Kick Ass: Selected Columns of Carl Hiaasen

Dade officials appear typically numb and bewildered. County Manager Joaquin Avino is moaning that Gordon's decision will cost taxpayers millions of dollars.

That's not the fault of the judge or the Mathesons. It was Avino and that sorry crew of commissioners who recklessly launched construction of the Lipton stadium, knowing that the project faced stiff court challenges.

Whether it was arrogance or sheer stupidity, the county blew it. They gambled and lost. Now, having squandered tons of tax money, the county's legal wizards are forging blindly ahead to squander even more. Yes, folks, they're trudging back to the courthouse for another try.

None of this nonsense was necessary. From day one, Dade officials knew they were on shaky legal ground by putting the Lipton in Crandon Park. They'd privately taken their plans for the tournament to the Matheson heirs, who objected strenuously. The family saw the Lipton center as unadulterated commercialization, which it is. They threatened to sue to enforce the deed.

At that point, the tournament, the stadium and millions of bucks could've been saved by relocating the Lipton to another site. Nothing prevented promoters from buying their own tract and putting up a first-class facility wherever they wanted.

But that's not how it's done in Dade County. Why pay for something out of your own pocket when taxpayers will do it for you? The lure of free Key Biscayne real estate was impossible to refuse. Behind the scenes, high-priced lobbyists and political power brokers worked to keep the Lipton on the island, despite the opposition of many residents.

Brushing off the threat of lawsuits, the commissioners giddily pressed ahead with the tennis extravaganza. Anything promoter Butch Buchholz wanted, he got—including public financing of the stadium he once promised to build with private funds. Meanwhile, the county was spending a fortune on legal fees—again, your money—to fight the Mathesons.

Avino acted as if the family was just a pesky annoyance. The possibility of losing the case didn't seem to cross his mind. Talk about cocky: Bulldozers went to work on the 14,000-seat stadium on April 1—three weeks before Circuit Judge Gerald Wetherington was scheduled to hear the lawsuit.

Though Wetherington ruled in the county's favor, he abruptly changed his mind and took himself off the case. Construction on the Lipton proceeded as if nothing were amiss.

For developers, it's the oldest trick in the book. The more you can build and the faster you can build it, the harder for opponents to get it torn down. That's Avino's woeful defense: Dade taxpayers have invested so much in the Lipton that it's too expensive to turn back. Gee, Joaquin, whose fault is that?

While the county fights Judge Gordon's decision, the digging and destruction will likely resume on Key Biscayne. Drive out there and take a look—after all, you're paying for it.

But remember that if the Mathesons prevail (and there's a good chance they will), the stadium will come tumbling down. If that happens, shovels should be distributed immediately to the county manager and each gung-ho commissioner. Bus them to Crandon Park and make them clean up their mess.

Sort of an old-fashioned groundbreaking, in reverse.

Metro tumbled into sand trap with golf club June 26, 1994

If P.T. Barnum were alive to watch the Metro Commission in action, he'd probably revise his famous axiom. Not only are suckers born every minute, they invariably get elected to political office.

Dade politicians are big suckers for sports. They've got a history of blowing public funds on extravaganzas that fail to produce the windfall promised by hungry promoters. The most infamous entitlement programs are the Lipton tennis tournament and the Miami Grand Prix.

Now another sport is sucking precious dollars out of the county coffer: golf. So far, unsuspecting taxpayers have forked out $8.9 million on the Golf Club of Miami. That's not a typo: $8.9 million—with about $8 million more to come.

Even using silk flags and the lushest Bermuda grass, it hardly seems possible to spend so much to spruce up a few fairways.

Here's what happened. Five years ago, the county contracted with the PGA Tour to rejuvenate the Golf Club of Miami in North Dade. The courses had gotten ratty, and worried neighbors voted to tax themselves to purchase much of the property. The county had the rest.

The PGA Tour eagerly offered to run the place and touted itself as capable and experienced. The prestige of attaching the Tour's name was supposed to attract a luxury hotel and hordes of golf-crazy tourists.

As it turned out, a bunch of chimpanzees couldn't have negotiated a worse contract than the one approved by Metro commissioners. Ironically, the only one opposed to it was then-Mayor Steve Clark, the county's undisputed authority on all golfing matters. Clark said the Golf Club of Miami deal was no good, and he was right.