Al Capone’s ‘historic’ home is gone. A new state law made it easier to knock down | Opinion

Miami-Dade’s long-standing connection to Al Capone, probably the most famous organized crime boss in the 20th century, has come to an unceremonious rubble-filled end. Capone, declared Public Enemy No. 1 by the FBI, was a pretty bad egg. Still, in a broader community where history is rapidly razed, it’s a sorry loss.

Last week, Capone’s 1922 waterfront winter home on Palm Island was quietly demolished, a painful defeat for preservationists, whose hands, ultimately, were tied.

Unfortunately, it might be one of many more historic homes to fall. Blame the Florida Legislature and Gov. Ron DeSantis, who signed a little-touted law last year that, with little fanfare, modified property laws.

The new standard prohibits local authorities from stopping demolitions of low-lying houses in designated flood zones, like Palm Island. Turn’s out, every home in Miami Beach falls into that category.

Attack on home rule

In the case of the Capone home, at 93 Palm Ave., advocates who had been fighting to preserve it for years, were left powerless at a critical point in their efforts. When the law took effect in July, the city of Miami Beach Historic Preservation Board decided there was nothing it could do.

And Miami Beach officials added that the new law, viewed in some circles as an attack on home rule by removing specific powers from cities and counties, took the Capone matter out of their hands and left the new owners free to do as they pleased.

Handcuffing locally elected officials has been an egregious hallmark of the DeSantis administration. At best, this developer-friendly law should mean that new structures on these properties will be built to now-stricter standards, better able to withstand the ravages of sea-level rise and climate change, including more intense hurricanes. At worst, however, it is, indeed, another assault on local authorities’ ability to act in their communities’ best interests.

The new state rule exempts houses already designated as historic by local authorities, the state or federal government, but bars cities and counties from designating any newer flood-zone homes as protected landmarks without owner consent. It’s a sweeping change that could have extensive consequences for local officials trying to preserve historic architecture.

That’s what happened here. The Capone home was flipped and purchased by neighbors, who paid $15.5 million. At first, it was unclear if they would demolish the structure. They were recently given a permit and moved forward.

Needless to say, the impact of the recent legislation will have a much broader reach than just the Capone mansion, which had served, partly, as inspiration for the law.

Its detractors argue that this accelerating trend poses a severe risk to the city’s residential architectural legacy, potentially erasing its unique character.

The Miami Herald has reported that the introduction of the new regulation on demolitions coincides with a contentious time for Miami Beach. The city, typically renowned for its commitment to preserving its historical heritage, has been facing criticism for Beach officials’ reluctance to safeguard its collection of architecturally significant single-family homes.

Already, the escalating demand for luxury estates has led to a surge in the demolition of numerous homes from the early and mid-20th century, which have helped affirm the city’s identity.

Balancing act

Miami Beach Mayor Dan Gelber told the Editorial Board the city is in the difficult position of balancing competing interests.

“The city must be careful when declaring private property to be historic over property owners’ objections. Once we start to involuntarily declare properties historic, we run into issues of impacting property rights.”

We understand that conflict.

The fact is that Capone’s Miami Beach home held tremendous historical value. Within those walls, Capone would have planned bootlegging operations and met with underworld associates.

Rumor has it he plotted the notorious St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Chicago at his Beach home. The two-story main house and guest house had nine bedrooms, six full bathrooms, two half bathrooms and a fortified design, speaking to Capone’s paranoid nature and need for protection, even while in warm and sunny Miami Beach.

The home also proved that Capone had a vision, good taste and foresight. Way back in 1928, he likely recognized the area’s beauty; he purchased the home at a locale that remains highly coveted today.

So the Capone mansion is now a poster home for how easy it can be to demolish older properties on Miami Beach.

It makes us think of the tireless work of Barbara Capitman, who, in the 1970s and 1980s, single-handedly made us care about the old Art Deco buildings in Miami Beach and how important it was to preserve them. People listened, and those buildings helped the city’s economy flourish.

Maybe Miami Beach needs another Barbara Capitman. Unfortunately, however, under this new property law, she would be powerless.