Old Coconut Grove Houses

Old Coconut Grove Houses Welcome! The goal of this page is to memorialize Coconut Grove & Miami Florida houses we have lost and want to keep.

And remember the people in our community who have made a difference.

BATHROOMS TO LOVESeaside House on Lincoln Avenue left a lasting impression—but it was the bathroom I remember most.A gle...
09/06/2026

BATHROOMS TO LOVE

Seaside House on Lincoln Avenue left a lasting impression—but it was the bathroom I remember most.

A gleaming copper bathtub sat beneath a north-facing stained-glass window. Dark cherrywood walls surrounded it, while beyond the glass, tropical trees swayed and summer showers drifted through the garden. The contrast was pure coastal magic.

I still don’t understand why this significant 1909 house, built by a sailor was destroyed. It was purchased in 2022 and razed so quickly that many of its unique architectural details were never saved.

Years later, the property remains vacant.

The house is gone. The craftsmanship lost. The stories forgotten.

Coconut Grove’s history, down the drain. 🛁

OLIVE CAME FOR THREE WEEKS- AND STAYED SIXOlive expected to spend 3 weeks in South Florida. Instead, the sunshine, warm ...
09/02/2026

OLIVE CAME FOR THREE WEEKS- AND STAYED SIX

Olive expected to spend 3 weeks in South Florida. Instead, the sunshine, warm weather and welcoming people persuaded her to stay twice as long.

On March 6th, 1951, she mailed this postcard from Coral Gables to someone in Westchester, Massachusetts. We know nothing about Olive, but her hurried message gives us a lovely glimpse into her unexpected winter.

“I came to stay 3 weeks and have been here 6. Will be home next week, I expect. Grand weather, lovely people. Did you come South this winter?”

Perhaps Olive was a late snowbird, escaping a Massachusetts March that reached a low of 33 degrees that day. Her postcard shows the picnic grounds at Matheson Hammock beneath the extraordinary canopy of mature trees. Live oaks, and tropical hardwoods with native palms and palmettos filling the understory. The trees give the scene an almost park-like intimacy; a family or group of friends sharing a picnic lunch in the shade, while a small building stands (the comfort station they called it) in the clearing. When you drive on Old Cutler Road- you can still witness these wonderful family scenes.

This postcard itself was mass-produced by Tichnor Brothers of Boston, a major postcard distributor which sold the postcards at area hotels, drugstores, and souvenir shops. I purchased the postcard because I could not resist the Southern live oak, Gumbo-limbo, strangler figs, cabbage palm & saw palmettos. 🌳

Olive made this copy singular, and 75 years later, her four-word review of our community still seems just right.

“Grand weather-lovely people.”

A Boy, A Sunken Sailboat & the Coconut Grove of the 1940s. What a great story! Thank you John Pistorino & James Grupenho...
08/31/2026

A Boy, A Sunken Sailboat & the Coconut Grove of the 1940s.
What a great story!

Thank you John Pistorino & James Grupenhoff for taking us back to such a pleasant time in our community. ⛵️

Posey’s Oyster Bar: cheap b**r, fried mullet in a basket, a crooked pool table, and “Islands in the Stream” playing over...
08/25/2026

Posey’s Oyster Bar: cheap b**r, fried mullet in a basket, a crooked pool table, and “Islands in the Stream” playing over and over again on the jukebox. I put in all the quarters I had on me that day, so she could sing along with Dolly & Kenny.
What a wonderfully vivid slice of Old Florida, my Cuban Mother and Dolly Parton. All gone. Thank you for the sweet memories. Rest in Peace 🙏🏻

The Forgotten Mango Man: the curious life of Orange PoundHistory has been kind to some of Coconut Grove’s mango pioneers...
08/19/2026

The Forgotten Mango Man: the curious life of Orange Pound

History has been kind to some of Coconut Grove’s mango pioneers. Captain John Haden gave us the Haden mango. Leith Kent gave us the Kent. Their names are tied to exquisite branded delicious fruits. But there was another man working among the mango trees of early Coconut Grove whose name is rarely remembered. His name was Orange Pound. A perfect name for a Coconut Grove grower.

