majority of Cubans in Broward and Miami-Dade still support the embargo 60 to 28 percent. But the survey also confirmed Betancourt's assertion that U.S.-Cuba policy is "incoherent." In her campaign she had noted that "some of the same people" who support the embargo also travel regularly to Cuba and each year send hundreds of millions of dollars to friends and relatives there. Indeed the poll found 47 percent in favor of lifting travel restrictions, while 46 were against and 7 undecided. But most important, Betancourt's stand broke the embargo on debating the embargo in a real live Miami-Dade political campaign.
Robaina is a 41-year-old BellSouth service technician who slugged his way up from small-town politics to the state stage in November 2002. Whatever you think of him, he's shown some political savvy along the way. When he ran for mayor of South Miami six years ago he wooed the Police Benevolent Association, whose union muscle and manpower proved essential to victory. Once in office, he made sure not to languish in the parochial shadows. He promptly pushed a law requiring gunlocks on all guns in homes with children. So what if the NRA challenged it and won? Robaina's little city made headlines. In 2002 the National Civic League and Allstate Insurance Co. named South Miami an "All-America City," beating bigger neighbors like Miami Beach. When Carlos Lacasa announced he was vacating his House seat to run for state Senate, Robaina moved in, beating out an opponent in the primary and then taking 86 percent of the vote in the general election. Once in Tallahassee he landed on two important committees, transportation and health care. He's ambitious, young, and likes to mix it up. He'll be around for awhile.
Readers Choice: Alex Penelas
What other clan could blithely carve out a new U.S. Congressional district expressly for an ambitious family member? That ambitious one would be Mario Diaz-Balart, the termed-out state senator and brother of Lincoln Diaz-Balart, self-proclaimed future president of Cuba. The Diaz-Balart boys' addiction to politics stems from a vein that runs deep in the family. Their grandfather and father, both named Rafael Diaz-Balart, were important members of the ruling oligarchy during the fearsome reign of Fulgencio Batista. The younger Rafael was deputy minister for the Cuban amalgam of the FBI and the CIA, as well as Batista's dreaded secret police. Perhaps more significant, the highly cultivated Diaz-Balart hatred of Fidel Castro is thicker than blood. El barbudo's first wife was Mario and Lincoln's aunt, Mirta Diaz-Balart, daughter and sister of the family patriarchs. ¡Esto es de pelicula!
Forget Howard Stern, the Jerky Boys, or Comedy Central's Crank Yankers. For sheer creativity the year's best prank telephone call came courtesy of WXDJ-FM (95.7) and Enrique Santos and Joe Ferrero, co-hosts of El Zol's El Vacilón de la Mañana (roughly: The Morning Blast). Piqued at being snubbed by Mexican President Vicente Fox, Fidel Castro had released a private phone conversation between himself and Fox -- and that was all the ammunition Santos and Ferrero needed. This past January they managed to ring up Hugo Chavez on his personal line, and, after hitting the play button on their judiciously spliced tape of that Castro conversation, lampooned the Venezuelan prez's notoriously chummy relationship with el jefe en maximo in a glorious fashion. "Did you receive my letter?" asks the disembodied Castro. "Of course I received it," Chavez replies, growing ever more confused -- yet still eager to please -- as the Castro non sequiturs start flying: "I'll do what you're asking me to.... I'm going to be harmed, I confess to you.... Everything's set for Tuesday." Finally Ferrero and Santos broke in with a few choice epithets, letting Chavez know he'd been pranked. Would that all our city's political satire were this inspired. Anyone have the number for Jeb Bush's private cell phone?
Founder and organizer of the Afro Roots Festival for the past five years, a regular hand at Rhythm Foundation world-music shows, and longstanding member of the traditional Cuban outfit Conjunto Progreso and the jazz group Mantra, Jose Elias just can't get enough of different cultural stuff. As anyone who has heard the ambitious occasional performances by his Afro-Polyphonic Space Orchestra or (later) the Afro-Polyphonic World Orchestra knows, he loves nothing more than fusing wildly diverse musical cultures, however chaotic, cacophonous, or simply beautiful the results. But still he felt that something -- or someone -- was missing. So this year Jose Elias added the Women and Culture Festival to his things-to-do list, putting together a slate of female performers and traditions from Africa, the Americas, and the Middle East. Thanks, Jose, for making sure that everyone has a chance to be heard.
Outhouse of mirrors. First drink: It's a fun house. Second drink: It's the ever-receding reflection of your sense of self. Third drink: It's the Versailles (the one in France, not Little Havana)!
BEST PUBLIC SERVANT
Oliver Kerr
Miami-Dade County Department of Planning and Zoning
For some reason that baffles us, a lot of local public servants don't seem to understand that the public's information is as precious as its purse. But Oliver Kerr, supervisor of the Miami-Dade planning and zoning department's demographic unit, does understand and sets the gold standard for info-currency. He represents Miami-Dade in the Urban Institute's National Neighborhood Indicators Partnership, which is committed to "democratizing information" in order to help build "vibrant and sustainable" communities. For example, he brought it all home when the U.S. Census data for Florida finally came down the Internet pipeline last fall. Although he was deluged, not only was this twenty-year county veteran available and cordial but he provided the figures efficiently and quickly -- even to pesky reporters. They gave him the boundaries of a specific neighborhood; he gave them the stats on income, unemployment, housing, and the like. Kerr knows the formula. Information fuels knowledge. Knowledge is power. Obstruct the info flow and you abuse the power.
Residents experienced shock and awe when Miami administrators used public money to actually build something decent in Model City, one of the poorest neighborhoods in the nation's poorest city. This $3.5 million, one-story facility is so nice that even Commissioner Art Teele is proud to hold public meetings there at the Black Box Theater or the big new carpeted conference room. So are the prestigious board members of the Model City Community Revitalization Trust, who are planning an artful low-income housing renaissance nearby. A local homeowners association provided some of the pressure to make the community center a reality and now has an office in the building. Some people miss the old boxing gym that once stood on this land, but you can always find a garage in which to punch. You can't take swimming lessons in a garage, however, but you can do that at the Miller J. Dawkins Swimming Complex at Hadley. There is also a fitness center for kids of all ages and a walking track and aerobics classes for seniors. The center is open from 7:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. weekdays; 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. on Saturday.
Year in and year out, this November fair demonstrates that South Floridians do have an appetite for intellectual stimulation. Over the course of a week, hundreds of bibliophiles trudge downtown to hear writers present their latest tomes, followed by the thousands who fill the streets around MDCC for the final two-day extravaganza. Organizers bring in nationally and internationally renowned heavy hitters in the realms of fiction and nonfiction, but also provide a forum for up-and-coming literary lights and for local scribes. Kudos are in order too for the growing Spanish-language program. We have high hopes for the 2003 edition, the twentieth anniversary, for which organizers promise lots of excitement. In the meantime we're keeping a close watch on what's cooking at the fair's new parent, the Florida Center for the Literary Arts. The hopeful expectation: more food for thought during the other eleven months of the year.
Summer in Miami can make you want to hole up like northerners do during deepest, darkest winter. We race between the cool comfort and the deep freeze of office buildings, malls, and restaurants. We shun our barbecues and stoves (who wants to stand over a hot piece of metal?) and our patios (too many mosquitoes). We curse those monsoon downpours that always seem to catch us when we're wearing good shoes and forgot an umbrella. Yet once the sun goes down, the heat and humidity that torture us in daylight meld to create a softness in the air that positively caresses the skin as you glide through the night.
As anyone who has schlepped from parking lot to parking lot on a "historical tour" of the city knows, history in Miami is written by the pavers. The Olympia Theater at the Gusman Center for the Performing Arts is a stunning exception. A show-stopper since opening as a silent movie palace in 1926, the theater was rescued from an asphalt fate by Maurice Gusman, who donated the palace to the City of Miami in 1975. Nearly 30 years later the simulated night sky atop the Moorish arches and turrets had lost much of its brilliance; the once twinkling stars had dimmed. Then a concerted effort by the county Department of Cultural Affairs and the Miami Parking Authority (which runs the theater) brightened up the place last year with a $2.1 million restoration. Additional work will be required to update the Gusman as a fully functioning, modern performing arts facility. But for now the theater's cloud-casting lantern is spinning again and a proud stuffed peacock is perched upon a Moorish balcony, a rare symbol of the Magic City's architectural memory.
Anyone who thought Nat Chediak's career was over when he and the Miami International Film Festival parted ways hadn't been following his career closely enough. An historian of Latin jazz and a music producer (and film producer, with associate-producer credits on Fernando Trueba's homage to Latin jazz musicians, Calle 54), Chediak won a Latin Grammy last fall for producing the Bebo Valdes Trio's CD El arte del sabor. That album went on to win Chediak his second regular Grammy in February. And just weeks before the big Grammy awards show, he returned to the stage at the Gusman Center for the Performing Arts, this time to present Spanish singer Martirio to a wildly enthusiastic crowd. While we wish him well in the studio, the fruits of which anyone anywhere can enjoy, we are selfishly hoping to see more live performances courtesy of Nat Chediak, presenter.
BEST SIMPLE PLEASURE IN THE MIAMI HERALD
"Last Night", by Nicholas Spangler
Spangler is a blue-eyed, ruddy-cheeked 26-year-old with an old man's voice and a talent for the well-turned phrase. He spends his afternoons and evenings attending the most obscure functions, from little girls primping at a hair salon to rabbis blessing a restaurant to a drag-queen diva primping for a night on the town -- in short, the thousand little moments that come and go unnoticed every day in the Magic City. At its best Spangler's prose divines unadorned human motives from piles of random detail, provoking in the reader a moment of recognition. Here's an example from one story: "Like a batter in the major leagues, a restaurant hostess in Miami Beach meets failure early and often. She chooses her pitch: a young couple, good looking and tan, tourists perhaps. She squares herself to the plate: wide smile with white teeth, good eye contact. She swings. 'Hi, how are you tonight? Would you like to see our menu?' They smile in acknowledgment but do not break stride. She misses."
Every day from 3:30 to 5:00 p.m. everybody eats. No sermons. No complicated rules like the Salvation Army and some church soup kitchens hit you with. Donny Esmond is a man you can talk to: "If a guy makes a real effort, we see he's trying, we can help him get back on his feet. But if you're just hungry? Come on over anyway." We can unequivocally recommend the chicken noodle and organic vegetable soup. And the fried-chicken dinner? Delicious.
Since 1989 the Krishnas have been serving up excellent vegetarian grub to anybody who walks into their Coconut Grove garden. The dal and rice are plentiful, and the perfumed curries are sweetened with coconut. No matter how broke you may be or how defeated you may feel, the food and atmosphere at Govinda's will make you feel better -- no strings attached. Really. Have no fear, there is no drumming or cymbal-playing here. Instead the lonesome wanderer is nourished in a peaceful dining room with servings fit for a god. Donations are accepted, of course, and there is a dinner club for those who can afford a five-dollar meal. Those donations, in turn, help buy food for the poor and homeless. The temple provides about 100 meals each day to the homeless through its Food for Life program.
These are arguably the least congested toll booths on the turnpike's Homestead extension. Easily readable signs direct motorists to four SunPass lanes, four exact-change lanes, and eight change-provided lanes. The 75-cent toll also buys you a nice glimpse into the overdeveloped western fringes of Miami-Dade County, with cloned single-family houses to the east and explosive rock-mining operations to the west.
One can easily debate the wisdom of our city fathers having turned over a waterfront park to a mall developer who populated the place with chain restaurants and stores you can find most anywhere. But such concerns don't appear to trouble the brows of the hordes who routinely descend on Bayside every weekend and who look like they're having a whale of a good time. The worst offense associated with a tourist trap is the feeling you're being ripped off. In fact Bayside is home to some dining and drinking establishments that are not extortionately priced (there are even deals to be had at lunchtime) and have the advantage of decidedly pleasant views of the marina, the port, and the bay from the many outdoor terraces. Just be forewarned: Nights when a game or concert is on at the American Airlines Arena, parking rates skyrocket at Bayside's garage and nearby lots, and the resulting traffic jam on Biscayne Boulevard can make you question why you ever bothered to abandon the comfort of your couch.
Located at the more sedate, northern end of this beachfront strip, the Front Porch dishes up fair-priced, hearty portions from morn' till night. The best seats in the house are, as the name would suggest, on the front porch, where the scenery stretches from Lummus Park to the dunes to the Atlantic. Or lower your gaze slightly to watch the parade of pedestrians without anyone sashaying into your salad. Weekday breakfasts or late lunches are blessedly peaceful, but expect a wait on the weekend as locals line up for the bounteous brunch. And with a full bar, it's also an ideal spot to quench your post-beach thirst with a cocktail in a casual but civilized environment.
BEST-KEPT SECRET
World Chess Hall of Fame & Sidney Samole Chess Museum
Just north of the SW 152nd Street exit from the Florida Turnpike, a pink-and-white checkered building with a 50-foot-tall rook's tower provides an odd counterpoint to the endless suburban sprawl of strip malls and cookie-cutter housing developments. The building houses the corporate headquarters of Excalibur Electronics (makers of electronic novelties) and the World Chess Hall of Fame & Sidney Samole Chess Museum. The museum, official hall of fame for the United States Chess Federation and the World Chess Federation, was founded in Miami by Shane Samole, whose father Sid in the Seventies created the first electronic chess game after watching Spock play chess against a computer during a Star Trek episode. The building's medieval theme continues outside, where a giant sword embedded in a boulder stands sentry at the front door, and inside, where suits of armor and stone façades set the aesthetic parameters. There are no audio recordings of Bobby Fischer ranting about the U.N. (although you can see Fischer's old competition table) but there are plenty of other tidbits to chew on. According to a chess timeline (weirdly set in a very dim hallway with pinpoint lights set like stars in the ceiling and ethereal music coming from unseen speakers), the word "checkmate" comes from the Persian "Shah mat," meaning "the king is at a loss," and the bishops seen in modern chess sets were elephants in the original version, which first appeared around 600 A.D. (medieval Europeans, most of whom had never seen an elephant, changed the piece to something they were a little more familiar with). You won't run into large crowds at the museum unless they're hosting a tournament, although Milena Migliorelli, in charge of PR, says they have a following among diehard chessheads: "People are always surprised we're here, although we do advertise in Chess Life."
SECOND-BEST REASON TO STAY IN MIAMI FOR THE SUMMER
Back-yard mangoes
They're sweet and juicy, big as softballs, and more numerous than flies on a cow. They're versatile, too. You can make them into breads, cakes, salsas, jams, or chutneys. And if you know someone with a tree (and who doesn't at least have a friend of a friend?), mangoes are free all season, from spring to autumn, when mango-tree owners actually are relieved to see the last one plop to the ground. What else could you ask for from a fruit? Only that it not crack your skull on the way down.
The master. Those familiar black forms and silhouettes that help us travel through Bedia's artistic journeys -- into exile, across seas, to the African motherland, into the spirit world -- returned better and yes, bigger this year, reminding us that the master of Cuban contemporary art lives right here. We saw his recognizable yet singular pieces at Art Basel, the Miami Art Museum, and especially the Fredric Snitzer Gallery. There in an exhibit of new works his black forms took literal shape, the spectral sculptures towering over his other creations, which included painting and installations that thematically meshed at the intersection of the spiritual and material worlds. His pieces are now held by museums across the globe, and he was recently spotlighted in two big shows in New York City and at Stanford University. But Bedia is still our best.
Think global, act local. Camillus House has been serving Miami's poor and homeless for more than 40 years, and given the way the economy is going, their unfortunate ranks are likely to grow. So start exploring your closets and dressers with this rule in mind: If it hasn't been worn in a year, it's time to go. Don't fret that those trendy togs may one day come back in style. Giving is always in fashion.
