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One proposal talks of building three golf courses at Jonathan Dickinson State Park in Hobe Sound.
When Gov. Ron DeSantis, R-Caddyshack, was majoring in history at Yale, I bet he heard someone quote that famous saying by philosopher George Santayana: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
Yet our Ivy League-educated chief executive failed to learn from a couple of the worst mistakes of former Gov. Rick Scott’s b-b-bumpy eight years in office. Now he’s trying to repeat them both — and to rush these idiotic errors through before too many people find out and object.
As I write this, I am looking at a bunch of internal documents from the Florida Department of Environmental Playtime — er, I mean “Protection.” These documents describe proposed changes to nine of our award-winning state parks which, I am told, have been ordered to be implemented by the governor’s office.
The worst one talks of building not one, not two, but THREE golf courses at Jonathan Dickinson State Park in Hobe Sound. There are plans at the other parks for big motels and pickleball courts and disc golf courses, all of which run completely counter to what our state parks are all about.
At Jonathan Dickinson, “rare environments such as coastal sand hills, upland lakes, and scrub forests as well as the pristine Loxahatchee River make this park a unique spot to explore on land or by water,” the park’s website says.
I should also point out that the park includes the home of Trapper Nelson, the legendary Wild Man of the Loxahatchee. If Trapper Nelson were around today, he’d track down the blockheads who came up with this ridiculous plan and tan their hides with a canoe paddle.
People don’t go to Florida state parks to play golf. They’re not venturing into an inspiring natural treasure to spend time in a place that’s maintained with sprinklers, mowers, fertilizer, and pesticides (which are likely to pollute the Loxahatchee).
They go to the parks to get away from artificial settings like that. They go to see what’s left of the real Florida. That’s the park system’s motto: “Experience the Real Florida!”
I sent the Dickinson document to Clay Henderson, who literally wrote the book on Florida’s protected places (“Forces of Nature,” buy four copies and give three to your friends).
“There are 28 golf courses in Martin County,” he told me. “Why would we need to carve up a beautiful and protected natural area for another golf course? It goes against every management principle that has made the Florida State Park system the best in the country.”
Watch the birdies
Florida’s state parks are one of the glories of this place we call home. Our 175 parks span nearly 800,000 acres where you can hike, fish, swim, bike, canoe, kayak, watch wildlife, or simply gaze in open-mouthed awe at your surroundings.
The Florida park system has won national awards four times. That’s three more than any other state.
There’s a procedure for making changes to the parks. The first step is to amend the park’s unit management plan. The internal DEP documents I’m looking at are labeled “Unit Management Plan Amendments” for each park. Here’s what it says for Jonathan Dickinson:
“This concept proposes development of an 18-hole golf course and a separate 9-hole golf course between the Brightline intercity rail and U.S. Highway 1 transportation corridors and the development of a second 18-hole golf course in the northeastern portion of the park on the westside of the Brightline rail corridor. The concept includes a supporting clubhouse and ancillary facilities.”
Building these unnatural additions to the park, it says, would require “the relocation and re-development of existing park support facilities including staff residences, a training center, and the DRP District 5 office complex.”
They’d also have to move the Hobe Mountain observation tower, the document says.
The tower allows park visitors to hike to the top of an ancient sand dune that stands 86 feet above sea level. There’s a boardwalk leading up to the tower, which rises an additional 27 feet from the dune.
But suuuure, we could just move that darn tower any old place!
I called Eric Draper, who was director of the Florida Park Service from 2017 to 2021. When I told him what was in the works, he was stunned.
“The observation tower at Jonathan Dickinson State Park is one of the most beautiful places in the world,” Draper said. “It’s the ideal place to see the whole park.”
Dickinson’s a delight for avid birders, he told me, because it’s the southernmost spot to find the rare Florida scrub jay and it’s also where the brown-headed nuthatch was reintroduced into the wild.
But Duffer DeSantis prefers a different kind of birdie.
Lodging a complaint
The documents call for drastic changes at other beloved parks.
One proposes building a 350-room lodge at Topsail Hill Preserve State Park in Santa Rosa Beach. Another calls for a 350-room lodge at Anastasia State Park in St. Augustine.
