The body contorts.

Masters of forms undefined,

Divine and unmatched.

Men come in all shapes, sizes, and temperaments, and this venerable clothier has seen them all. The thing about a really good men's suit salesman, what sets him apart from the off-the-rack hacks, is judgment. He has to be able to take the measure of a customer -- and not just literally. Is he a two-button kind of guy, or a three-button? Classic gray, dark blue -- or pimpin' metallic purple with pinstripes? Is this a man who has come to terms with his middle-age waistline, or one who needs to be gently nudged into a new size and style? The guys at Austin Burke (in business since the Forties) are experts in sussing out a man's soul. Stepping into the cavernous warehouse is like a journey back to some earlier time and place that's not quite Philly, not quite Miami, but all good. The salesmen and tailors know their business. So sit in one of the waiting chairs, or lurk among the racks and watch them work. They just might find the right man for you. Open 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. every day, except Thursday, when they are open until 8:00 p.m., and Sunday, when they don't open until 11:00 a.m.

Men come in all shapes, sizes, and temperaments, and this venerable clothier has seen them all. The thing about a really good men's suit salesman, what sets him apart from the off-the-rack hacks, is judgment. He has to be able to take the measure of a customer -- and not just literally. Is he a two-button kind of guy, or a three-button? Classic gray, dark blue -- or pimpin' metallic purple with pinstripes? Is this a man who has come to terms with his middle-age waistline, or one who needs to be gently nudged into a new size and style? The guys at Austin Burke (in business since the Forties) are experts in sussing out a man's soul. Stepping into the cavernous warehouse is like a journey back to some earlier time and place that's not quite Philly, not quite Miami, but all good. The salesmen and tailors know their business. So sit in one of the waiting chairs, or lurk among the racks and watch them work. They just might find the right man for you. Open 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. every day, except Thursday, when they are open until 8:00 p.m., and Sunday, when they don't open until 11:00 a.m.

Gold Coast Railroad Museum
Like any worth-his-salt railroad baron, Henry Flagler had his tracks laid and then proceeded to build a city around them. Several cities, actually, but we care only about Miami. It's not surprising a museum should honor, and document, this tropical "railroad" town's history. The museum began life under the auspices of the University of Miami at the Richmond Air Station, moved to Broward, then back again. It quickly grew, thanks to donations and wise purchases of old locomotives from around the nation. Included in the collection are gems like Roosevelt's presidential locomotive (Presidential Train One?) and a rescue train that arrived to help victims of the 1935 hurricane. (The museum itself took a direct hit during Hurricane Andrew.) As well as being displayed, several choo-choos are still operating on the property's tracks. Take the kids and explain how millions of Chinese, black, Native American, and other slaves suffered and died to build this great land of ours by driving spikes and laying rails.

A daily existence in which a simple walk down the street can be life-threatening, where the boom-boom-boom of bass music seems to emanate continuously from cars to bicycles, where all of humanity appears to be simultaneously marching toward you -- an existence like that can push even the most placid creature to the verge of homicide. But before you're condemned to death row, step off, ease up, relax. Enter the verdant haven that is the Miami Beach Botanical Garden. Founded in 1962, floundering in the Eighties, rescued in the late Nineties by a nonprofit group named the Miami Beach Garden Conservancy, the botanical garden sits on a five-acre plot across from the Miami Beach Convention Center. Aside from housing orchids, topiary, herbs, bromeliads, a Japanese water feature, and palms of all sorts, the garden hosts tai chi and Asian cooking classes, horticultural lectures, and even classical music concerts. Every year a week's worth of events pay homage to the venerable palm tree. Tending the land helps ease a troubled soul and is always welcome. If digging in the dirt becomes a habit, you can show support by becoming a member of the conservancy. It's a serene green space in the center of a hectic city better known for its sun, fun, and surf. And best of all, admission is always free.