The mass of openings around Art Basel were incredible, but don't forget that there were 51 other weeks this year. On a Saturday night in March one show stood out above the rest. Holograms hung from the ceiling, sat on the floor, were mounted on walls. The images changed as you moved through the darkened warehouse space that is the Dorsch Gallery. Oops! As you twisted around to inspect one hologram (artist Koven taught himself how to make them) you ran smack into another viewer. Or wait, did she run into you? Indeed human "bumpers" were part of the show. As were two huge SUVs parked inside, with taped audio conversations emanating from their stereo speakers. You climbed inside and felt the expensive leather seats caressing your legs. Or wait -- maybe that was a "bumper" again. The single hologram hanging in the area with the massive "cars" looked like a hat. But as you moved closer to check it out, words appeared on the bottom: "This is not a hat."
BEST NEW LAW
Miami Beachs ordinance restricting campaign contributions by lobbyists
The revolution may or may not be televised but it certainly will be litigated. The revolt here is aimed at decreasing the power of money over candidates and the civic process generally. Last year Miami Beach commissioners passed an ordinance to require lobbyists working the city to disclose their fees. They and their clients make money from the public so shouldn't the public know how much is going to lobbyists? Maybe if we knew how much a company with a city contract pays its lobbyists, we wouldn't pay the company so darn much. Lobbyist Rodney Barreto sees it differently and has challenged it in court. That was a good law but an even better one bans the mayor and city commissioners from accepting campaign contributions from a distinctive group of people: Miami Beach lobbyists who represent real estate developers or companies that sell things to the city, or are trying to. Under the law, the developers and vendors themselves also are forbidden from contributing to campaign accounts. Cool, huh? Let's hope it stands up under further review by the city commission.
BEST DANCE PERFORMANCE
Lia Rodrigues Dance Company
Such Stuff As We Are Made Of
They flopped, naked, across the art gallery's floor. They looked like fish, struggling to return to water. As they flopped by your feet, you watched as the muscles propelled them around the room. You watched them flip from backside to frontside, and moved to get out of their way. The dancers from Rio de Janeiro put on quite a show, courtesy of Tigertail Productions. Mostly it was about movement, as a single man opened the performance by slowly, slowly moving his hand; and three women entangled themselves in each other so you couldn't tell whose hand belonged to which body, whose hair hung from what head. Eventually, on the eve of war, they put up a political protest (okay, sometimes bits of clothing kept coming off). At the end you couldn't help but look at the human body in a very different way, and maybe come away with some respect for other bodies about to be shocked and awed.
Residents experienced shock and awe when Miami administrators used public money to actually build something decent in Model City, one of the poorest neighborhoods in the nation's poorest city. This $3.5 million, one-story facility is so nice that even Commissioner Art Teele is proud to hold public meetings there at the Black Box Theater or the big new carpeted conference room. So are the prestigious board members of the Model City Community Revitalization Trust, who are planning an artful low-income housing renaissance nearby. A local homeowners association provided some of the pressure to make the community center a reality and now has an office in the building. Some people miss the old boxing gym that once stood on this land, but you can always find a garage in which to punch. You can't take swimming lessons in a garage, however, but you can do that at the Miller J. Dawkins Swimming Complex at Hadley. There is also a fitness center for kids of all ages and a walking track and aerobics classes for seniors. The center is open from 7:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. weekdays; 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. on Saturday.
There's no denying the creaky old stadium in Little Havana is dirty and decayed. If the right nut or bolt were to come loose, the whole thing might come tumbling down. But sporting events like soccer matches and football games -- the two most often played there -- are not meant to be tidy. For a truly raucous sporting experience, no other venue rocks (and literally shakes) like the Orange Bowl. But every negotiation the City of Miami (the stadium's owner) undertakes with current and potential tenants ends in an argument over renovations. The city should bite the bullet and invest in needed repairs. Aside from the storied history (some of the most memorable college football games in history have been played there), the actual experience of being present on a sold-out Saturday afternoon, awaiting battle with Florida State, palm trees swaying at the end of the eastern end zone, Miami's skyline filling the background, is overwhelming, especially if you're sitting in the closed end, where the student section and general-admission seats are located. Quite simply, there is nothing like it.
These are arguably the least congested toll booths on the turnpike's Homestead extension. Easily readable signs direct motorists to four SunPass lanes, four exact-change lanes, and eight change-provided lanes. The 75-cent toll also buys you a nice glimpse into the overdeveloped western fringes of Miami-Dade County, with cloned single-family houses to the east and explosive rock-mining operations to the west.
You know who you are. On September 10, 2002, you voted to maintain the county's human-rights ordinance after a bruising campaign spearheaded by religious fanatics who wanted to delete the words "gays and lesbians" from the local anti-discrimination law. For many the repeal effort evoked the days of Anita Bryant's vicious anti-gay campaign, the stain of which still clings. You kept us from becoming a poster city for backward-thinking and intolerance. But it was close. The SAVE Dade campaign squeaked by with just 53 percent of the vote. That's why you're heroes. You voted when it counted.
Over the past several years the name Adrian Castro has been a frequent sight in this paper as a contributor, as well as a 1994 Best of Miami winner for Best Poet of the Spoken Word. But this bard's work is worth a fresh look if only for the joy of immersion in bilingual verse. Chanting phrases, stitching lines together as long prose poems, then repeating the lot in Spanish, Castro, as demonstrated by his much-reprinted Cantos to Blood and Honey and numerous contributions to literary magazines and journals, is a true stylist on the written page, to say nothing of his talents with the spoken word.
His stats aren't as good as those of Eddie Jones or Brian Grant, but this 6'7" forward is still a rookie. And while other rookies -- Houston's Yao Ming and Phoenix's Amare Stoudemire -- have caught the media's eye, Butler has played more minutes than any other rookie, and he consistently ranks among the top rookie scorers. He was picked tenth in the 2002 NBA draft, but he was Pat Riley's first pick, an encouraging start at rebuilding a team beset by age, injury, and illness. Butler beat even greater odds just getting to the NBA. The Wisconsin native was a young gang-banger, pushing cocaine for street dealers at age twelve, arrested more than a dozen times, and sentenced to eighteen months in a prison for youthful offenders by age fifteen. That turned out to be his big break. He spent a lot of time on the basketball court, discovered he had a gift -- and the rest is history. As it becomes increasingly clear that Grant and Jones aren't the franchise players their paychecks would suggest, the Heat's hopes for the future have come to rest on Butler's talented shoulders.
Readers Choice: Caron Butler
BEST-KEPT SECRET
World Chess Hall of Fame & Sidney Samole Chess Museum
Just north of the SW 152nd Street exit from the Florida Turnpike, a pink-and-white checkered building with a 50-foot-tall rook's tower provides an odd counterpoint to the endless suburban sprawl of strip malls and cookie-cutter housing developments. The building houses the corporate headquarters of Excalibur Electronics (makers of electronic novelties) and the World Chess Hall of Fame & Sidney Samole Chess Museum. The museum, official hall of fame for the United States Chess Federation and the World Chess Federation, was founded in Miami by Shane Samole, whose father Sid in the Seventies created the first electronic chess game after watching Spock play chess against a computer during a Star Trek episode. The building's medieval theme continues outside, where a giant sword embedded in a boulder stands sentry at the front door, and inside, where suits of armor and stone façades set the aesthetic parameters. There are no audio recordings of Bobby Fischer ranting about the U.N. (although you can see Fischer's old competition table) but there are plenty of other tidbits to chew on. According to a chess timeline (weirdly set in a very dim hallway with pinpoint lights set like stars in the ceiling and ethereal music coming from unseen speakers), the word "checkmate" comes from the Persian "Shah mat," meaning "the king is at a loss," and the bishops seen in modern chess sets were elephants in the original version, which first appeared around 600 A.D. (medieval Europeans, most of whom had never seen an elephant, changed the piece to something they were a little more familiar with). You won't run into large crowds at the museum unless they're hosting a tournament, although Milena Migliorelli, in charge of PR, says they have a following among diehard chessheads: "People are always surprised we're here, although we do advertise in Chess Life."
Mandich may have the experience and credentials to be a jock-talk radio host (including three NFL Championship rings, one from his play as tight end on Miami's undefeated 1972 Dolphins squad), but it's his voice that really reaches out and boxes your ears. Where other jock-talk personalities embrace goofy sports-geek overenthusiasm or know-it-all laconicism (like Hank Goldberg, Mandich's colleague at WQAM-AM 560), Mad Dog's bombastic pipes carry the show. It's impossible to transcribe the stretched vowels and clipped consonants that roll around like gumballs in his mouth, but suffice it to say that the voice makes even the generic parts of his act seem fresh (the studied political incorrectness, barking at callers when the show gets a little slow). Almost everything he says seems funny, including his stock "Never better!" (delivered as if fired from a cannon) in response to callers' ubiquitous "Howyadoon' Mad Dog?" In addition to the afternoon call-in show (1:00 to 3:00 p.m.), Mandich can be seen on Channel 10's Sports Jam Live, though it's hard to get the full impact of the voice when you have to watch him too.
Readers Choice: Neil Rogers, WQAM-AM (560)
Three years ago we said Ricker was our Best Gadfly. Given his dedication and perseverance, this new honor, Best Citizen, is well deserved. Ricker goes to 2500 mind-melting meetings annually, from the Public Health Trust's purchasing subcommittee to the Efficiency and Competition Commission to the Alliance for Human Services' nominating council to the school board's audit committee. Sometimes he's the only public observer. Object: to be the Public Citizen for all those out there who can't attend, and to connect and serve as an information bridge among the special-interest-dominated Miami-Dade governmental institutions that seem so problematic and indifferent to the democratic process. This month his e-mail newsletter, The Watchdog Report, celebrates its fourth anniversary. In a former life Ricker made a handsome living as an international salesman of heart pacemakers. As the hard-working publisher of Watchdog, though, he's struggling financially -- this despite the fact that his weekly compendium of meeting summaries, analysis, interviews, and commentary has become essential reading for anyone involved in public affairs. What his written work may lack in polish, it more than makes up for in comprehensiveness. So raise a toast to the man whose official slogan says it all: "A community education resource -- I go when you cannot!"
Even as Riley (a former championship coach, and one of the NBA's top winners) saw his team take a nosedive in the standings and his pocketbook take a $70,000 hit for post-game tantrums about unfair referees, his hair remained unflappable. Riley has been rocking the evil-stockbroker, Armani-suits-and-slicked-back-coiffure look since the Eighties, and it doesn't look like he'll stop until he keels over (look for a sideline coronary next year if the Heat doesn't get a top-three draft pick) or the situation in the Middle East curtails production on petroleum-based hair-care products.
A good body is not enough for you. You're also looking for a good soul and a good mind. And so is she. Only those serious about complete body-mind development study the strenuous practice at Prana. She is not doing this for you. But if you are strong and faithful and prove yourself worthy, that Tantric future you are visualizing really might come true.
Or should we say "bus benches" -- because who are we trying to fool? We all know these new contraptions are lucrative mini-billboards disguised by Sarmiento Advertising Group as seating units for the bus-riding masses. And as bus-riders themselves will tell you, the proof is in the scorching heat that radiates from the benches' metal bars after a few hours absorbing solar radiation in 95-degree heat. In some locations Sarmiento didn't even bother with the bench decoy; only the sign. City of Miami planning directors, former Manager Carlos Gimenez, and all five city commissioners fell for the company's crafty sales pitch, in which the billboards were described as "street furniture." Apparently Sarmiento's metallic sofas looked so cool in photos that city officials agreed to let the company place some right next to those old advertising-delivery devices known as "bus shelters," and even alongside the old wooden "bus benches" the new ones were to replace. But they turned out to be so uncool that Sarmiento executives were soon scrambling to apply a heat-repellant coating to protect the tax-paying public's backsides, as well as their own.
BEST THEATRICAL PRODUCTION
Floyd Collins
Actors' Playhouse
Miracle Theatre
This stunning, dreamlike musical was not only the clear champion of the season, it was the best of the past several years. Featuring the gorgeous, complex chromatic harmonies of composer Adam Guettel and Tina Landau's textured, character-driven book, Floyd Collins tracked a simple, true-life tale of a Kentucky man who got stuck in a cave, a misfortune that became a national media obsession. Everything about this production clicked. The cast featured an array of local and New York talent at its best. To this add David Arisco's fluid and inventive staging, a simple but hugely effective set design from Gene Seyffer, great sound design from Nate Rausch, evocative lighting from Stuart Reiter, and Mary Lynne Izzo's carefully detailed costumes. The result was a daring, provocative production that set a new standard for South Florida theatrical excellence.
Local movie lovers erupted in thunderous applause on opening night, February 21, when FIU president Mitch Maidique finally publicly acknowledged former festival director Nat Chediak and his eighteen years at the helm. But if this year's resurgence in attendance is any guide, Miamians seem to be moving on from that nasty internal imbroglio and are supporting the festival for the films and filmmakers it can bring to the city. The 2003 event was not flawless. Some films were genuine stinkers, some great films got lost owing to poor programming times, and new director Nicole Guillemet (formerly of Sundance) and her team were arguably too ambitious with a program of record size plus a third venue to manage. Still, packed screenings for documentaries like José Padilha's intense hijacking drama Ônibus 174 bode well for the future. Onward!
What other clan could blithely carve out a new U.S. Congressional district expressly for an ambitious family member? That ambitious one would be Mario Diaz-Balart, the termed-out state senator and brother of Lincoln Diaz-Balart, self-proclaimed future president of Cuba. The Diaz-Balart boys' addiction to politics stems from a vein that runs deep in the family. Their grandfather and father, both named Rafael Diaz-Balart, were important members of the ruling oligarchy during the fearsome reign of Fulgencio Batista. The younger Rafael was deputy minister for the Cuban amalgam of the FBI and the CIA, as well as Batista's dreaded secret police. Perhaps more significant, the highly cultivated Diaz-Balart hatred of Fidel Castro is thicker than blood. El barbudo's first wife was Mario and Lincoln's aunt, Mirta Diaz-Balart, daughter and sister of the family patriarchs. ¡Esto es de pelicula!
After dutifully plugging away at the Actors' Playhouse's usual lineup of tepid material, Arisco finally found the right vehicle for his considerable talents with the challenging, evocative Floyd Collins. Arisco's careful staging of the claustrophobic, emotionally powerful dialogue was balanced by his masterful handling of the carnival-like crowd scenes in a production that blew the roof off the staid Playhouse. Arisco has long shown his facility with a wide range of material -- from big, old-fashioned musicals to the inspired insanity of Comic Potential. But Floyd Collins reveals him to be a directing talent kept under wraps far too long.
Founder and organizer of the Afro Roots Festival for the past five years, a regular hand at Rhythm Foundation world-music shows, and longstanding member of the traditional Cuban outfit Conjunto Progreso and the jazz group Mantra, Jose Elias just can't get enough of different cultural stuff. As anyone who has heard the ambitious occasional performances by his Afro-Polyphonic Space Orchestra or (later) the Afro-Polyphonic World Orchestra knows, he loves nothing more than fusing wildly diverse musical cultures, however chaotic, cacophonous, or simply beautiful the results. But still he felt that something -- or someone -- was missing. So this year Jose Elias added the Women and Culture Festival to his things-to-do list, putting together a slate of female performers and traditions from Africa, the Americas, and the Middle East. Thanks, Jose, for making sure that everyone has a chance to be heard.
Every day he assaults the senses of the unprepared and quickens the mirth of the accustomed. Trapped in crawling traffic beneath his welcoming gaze, thousands of worker bees trying to make downtown-Miami money without actually having to live there contemplate his message. Is it a commandment? A suggestion? A calling? A joke? "For a Healthy Clean Tush," Mr. Bidet advises. His stick-figure form, painted on the side of a building, is bent into a sitting position, a large triangle symbolizing a spout of water aimed at his derriere. Even now, a pack of teens with a cell phone is calling the advertised telephone number, snickering, hanging up. Taking pictures. Calling back to ask, "Is this for real?" You bet. Mr. Bidet is but one of the faces of Arnold and Donna Cohen, South Florida's bidet barons, whose bathroom devices have been getting the job done since the Seventies. Donna rattles off a long list of loyal customers, including actors, ex-presidents, CEOs, and TV weathermen. Thanks to what Cohen describes as "a little office out in Los Angeles," this includes notables such as Jack Lemmon, Barbra Streisand, John Wayne ("When he was still alive"), Dr. Joyce Brothers, and Jimmy Carter ("It's what keeps him smiling"). "We thought we'd send one to Clinton, but he was in enough trouble," Cohen quips. Beware the lure of the bidet: Once you've soaked, mere paper becomes almost heretical. "It becomes like a little cult," Mrs. Bidet confides.
