By: Mike Gora
At a recent Greater Boca Raton Chamber of Commerce Breakfast, Mayor Susan Whelchel’s talk was a tour-de-force during which she convinced me that we would be a lot better off if she were president of the United States, or at least a replacement for Governor Rick.
But what stirred my imagination most of all was when the mayor reached her long arm and hand straight through her microphone, pointed to me and said, “Mike” (actually to everyone present), I need you to put that agile mind of yours to work to come up with at least three uses for that dern “Wildflower”. “But not any uses, three uses that can make the city bundles and bundles of money, so we don’t have to ever raise taxes.”
For the new folks on the block the Wildflower was a bar and restaurant on the NW side of the Palmetto Park Bridge over the Intracoastal. And a “wild flower” it was. Through two or three iterations it rose from the dead like a contentious vampire to test morality limits of some of Boca’s best known and highest placed ladies and politicians and business men.
No, I’m not naming names, not even to attempt to cause a few more divorces in this slow economy. I am not a story teller, but people tell me stories, and sometime I believe them, and sometime I do not. But if that banker was telling me the truth, I would like that property to go back to the most financially productive operation that the Wildflower ever knew. Let’s call this my idea number “1”. Boca Raton would earn more money than was raised by all the booze and sex sold on that very spot.
What started me down this road was the mayor’s own words, “bundles and bundles of money.” Maybe wrapped in brown paper and twine. Maybe about five feet long and three feet wide. Maybe what they used to call a “Square Grouper”, Mary Jane, now whisper… marijuana, and “save the bales”.
Controlling the police department like they do, the mayor and city manager could make it easy to conduct such trade in the dead of moonless nights by having the officers surround the mall for three or four hours to allow for the boat and truck traffic.
They could even legalize the weed. We wouldn’t even need to build much on the lot. A few of Ned’s Sheds and a lift of two and they’d be in business. . We could authorize “mj” clinics like California. Money would be flooding into the coffers of Boca Raton faster than you could say Jack….no names please.
So what could top that? I need another couple of ideas or I won’t win the prize.
Number two: Build to suit a small, but technically sophisticated federal prison. Name it Elba, for one and only one prisoner…Bernie Madoff. I can see it in my mind’s eye.
A tower, only a couple of stories high, made entirely of glass. Glass, which would allow the tourists to look in.
Yes, that’s it: a combination federal prison and first class world renowned tourist attraction. I’ve been to another prison/tourist attraction in San Francisco Bay. No prisoners, but oh the tourists, in ferries, and launches from every direction.
Coming to Boca Raton to take a verbal shot at Bernie for his dastardly deeds would raise millions for Boca Raton. Ticket payers with bull horns, allowing Bernie to hear every word that every poor guy who had invested with him had to say and everything that their mothers, fathers, children, aunts, uncles, and friends had on their minds.
It could run 24/7. Bernie could not talk back. People who could not get to Boca Raton can tape messages to be played during slow times and pay the city to play the tapes. And some day, if Bernie left us the federals could replace him with OJ or that crazy lady from Orlando, no, I meant that TV reporter.
One more to go: Build the finest restaurant, card room, and senior dating center in the history of South Florida. Imagine a club for octogenarian Bridge mavens with great food, fine wine, and occasional breaks with a myriad of alternative recreation.
Senior speed dating, accommodations for those who win, a plush suite complete with Viagra or other suitable medications. Buses filled with seniors would pour into East Boca day and night. Picture them lining Palmetto Park Road from US 1 to the beach. Bermuda shorts and black socks.
Our Palmetto, with specialty shops and wedding chapels of every design. Why, it would make Delray’s Atlantic Ave pale by comparison. One can only dream.