Orange never had a celebrated mango named for him. What he gave the world was something less romantic, but enormously important. He figured out how to reliably make better mangoes.
His story begins, improbably enough, not in a mango grove but in a cab of a steam locomotive.

The Engineer
Before Orange Pound became a horticulturist, he was a railroad engineer in Bartow, Florida. A wonderfully revealing item survives in the old trade journal Locomotive Engineering. Pound sent the editor a photograph of the interior of Engine No. 209 of the Savannah, Florida & Western Railway. He was not interested in how handsome the locomotive looked. He wanted to discuss how it worked. The journal signed his contribution simply:
Orange Pound, Engr.
S.F. & W. Ry.
Bartow, Fla.
It’s a small detail, but perhaps an important one. Orange Pound seems to have been a man who noticed systems that worked, what did not, and how something might be improved. This instinct would follow him to Coconut Grove.

Retirement Among the Trees
Around 1901, near the end of his railroad career, Pound bought property in the Village of Coconut Grove, in Center Grove. A Miami newspaper man visiting in 1904 described the transformation: in just three years, the land had gone from woods to developing tropical orchards. Pound planted avocados, limes, citrus and mangoes. He was already experimenting with varieties such as Mulgoba, Philippine, Number Eleven, and Roberts. Some trees were already fruiting. He was visiting the property with his wife and daughter while preparing for retirement there. Coconut Grove at the time was a mix of settlement and wilderness, with tropical fruit plantings spreading through the hammock and limestone. For a curious engineer, a lover of trees, it must have felt like an open-air laboratory. He came to retire. He did not stay retired.

The Mango Problem
South Florida growers faced a persistent issue: mango seeds did not reliably reproduce the parent fruit. A superb mango could produce a tree, but its fruit might be entirely different. To preserve quality varieties growers experimented with grafting, inarching, and budding (a single bud is used). One of the growers, P.J. Wester, began testing mango budding around 1904 but found his results unreliable. But Orange Pound kept on experimenting. Like a true engineer, he just kept observing, adjusting and repeating. Eventually, he succeeded.

The Pound Method
In 1909, on his Coconut Grove property, Orange Pound achieved a major breakthrough: successful shield budding mangoes on a commercial scale. This was not a small trial. He applied his method to 300 plants, with 85 percent success. Wester was impressed. Writing in the Miami Metropolis in 1910 - not only the technical achievement but also Pound’s willingness to share his results freely with other growers. Pound started an industry from his backyard in Center Grove. The Pound technique referred to as an “epoch in the mango industry”, with significance “beyond South Florida”. Later horticultural histories, including Julia Morton’s Fruits of Warm Climates, credit Orange Pound of Coconut Grove with bringing shield budding into reliable commercial use, forever shaping modern mango propagation. For a time, growers even referred to his method of grafting as the “Pound Method” It was the closest he ever came to having a mango named after him.

More Than Mangoes
Pound also worked with avocados. In 1908, the USDA recorded receiving budwood from “Mr. Orange Pound, Cocoanut Grove, Fla.” – taken from a tree belonging to Mr. Peacock, another early and familiar Coconut Grove grower. This fruit was noted for its rich flavor and unusually small seed. This entry places Pound within a broader network of early South Florida horticulturists, nurserymen and plant explorers who turned Coconut Grove into a center of tropical specimen experimentation. Pound was not working in isolation, and he was notably generous with his findings. He is praised for his “public-spirited sharing of results”. This generosity defines him as much as his technical skill.