Castillo, a Dominican who's been on the team since 1996, grabbed national attention last year with a 35-game hitting streak and so many stolen bases that state troopers were looking to send him to Starke. He's risen from a kind of low-confidence junior to a second baseman with remarkably few errors and a batting average that climbed from .240 in 1997 to a .304 average over the last three seasons. He can handle outspeed stuff down the zone but tends to struggle a little with fast balls up. Castillo won his second NL stolen-base crown last year, barely holding off Juan Pierre. This year Luis and Juan are expected to make the most exciting base-stealing pair in baseball, and thus help the injury-prone pitching staff once they make it to first.
Readers Choice: Mike Lowell
With winter 2003 one of the coldest and snowiest on record (tee hee!), one should not take for granted the ability to dip one's tootsies in the ocean or bay, with impunity, in the middle of February. Florida natives or long-time residents whose blood has thinned may well shun the sands until midyear, though the height of summer is our least favorite time to go -- scorching sun and bath-water temps are not so refreshing. Still we are blessed with weather that accommodates a beach excursion most any day (barring hurricanes). We recommend you stay through sunset, the better to appreciate the shifting shades of water and sky as day turns to night.
Robaina is a 41-year-old BellSouth service technician who slugged his way up from small-town politics to the state stage in November 2002. Whatever you think of him, he's shown some political savvy along the way. When he ran for mayor of South Miami six years ago he wooed the Police Benevolent Association, whose union muscle and manpower proved essential to victory. Once in office, he made sure not to languish in the parochial shadows. He promptly pushed a law requiring gunlocks on all guns in homes with children. So what if the NRA challenged it and won? Robaina's little city made headlines. In 2002 the National Civic League and Allstate Insurance Co. named South Miami an "All-America City," beating bigger neighbors like Miami Beach. When Carlos Lacasa announced he was vacating his House seat to run for state Senate, Robaina moved in, beating out an opponent in the primary and then taking 86 percent of the vote in the general election. Once in Tallahassee he landed on two important committees, transportation and health care. He's ambitious, young, and likes to mix it up. He'll be around for awhile.
Readers Choice: Alex Penelas
Indomitable party czar Barton G knows more than anyone the elements needed for a successful social gathering: a fabulous setting, plenty of tasty food, and endlessly flowing drink. Add to that a couple of aloof giraffes, a friendly chimp, half-naked dancing girls, a selection of disco stars, and teeming hordes struggling to get in and you have the ultimate affair, which he threw this past October to inaugurate his namesake Barton G the Restaurant. With military precision more than 800 guests arrived at a parking lot near the Miami Beach Convention Center, checked in, and then boarded shuttle buses that took them on a short jaunt to Fourteenth Street and West Avenue, formerly home to Gatti's and Starfish. Beyond the velvet ropes loomed one of this town's truly over-the-top bacchanals. Giraffes posed lackadaisically on the sidewalk like detached supermodels. Sabrina the chimp, dressed in a chef's uniform and toque, signed autographs and waved the crowd into a large air-conditioned tent filled with food stations. There, cooks made pasta dishes to order, served up miniature hot dogs, cheeseburgers, and lamb chops. Several bars offered a plethora of beverages. A cornucopia of cookies, cakes, brownies, and tiny candy apples beckoned by the door. The neighboring twinkly lit garden featured a similar setup. But back at the tent was where the entertainment dazzled. Dancers sporting feathery headdresses and not much else energetically kicked up their heels. The Trammps, Thelma Houston, Evelyn "Champagne" King, and Gloria Gaynor crooned their greatest hits under a glittering disco ball. Celebs such as Sopranos star Joe Pantoliano hobnobbed with the little people. Alas, close to midnight the spell was broken and the merrymaking had to end. But knowing the eatery's first anniversary is a scant five months away, we eagerly await what the brilliant Mr. G has up his sleeve for the next bash.
Size really doesn't matter. Nestled along the southern part of the marina, this little rental place gets more fun from less space. Boat sizes range from 22 to 25 feet. There are Catalinas for the faint of heart, Hunters for the more adventurous, and J's for the hard-core speed freaks. If you don't know what you're doing, take a class. Individuals and pairs welcome. After ten hours you'll have a certificate that will let you pilot a 30-footer in an enclosed waterway like Biscayne Bay, and try out your new skills.
BEST NEW TRAFFIC JAM
SW 152nd Street, 117th Avenue, and the Florida Turnpike on-ramp
As the city spills ever outward, formerly rural residential land becomes densely populated suburban sprawl. This particular traffic nightmare -- about a mile east of Metrozoo -- is a maze of too-short turn lanes spilling stopped traffic onto busy SW 152nd Street, traffic lights at seemingly random intervals, horn-honking motorists, and general craziness that makes people wonder whatever happened to their once-idyllic neighborhood.
We don't know about you, but we've been around these parts long enough to admit to a kind of airsickness and bone-tiredness of all this Starbucks-KFC-Subway-Howard Stern-no money down-fatal accident on the Palmetto-¡tu eres comunista!-we'll pay you to drive this SUV-live on the scene of a drive-by shooting-South Florida ambiance. And sometimes we dream of getting back to a quieter time. When that mood strikes, we're likely to pay our five bucks and slip into the oldest building in North America -- William Randolph Hearst's twelfth-century Segovian monastery (which still operates as an Episcopalian church). Past the gardens and stone cloisters, and onto a smooth oak bench. Aaahh ... starting to feel human again.
When a guy can afford to donate his salary to charity, you know he's loaded. Arriola, Miami's blue-eyed angel of death -- er, city manager -- made off with a cool $42 million when he sold Avanti/Case-Hoyt, his family's printing business, two years ago. Since then he's done a magnificent job of flaunting his wealth. First he joined Merrett Stierheim's team trying to straighten out the public-school system (salary: one dollar), then quit in a huff, but not before insulting Stierheim by calling him a "horrible leader" who "doesn't respect women, or blacks, or Hispanics." More recently Arriola publicly insulted the reform-minded chairman of the county's Public Health Trust, attorney Michael Kosnitzky, labeling him a "cancer" in that organization. Then he accepted Miami Mayor Manny Diaz's offer to become city manager and loudly proclaimed he'd donate his six-figure salary to the United Way, but not before unceremoniously, gleefully, firing several veteran city officials. Is this what it means to be filthy rich?
BEST PLACE TO TAKE YOUR VISITING MOTHER
Afternoon tea at the Biltmore Hotel
The South Beach flesh market might be a little intimidating for a woman of a certain age. You can only visit so many malls. And sunbathing at the beach does bring up the ugly specter of skin cancer. The perfect answer to entertain and impress a visiting matron, an activity that will in fact make your mother feel like a queen, is to partake of a proper English tea at the Biltmore. Several courses are involved, beginning with those little watercress sandwiches with the crust cut off, followed by tender scones, clotted cream, and chocolate-dipped fruit. Plus your choice of a series of fine teas, all in the elegant grandeur of a landmark hotel. Everything but the fog. At $18.82, plus tip, it's a bargain. Available from 3:00 to 5:00 p.m. Call ahead to make reservations.
At the Eden Roc it's always the Fifties, baby. Just like it oughta be. You walk into the lobby, with its staircase floating down from the mezzanine, fluted rosewood columns, and ornate terrazzo floors. Spin in a circle. So much open space it's breathtaking. You can almost see Sammy Davis, Jr., tapping across the floor toward Harry's bar, where Frank Sinatra is ordering a martini and chatting up Liz Taylor. The Roc opened in the mid-Fifties, a creation of purest swank from the mind of daffy architectural genius Morris Lapidus. After Hollywood left, though, the 349-room hotel was sold and renovated many times, resulting in a creeping horror of Seventies and Eighties-era notions of style covering the old splendor. In 1999 new owners pumped millions into a makeover that essentially restored the grand dame to her original self. And we like her, yes we do.
Unfortunately, with the closing of Drama 101, competition for this award has dwindled further. But fortunately we still have Mad Cat. This troupe led by Paul Tei dares to be different. It doesn't always work, but that's what experimentation is all about. Mad Cat also has done a great service for Miami in attracting and developing that elusive "younger" audience. From Tin Box Boomerang, written by young local Ivonne Azurdia, about two Mexican-American sisters living in a trailer park; to Shoot, about three young girls and gun culture; and Azurdia's eerie reworking of Edgar Allan Poe in Portrait, this theater has offered up challenging, relevant, and resounding works. On the fringe? Way. And stay there.
BEST SIMPLE PLEASURE IN THE MIAMI HERALD
"Last Night", by Nicholas Spangler
Spangler is a blue-eyed, ruddy-cheeked 26-year-old with an old man's voice and a talent for the well-turned phrase. He spends his afternoons and evenings attending the most obscure functions, from little girls primping at a hair salon to rabbis blessing a restaurant to a drag-queen diva primping for a night on the town -- in short, the thousand little moments that come and go unnoticed every day in the Magic City. At its best Spangler's prose divines unadorned human motives from piles of random detail, provoking in the reader a moment of recognition. Here's an example from one story: "Like a batter in the major leagues, a restaurant hostess in Miami Beach meets failure early and often. She chooses her pitch: a young couple, good looking and tan, tourists perhaps. She squares herself to the plate: wide smile with white teeth, good eye contact. She swings. 'Hi, how are you tonight? Would you like to see our menu?' They smile in acknowledgment but do not break stride. She misses."
While her specialty remains thrashing the school board, teachers' union, and classroom chaos, this "Pitbull in Pumps" (a nickname from her days in Tulsa television) has branched out recently. She's looked into everything from failing police radios in Miami Beach to prescription drug prices to medical fraud. For her fans, Jilda knows how to cut to the chase. To the retired dentist whose "resonator" had no tangible medical value, the relentless investigator asked, "Have you cured AIDS?" Does she have detractors? Of course, and she's proud of the long list. "Why do I have to explain it to Jilda Unruh?" one of the teachers' union members demanded of her when she questioned him about his bloated contract. Well, sir, because if you don't respond, she might just sink her teeth into you.
Morgan has long been well-known and well liked on the local theater scene, but her work this season really showed off her range of skills. The British-born actress recently knocked off the crotchety Scottish housekeeper Mrs. Hudson in Sherlock's Last Case for Actors' Playhouse, plus some bizarre comedic cameos as an android actress and a wacky wigged hooker in Comic Potential, also at AP. And her work in Tom Walker for the New Theatre was a range in itself -- playing Tom's nightmare of a harridan wife and doubling as his new love, the harried Widow Baine. While Morgan has been lauded for each of these performances, it's the breadth of her abilities that's really remarkable. Some actors do well by playing the same role over and over. Lisa Morgan is never the same twice.
One can easily debate the wisdom of our city fathers having turned over a waterfront park to a mall developer who populated the place with chain restaurants and stores you can find most anywhere. But such concerns don't appear to trouble the brows of the hordes who routinely descend on Bayside every weekend and who look like they're having a whale of a good time. The worst offense associated with a tourist trap is the feeling you're being ripped off. In fact Bayside is home to some dining and drinking establishments that are not extortionately priced (there are even deals to be had at lunchtime) and have the advantage of decidedly pleasant views of the marina, the port, and the bay from the many outdoor terraces. Just be forewarned: Nights when a game or concert is on at the American Airlines Arena, parking rates skyrocket at Bayside's garage and nearby lots, and the resulting traffic jam on Biscayne Boulevard can make you question why you ever bothered to abandon the comfort of your couch.
The fact that "Patty" is so easy to chant is not the reason 107-pound junior flyweight champion Patricia Martinez wins fans at her bouts. This 32-year-old Chicana, who works as a legal interpreter, is a scrappy, fast, and fearless slugger. She won the U.S. National Amateur Championships in 1997. As a pro she's been unstoppable, amassing a 10-1 record and garnering the number-one junior flyweight ranking from the Women's International Boxing Association. Though her record may win her fighting credibility, it's her skill that has earned her ringside respect. This past March 13, for example, she pummeled number-five-ranked contender Wendy Rodriguez in a six-round match. Rodriguez was ineffective against Martinez's reach, and ended up bloodied. Meanwhile the champ emerged unscathed and worked the crowd. Martinez, in January, knocked out challenger Nancy Bonilla with a fierce flurry of punches in the first round. The fight lasted just one minute, twenty seconds before the ref stopped it.
Who's not looking for a handyman? But aren't all the tool-toting studs at Home Depot engaged in some kind of home improvement project for the little missus? Maybe, but Home Depot delivers testosterone in such bulk it really doesn't matter if a high percentage are married. And unlike the bar scene, few married men here think to remove their wedding rings before heading down the hardware aisle. The Home Depot in North Miami Beach offers not just volume but variety as well: penthouse dwellers from Aventura, single dads from the Shores, snazzy decorators from Belle Meade, beefy working stiffs from along I-95. Whatever job you would like done, Home Depot has the man to do it for you. For upscale mates, we recommend lingering by the whirlpools. For successful contractors, try the "professionals" aisle. For apprentices, wander by the benches near the hot dog stand out front. That's where the employees rest their orange aprons and check out the chicks in an easy-to-crack code. If the assessment sounds good, double back, order an all-beef dog and squeeze in.
BEST 2 REASONS TO LEAVE MOVIEMAKING TO HOLLYWOOD
Bad Boys II and 2 Fast 2 Furious
For whatever reason, Miami is not a huge art-house film town. (Too many other distractions perhaps?) The Sunrise Intracoastal is one of the very few venues in the county to regularly program foreign and independent fare -- and keep it on the screen for longer than the opening week. Easy, plentiful, and free parking more than compensates for the less-than-new interior. Plus the North Miami Beach location is a great compromise when making movie dates with friends who live in Broward. Best of all, the theater is locally owned and programmed by the husband-wife team of Mitch and Nancy Dreir. (The Intracoastal, which they acquired from the bankrupt General Cinema Corporation in late 2000, is one of nine theaters and more than 70 screens the couple now owns in Palm Beach, Broward, and Miami-Dade.) Earlier this year Mitch and Nancy explained their approach to Sun-Sentinel movie critic Todd Anthony (formerly of this newspaper): "Most of our theaters offer the qualities people associate with smaller, less frenetic movie theaters. It may not be the largest portion of the movie-going public, but clearly there's a significant audience for it. We strive to make you feel at home, from the time you get out of your car in the parking lot to the person who greets you at the ticket box." Mitch is admittedly obsessive. "I'm in movie theaters 60, 70 hours a week," he told Anthony. "I go into the washrooms, I go into the auditoriums, I get behind the snack bar. If somebody decides to spend a good chunk of their evening with me, I want to make sure they have a great time." And that, we would argue, is an award-winning attitude.
The trick is to stash your skank bag (the sizable trash or cloth sacks in which the homeless drag their stuff around) somewhere else before you start holding up a palm tree. That way the cops won't know you're one of them. Then you get a pair of shades, clean up as much as feasible, hide your bottle of Natural Ice behind your back, and sleep in peace. (The homeless are always tired because cops chase them around at night when they see them on the street.) Lummus is a glorious green oasis, and you can dream of the rich babes just across Ocean at the News Café, the Cardozo, or the Tides, who might discover you here, and unlike most other folks, recognize your good qualities.
