to Chris Hanson for creating the maps and graphics; to Robin Bachin, Harm de Blij, Mazen el-Labban, Richard Grant, Miguel Kanai, Jean-Francois Lejeune, Peter Muller, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, Alejandro Portes, and Allan Shulman for interesting discussions and helpful comments along the way; to Daniel Pals, Associate Dean for Interdisciplinary Programs in the College of Arts & Sciences of the University of Miami, for financial support; to the publishers of the Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, the Annals of the Association of American Geographers, the Journal for Economic and Social Geography, and Urban Geography for permission to use some ideas that originally appeared in the pages of those journals; to AP/Wide World Photos, the State of Florida Archives, the Miami Herald Media Company, the University of Miami Libraries, the U.S. Coast Guard, Robert Kloosterman, Dewi Nijman, and Soraya Nijman for permission to reproduce photographs; and, for editorial support, to Judith Martin and Robert Lockhart of the University of Pennsylvania Press.
CHAPTER 1
Early Liaisons
The Miami Circle sits on Biscayne Bay at the mouth of the river, on the south bank. It is a perfect circle with a diameter of thirty-eight feet. Along the perimeter are twenty-four equidistant and identical holes cut in the limestone bedrock. The holes were probably cut for the base of the wooden pillars of a round building. Other finds at this archaeological site included bones, human teeth, shell tools, stone axe-heads, and charcoal deposits.1
Radiocarbon dating of the charcoal indicated that the structure is about nineteen hundred years old, making it the oldest known human-made structure in South Florida. Most archaeologists agree that it was built and used by the Tequesta, a branch of the larger Native American Glades tribe that inhabited the coastal areas of central and southern Florida since about ten thousand years ago. There is no clear evidence what the building was used for, but most likely it had some ceremonial purpose and it must have been surrounded by other structures and dwellings.
It is an unusual site because it is the only one in the entire United States with this kind of structural foundation and it predates other known permanent settlements on the East Coast. It is so unusual, indeed, that in the wake of its discovery there was considerable skepticism. Some argued that it was not a Tequesta site at all but the remains of an early twentieth-century septic tank installation (this view still has not gone away entirely). Others speculated about the role of Mayans, given the circular and apparent celestial orientation of the building. And then there were those, inevitably, who attributed the structure to the cosmic design of aliens.
The circle is of great importance because it provides an unprecedented window on the area’s prehistory, even if it all remains rather mysterious—and we will stick with the view that it was indeed a Tequesta site. It is also significant because, after a long struggle, it was saved from the hands of real estate developers and added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2002.
The circle was discovered only in July 1998 after the demolition of a 1940s apartment complex. The prime real estate site was bought by a developer for $8.5 million, with plans for a luxury condominium tower of the sort that have sprung up all over downtown Miami in the past decade. A routine archaeological survey by the Miami-Dade Historic Preservation Division stumbled upon the remains and put a temporary halt to the development process. What followed was an intense struggle involving the developer, archaeologists, the City of Miami, the State of Florida, Miami-Dade County, Native American groups, various public organizations, and stables of lawyers.
In 1999, it almost came to the point that the circle was excavated and moved to another location for preservation—this was, after, all, a highly desirable residential location. The idea was supported by the developer and by Joe Carollo, then the mayor of Miami, whose mind must have been on the prospect of future property taxes. It was a foolish notion even in development-crazed Miami and it ran into opposition. The stonemason hired for the job, Joshua Billig, publicly quit and briefly became something of a local hero. In the end, the developer handed the site to the State of Florida for the sum of $27 million.
But modern-day Miami is constantly in flux and its attention span regarding public matters is notoriously short. There is little time for history in this city. For nearly twelve years after its discovery, the Miami Circle was a neglected, abandoned, and inaccessible grassy lot adjacent to some busy high-rise construction sites. A groundbreaking ceremony in August 2009 to turn the site into a park was based on tentative budget agreements between the city and the state, but few seem to care. The circle stands as a lonely reminder of a distant and disconnected past.
The Tequesta, their name so recorded by Spanish explorers in the sixteenth century, were the first inhabitants of coastal southeast Florida for which we have a historical record.2 They descended from Paleo-Indians who came from the north and they were probably in contact with other so-called Glades tribes to the west and north in Florida such as the Calusa. It was a sparse population of several thousands, with small settlements mainly on top of parts of the Atlantic Ridge that rose slightly above the Everglades and that were free from flooding. The area around the circle was one of those small settlements, probably counting about three hundred people. Their word “Miami” meant “sweet water,” referring to the fresh water coming down the river. The inland environment was harsh and the Tequesta had chosen a prime location. Being at once on the river and on the bay gave them maximum mobility and they were close to their main food sources. The sea breezes and ocean views must have been as soothing and serene as they are today. Extensive mangroves provided a protective barrier to stormy seas and an ideal spawning environment for many fish. Multiple generations lived what was mostly a tranquil and sustainable existence, supported by fishing, hunting, and gathering. It was probably the most stable human occupation that South Florida would ever know, but it was not to last.
The first European encounter was in 1513, when Juan Ponce de Leon set foot on the shores of Biscayne Bay. He had accompanied Columbus on his second voyage to the New World and was now the Spanish Crown’s first appointed governor of Puerto Rico. Ponce de Leon called the peninsula La Florida—it is not clear if this was in reference to the area’s flowery appearance or because the landing occurred at the time of Easter, in Spanish “Pascua Florida.” Popular legend has it that Ponce de Leon was in search of the Fountain of Youth (old Spanish sources mention his lack of virility) but more likely he was looking for gold, as were most Spanish explorers of the era. Either way, he did not get lucky. During an expedition to Florida’s west coast in 1521 his forces were caught in skirmishes with Calusa Indians. A poisoned spear was thrust in his shoulder; it killed him shortly after he made his escape to Cuba. Ponce de Leon’s visits to Florida seem to have been largely inconsequential in their own right but they did, of course, open the door for subsequent Spanish incursions, which were usually staged from Cuba. Most of these were confined to the much more accessible northern parts of Florida. In 1565, Pedro Menendez de Aviles founded St. Augustine, fortified the place, brought in Jesuit priests, and oversaw the construction of the first church. This was four decades before the foundation of Jamestown, and so St. Augustine can be considered the first permanent European settlement in North America.
Menendez also established a small mission on Biscayne Bay. He brought a Tequesta Indian back to Havana to immerse him in Spanish Catholic ways, intending to return him to Miami a few years later. But the mission appears to have been largely ineffective; by 1570 it was abandoned. Hence, while faraway northern Florida experienced notable change in the second half of the sixteenth century, things remained quietly the same on Biscayne Bay. Much of this must be attributed to the inaccessible nature of the place: the treacherous reefs deterred ships, the heat and mosquitoes were hard to endure by any visitors, and the lack of navigable rivers precluded easy reconnaissance and mobility. The Miami River, it should be noted, led only a few miles inland where it transitioned into the Everglades.
The historical record on seventeenth-century South Florida is even thinner, with nothing more than some scant reports on small and usually ill-fated Spanish missions that operated from Cuba. In the early 1700s, the Spanish intensified efforts at conversion and brought ever larger numbers of Tequesta to Cuba and some even to Spain. Most did not survive. The lack of resistance to European pathogens, fatal to so many Native American populations in general, had caused a steady decline of the Tequesta.