Then He Disappeared
Orange Pound had little time to enjoy his retirement. He died at age 67 on June 10,1913 and is buried at Woodlawn Park North Cemetery & Mausoleum in Miami. After his death, Florida’s mango industry expanded around the world. New varieties emerged, nurseries expanded, and mangoes became a defining feature of South Florida agriculture and identity. We know names like Haden, Kent, Glenn and et al have been entered, rightfully so in the history books. But Orange Pound’s name faded. But not entirely.

He survives in Miami Dade County property records. Around Orange Street and Matilda Street in Center Grove an old sub-division still appears. ORANGE POUND SUB- PENT HOMESTEAD, Plat Book 3, Page 34. For example, the house and land at 3075 Orange Street is legally tied to that subdivision, and nearby properties carry the same reference. The Pound’s homestead may have been situated on the corner of Matilda & Orange. The oldest house I found was built in 1922, after Pound’s death, but it is safe to assume that this neighborhood was once where he experimented with fruits and the street name Orange is most likely named after him, and not citrus. Today, these houses, lots, and trees overlap with his history and ours.

Orange Pound did not create a famous mango. He solved a different problem: how to reliably produce the best ones. In Coconut Grove, he applied the same mindset that brilliant people often do.
He planted. He experimented. He failed. He tried again. And when he succeeded, he shared the result. The mangoes spread. His method endured. The industry advanced. And the engineer was largely forgotten.
When you hear mention the names Fairchild, Gifford, Montgomery and other well- known Florida botanists and horticulturists - I would add Orange to this acclaimed mix.

I meant to write this post in time for the Fairchild Mango Festival in June, but summer is evaporating quickly. I have my own mango history. I lived in North Grove, and my front yard mango tree was believed to be planted in 1944. My neighbors shared that the tree was a progeny of a Captain John Haden tree, gifted by his wife who lived not too far away. I do not know if this is true, but I can tell you it produced absolutely the best mango. Sadly, we lost the tree during Hurricane Irma.
History- left a very sweet taste in my mouth. 🥭🥭🥭

Pink, a Cultural Barometer I keep a file on my desktop containing an assortment of photographs I’ve taken of Coconut Gro...
08/17/2026

Pink, a Cultural Barometer
I keep a file on my desktop containing an assortment of photographs I’ve taken of Coconut Grove throughout the years. Old houses, little cottages, gardens, streets and corners that caught my eye—and sometimes places that are no longer there.

I’ve noticed that I have a particular weakness for the pink and coral cottages.
There’s something about those colors tucked beneath the palms and tropical canopy that has always made me feel warm, happy and strangely optimistic. Coral, salmon, flamingo pink, faded rose—they seem completely at home in the Grove.

Maybe it’s because these aren’t serious colors. They don’t announce wealth or importance. They suggest sunshine, bougainvillea, old Florida, open windows and houses that developed a personality of their own.

And against all those beautiful greens! Perhaps that’s the secret. Pink and coral seem to glow beneath a tropical canopy.
Looking through these old photographs, I realize I wasn’t just photographing houses. I was photographing a Coconut Grove color palette.
Pink houses peaked in the 1980s here.

I predict when pink houses return, it will signal we have entered a gentler era- more down to earth, more joyful, more peaceful, and a little less afraid of being different. 🦩🦩🦩

Was It Cinderella?Four years ago, I watched Cinderella step out of this beautiful old Rolls-Royce and hurry into Plymout...
08/14/2026

Was It Cinderella?

Four years ago, I watched Cinderella step out of this beautiful old Rolls-Royce and hurry into Plymouth Congregational Church.

Okay…perhaps it wasn’t Cinderella. More likely, it was a bride running late for her own wedding.

But for a brief moment, with the old Rolls waiting beneath the tropical canopy and the historic church tucked behind it, the scene felt like something out of a storybook.

It was one of those fleeting Coconut Grove moments I wanted to hold onto—so I put it down on paper.