In Tap Tap one night, talking about the successful poet Rashida Bartley, we became aware of a series of horrified snufflings and belchings, air expelled in violent ssssss's, denoting high dudgeon and street-level contempt. Looking around we saw a purplish-colored fellow in seamed black rags, but with a Ritmo wristwatch and red leather Tiffany's journal, small and boiling, like a fissure in a hotspring. When he had our attention he heightened his voice girlishly: For all tha mo-ments wheeen drrreams were not enuff/ to taalk me into seeing da future.... Trikky winked and scrambled closer over the stools, conspirial-voiced now: "See, even dat crap she write can be im-proved if you stretch and break consonants and riddems, twist da spellin's to sound like brakes squealin' an bumpers scrapin' over dem dead O'town lies, mistuh..." He raked our faces with a steel-comb look: Yeah, I did Rimbaud a thousand years ago had Maldoror's ass/ in my kitchen glass Walt Whitman messed and funk-skank blessed y'all tryin' to write what we sow. Trikky asked for our business cards, accepted a double Jameson's, and said he'd call next time he and his buddies slammed.
Everything you ever wanted to know about local education (from pre-k to post-doc) and so much more. History professor Peterson, a slight man with glasses, a limp, and a sardonic smile, creates somewhere between seven and ten e-mail newsletters weekly and sends them to a few hundred people. The newsletters are partly a compendium of education-related articles in major newspapers and journals, studies, and statistics. But they also serve as a repository of Peterson's analysis of political trends, bald advocacy of ideological positions, parsing of the smallest potential motives behind every decision made by the school board, and tweaking the administration and politicos by endlessly speculating on their essentially corrupt natures. To subscribe, send an e-mail to [email protected] with "subscribe MER" in the subject line.
Now the lone moviehouse in all the beaches, the Regal South Beach undoubtedly benefits from having a captive audience at its disposal. Weekend evenings can be disconcertingly chaotic at times, but its location at the corner of Lincoln and Alton roads makes it unbeatable for the perennially favorite combo: dinner and a movie. With summer upon us, beat the heat and the crowds by slipping in for an afternoon matinee (especially midweek, all the better to feel superior to the 9-to-5 wage slaves). Emerge from the cool darkness into the gentler rays of late afternoon, and amble down to an outdoor table at one of the many local establishments for a libation over which to debate whether the plot of The Matrix: Reloaded makes more sense than that of the original.
Readers Choice: Sunset Place 24
The Miami Herald was a favorite DeFede target for the ten and a half years he was employed by this newspaper. Now that he's toiling away in the belly of the beast, his crusade against corruption, incompetence, malfeasance, official mediocrity, and, well, official idiocy appears to continue unencumbered by the powers-that-be -- at least so far. The first page of the Herald's local section is a far more interesting read thanks to him (and an inspired internal shakeup that affected the other columnists at the paper). Are we sorry to have lost him? Of course. Is he making us proud nonetheless? You bet.
The best man on a mediocre team, center Jokinen leads the Panthers in points, goals, and assists. He was expected to be a star after Los Angeles selected him third in the 1997 draft, but he ended up being wildly inconsistent his first four seasons. Since then he has greatly improved, which is good news for the Panthers, who've been losing steam (on the ice and at the box office) since handing the 1996 Stanley Cup to Colorado. Today Jokinen and goalie Roberto Luongo are playing almost as if hockey actually matters in South Florida. Does it?
Readers Choice: Roberto Luongo
BEST CHILDRENS THEATER
Actors Playhouse Musical Theatre for Young Audiences
280 Miracle Mile
Coral Gables
305-444-9293
www.actorsplayhouse.org
South Florida is blessed with an abundance of theater for kids, but none tops the Actors' Playhouse, which takes children's theater very, very seriously. For starters the Playhouse, one of the area's major professional companies, has created an entirely separate children's division, led by peripatetic artistic director Earl Maulding. He produces a full season of plays for children, as well as providing classes and workshops. Maulding and executive director Barbara Stein aim for excellence, hiring experienced professional actors and designers to staff their children's shows. Then there's the company's National Children's Theatre Festival, which holds a national competition for new children's plays and stages a spectacular weekend event for the winner's world premiere. Finally there's the context of all of this: Children who come watch the plays often discover they want to attend the main-stage adult fare the Playhouse offers. Some kids from the training program end up onstage themselves in the big Playhouse musicals like this past season's The Sound of Music. Actors' Playhouse not only offers the best in children's entertainment, it's providing South Florida with an important cultural service by nurturing the audiences of tomorrow.
BEST NEW BUILDING
Miami Rescue Mission Community Activity Center
You know immediately that something is different about this warehouse. It's the same height as the others but the roof forms some nice angles. The tri-color scheme -- terracotta, olive, and clay -- on its tripartite front wall tells you maybe it's not a warehouse at all. "It's about uplifting you," architect Marilyn Avery says of her creation, located in a downtrodden section of the Wynwood warehouse district. And who needs more of a lift than someone who has spent a little too much time on the streets (like a homeless mom). Rather than plopping down a bizarre-looking "object-building," Avery drew from the zone's indigenous warehouse vernacular. "I took that form and just made it exuberant," she explains, looking up from the sidewalk at the richly colored front wall. The parking lot is hidden in back so as not to clutter the exuberance of the entrance. When they step inside, parents and kids look up to a 40-foot-tall ceiling gently illuminated by outdoor light streaming in through the clerestory windows. There is also something soothing, even primal, about the natural materials. Shiny black granite and glossy medium-brown birch form a large reception desk. Waist-high birch panels run horizontally along the slate walls, and there's more wood inside the four classrooms in the form of cabinets and window panes. Then there's the Zenlike beauty of the smooth concrete floors. Much thought went into the indirectly illuminated basketball gym, with the help of lighting guru William Lam. Thanks to more clerestory windows and the reflective properties of various white surfaces (the walls and the fabric suspended from the ceiling), there are no glaring bulbs to mess up someone's game. All the lighting is indirect. "You never lose the ball up there," Avery affirms.
Her passport put her age at 82, but relatives think she was at least 90 when this nation's grande dame of the sleazy art film departed Miami this past August 10 on a nudist cruise to hell. At least that was the destination Doris Wishman always thought she'd booked, owing to the naughty nature of her movies. Indeed her reputed cult classic is Bad Girls Go to Hell. But so extensive was this Coral Gables denizen's following that the boat surely dropped her off at that cinema paradiso in the sky, probably still wearing an imitation leopard-skin suit and retro sunglasses. In the Sixties Wishman's low-budget shoots explored a strange universe of nudism. They include Hideout in the Sun, in which two bank robbers hide from the police in a nudist camp, and Blaze Starr Goes Nudist. Another classic overlooked by the Academy was Nude on the Moon, in which astronauts touch down and find a welcoming committee of naked women with antennas and bouffant hairdos. She even delved into heavy international political themes with Behind the Nudist Curtain. As the decade progressed, the self-taught director gradually refined her grainy black-and-white melodramas in which crude men tended to abuse scantily clad women. Critics raved about her jarring jump-cut closeups to ashtrays, squirrels, heaving breasts. Her filmography is a veritable review of Sixties history: Another Day, Another Man; The Sex Perils of Paulette; Bad Girls Go to Hell; Indecent Desires; A Taste of Her Flesh. Perhaps it was a lust for money that led to her mid-Seventies hardcore phase (Come With Me, My Love). But mostly she eschewed explicit sex in her art, preferring to revel instead in tasteless weirdness. A few years later the prolific filmmaker culminated her dream of making a horror flick with A Day to Dismember, about a female porn actress turned psycho-killer. After a long hiatus and a stint working at the Pink Pussycat sex boutique in Coconut Grove, Wishman returned in the new millennium with the lyrical Dildo Heaven and the violent yet sexy Satan Was a Lady. She was editing Each Time I Kill at the time of her death. In the end, she was a crazy sweetheart. "I made all my films out of love," Wishman purred.
This wasn't a good year for most South Florida head coaches. Pat Riley's championship vision fell out from under him. Dave Wannstedt's game planning was plagued by second-guessing. And four out of five South Floridians can't even name the Marlins' or Panthers' coaches. The only consistent winner has been the University of Miami Hurricanes football team. Insiders know that the most important factor in the Canes' 35-2 record over the past three seasons has been their offensive line, the most dominant in college football. The big guys don't get a lot of glory, but they get plenty of respect. So does Art Kehoe, offensive-line coach and an ex-UM lineman himself. The year the Canes won it all, their golden-boy quarterback, Ken Dorsey, was sacked just three times the entire season, a national record. Over the past three seasons, the offensive line also cleared the way for three straight 1000-yard rushers. When Kehoe speaks, the squad listens or else; the discipline he demands is legendary, which helps explain why he's produced nearly a dozen NFL linemen. But he is also one of the most lovable guys in the locker room, a true player's coach.
Readers Choice: Pat Riley
Cuban immigrant Gerardo Gonzalez was one of the most popular boxers of the Fifties. As "Kid Gavilan" he won a world title against Johnny Bratton in 1951 at Madison Square Garden. He was inducted into the Boxing Hall of Fame in 1990. Gavilan was notorious for overwhelming his opponents with flurries of punches coming from all angles, and coined a notorious strike called the "bolo punch," a potentially lethal uppercut. He retired at age 32 with a record of 107 wins and 30 losses (28 KOs). In 1958 Gavilan returned to revolutionary Cuba only to have his property confiscated. Like so many others he escaped to that intermediary land of Miami, where he remained a vital source of information and energy in the boxing world. Gonzalez died of a heart attack February 13, 2002, in Miami. He was 77 years old. Papers in England, Scotland, and Australia wrote obituaries commemorating his career.
It's about time Kwiat received recognition as a one-man repertory company. A chameleon of an actor who appears regularly in many local theaters, Kwiat is a director's dream. He can take the tiniest role and turn it into a perfectly realized character. Some of his recent work was memorable -- the brooding Irish drinker in The Weir and the embittered Yiddish actor in Smithereens, both at New Theatre; as well as his hilarious cameos in Comic Potential at Actors' Playhouse. But it was GableStage's Dirty Blonde that really turned into a Kwiat riot as he rolled out one carefully etched characterization after another.
Even with an injured hand, Lamar Murphy, native son of Overtown, continues to win professional lightweight bouts. At a recent Miami Fight Night, the 30-year-old brawler dominated Colombian rival Isidro Tejedor, landing vicious left jabs and uppercuts. Despite an injured right, his fleet feet and stubborn resolve scored the points he needed. With a 29-6 record, the 135-pound Murphy is ranked top contender in his weight division by the U.S. Boxing Association and number twelve by the International Boxing Federation. Twice he's fought for championship belts, narrowly losing one decision in 1996. Now he's clawing his way to the top again, angling for a chance at another title match. When that right hand fully heals, watch out.
As anyone who has schlepped from parking lot to parking lot on a "historical tour" of the city knows, history in Miami is written by the pavers. The Olympia Theater at the Gusman Center for the Performing Arts is a stunning exception. A show-stopper since opening as a silent movie palace in 1926, the theater was rescued from an asphalt fate by Maurice Gusman, who donated the palace to the City of Miami in 1975. Nearly 30 years later the simulated night sky atop the Moorish arches and turrets had lost much of its brilliance; the once twinkling stars had dimmed. Then a concerted effort by the county Department of Cultural Affairs and the Miami Parking Authority (which runs the theater) brightened up the place last year with a $2.1 million restoration. Additional work will be required to update the Gusman as a fully functioning, modern performing arts facility. But for now the theater's cloud-casting lantern is spinning again and a proud stuffed peacock is perched upon a Moorish balcony, a rare symbol of the Magic City's architectural memory.
Sometimes a performer finds the perfect role, or the perfect role finds her. Maybe it's karma or the planets' alignment. Maybe it's sheer luck or hard work -- or all of the above. Whatever the reason, Claire Tyler was the right actress in the right role as JC333 (Jaycee Triplethree), the android actress heroine of Alan Ayckbourn's dark fantasy Comic Potential at Actors' Playhouse. Tyler's performance clearly delineated JC's slow awakening to some hidden core of humanity. Her 'droid's awkward movements began to turn into some kind of nascent grace, and her squawk-box voice mellowed into something musical. The role also had a theatrical dash, as when Jaycee went haywire, spouting bits of long-past performances that had somehow been stored in her hard drive. Tyler has been very fortunate in her short theatrical career, working with top area directors and with excellent scripts. Besides her fine work with David Arisco in Comic Potential and the recent Sherlock's Last Case, she also scored in a trio of Joe Adler productions at GableStage: The Shape of Things, Popcorn, and The Play About the Baby. But it is the android with a heart of gold who remains the most memorable role of her young career.
Now, any Presidente supermarket is inherently interesting. Something about those crowded shelves and even more crowded aisles brings all the excitement and hot tempers of an urban Latin American street market indoors. But plop a Presidente down in the midst of a huge Haitian community and you have the beginnings of a whole new language. What does the skinny teenage new arrival from Havana say to the prodigious matron from Port-au-Prince blocking the rice aisle? How does the Haitian husband picking up a sensitive item for his wife communicate this to the Argentine stock boy? The linguistic invention is nothing short of poetic. But when it comes to the cash register, there is one thing all the customers seem to agree on. It's best to speak dollars and cents in English.
Forget Howard Stern, the Jerky Boys, or Comedy Central's Crank Yankers. For sheer creativity the year's best prank telephone call came courtesy of WXDJ-FM (95.7) and Enrique Santos and Joe Ferrero, co-hosts of El Zol's El Vacilón de la Mañana (roughly: The Morning Blast). Piqued at being snubbed by Mexican President Vicente Fox, Fidel Castro had released a private phone conversation between himself and Fox -- and that was all the ammunition Santos and Ferrero needed. This past January they managed to ring up Hugo Chavez on his personal line, and, after hitting the play button on their judiciously spliced tape of that Castro conversation, lampooned the Venezuelan prez's notoriously chummy relationship with el jefe en maximo in a glorious fashion. "Did you receive my letter?" asks the disembodied Castro. "Of course I received it," Chavez replies, growing ever more confused -- yet still eager to please -- as the Castro non sequiturs start flying: "I'll do what you're asking me to.... I'm going to be harmed, I confess to you.... Everything's set for Tuesday." Finally Ferrero and Santos broke in with a few choice epithets, letting Chavez know he'd been pranked. Would that all our city's political satire were this inspired. Anyone have the number for Jeb Bush's private cell phone?
This year the nod goes to the New Theatre, Coral Gables's Little Theater That Could. It may be tiny in size but its creative vision is large indeed. Recently recognized as one of the top 50 theaters in the nation by the venerable Drama Guild of New York, the New Theatre promotes inclusion as well as excellence. It is one of the few theaters in South Florida that actively casts minorities in main-stage productions, and its policy of subsidizing student ticket prices can't be beat. Where else can a student with an ID grab a ticket to truly professional theater for just five dollars? Founding artistic director Rafael de Acha can always be counted on to deliver nuanced, elegant productions. Another asset is de Acha's eclectic programming strategy, which serves up a provocative menu of contemporary off-Broadway hits, classics (two Shakespeares are on the plate this summer), and especially new plays from a trio of talented playwrights: Nilo Cruz, Mario Diament, and Michael McKeever, works the company often commissions. It's this patient development of and ongoing relationship with writing talent that really sets New Theatre apart from the pack.
Dan normally strolls Lincoln Road, but he can also be seen on Collins up around 21st Street. He claims this award because of his attitude and his sad story. He has no problem discussing his life. Mainly the subject is what happened to his left hand. All that's left is a nub resembling a potato. He says he lost it in a meat-grinder accident working at his father's old factory. But the hand tragedy isn't all there is to Dan. He's undoubtedly the most polite bum on South Beach. Though he is smallish, and weathered in that distinctly homeless way, his stature is a sight to see when he's panhandling. He stands ramrod straight, looking positively confident. When he asks for spare change, his tone is quiet, almost meek. And if the answer is No, it's "Thank you, have a nice day," and that's the end of it. He never asks twice.
