Kick Ass: Selected Columns of Carl Hiaasen

It's far-fetched, but not impossible to believe that the same political body that erected a mountainous dump on the shore of Biscayne Bay would now vote to protect the rest of it. That's what must happen, or a tragic decline is inevitable.

The southern part of the bay has been shielded from urban pollution by thousands of acres of agriculture and open green space, which acts as a filter for rainfall.

From an airplane, you can see the dramatic contrast in clarity between the water off downtown Miami and the water at the Arsenicker Keys. On some days it's the difference between chowder and gin.

To preserve South Dade's stretch of bay, Biscayne National Park Superintendent Dick Frosthas asked Metro commissioners to make two changes to the master land-use plan.

The first amendment affects 2,700 acres adjacent to the park, which now is designated for urban development. Frost believes the land provides an "essential" buffer for the bay, and should remain farms and open space.

A second, broader amendment asks the county to hold the line against any major housing projects near the national park, until the long-term impact on water quality can be determined.

Frost's recommendations were endorsed 8-1 by Metro's Planning Advisory Board, but that's no guarantee the measures will be approved. Commissioners have been known to ignore their own planners rather than rile their campaign donors.

The amendments are set for a vote Tuesday, and opponents will be out in force. Leading the fight against an expanded park buffer are Homestead City Council members, some of whom continue to invoke hurricane hardship as a justification for subdividing everything in sight.

Councilwoman Ruth Campbell complained that the park's proposal "will stymie the development at the Homestead Air Reserve Base."

A revealing remark indeed. Remember that one selling point of the HABDI giveaway was the assurance that the new airport and commercial park would be not only self-contained, but incompatible with Hialeah-type sprawl.

The proposed buffer area—lowlands between Florida's Turnpike Extension and the air base tract—faces enormous development pressure. As has been the trend in South Dade, some farm owners-turned-speculators are eager to sell.

The problem with cramming thousands of tract houses along Biscayne Bay's drainage corridor is obvious: Asphalt and concrete cannot filter water the way soil does. Instead, rain becomes dirty runoff, degrading the bay.

Those who argue that buffering the park will stunt Homestead's economy are overlooking the 500,000 visitors a year who go there to dive, snorkel and fish.

Besides the Everglades, there's no bigger tourist attraction in South Dade than Biscayne Bay. To endanger it permanently for the short-term benefit of a few powerful interests is reckless.

The superintendent said it best: "You can make a bold and daring decision today to preserve the bay and preserve agriculture in South Dade, or you can sit back and watch it disappear piece by piece.

"Then one day you look out the window and the bay is murky and dark, and you wonder how it got that way. And then it's too late."

One company had courage, fought graft October 10, 1996

Miami's latest scandal has produced scads of villains and only one shining hero: Unisys Corp.

God knows how many companies have been hit up and shaken down by the crooks at City Hall. Unisys is one that blew the whistle.

Its executives chose not to pay outlandish bribes for the privilege of selling computers to the city. Imagine that. Imagine somebody going to the police and FBI to report a crime.

I know nothing about corporate Unisys or its reputation in the business world, but I know Miamians should be grateful. With their city government a cesspit, any such act of honesty qualifies as an act of courage.

If it weren't for Unisys, a thief-commissioner named Miller Dawkins wouldn't be pleading guilty to bribery and conspiracy, and destined for prison.

If it weren't for Unisys, a conniving bagman named Manohar Surana would still be Miami's finance director. Now a federal informant, Surana, too, is on his way to the slammer.

If it weren't for Unisys, the FBI wouldn't have been tipped to the antics of ex-City Manager Howard Gary, soliciting payoffs disguised as consulting fees.

If it weren't for Unisys, Gary wouldn't have led investigators into the murky world of the municipal bond racket. County Commissioner James Burke would never have surfaced on tape, discussing a $100,000 payment.

And if it weren't for Unisys, Cesar Odio would not stand charged with corruption. Instead, he'd still be city manager, and Miami would still be spiraling blithely toward bankruptcy.

If Unisys hadn't cracked open Operation Greenpalm, Miamians would still be under the naive impression that their city could pay its bills.