Coconut Grove Lost Its City Hall Once BeforeI once had an octogenarian—and often very funny—friend who was born and rais...
08/08/2026

Coconut Grove Lost Its City Hall Once Before

I once had an octogenarian—and often very funny—friend who was born and raised in Coconut Grove. She would tell me little stories and tidbits about the Grove’s early years that always left me wondering and curious.

One of her observations was how unsettling the 1920s and ’30s had been for the community. Annexation. Prohibition. New money. Social divisions. And, apparently, more than a little misbehavior.

She once told me that the stretch of homes along S.W. 27th Avenue, from U.S. 1 all the way down toward South Bayshore Drive, “was full of speakeasies.”

Then she added:

“And that’s how we got stuck with that row of ugly apartment buildings.”

Whether that was literally how those apartments came to be, I can’t say. But her stories of Prohibition-era Coconut Grove were colorful.
According to her, the money crowd might fine-dine and dance at country clubs and estates in Coral Gables, but later some of those same gentlemen—after dropping their wives safely at home—would venture across town to private houses for more adult refreshments, ci******es and gambling.

How much of this resulted in arrests? I don’t know.

I did find a wonderful 1925 newspaper clip: “CASINO MYTH.” Real estate dealers were assuring the public that “there is no foundation in fact to recent rumors that El Jardin will become a private casino.” Like the blues song says…ain’t nobody talkin’

Then there was annexation.

When the City of Miami swallowed Coconut Grove in the summer of 1925, the sparks didn’t stop flying. Newspaper articles from the following years are filled with Grovites complaining that Miami wasn’t delivering what had been promised.

The grievances covered just about everything: ordinances, zoning, roads, taxes, transportation, parks, running water, sewers, pets—and even the location of the jailhouse.

Does any of this sound familiar?

One particularly interesting battle involved the old Coconut Grove City Hall.
Coconut Grove had incorporated as its own municipality in 1919, and its little City Hall was decidedly multipurpose. It was a place where residents could vote and conduct municipal business, and over the years the building appears to have been used for services including paying bills and taxes and accessing a local health clinic.

But where exactly was it?

I still don’t know for certain.

It was not Dinner Key’s present Miami City Hall, which came much later. And it wasn’t the grand City Hall envisioned in John Bright’s ambitious plan for Coconut Grove’s civic center—that plan was never fully realized but on the drawings it looks like the CocoWalk area.

One intriguing candidate is the area around 2975 Oak Avenue (formerly Dade Avenue), near today’s Miami Fire Station No. 8. A 1920 Sanborn map provides an interesting clue, but until I find stronger documentation, I’m keeping a question mark next to that address.

Then I found something wonderful.

A Miami News article from June 8, 1926 contains an actual photograph of voters outside a modest building. Among them was Mary E. Bryan, widow of three-time presidential candidate William Jennings Bryan.

Above the simple doorway are the words:

COCONUT GROVE CITY HALL.

There it was.

And Coconut Grove apparently took voting seriously. The newspaper reported a tremendous turnout at the Grove precinct that primary day.

But Miami continued consolidating municipal services after annexation, and by 1937 the old City Hall had become a flashpoint.
When Miami moved to close the former Coconut Grove town hall/municipal office, Grovites were furious. About 75 residents gathered at the Coconut Grove Housekeepers Club (Coconut Grove Woman’s Club) and demanded that it be reopened. Among their complaints were the loss of the convenient place to pay water bills and the larger feeling that decisions affecting Coconut Grove were being made without consulting Coconut Grove.

The City Hall did not reopen.

Prohibition had ended in 1933, but Coconut Grove’s uneasy relationship with its much larger neighbor hadn’t disappeared with it. Questions about development, zoning, public services, neighborhood identity—and whether downtown Miami was really listening—would continue.

Look at Coconut Grove through a pair of 1930s back-to-the-future glasses, and some of the arguments sound remarkably familiar.
Apparently, Grovites have been giving Miami a piece of their minds for about a hundred years. We can find comfort in this.
I hope you voted.

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