Some of América TeVe's shows are the boobiest in boob-tube history. Thanks to Tania, Rocio, Isis, Taymi, and Kathy's. Wrapped in shimmering, colorful, skin-tight outfits, they make even the dumbest variety shows exciting. Well, how else are you supposed to get people's attention? Fights about politics is another way. Let's get to the punch: Maria Elvira Confronta, the show with two impacting boxing gloves as a logo. The debate show, hosted by Maria Elvira Salazar, is the contact point between many real issues of the day and the viewing audience. The discussion (always in Spanish) often devolves into the talk-show equivalent of white noise because all four guests and Salazar herself are shouting at once. But at least it's relevant white noise. Is El Nuevo Herald a serious newspaper? Is the U.S. embargo against Cuba a failure? Is plastic surgery a necessity or vanity? Are beauty pageants exploitation or promotion? These are the kinds of questions that can provoke heavyweight bouts of rhetoric any given weeknight from 8:00 to 9:00 p.m. Salazar has also drawn crowds with her solo interrogations of Varela Project organizer Oswaldo Payá and chairman of the Cuban American National Foundation Jorge Mas Santos. The station's programmers give viewers a one-two punch at night. After Salazar, Gilberto Reyes and Miguel Gonzalez (a.k.a. Los Fonomemecos) enter the ring to lower the blood pressure with El Mikimbin de Miami. This live studio show mixes serious talk with comedy, reality with make-believe. To wit: A guest like FIU president Mitch Maidique can suddenly end up face to face with Alejo Campuzano, a silly, tacky, and impertinent character performed by Gonzalez (when he isn't doing one of the best Fidel impressions in la yuma).
Readers Choice: WPLG-TV (Channel 10)
Standiford made his reputation as the unofficial godfather of the South Florida crime thriller by way of an intrepid building contractor named John Deal. Deal is a world-weary average-guy protagonist with a knack for getting in and out of bad situations. While the credit for this popular character (appearing in six novels) goes to Standiford's tightly woven, literate prose, the success of the series itself rests at least in part on the setting -- ever-mysterious and unlikely South Florida. But Standiford's yen to pitch the Everyman against the nearly insurmountable forces of this absurd place was turned around on itself when he attempted an ambitious nonfiction book, published last year, about an ambitious man who proved even less tractable than the strange land he conquered. The man: railroad baron Henry Flagler. The book: Last Train to Paradise: Henry Flagler and the Spectacular Rise and Fall of the Railroad that Crossed an Ocean, in which Flagler extended his railway from the mainland south of Miami to Key West, more than 150 miles away, thereby turning mosquito-infested islands into margarita-sodden tourist traps begging for the next hurricane to wipe their stain from Florida Bay. Standiford pays the bills as an English professor and director of the creative writing program at Florida International University.
Every day from 3:30 to 5:00 p.m. everybody eats. No sermons. No complicated rules like the Salvation Army and some church soup kitchens hit you with. Donny Esmond is a man you can talk to: "If a guy makes a real effort, we see he's trying, we can help him get back on his feet. But if you're just hungry? Come on over anyway." We can unequivocally recommend the chicken noodle and organic vegetable soup. And the fried-chicken dinner? Delicious.
BEST BANK FOR THE BUSY
Beach Bank
555 Arthur Godfrey Road
Miami Beach
305-695-7400
Ahh, the impersonal nature of banking. Sure, that ATM perennially spouting cash is convenient, and that check card can be pretty handy too (even though your account's been drained three times by retail-sector thieves). And yes, online banking means you can monitor funds and pay bills right at your desk -- just like your boss does when he isn't watching his stocks! But admit it, you yearn for the days when banks would dole out toasters and clock radios as a reward for opening a new account, when lots of smiling tellers would utter their names and mean it when they said: "May I help you," and when the darned places were open on Saturday. Because who has the time to sneak away from the job and deal with money matters during the week? Well, a number of banks have begun throwing their doors open on Saturdays. But only Beach Bank can boast Sunday hours. The official day of rest for many is a day of work for them. Located in mid-Miami Beach, home to a heavily Orthodox Jewish population, the financial institution caters to those who don't do squat on Saturdays -- by religious mandate or not. But come Sunday, from 9:00 a.m. to noon, anybody can take care of his financial business.
Deep in the heart of Little Havana, on many a Saturday night, you'll see a strange scene for Miami: people paying to see performance art in this black-box space. Call it a small sign of our growing maturity -- paying for experimental theater, and not just on one Saturday. The surrealness can include lots of things, and in fact it will. Each event is multimedia. A DJ perhaps, with a photography exhibit on the walls, and two short dance works? Maybe a "band" of electronic musicians and a one-woman performance? The thing is, it's not predictable. It can't be. It's surreal, and it makes Miami proud.
It's more than a Website. It's an Internet broadcast station with a worldwide audience and a studio three stories above the Miami Beach intersection of Lincoln Road and Washington Avenue. The Womb has nurtured a growing collective of local electronic-music artists and DJs since 1997, when it lit the airwaves as a pirate radio station. Today the site broadcasts live streaming sounds 24/7, with segments spotlighting a variety of dance genres. If listening isn't enough, a video feed called WombTV offers a peek inside the studio as DJ antics ensue. Turntable tricks are the usual treat but keep your eyes peeled -- you might get flashed by a daredevil DJ during a wee-hours set. User-friendliness is key for most cyber surfers, and everything here is easy to navigate. Plus the site's format spares the clutter of pop-ups and banners. Everything you'll need to listen and view the Womb can be downloaded from the site, no charge. About the only thing that does cost any dinero are the digital downloads on sale at the site's music store. This is the only place you can find MP3s of original productions by local underground faves like the Spam Allstars, trance master Ariel Baund, or the Womb's founder Duncan Ross. The coolest thing about the Womb, though, has to be the welcoming little mascot on the home page -- a floating fetus.
Readers Choice: www.the305.com
Anyone who thought Nat Chediak's career was over when he and the Miami International Film Festival parted ways hadn't been following his career closely enough. An historian of Latin jazz and a music producer (and film producer, with associate-producer credits on Fernando Trueba's homage to Latin jazz musicians, Calle 54), Chediak won a Latin Grammy last fall for producing the Bebo Valdes Trio's CD El arte del sabor. That album went on to win Chediak his second regular Grammy in February. And just weeks before the big Grammy awards show, he returned to the stage at the Gusman Center for the Performing Arts, this time to present Spanish singer Martirio to a wildly enthusiastic crowd. While we wish him well in the studio, the fruits of which anyone anywhere can enjoy, we are selfishly hoping to see more live performances courtesy of Nat Chediak, presenter.
Much of the success for this year's smash Floyd Collins lies with its solid-gold ensemble that produced one memorable performance after another. Besides Tally Sessions's work in the leading role, the show featured Blythe Gruda as the ethereal, off-kilter sister Nellie, Brian Charles Rooney as their moviestruck brother, Jerry Gulledge as their haunted father, and Lourelene Snedeker as their warm-hearted, long-suffering stepmother. The cast also featured terrific work from Michael Turner as a guilt-ridden reporter, Brian M. Golub as a wannabe folk singer with a bell-clear voice, and Ken Clement as a blustering, officious engineer. To that add Wayne Steadman, Mark Filosa, Terry M. Cain, Oscar Cheda, and Barry Tarallo and what you've got is a dream of a cast.
Miami is poor, poor, poor. Miami is so poor it's not even funny. Almost one-third of city residents live in poverty, according to the 2000 Census. More than eleven percent are unemployed, and per capita income overall is less than the cost of an economy car. Almost half our residents never graduated from high school. Don't even get us started on the lack of home-ownership. The reasons for all this are many and varied and stretch back in time for decades. But in 2002 a glimmer of hope shined through when Miami Mayor Manny Diaz (pressured by the good folks at the Human Services Coalition of Miami-Dade County, among others) announced his intention to make fighting poverty a priority of his administration. To this end the mayor said he would funnel city funds into existing anti-poverty initiatives, encourage residents to take advantage of tax credits and save money, promote small businesses, and attempt to adopt a living-wage ordinance. Not overly ambitious, but certainly a refreshing change from the city's usual strategy of frittering away federal funds for years while the inner cities rot. The mettle of Mayor Diaz has yet to be tested, and the results of this initiative (coordinated by HSC, the United Way, and others) measured, but at least now our people's pain is out in the open. That's something of a victory.
You've never heard an oldies station quite like this one. Yes, Roy Orbison's "Only the Lonely" has been played to death by DJs -- but how about Los Locos del Ritmo's note-for-note Spanish-language take on that wistful ballad? Or Roberto Jordán's Spanish cover of Redbone's bouncy Seventies classic "Come and Get Your Love"? Or Vianey Valdez's rousing rendition of the Isley Brothers' "Twist and Shout"? Welcome to the slightly surreal world of Clásica 92, where these Spanish pop oldies happily co-exist with their U.S. cousins. It's a wonderfully elastic format, skipping across decades and genres, making room for the Eagles and the Bee Gees alongside their south-of-the-border colleagues. Whether you're a Latino nostalgic for the homeland radio sounds of your youth, or an Anglo reliving your past in an entirely new way, Clásica 92 is one of our city's unheralded treasures.
Readers Choice: WLRN-FM (91.3)
SECOND-BEST REASON TO STAY IN MIAMI FOR THE SUMMER
Back-yard mangoes
They're sweet and juicy, big as softballs, and more numerous than flies on a cow. They're versatile, too. You can make them into breads, cakes, salsas, jams, or chutneys. And if you know someone with a tree (and who doesn't at least have a friend of a friend?), mangoes are free all season, from spring to autumn, when mango-tree owners actually are relieved to see the last one plop to the ground. What else could you ask for from a fruit? Only that it not crack your skull on the way down.
With a powerful singing voice and boundless energy, Sessions conjured up the memorable title role in the best show of the year, staged by Actors' Playhouse. Sessions's Floyd Collins was a high-spirited Huck Finn whose entrapment in an underground cave led him from optimism to panic to horrible despair. Sessions is that rare musical-theater performer who keeps his work fully grounded in emotional truth. He adroitly handled the difficult challenges of his role -- long, musically complex solos and significant athletic demands.
For closing down the MacArthur Causeway, BBII lived up to its name. But we're willing to bet that once the film opens, all will be forgiven. The original Bad Boys was arguably the first film to portray Miami as a truly urban center, with all its glitz and its grit, and we have similar expectations for the sequel. Besides the reteaming of Will Smith and Martin Lawrence, aren't you just a teeny bit curious about that causeway sequence? Special mention goes to the practically straight-to-video Big Trouble. Based on the book by Dave Barry, the subject of a nuclear device on a passenger plane was too hot to handle post 9/11. Despite its many flaws, the film boasts some memorable moments of Barry's spot-on skewering of the local scene and its population.
Summer in Miami can make you want to hole up like northerners do during deepest, darkest winter. We race between the cool comfort and the deep freeze of office buildings, malls, and restaurants. We shun our barbecues and stoves (who wants to stand over a hot piece of metal?) and our patios (too many mosquitoes). We curse those monsoon downpours that always seem to catch us when we're wearing good shoes and forgot an umbrella. Yet once the sun goes down, the heat and humidity that torture us in daylight meld to create a softness in the air that positively caresses the skin as you glide through the night.
About seven years ago Robert Moehling, owner of the renowned fruit and vegetable market bearing his name, boarded a collection of turtles and tortoises for his friend Richard Paul, who was leaving town. Moehling was thinking trash removal. The creatures helpfully eat his organic refuse. Now the acre he set aside for the hardbacks has become an intriguing roadside stop. About 40 turtles, including bright-green spur-thighs, so-named because of the large scales jutting from their legs, mix in lethargic grace with others termed simply redfoots and yellowfoots. But clearly the star of the show is Centurion, a Galapagos tortoise who is between 160 and 170 years old, weighs approximately 725 pounds, and ambles about like a slow-moving coffee table. Apparently Centurion had some trouble sharing his space with a large Aldabra turtle named M-2. From the sign on the enclosure: "Centurion #11 isn't usually here because he can't stand M-2.... Centurion has his reasons. M-2 walks, stands, and sits on Centurion's food, cuts him off, makes disgusting noises, and doesn't make the proper Galapagos tortoise head-raising signs in greeting." You'll be happy to know they tolerate each other now, so you can catch both. Best of all, Moehling doesn't charge to view the beasts.
BEST PARKING IN MIAMI BEACH
Twelfth Street between Alton and Michigan avenues
Psssst, this is a good one. Absolutely free parking, with only the thinnest of strings attached. A two-block stretch of Twelfth Street next to Flamingo Park's athletic field is reserved for school buses during high school games, mainly football. It's busy a handful of nights a year. The rest of the time? Absolutely free unlimited parking. No residential permit required, no meters, no threat of getting towed. Park there and it's a quick walk to Lincoln Road, Washington Avenue, and the beach. It's such a good spot it'd be a shame to, you know, publicize it in some free weekly.
The damn car's A/C broke. Hurricane season has begun, with temperatures never dipping below the average on planet Mercury. And you're stuck in that perpetual traffic jam next to the airport. Life couldn't get worse. But hark! There is a very thin silver lining. Bring on the heat! Bring on the sweat! Bring on the tractor trailer that cuts in front of you and comes to a complete standstill! You are experiencing the cheapest and easiest diet program known to Miami Man. The longer it takes to get to Kendall, the more the pounds will melt away (do carry a water bottle, though, as we want you to remain alive). And remember, if you do happen to gain back a few pounds, September is just as hot!
BEST TRADE (SPORTS TEAM)
Miami Dolphins running back Ricky Williams
During his first season in aqua and orange, the dreadlocked one busted out for 1853 yards on the ground. That broke the Dolphins' single-season rushing record and garnered for Williams the NFL's rushing title. (He also broke Miami Herald sports columnist Dan Le Batard's record for most coverage in a single season.) The Dolphonics gave up two first-round and two fourth-round draft picks to grab Williams from New Orleans and have him run roughshod over arch-rival New York Jets, the New England Patriots, and the Buffalo Bills. Naturally Miami's NFL franchise, in typical fashion, wasted (check that: obliterated) Williams's banner year by missing the playoffs in yet another end-of-the-season collapse.
Miami-Dade Transit's Route B is a study in contrasts. Originating downtown, your bus soon offers a postcard view of the concrete jungle you left behind and of the Brickell skyline as it crosses the Rickenbacker Causeway on the way to the manicured municipality of Key Biscayne. This trip affords access to several of Miami's prime recreation locales. You can hop off to visit Virginia Key's sandy coves or Seaquarium; the golf course, tennis courts, and beach of Crandon Park; or stay to the end of the line to reach Bill Baggs Cape Florida State Park (for the park, the bus sign must indicate "Key Biscayne by Way of Crandon Boulevard"). By taking public transport you also save on the Bill Baggs admission fee.
He has long been regarded as the team's best defensive player and the most underrated cornerback in the league, often overshadowed by the team's other Pro Bowl corner, Sam Madison. But this season Surtain wasn't content to let his six interceptions speak for themselves. Having learned that media savvy can do as much for a career as game-day heroics, he announced that, after five years in the NFL, everyone had been pronouncing his name incorrectly. Surtain isn't supposed to rhyme with train, like sportscasters and fans had thought all along. The correct articulation is sir-tan, which made for excellent play-by-play fodder. Then, midway through this past season, his wife Michelle publicly campaigned for him to be given his overdue recognition as the best corner on the team. Apparently it paid off. He was picked for his first Pro Bowl, but also drew the ire and jealousy of his colleague Madison. Publicity stunts aside, Surtain is a game-breaker. Although running back Ricky Williams and defensive end Jason Taylor put up the most numbers, Surtain always sealed the deal when the team needed the big play. The last-second, one-handed interception that beat the eventual AFC champion Oakland Raiders was prime time.