A daily existence in which a simple walk down the street can be life-threatening, where the boom-boom-boom of bass music seems to emanate continuously from cars to bicycles, where all of humanity appears to be simultaneously marching toward you -- an existence like that can push even the most placid creature to the verge of homicide. But before you're condemned to death row, step off, ease up, relax. Enter the verdant haven that is the Miami Beach Botanical Garden. Founded in 1962, floundering in the Eighties, rescued in the late Nineties by a nonprofit group named the Miami Beach Garden Conservancy, the botanical garden sits on a five-acre plot across from the Miami Beach Convention Center. Aside from housing orchids, topiary, herbs, bromeliads, a Japanese water feature, and palms of all sorts, the garden hosts tai chi and Asian cooking classes, horticultural lectures, and even classical music concerts. Every year a week's worth of events pay homage to the venerable palm tree. Tending the land helps ease a troubled soul and is always welcome. If digging in the dirt becomes a habit, you can show support by becoming a member of the conservancy. It's a serene green space in the center of a hectic city better known for its sun, fun, and surf. And best of all, admission is always free.

A Miami native, Morgan fell into journalism as a reporter/photographer for his Richmond Heights junior-high newspaper. He fell further in when he was paid to write for his college paper. "I needed the money," he recalls. "Journalism also seemed like interesting work you could do without wearing a tie." An endangered combination of newsman and craftsman (with a childhood spent fishing, diving, and generally enjoying South Florida's various ecosystems), the seventeen-year Herald veteran consistently finds ways to manipulate the lexicon and elicit facts in order to turn environmental issues, normally as dull as dirt, into stories worth digging for. With bird's-eye clarity, he explains environmental affairs clearly and credibly. "On this beat, you know that most of what you write matters deeply to somebody," he says. "Figuring out what really counts in the sea of information is the biggest daily challenge."

A Miami native, Morgan fell into journalism as a reporter/photographer for his Richmond Heights junior-high newspaper. He fell further in when he was paid to write for his college paper. "I needed the money," he recalls. "Journalism also seemed like interesting work you could do without wearing a tie." An endangered combination of newsman and craftsman (with a childhood spent fishing, diving, and generally enjoying South Florida's various ecosystems), the seventeen-year Herald veteran consistently finds ways to manipulate the lexicon and elicit facts in order to turn environmental issues, normally as dull as dirt, into stories worth digging for. With bird's-eye clarity, he explains environmental affairs clearly and credibly. "On this beat, you know that most of what you write matters deeply to somebody," he says. "Figuring out what really counts in the sea of information is the biggest daily challenge."

This barrier island is roughly thirteen miles long. With the Atlantic on one side and the Intracoastal Waterway (known here as the Indian River) on the other, it's no more than a mile wide. But the most important measurement is this: It's about 130 miles from Miami -- far enough to escape the Magic City's gravitational pull. And indeed, upon arrival you'll experience a sort of giddy weightlessness. It is, after all, a parallel but refreshingly alien universe. The island's north end is less developed than the south, which means literally miles of sand and dunes and crashing surf and not much else. Hutchinson's northernmost tip actually lies within the city limits of mainland Fort Pierce, and this little offshore enclave is the place to stay. It boasts an authentic, laid-back, beach-town atmosphere; affordable lodging; and casual dining at places like Theo Thudpukker's Raw Bar, Archie's Seabreeze, and Chris's Hurricane Grill. Summer is the recommended season for Miami exiles -- you can simply arrive, look around, pick out a motel, and hit the beach. If you insist on advance planning, the Web offers more information than you'll ever need.

Too many judges race through their calendars, blindly dispensing whatever the better courtroom lawyer defines as justice. Senior U.S. District Judge William Hoeveler prefers to give a damn. A thoughtful, venerable jurist, Hoeveler has dedicated years to salvaging what's left of the Everglades and to making certain your children have clean drinking water when they grow up. Recently the alleged slave-driving, state-controlling, wilderness-destroying sugar barons forced Hoeveler's removal from the major Everglades-pollution case he'd overseen since 1988. The judge, it seems, had the audacity to alert the public to a nasty piece of legislation about to be signed by Gov. Jeb Bush, a new law that would ease the clean-up pressure on those very same sugar barons. (Of course Bush signed it.) Now Hoeveler is holding the gavel over a lawsuit brought by environmentalists intent on reversing a ruling that allows rock miners to gut more than 5000 acres of West Miami-Dade. He won't rush matters, he'll listen carefully to both sides, and as always, he'll do the right thing.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®