It’s a balmy
night. The Rum Old Fashioneds in Casa
Marina’s Penthouse Lounge made it even sultrier. From this perch, lively with the hubbub of a
suntanned crowd, I marveled at the sunset on Jacksonville Beach and eavesdropped
on the last few dances of the glamorous wedding in the hotel’s courtyard below. Now I’ve come downstairs to the breezy
patio where, in 1925, the hotel’s grand opening was celebrated. As they do today, guests admired its Spanish
Mediterranean design. It was also the
area’s first fire proof building which insured its survival through several
fires as nearby hotels burned down. I’m
wondering who else has sat right here listening to the waves.
Al
Capone did. Prohibition was a boon time
in Florida. Jacksonville was known as
“the playground for the rich and famous” attracting gangsters, royalty and tourists many of whom took the new cross country train to spend evenings strolling on the boardwalk and riding the famous Ferris wheel. Dashing along the coast on his 32-foot
powerboat Flying Cloud, Al Capone ran rum from the Caribbean. The Casa Marina was where he rendezvoused with
the movie star Jean Harlow who described her allure: “Men like me because I
don’t wear a brassiere. Women like me
because I don’t look like a girl who would steal a husband. At least not for long.” Capone’s Florida syndicate included the
popular John B. Hysler, nicknamed “Liquor King”. He was gunned down by federal agents as he
was picking up some illegal hooch.
Fifteen hundred people mourned him at the funeral where a local told a
reporter: “He was a good Joe, ya know?
So he ran some shiner around these parts. Folks gotta survive. Them Yankees pay real good money for that
Cuban rum I hear. Shoot, he even was
bringin’ in some real classy folks—some of them Italians from Chicago. “Member that boss? That flashy guy named Al?” (Ennis Davis,
Jacksonville Metro). There’s a bullet
hole in the breakfast bar at the Casa Marina.
No one is telling me why. 
During World War II, the Casa Marina was
appropriated by the government for military housing. This cloudless night has
me imagining the stealthy Nazi infiltrators creeping onto this beach with
destruction in mind. In 1942 four German spies slid into the shallows by
submarine and concealed explosive materials in the sand with the intention of
crippling the production of aluminum and magnesium plants. The infiltrators had lived in the U.S. awhile to
become familiar with the society and how to blend in undetected. But their plot was discovered by soldiers,
perhaps those staying right in the rooms here, and they were later sentenced to
death.
When World
War II ended 50,000 people filled the Boardwalk and pier to celebrate Independence Day. There were dances, beauty
contests and parades. I watched
fishermen reeling in their catch along that pier earlier today but a towering
Margaritaville Hotel is rising where the Boardwalk closed in 1964. The pier
still hosts a party each year when Sterling
Joyce, the Casa Marina’s debonair Maitre’ D, holds a birthday party to benefit
a local charity. People dance there as
they have for almost 100 years.
The
Casa Marina Hotel is most well known for being the venue for over one hundred
weddings a year. It’s such a romantic
setting with its intimate beachside ceremonies and the ocean front bridal suite.
The hotel’s rich history adds character.
The wedding tonight was elegant. The
joy radiated all the way up to my penthouse viewpoint. There’s the new couple now, walking hand in
hand on the shore. She’s still in her
wedding dress. They’re kissing as the
waves wash around their ankles.
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| Brooke Images |
If You Go: https://casamarinahotel.com/
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