Readers Choice: Ricky Williams
Why? Because he's so damn entertaining. Because he's not afraid to lie down in a $1000 suit in front of a jury to approximate a corpse. Because he comes up with cute nicknames for opposing counsel (he mockingly told a jury that if federal prosecutor Allan Kaiser got his way, police would blow kisses to criminals rather than arrest them; he called it the "Kaiser Kiss"). Because he moves his arms constantly when summarizing. Because there's not a gag order around that can shut him up. Because if you're a cop accused of something very, very bad, so bad you don't think you have a prayer, this is the guy who will put on a show that just might distract the jury enough to get you off.
BEST PLACE TO GO STONED
Santas Enchanted Forest
Bird Road at the Palmetto Expressway
When you're baked, nothing beats a carnival of lights. Santa's Enchanted Forest, which runs from early November through the first week of January, is a great place to bug out and munch out. First you go through the acid-inspired Christmas displays, enhanced by more than three million flickering Christmas lights draped overhead in the forest of Australian pines. Along the way you encounter the off-the-chain performances of Kachunga the alligator, Dondi the Elephant, and Randall's High Diving Pigs. For the truly adventurous, test your limits by climbing aboard any of the looping, twirling, twisting carnival rides operated by substance-impaired carnies. Talk about a thrill. But best of all, Santa's is a great place to alleviate the munchies. Succulent turkey legs, tangy barbecued chicken, jumbo-size corn dogs, piping-hot ears of corn, and our personal favorite: sweet elephant ears.
Well, okay, the Lord never said, "Thou shalt not defraud thy neighbor with electoral fraud." But Tony! Neither did He say, "Go forth and bear false witness to petition signatures because homosexuals belongeth to an axis of evil." In the absence of an explicit prohibition, our local Christian Coalition leader apparently figured there'd be no problem. The issue was repeal of the Miami-Dade law forbidding discrimination against our neighbors because they are gay, lesbian, bi, straight, or asexual. Last August state law-enforcement officers arrested Verdugo and charged him with one felony count of false swearing during the Take Back Miami-Dade petition drive that forced this repeal question onto the September 10, 2002 ballot. (Agents also arrested three others in the Take Back family.) A few hours later Verdugo was out on bond, unrepentant, and preaching on AM radio about how he had been framed by Miami-Dade Mayor Alex Penelas, the supervisor of elections, various prosecutors, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, and other members of the homosexualist Mafia. Verdugo hit bottom, however, when he took little Elian's name in vain. He told listeners that his own arrest reminded him of that early morning in April 2000 when federal agents swooped in and snatched the miracle child. Verdugo now knows the power of mercy, if he didn't before. Because he was a first-time offender, prosecutors gave him the option of performing community service instead of standing trial. And so the charge was dropped.
No doubt about it, the hands-down winner this year was the touring production of the long-running, groundbreaking Broadway musical hit, featuring director Julie Taymor's stunning visual imagination. Using a blend of lithe, live actors; huge carnival-like puppets; and an array of exotic theatrical traditions, Taymor took the popular Disney animated movie and did it one better, reinventing it as spectacular, unforgettable theater. The Lion King blended traditional American musical elements with classic literature (the story of a dispossessed lion cub is a reworking of Hamlet) together with a joyful celebration of African culture. The show was also a happy merger of art and commerce as the Broward Center for the Performing Arts was packed throughout the show's sold-out run.
Take some advice from Art History 101. Sit on one of the benches in the center of the main gallery and fix your eyes on a far corner of the room. Then take a visual sweep along the walls, making smaller and smaller circles, until you see an intriguing piece of ... art. Sidle into the side gallery behind your whimsically dressed, scruffily coifed subject. Pretend you are engaged in a "happening." If he shares your conceptual bent, invite him to the garden where courtship will commence to the atonal strains of some IDM DJ. If you're really lucky, you can then lead him into some sort of throbbing, dimly lit, vaguely perverted installation in the former crack house next door.
The 37-year-old Garcia was known in Havana as the host of the television program De la Gran Escena (From the Big Scene). "I talked about literature, film, and theater," he says. Anything but politics. His eschewing of that, he says, cost him his job in 1999, after fourteen years on the Cuban national boob tube. "I want to live in a society where debating and thinking is possible, not in a trench in which ideas are used to exclude someone from professional life or from the civil society of a country." Here, on his WQBA-AM (1140) nighttime talk show La Noche Se Mueve (The Night Moves), he is constantly declaiming the importance of pluralism, freedom of expression, the U.S. Constitution, and respect for ideas. "Those things don't fly in a totalitarian society," he notes wryly. Sometimes they don't fly in Miami. For example, when other locutors of the AM waves recently took up the subject of Havana-based pro-democracy dissident Oswaldo Payá, they and callers ragged on Payá for being a dupe of the Castro regime. Garcia, in contrast, had a show featuring Payá himself via telephone so callers could rag on him directly. (Others praised Payá, while some actually attempted to inform themselves by asking him questions.) Because Miami is Miami, Garcia's pluralistic tendencies draw accusations that he is a Red. One night the seemingly harmless topic was "integration" -- as in Cubans in the "diaspora" reuniting with their estranged compatriots on the island. An angry caller boasted that he had left Cuba in 1968 and would never go back until the Communists are gone. He was also sure that most people who travel to and from Cuba and talk about democracy are secretly Communists. The caller even suspected there was a "Fidelito" (little Fidel) hiding inside Edmundo. The host wholeheartedly disagreed, but instead of yelling, he threw the First Amendment at the caller. "You think there's a Fidelito in me," Garcia summarized, "and that's your opinion."
Since its first performance in 1997, Maximum Dance has offered Miami balletophiles a refreshing alternative to the tediously typical tutued-lady-lead-dancer-lifted-by-boy-prop programs. Though co-directors/choreographers David Palmer and Yanis Pikieris have put in time as principal dancers with respected older groups like the Joffrey and Miami City Ballet, their own electrically energetic ensemble does muscular, modern-way-beyond-Balanchine ballet that is deliciously unpredictable. Their works have been set to an astonishing variety of music -- classical composers like Handel and Lizst, modern masters like Philip Glass, stoner faves like Pink Floyd, even some original scores. The dances themselves are just as varied, ranging from this past season's world premiere of The Four Seasons, a romantic neoclassical piece set to Vivaldi's familiar score; to the hysterically humorous Grand Pas d'Action, a dance-off pitting a snooty classical ballet couple against a slinky modern-dance duo. The company also performs educational programs, including a charming children's Peter and the Wolf. Performances this past season included one in Belgium with the Royal Ballet of Flanders, but downtown's Gusman Center continues to be Maximum's performing home. Let's hope we can keep 'em here.
She came from St. Louis to Miami, innocent and earnest, to get her degree in physical therapy from UM. She got it and began aiding old folks and kids with accident or disease-based problems. An admirable life of helping others. But then she caught a glimpse of the Miami Heat dancers and succumbed to her inner star complex. It's been downhill ever since. Before long Trista was in Los Angeles, a popular finalist on ABC's dreadful The Bachelor, in which a guy goes through 25 hapless ladies to see which one he'll marry. True love on reality TV? Many in here shuddered to think she represented, however tenuously, the best Miami had to offer. When she didn't make the final cut, her audience popularity (imagine that audience...) led boob tube honchos to give her a spinoff all her own: The Bachelorette. This time she got to go through 25 guys and dump 24 of them. Just in time for the final episode, and with commercial sponsors lining up for the kill, she picked a poetry-writing fireman. "We're still together and in love," she recently ventured, adding (to no one's surprise) that she was now looking for a more permanent TV or movie job.
BEST POLITICAL MISCALCULATION
Annie Betancourts anti-embargo gambit in the race for U.S. House District 25
Here's how it (and she) went down: In October 2002 Democratic state Representative Betancourt became the first elected Cuban American in Miami-Dade County to openly oppose the U.S. trade embargo against Cuba. Her foe, state Rep. Mario Diaz-Balart, claimed the embargo was Betancourt's only issue. It didn't matter to Diaz-Balart, a Republican, that Betancourt actually did have other issues: prescription drug benefits for the elderly, a clean environment, and the hundreds of thousands of dollars her opponent was getting from greedy special-interest groups. For a while it seemed that Diaz-Balart's only issue was his claim that Betancourt had only one issue. But like Betancourt, he had others: prescription drug benefits for the elderly, a clean environment, and the hundreds of thousands of dollars he was getting from civic-minded special-interest groups. In the end Diaz-Balart crushed Betancourt 65 percent to 35 percent (74,424 votes to 40,438). Three months after Betancourt's loss, a Schroth opinion poll provided an explanation: A majority of Cubans in Broward and Miami-Dade still support the embargo 60 to 28 percent. But the survey also confirmed Betancourt's assertion that U.S.-Cuba policy is "incoherent." In her campaign she had noted that "some of the same people" who support the embargo also travel regularly to Cuba and each year send hundreds of millions of dollars to friends and relatives there. Indeed the poll found 47 percent in favor of lifting travel restrictions, while 46 were against and 7 undecided. But most important, Betancourt's stand broke the embargo on debating the embargo in a real live Miami-Dade political campaign.
Nicholas Cole is an odd, gentle fellow with the manner of a man not quite of this time and place. Silver of beard, typically clothed in flowing, monkish robes, Cole is a practitioner of the ancient art of storytelling. For years he's been a regular at Renaissance festivals, coffeehouses, restaurants, bookstores, and bars around South Florida. His specialty, you might have guessed, is the medieval tale, which he delivers in full costume, often with the aid of a drum. In another life Cole was a rehabilitation counselor and special-education teacher at local schools. He sometimes claims to be a 480-year-old relic of the Renaissance who is trying to find the Fountain of Youth. But his most fantastic tale isn't about knights and ladies, dragons and goblins. It's about his 2002 run for the District 2 school-board seat against wily incumbent Solomon Stinson. Now, who would believe that?
Miss Novak, dazzling in her trademark blond wig, ersatz pearls, and unshaven chest, was present at the New Times fifteenth anniversary party in December 2002. She had this to say: "Ohhhh, you work for New Times? I've got a bone to pick with you. Do you know I've never been chosen Best Drag Queen? This is stupid! You gave it to Elaine Lancaster twice, and I've been here at least as long as she has! One year you gave it to someone I never even heard of! Every queen in town can brag they've won this thing but me! I'm really good! I mean, who doesn't love me? I look like Shelley Winters! Nobody's doing what I'm doing! I'm funny! A lot of people aren't even funny! Did I say I've been here forever? How you guys can go on, year after year, and not select me, I don't know! I've been doing this ..." Or something like that. There was a fair amount of booze involved.
We're not jealous of you Jorge, we're proud! We've seen your handsome face adorning those humorous videos, and we know the rest of the world has been chuckling with them as well. We watched you win Best New Artist at the Latin Grammys, then go on to be nominated for Best Latin Pop Album at the non-Latin Grammys. You were one of the first signed up to Madonna's new label Maverick, and not just because of those looks -- we all know the other pretty boys on the charts don't write their own songs and play their own instruments like you did for Jorge Moreno. That disc that gave us the exhilarating homage to Desi Arnaz in "Babalú," and highlighted your own songwriting skills -- and mixture of styles from pop to tropical to son -- on "Mi Sufrimiento" and "Despertare." And you can still laugh at yourself. You Cuban-American honest-to-God high-quality-product-of-Miami, you go boy!
Readers Choice: Alex Rodriguez
Nothing like it has ever happened here -- a spectacular success for both Miami and the world that came to see it. It was also a quince of sorts, our own coming out and maturing party. We were ready to host the planet's biggest international art fair and to impress those who followed it here. The Switzerland-based event dropped into the Miami Beach Convention Center with thousands of pieces of the most vaunted contemporary art; local collectors opened their doors and were received with international applause; local artists put their very best faces forward at the Design District's ancillary event -- and everyone smiled. Did people party? Yes. Did art sell? Yes. Were the well-heeled global art-setters awed? Yes. Will the fair return bigger and most likely better next year? Yes.
Readers Choice: Coconut Grove Arts Festival
We've always had a love-hate relationship with Channel 7, whose local news programs best represent the kind of town Miami is -- loud, obnoxious, superficial, sometimes ridiculous, but family, you know? Lynn Martinez, a WSVN reporter and anchor for the past twelve years, is adept at handling the station's split personality. At 5:30 and 6:30 p.m. she's professional newscaster Lynn, delivering her lines with a snap and polish that would hold up nicely at the networks. But at 7:30 we get a glimpse of Lynn the mischievous wag as she trades barbs with co-host Belkys Nerey on the silly and thoroughly enjoyable Deco Drive, which would be nothing more than a half-hour ad for the entertainment industry were it not for the evident glee with which Lynn (and the impish Belkys) finesse the clever writing.
Readers Choice: Dwight Lauderdale, WPLG-TV (Channel 10)
BEST BOOK BY A LOCAL AUTHOR
Working Stiffs: Occupational Portraits in the Age of Tintypes
By Michael Carlebach
Smithsonian Institution Press
Working Stiffs is an insightful and fascinating account of the popularity of tintype photography at the turn of the century. Carlebach, a University of Miami professor, does a magnificent job of not only explaining but honoring the values of America's working class. "For these sons and daughters of toil, born into a society that still valued making things more than buying and consuming them, manual labor was a legitimate source of respect, if not admiration," he writes in the preface. The book's true value, of course, lies in the photographs Carlebach selected; from the teenage girls laboring as tobacco workers to the plumbers and house painters stoically holding their tools of their trade, the photographs in Working Stiffs convey the true American spirit.
Readers Choice: Self Portrait by Alonso
This hotel has its own creative director! You know the place by its former name, the Banana Bungalow, perched there at the tail end of Indian Creek on Collins Avenue. It still has that fabulous, sweeping-roofed glass-encased lobby. The Fifties rooms have not been remodeled. But the Signature Rooms have been "redecorated" by artists and designers. You can take the Honeymoon Suite, with lingerie, panties, necklaces, and bra hung on a lamp, painted in red on the walls. Or the room covered with little red plaques -- if you take one off, you can write a "secret" message on the white wall underneath. Or you can leave another message in the Message in a Bottle room, with glass bottles hanging in a corner. And the cheesy Gold Lamé room is killer. The rooms will most likely be redone by other artists next year. Down at the poolside patio there's electronica lounge music in the evening, a barbecue on Saturday afternoons and a hip, urban feel 24/7. With rates that can drop below $100, this little island can make South Beach feel cool again.
Readers Choice: Delano Hotel
You should, of course, advise visiting friends to arrive on a daytime flight, window seat, the better to appreciate the sparkling azure waters as the plane swoops down toward MIA. Their appetites whetted, sign 'em up for Action Helicopter's 30-minute, 45-mile aerial tour. It lifts off from Watson Island and includes the port, the downtown skyline, Vizcaya, and Key Biscayne before heading up Miami Beach to Bal Harbour then looping around the west side of the bay for just $149 each (a quick, four-minute look will set you back only $35). If you're not feeling that munificent, you can always go asea on one of the Island Queen or Celebration bilingual boat tours ($15) that leave from Bayside Marketplace. Your guests will love ogling waterfront celeb homes (and you might just like it, too). Too touristy for you? Designate your driver and order a libation to ease the pain.
Readers Choice: South Beach
BEST PUBLIC SERVANT
Oliver Kerr
Miami-Dade County Department of Planning and Zoning
For some reason that baffles us, a lot of local public servants don't seem to understand that the public's information is as precious as its purse. But Oliver Kerr, supervisor of the Miami-Dade planning and zoning department's demographic unit, does understand and sets the gold standard for info-currency. He represents Miami-Dade in the Urban Institute's National Neighborhood Indicators Partnership, which is committed to "democratizing information" in order to help build "vibrant and sustainable" communities. For example, he brought it all home when the U.S. Census data for Florida finally came down the Internet pipeline last fall. Although he was deluged, not only was this twenty-year county veteran available and cordial but he provided the figures efficiently and quickly -- even to pesky reporters. They gave him the boundaries of a specific neighborhood; he gave them the stats on income, unemployment, housing, and the like. Kerr knows the formula. Information fuels knowledge. Knowledge is power. Obstruct the info flow and you abuse the power.
Sunny Isles goes up, Fontainebleau mural goes down, DCF kids go missing, Rilya still missing, Stierheim stays, rain stays, Mas Santos seeks a dialogue, Alonso seeks a defense fund, gay rights are challenged, priests are accused, more rain, more DCF kids missing, DeFede goes mainstream, Beach Memorial Day goes on, Stiltsville goes public, Cubans get smuggled, Warshaw gets released, Alex Diaz de la Portilla gets off, cops kill, DCF kills, lightning kills, Elena Burke dies, Leonard Miller dies, George Batchelor dies, more priests are accused, more rain falls, more Haitians arrive, Nicole Guillemet arrives, Carrie Meek retires, Kendrick Meek is anointed, Reno hits the road, Bad Boys II hits town, traffic stops, tempers flare, temperatures rise, summertime sizzles, bus benches sizzle, more priests are accused, more DCF kids are missing, Haitian kids kill, Maysie Beller dies, Ellen Morphonios dies, Humbertico gets released, Al Gutman gets released, Ecstasy smugglers get busted, anti-gay activists get busted, Miami poverty gets famous, Marcos Jiménez takes charge, Joe Arriola takes charge, Alonso is charged again, Muhammad Ali returns, classics return to radio, the Gusman returns to splendor, Shiver meddles at MIA, MIA's Richard Mendez is convicted, Sal Magluta is convicted, Vaclav Havel arrives, Oswaldo Payá arrives, election monitors arrive, Hurricane Andrew turns 10, Calle Ocho turns 25, Bushwacker Lounge dies, Mike Gordon's dies, the Taurus dies, gay rights survive, Natacha Seijas threatens, Rick Sanchez threatens to return, elections turn to chaos, more cops shoot, more Haitian kids shoot, Art Basel arrives, David Leahy quits, Carlos Gimenez quits, Chuck Lanza quits, Ira Clark quits, Florida Philharmonic goes bust, Performing Arts Center busts budget, Miami Beach busts lobbyists, hurricanes stay away, tornadoes arrive, Bill Perry dies, Maurice Gibb dies, Laurie Horn dies, Reno tanks, Dolphins tank, Canes tank, Cubans hijack, Graham runs, cruise ships sicken, Haitians still detained, DCF still kills, but finally some good news for those who think the bad guys always win: North Miami Beach detectives were after Henry Box, Jr., wanted for attempted murder. They got a hot tip and chased it. After securing the area where they hoped to apprehend the suspect, they had a clerk get on the intercom: "Mr. Box, please come to the front office. Mr. Henry Box." He did just that, sauntering from the jury-pool room at the criminal courthouse, where he was doing his duty, into waiting handcuffs and a short stroll across the street to jail.
No local sportscaster has a meaner task than Ducis Rodgers. His hosting duties on WSVN's weekly Sports Xtra should earn him combat pay. In addition to sifting through local team tidbits, commenting on star athletes' antics, and providing steep segues for boring golf highlights, he is required to referee the two most indigestible personalities on South Florida television: fellow reporter Steve "Snide" Shapiro and super agent Drew "Jerry McGuire" Rosenhaus. Ducis always seems to be in their favor as they clamor for his support, but he always puts them in their place with a smiling, backhanded compliment, and they love him for it. He also gets away with saying things other sportscasters won't, speaking between the lines of his engaging observations. When Mike Tyson shammed boxing fans by beating Clifford Etienne in a ridiculous 49-second bout, Ducis introduced the highlights with a subtle cough and question-marked grin as he dragged the word fight from his throat. The man also happens to be quite the cool Miami cat who's a regular on South Beach's glitz-and-glam club circuit. Go, Ducis.
Readers Choice: Jimmy Cefalo, WPLG-TV (Channel 10)
Okay, Closer isn't really a 'zine, and it really isn't from Miami (nightclub owner -- Blue, Respectable Street -- Rodney Mayo publishes it out of West Palm Beach), but there's definitely a freewheeling, anything-goes attitude typical of 'zines running through its pages. A recent issue offered the requisite fashion spread, poetry, a story about Miami Beach's Aquabooty club, a reprint of a Salon interview with Camille Paglia, a profile on breakbeat producers Jackyl and Hyde, features on visual artists Jiae Hwang and Alex Barrera, and contributions from long-time New Times scribe Marli Guzzetta. In other words, Closer is all over the place, just like South Florida.
Readers Choice: Ocean Drive
Since 1989 the Krishnas have been serving up excellent vegetarian grub to anybody who walks into their Coconut Grove garden. The dal and rice are plentiful, and the perfumed curries are sweetened with coconut. No matter how broke you may be or how defeated you may feel, the food and atmosphere at Govinda's will make you feel better -- no strings attached. Really. Have no fear, there is no drumming or cymbal-playing here. Instead the lonesome wanderer is nourished in a peaceful dining room with servings fit for a god. Donations are accepted, of course, and there is a dinner club for those who can afford a five-dollar meal. Those donations, in turn, help buy food for the poor and homeless. The temple provides about 100 meals each day to the homeless through its Food for Life program.
The young developer topped even himself this year. Robins has always been involved in the cultural life of Miami-Dade County, from his days rehabilitating South Beach to his move over to the Design District. It's there that he showed the world what we could be if we tried. During Art Basel, Robins's company, Dacra, opened many Design District buildings to local artists, who transformed the spaces into a hub of cultural activity the likes of which we have never seen. The streets were filled with live music, the drinks flowed freely (and for free), the impromptu art galleries were stuffed with locals and international visitors, and performance artists took to the hallways and streets, showing the world that something's happening here. Robins threw open the doors again for Art Miami a month later. While that event couldn't compete with Basel overall, the local artistic life that arose in the Design District was another spectacular success. Thanks, Craig. We needed that.
The Count, as he's known at Miami Beach City Hall, is a small man struggling to balance magnificent obsession with an abiding interest in historical minutiae. Both qualities are satisfied by the Count's 27-year quest to claim a share of the European fortune of distant German relatives, lost somewhere between the demise of Prussia and the Holocaust. But since 1994, when the Count moved from New York to Miami Beach, local politics has been his all-consuming hobby. Nearly every day he can be spotted lurking around city hall's fourth floor, sometimes smoking a cigar on a balcony and keeping a keen eye on the comings and goings of the movers shaking down the latest city deal. "To be honest with you, I have nothing to do," he shrugs. The Count's passions run to public access and the rights of the working class, from opposing the closing of public roads to demanding low-cost housing, to promoting candidates he feels aren't beholden to the Beach's entrenched power structure. "The greed here is unbelievable," he observes. "If I can do a little to upset that, it's a good thing." Of course the Count has his detractors. Some believe he's actually evil, having cast a spell over weak-minded elected officials, and that he has subverted the best intentions of well-meaning bureaucrats. The Count merely laughs at that. "My objections are philosophical, not personal," he says. "I mean, I love these people, but it's one thing after another."
Okay, the art itself wasn't outdoors; it was inside cargo containers clustered on the sand across Collins Avenue from the Bass Museum in Miami Beach. But let's be serious: This was outdoor art at its best. Hundreds of works of contemporary art were displayed in twenty containers, each housing an alternative gallery from around the globe. From Madrid, from Tokyo, from Los Angeles, from London, from Berlin -- cool stuff you'd never seen before landed right on the beach. Some of it was challenging, some pleasing, some outrageous -- and all of it was an amazing contribution to Miami's cultural scene. See you on the beach next year.
The terrible situation that has befallen the country that was once the most solidly middle-class in Latin America has resulted in an exodus. Many Argentineans, especially the younger generation, have relocated to Miami. It is our gain and their homeland's unfortunate loss. Yes, we recognize that a hefty percentage are here illegally, but like other immigrant groups before them, we appreciate their willingness to work (it seems every valet and restaurant hostess hails from Argentina) and the cultural and culinary sensibilities they carry with them. Argentineans have long embraced café culture; even the most humble of their establishments here will have tables and chairs inside as well as outside if there's room. Plus they have a special way with a number of key food groups: beef, pasta, pizza, gelato, dulce de leche, and coffee. ¡Che, bienvenidos!
BEST FM RADIO PERSONALITIES
Paul Castronovo and Young Ron Brewer
Zeta (WZTA-FM 94.9)
In an age when nonstop, homogenized hip-hop thumps from virtually every FM station in Miami 24/7, Zeta's morning duo gets mad props for pushing the boundaries of bad taste: encouraging alcohol and drug abuse, subjecting women to ridicule and degradation on Wednesday's popular "Love Connection," enthusiastically promoting wholesale sexual deviancy. Paul and Ron began their "hectic revelry" shtick in 1990 on WSHE (now Miami's latest rap and R&B station). In 1995 Clear Channel, which owns both stations, moved them to Zeta, where their deliciously boorish behavior has been a fixture for the past eight years.
Readers Choice (tie): Kenny and Footy, Y-100 (WHYI-FM 100.7) and Paul Castronovo and Young Ron Brewer, Zeta (WZTA-FM 94.9)
Last year MoCA featured a large exhibit of works by Jack Pierson, a midcareer American conceptualist in his early forties. While certainly grateful for the attention, Pierson expressed surprise, even embarrassment, at having a museum retrospective so early in his life. But that is exactly the sort of thing we've come to expect from MoCA. Museum director Bonnie Clearwater has made a commitment to show and acquire works by emerging artists such as Pierson, and in doing so has become a national trend-setter, not to mention creating the most dynamic art museum in South Florida. MoCA also has made a commitment to our local community of young artists, and has provided them with exposure and experience they couldn't hope to find in most large metropolitan areas. Not every MoCA venture has met with universal praise, but we applaud the willingness to take risks.
Two words: after workout. A South Beach body cannot live on liposuction alone. After a strenuous ab workout, a girl's gotta eat -- and this brightly lit carbohydrate refueling station is just a brisk walk from Gold's, Crunch, Ironworks, Idol's, and David Barton -- making it a favorite meeting place for the aerobics-enhanced. Remember, for nearly an hour after vigorous exercise she will be flushed with endorphins and look on all around her with love. Good thing Einstein Bros. is always so crowded. Is this seat taken?
The searing image from this year's Fiesta Bowl was the collision that left Willis McGahee's knee twisted 45 degrees the wrong direction. The mighty Miami Hurricanes never fully recovered from losing their top rusher and scorer, a runner who demolished team records with 1753 yards and 28 touchdowns this season. Worse was McGahee's apparent personal loss. Before the gut-wrenching hit, he was slated to go early in the first round of this year's NFL draft, where big-money contracts are guaranteed. After the accident it seemed he might not ever play again. Fortunately McGahee had taken out a $2.5 million insurance policy shortly before the accident. But after just fifteen weeks of rehab and a miraculous recovery, he didn't need to collect on that policy. In the draft, the Buffalo Bills couldn't pass up this kid despite the blown knee. Why? No one came up bigger for the Canes in critical games last year. He made the Gators look hapless on the way to 204 rushing yards. He ground out 159 yards against Tennessee. And he found the end zone six times in the Virginia Tech game that catapulted the team to the national championship.
Readers Choice: Ken Dorsey
Picture an enchanted jungle village with coral walkways leading to cozy stone cottages with arched doorways and Spanish-tile roofs. Picture flowers and birds and some fairy tale only you could write. Gladys Margarita Diaz and Ray Jourdain live here in this secluded estate, built from native rock in the Twenties, and they rent the smaller cottages. But they and all their tenants will move out for anyone who wants to rent the whole place and its Eden atmospherics. Built by Ohio banker and real estate developer Warren W. Zinsmaster, this lushly landscaped relic of a grander age also includes an open dance floor, a 30-foot coral rock tunnel, and a pond.
It's that unmarked warehouse in the warehouse district, down the street from the cluster of services for the poor and homeless. The one that had a show with a giant flamingo made of bubblegum prostrate on the floor, the sole artwork in the otherwise barren space. The one with exhibits titled "Pigs and Lint" and "The Night Crazy Legs Went GQ: New Projects by Miami Artists." The one that is a nonprofit founded by three intriguing young artists: Weston Charles, Elizabeth Withstandley, and Cooper (one name only). Now it's also the one with an assistant director who is another fascinating artist, Gean Moreno. The one that shows alternative works from alternative artists consistently and interestingly. The one that greatly helped form our electric emerging art scene. The one that deserves to be called Miami's best gallery this year.
On May 6, 2003, by a unanimous vote of the U.S. Senate, Altonaga became the nation's first female Cuban-American federal judge. President George W. Bush personally nominated her, sidestepping a list of South Florida candidates forwarded by the state's two senators, Bill Nelson and Bob Graham. The move provoked cries of foul. It's clear Bush wanted a Cuban female in the position, and in Altonaga he found a winner. The Yale-educated Coral Gables resident was a career prosecutor with the Miami-Dade State Attorney's Office until she became a county court judge in 1996 and then circuit court judge three years later. Even Nelson and Graham, two Democrats, conceded the point of her qualifications and ended up backing the president's pick.
Readers Choice: Gloria Estefan
Your night out is over. You step out of the club's raging din and onto the sidewalk, where the relative silence is as shocking as a slap in the face. Head spinning, you realize you might not be up for the drive home just yet. Stumble over to Puerto Sagua for a no-frills Cuban meal in an atmosphere easygoing enough to enable a soft landing when you come back to earth. The restaurant -- a South Beach institution for more than 30 years -- stays open until 2:00 a.m., perfect for clubland's early exits, and it won't break the bank, assuming you have some bank left after those double-digit cocktails.
Located at the more sedate, northern end of this beachfront strip, the Front Porch dishes up fair-priced, hearty portions from morn' till night. The best seats in the house are, as the name would suggest, on the front porch, where the scenery stretches from Lummus Park to the dunes to the Atlantic. Or lower your gaze slightly to watch the parade of pedestrians without anyone sashaying into your salad. Weekday breakfasts or late lunches are blessedly peaceful, but expect a wait on the weekend as locals line up for the bounteous brunch. And with a full bar, it's also an ideal spot to quench your post-beach thirst with a cocktail in a casual but civilized environment.
Most drivers en route between Miami Beach and Miami via North Bay Village likely pass unawares through this North Beach neighborhood. Overshadowed by nearby Little Buenos Aires (Collins in the Seventies), Normandy Isle is a discrete entity, surrounded by the bay and canals, including one that divides the island in two, offering many residents water access and providing a training ground for crew teams and skullers out of the Miami Beach Watersports Center. The northern half is rooted by the Normandy Shores Municipal Golf Course while the southern half has the commercial district centered around the fountain, informally dubbed the Place Vendome (nearly all the Normandy Sud streets have French names). With sections of single-family homes and predominantly small apartment buildings dating from the Forties and Fifties, it's home to a mix of long-time residents and newer arrivals, Anglos and Latinos (of which Cubans and Argentineans are only the most visible), families and singles (straight and gay), who manage to co-exist. The area is in transition, though, as Section 8 rentals give way to condo conversions, with the accompanying dislocations. But the City of Miami Beach is also investing millions in fixing up the streetscapes and in refurbishing the Normandy Isle Park, to the benefit of all.
Sun may scorch our skin. Heat and humidity can blanket us. Heavy rains could bombard. Tornadoes might threaten. Hurricanes may barrel our way. No sweat. Don Noe's presence -- calm, cool, reassuring -- and his finely tuned forecasts are all we need. As chief meteorologist at Channel 10 (WPLG-TV), Wisconsin native Noe, a fixture on the South Florida airwaves for 24 years, is the consummate pro, confidently standing in front of his map and carefully explaining fronts, fog, barometric pressure, rip currents, and the like to a more-than-skeptical viewership. Telling it like it is, was, and will be. And more often than not, he's right.
Although this past season featured several premieres, the best of them was Nilo Cruz's steamy, sophisticated saga with its heady blend of raw emotion and poetic language set against an era of wrenching cultural and political change. The play was commissioned by the New Theatre and its artistic director Rafael de Acha, and funded by the National Endowment for the Arts. Cruz, who was born in Cuba but came to Miami at age ten, now spends much of his time in New York. His reputation skyrocketed recently when, in the course of one week, he was honored twice -- first with the American Theatre Critics/Steinberg New Play Award and then with the Pulitzer Prize, both for Anna in the Tropics. Despite his now widely recognized talent, Cruz has been largely ignored in his hometown. Fortunately the New Theatre has commissioned yet another play -- and residency -- for next season. As Miami struggles to reinvent itself as a cosmopolitan, world-class community, perhaps it's time for us to recognize that world-class artists like Nilo Cruz are already here.
BEST NOT-SO-CHEAP THRILL
Harley-Davidson rental
American Road Collection
Sometimes the safety and efficiency of your Toyota sedan is positively suffocating. With so many SUVs hogging the road and polluting the air, yours screams mindless conformity. There are times when you need to break free and feel a liquid-cooled, 115-horsepower, 1130cc fuel-injected Harley engine vibrating between your legs as the wind blows through your hair. American Road Collection has daily and weekly rates for its Fat Boys, Road Kings, V-Rods, and Electra Glide Classics. At roughly $150 per day, that's likely to get your motor running. Think of it as an investment in your inner wild child.
The Calle Ocho street festival isn't just sweaty Spandex, lip-synching, hip-swinging, and flag-waving. It's also a multimillion-dollar fundraiser that allows the Kiwanis Club of Little Havana to provide desperately needed services to the neediest residents of the poorest city in the United States. With more than 150 volunteer members and a full-time staff of five, Los Kiwanis are busy year-round: running basketball, soccer, and baseball leagues for inner-city kids; building playgrounds and parks throughout the city; caring and feeding for senior citizens and the homeless; funding a scholarship program that currently puts 48 students through Florida universities. But the list doesn't end there. The Kiwanis Club runs voter-registration drives, plants palms along city streets, and passes out presents to kids at Christmastime and school supplies come September. They send cash-strapped softball teams to championships, urban teens to camp, and drug addicts to treatment. There is hardly a charity in town that has not benefited from Kiwanis largesse, from the Catholic Home for Children and Boystown to the Children's Miracle Network, Capernaum House, Deed Cancer Clinic, and Dade County Public Schools. Chances are if somebody needs help in Miami-Dade County, the Kiwanis Club of Little Havana will figure out a way to lend a hand.
MICHELLE BERNSTEIN
AZUL, 500 Brickell Key Drive (Mandarin Oriental Hotel), Miami ,305-913-8358
Michelle Bernstein is that rarest of Miami creatures: a true native. Which is why last year she was honored as Best Local Girl Made Good: "After working for others and then co-owning a short-lived but ambitious venture (The Strand), Bernstein took a major leap: She left South Beach for Brickell Key and the luxe Mandarin Oriental Hotel. Within a year Esquire magazine named her restaurant, Azul, the best of 2001. The Food TV network hired her to host a series on tropical foods. And the Vita-Prep people picked her for an advertisement that numero uno trade mag Food Arts featured prominently. Can any other native make that kind of claim to national fame?" So what's left to say? Well, only that Bernstein's Azul has since received the American Automobile Association's highest commendation: the Five Diamond Award. No other Miami-Dade restaurant can boast that distinction.
BEST PLACE FOR FRESH FRUIT
I probably sound like a princess for saying this, but Epicure is my favorite place for fruit. The colors are vibrant, the fragrance hits you when you walk in the door. What kills me is that I buy a huge amount of produce on a daily basis for the restaurant and I never get such beautiful fruit as Epicure does. Not just that, they get seasonal fruits before we do. I patiently wait for cherry season, plum and peach season, and sure enough, Epicure is loaded with not just the fruit I search out but specialty types like white cherries, sugar plums, and doughnut peaches. They make a honey tangerine juice that is addictive.
BEST MONTH TO BE IN MIAMI
Being a Miami native, there is definitely one month that sticks out in my mind: December. Where else can you spend Christmas on the beach? There is a certain magic in the air. The tourists are here scrambling for their SoBe purchases, the restaurants are boisterous and hopping, the sun is shining, and we have a total of, say, eight days to wear our best winter couture.
BEST PLACE TO SAVOR THE FLAVOR OF MIAMI
I cannot imagine showing off our city's flavors without first stopping at El Palacio de los Jugos. I marvel in their fruit juice selection (made to order), from sugar cane to tamarind to papaya-coconut. As you try to make a fruit-drink decision, the chicharrónes call out your name like a little devil on your shoulder. Take no more than two steps and the fresh mariquitas (thin slices of green plantain) are being thrown into the fryer. They're placed into a little bag so you can attack the crispy critters on your way home. But don't leave just yet -- the best part of this little jewel is the pan con lechon (shredded pork on bread). Ask for a little extra mojo while you're at it. Savoring these Latin flavors is part of our lifestyle; it's what I grew up with and what I live for.
BEST CHEAP THRILL
One of my greatest thrills in Miami is a very personal one. I started going down to Homestead when I was four, to the various U-pick fields, as I do today. First wed stop at the field where you can pick tomatoes, warm and fragrant from the vine. Then corn on large stalks and lettuces of different types. But the best part was (and is) the strawberries. Oh, the strawberries! A group of Old German Baptists run a place called Knaus Berry Farm, which has the sweetest, juiciest, biggest strawberries youve ever seen. The best part: Once youre done picking, you stop at the roadside stand to gorge on strawberry shakes made with fresh strawberry ice cream and the just-picked strawberries. Its the most intense frozen-strawberry smoothie you can ever imagine. But dont go anywhere yet. They also sell big hot cinnamon buns fresh from the oven.
BEST REASON TO LIVE IN MIAMI
There is one good reason why I'll probably always consider Miami my home: the passion. Our city is smoking hot from the sizzling sun, combined with beautiful people, zestful food, and a fusion of many different languages, cultures, and music. Behind all these is a passion that is incomparable. We cook with our hearts, dance with zeal, speak in voluminous tones. Our achievements are accomplished by following our hearts more than our minds. If we don't believe strongly in something, with our hearts and souls, it probably won't even be attempted. Our clothing is bright, our senses alive, and we strive to let ourselves show.
RECIPE
CHOCOLATE MOLE PAINTED FOIE GRAS OVER PORT GASTRIC BRAISED CHERRIES
1 teaspoon ground ancho chiles
1 teaspoon ground almonds
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch of Hawaiian sea salt
1 cup extra-bitter chocolate, melted in a double boiler
Combine above ingredients and keep warm over hot water until just before serving; use a paintbrush to "paint" the mole onto a white plate.
In a pan, sear a 3-ounce piece of fresh foie gras. When golden, place foie gras into a cold pan, set aside.
In the hot pan with foie fat add:
1/4 cup pitted cherries
1/4 cup port wine
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar
Reduce until it coats the back of a spoon.
Heat the foie gras in the oven at 350 degrees until medium rare to medium, approximately 3 to 4 minutes, until it feels soft when you press lightly on it. If there is hardness, heat for 2 more minutes. Glaze the foie gras with a little extra chocolate. Place 2 tablespoons of sauce in the center of the "painted" plate. Top with the chocolate-glazed foie gras. Top the foie with a little sea salt and serve immediately.
This place is so over the top that even if you and your date are not a match made in heaven, you'll have to have a good time. Yes, the first-act dancers wear big fruit headdresses, but then the fun really begins. How about Rolando Salazar -- the "funniest comedian of the moment" -- dressed up as Venezuelan strongman Hugo Chavez! Or Lissette the diva dressed in a Fifties sweater and singing Havana nostalgia. Or a teenager called Divine singing "disco" hits from the Seventies. There's also the Imperial Circus. On Saturdays you'll find the sure-hit Willy Chirino. And come on, it's in the Fontainebleau, keeper of all things Fifties kitsch, in a ballroom with sparkling lights and ice-tinkling highball glasses. You've got your table, you've got your drinks, and neighbors of all ages who are living it up. The two of you have had so much fun you're tempted to return for our own version of Merv Griffin, local TV host Jaime Bayly!
Readers Choice: The Wallflower Gallery
Is it the cakes in the bakery display cases, which look like a quinceñera's dress on steroids? Is it the crowd outside the to-go window sipping café cubano from thimble-size plastic cups while vigorously debating the topic du jour? Is it the muckety-mucks working the room in the main restaurant while the hoi polloi -- and some tourists -- consume gargantuan portions of Cuban fare surrounded by mirrors and chandeliers? The combination of all the above, plus a certain je ne sais quoi, make this Calle Ocho fixture the place to soak up the city's atmosphere, along with hearty eats.
Nestled in a classy residential neighborhood just south of Sunset Drive, this designated historical landmark is the last resting place for more than 200 Miami pioneers, many of them unidentified, most buried in the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries. It officially became a cemetery in 1906, but settlers south of the Miami River were buried there as early as 1855, making it the oldest cemetery in the region. (Prior to Miami's 1896 incorporation, people living north of the river buried dead kin on their properties.) Not long ago a Boy Scout troop cleared out a lot of the overgrown brush as part of a renovation project, but the place is still dense and lush. Depending on your frame of mind, it's even a bit spooky in its lonely silence. Some tombstones have been restored or replaced by preservation societies and living relatives, while others are weathered beyond recognition. Confederate soldiers are among those interred here, and you can see the C.S.A. insignia along with the Stars and Bars on some markers. A section along the east side mutely testifies to an intriguing family tragedy. This is where the Brook family buried their young. The firstborn, Virginia, died in 1921 before she turned two. Beside her lie siblings Patrick (girl), Patrick (boy), Brown, and Scott, all born between 1923 and 1934, none having lived more than two years.
The Miccosukee Resort's Café Hammock has the best steak-and-lobster dinner deal in town: $6.95 for surf and turf at the tribe's Eighth Street and Krome Avenue gaming palace on the edge of the Everglades. After the bargain meal you can lose all the money you saved on the food by sitting down at the casino's poker tables, slot machines, or in the cavernous bingo hall.
BEST MILE OF MIAMI
Biscayne Boulevard from Sixth Street to Nineteenth Street
This rapidly evolving stretch of Miami's signature thoroughfare embodies the highest of human aspirations and the lowest of human avarice. A few landmarks heading north from Sixth Street: The Freedom Tower and its symbolic representation of mankind's yearning for liberty; a hulking American Airlines Arena as proof that power and money always trump the public's interest; Bicentennial Park, now protected and awaiting rebirth, standing as a very rare victory for that public interest; across the street, a string of parcels bought by a politically connected speculator who expects their value to skyrocket; just beyond the noxious concrete mass of I-395, the grandiose Performing Arts Center rising amid hopes of a cultural renaissance and growing fears of insolvency; and approaching the mile marker, construction cranes erecting a concrete wall of condominiums that will permanently block public access to the bay while enriching developers enabled by politicians whose vision of the future does not extend beyond the next election.
Happiness is a bumper lane. On a Friday night. With dance music blaring and all kinds of crazy shapes glowing purple, yellow, and green in the black-light strobes. Kids roll the ball between their legs with both hands; punch in silly names on Don Carter's fancy score-keeping computers; and if Mom and Dad get to paying too much attention to that pitcher of beer, even go shooting halfway down the lane with little fingers still stuck in the ball!
Readers Choice: Miami-Dade County Youth Fair
ANDREA CURTO-RANDAZZO & FRANK RANDAZZO
TALULA, 210 23rd Street, Miami Beach,305-672-0778
They could be Best Power Couple. Andrea Curto-Randazzo and husband Frank Randazzo individually have made big waves in the culinary world. But now they're teaming up for a new venture, Talula Restaurant & Bar, and their combined talents might well unleash a tsunami. While zooming up the culinary ladder, Andrea and Frank twice worked together before tying the knot -- at the famed Tribeca Grill in New York and at The Heights (formerly Pacific Heights) in Coral Gables. Frank then launched the Gaucho Room at the Loews Miami Beach while Andrea took over at Wish, both in South Beach and both of which brought them international acclaim. Love changes everything, of course. They married, quit their jobs, had a baby girl, and now are ready to unveil Talula by the end of this month. The name? It's a simplified version of Andrea's childhood nickname, after actress Tallulah Bankhead -- an early indication of her dramatic flair.
BEST LOCAL LANDMARK
Jimbo's on Virginia Key. A real hidden treasure and so much more than a bait shop. Pulling up by boat through Shrimper's Lagoon is the only way to arrive. It's such a cool place, the opposite of Miami's polished side. Jim Luznar opened this landmark in 1954 and it remains the best place in Miami for fresh smoked fish and cheap cold beer.
BEST CHEAP THRILL
Tourists and newcomers are always told that Ocean Drive and Lincoln Road are the best places to people-watch, but those of us who live here know that the Publix on Twentieth Street is really the place. Stroll up and down the aisles and you will see everyone you know, even those you didn't think knew how to cook. Most men don't like to go grocery shopping, but Frank doesn't mind it because the scenery is so good.
BEST NATURAL HIGH
Each time we drive back to Miami Beach we remember how pretty it is here. I grew up here and sometimes take the place for granted but Frank reminds me by talking about the beauty. From our balcony we get to see the cruise ships leave. It's the perfect view and it is so cool.
BEST PLACE TO SAVOR THE FLAVOR OF MIAMI
When we think of local flavor we think of Cuban food, and we are fortunate that Nelson DeLeon, architect for Talula and a local of Cuban heritage, took us to a place we really like -- La Casita Restaurant in Coral Gables. La Casita has a casual, friendly atmosphere where everyone is comfortable.
BEST REASON TO LIVE IN MIAMI
We were tired of the snow up north and enjoy simplicity. Miami Beach seemed like the right place at the right time. Everything is within walking distance, just around the corner. We are simple people who want a simple, laid-back lifestyle. We found it here.
RECIPE
CALABAZA AND MUSHROOM RISOTTO
Serves 6-8
1 1/2 pounds sautéed mushrooms (shiitake, portobello, oyster, and/or crimini)
2 cups calabaza, diced and cooked (approximately a quarter of 1 calabaza)
1/2 pound butter
1 large onion (diced small)
1 pound arborio rice
2 bay leaves
2 cups white wine
1 gallon vegetable or chicken stock (hot)
2 tablespoons lime zest
1 cup Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (grated)
2 tablespoons truffle oil (white or black)
Salt
White pepper
Wooden spoon
To sauté mushrooms:
Preheat large sauté pan over medium heat. Slice mushrooms lengthwise (be sure to trim down oversize portobellos). Add 1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon butter to sauté pan. When butter melts, add mushrooms and sauté for 5 minutes stirring often. Season with salt and white pepper. Reserve.
To cook calabaza:
Remove skin from calabaza and dice into quarter-inch cubes, removing seeds and pulp. Place in salted boiling water and simmer until tender (about 5 minutes). Strain and cool immediately.
To prepare risotto:
Add 2 tablespoons olive oil and melt 3 tablespoons butter in a preheated rondeau. Add diced onion and sauté on medium heat until onions are tender and translucent. Add arborio and bay leaf and stir with wooden spoon until coated with butter. Add 2 cups white wine and stir, simmer until wine is absorbed. Add 1 cup hot stock at a time, stirring until absorbed. Continue adding stock slowly, 1 cup at a time, stirring very often until rice is tender and creamy. Stir in mushrooms, calabaza, herbs, lime zest, cheese, and remaining butter. Season with salt and white pepper. Drizzle in truffle oil. Serve immediately.
Use of this website constitutes acceptance of our
terms of use,
our cookies policy, and our
privacy policy.
View our accessibility policy and AI policy.
The Miami New Times may earn a portion of sales from products & services purchased through links on our site from our
affiliate partners.
©2025
Miami New Times, LLC. All rights reserved.
Do Not Sell or Share My Information
Do Not Sell or Share My Information