“Lodge” is a code word for “cheesy motel with rustic décor.”
Topsail is one of the most beautiful beach parks I’ve ever seen. It’s named for its soaring dunes. They’re so tall that, from offshore, they look like the sails from a ship.
“Those same white quartz dunes are responsible for a rare coastal ecosystem of freshwater dune lakes that teem with aquatic wildlife,” the park’s website says. “Walkers will pass through old-growth pine forests, sandy scrubland, dunes, and wetlands, where they may see some of the 13 imperiled species that find refuge here.”
Building a 350-room motel in Topsail Hill would be like using a Sharpie to “improve” the “Mona Lisa.” It’s an insult to the very idea of that park.
Like a lot of special places in Florida, it just barely escaped being torn up by developers. They were promising a project called “Emerald City,” just like Dorothy’s destination, but with luxurious homes, hotels, golf courses, an amusement park, and an airport.
Fortunately for the real Florida, these plans were backed by a shaky pair of savings-and-loans. In 1991, more than a dozen indictments for fraud terminated the trip to Emerald City, and the state wound up with the land.
As for Anastasia, it has “more than 1,600 acres of unspoiled beaches, tidal marshes, maritime hammocks, and ancient sand dunes,” according to the park website. “Abundant wading birds hunt for food along Salt Run, including colorful roseate spoonbills. Osprey and eagles rule the skies. … As an extra bonus, the park’s 139 campsites are just a short stroll from the beach.”
Considering all those campsites, why build 350 motel rooms in the maritime hammocks? Perhaps the better question is: Why does DeSantis want to do ANY of this destructive stuff? I’d like to lodge a complaint with him about these two lodges.
But wait, there’s more!
The most popular park
One of the documents is for Honeymoon Island State Park near Dunedin.
In the 1960s, a developer envisioned turning the island into a dredge-and fill subdivision with housing for 16,000. Fortunately, his plans ran into practical difficulties, his permit expired, and, in 1974, Florida began buying up the property. The park opened in 1981.
There’s no camping there. When the park closes at sunset, it empties out. Yet people flock to this park during daylight, drawn by its breathtaking beauty and by the swimming, fishing, hiking, paddling, and bird-watching opportunities.
Despite (or because of) the fact that it’s closed to campers, Honeymoon Island is the most popular park in the entire system, drawing more than 1 million people a year. Yet the DEP document calls for adding four pickleball courts to Honeymoon Island.
Pickleball! I know the sport is popular now, but c’mon. Nobody’s going to Honeymoon Island to play pickleball.
It’s not like you need MORE incentives to attract visitors there, much less one that would interfere with efforts to maintain the park’s ecological character.
Before proposing this dimwitted idea, DeSantis (who’s from Dunedin) should have asked his predecessor what happened when he tried to make alterations to Honeymoon Island and other parks.
Like Scott’s more popular doppelganger, Lord Voldemort, it turned really ugly.
Déjà vu all over again
The first time I met Rick Scott was shortly after he became governor in 2011. His DEP had proposed a major change in Honeymoon Island. Not only would they allow camping there, they’d make spaces for recreational vehicles, so I wanted to ask him about that.
Letting in RVs would mean adding new roads, restrooms, bathhouses, playgrounds, electric connections, grills, and other amenities that would take away some of the natural areas. There were similar plans for parks at Wakulla Springs, DeLeon Springs, and Fanning Springs.
“The reason we have parks is so people will use them,” Scott told me, sounding as if he’d never been to one (I suspect he hadn’t).
The DEP held a public hearing in Dunedin. Roughly 1,000 people showed up, and 999 were fiercely opposed. Someone from the Florida Native Plant Society vowed to lie in front of the bulldozers, and there was talk of forming a human chain to block any RVs.
Scott backed down. Honeymoon Island was saved, thanks to people who regarded Honeymoon Island as THEIR park and Scott’s efforts to change it as a personal affront.
But Scott wasn’t done messing with the parks. At his direction, two legislators introduced bills that would require the DEP to hire Jack Nicklaus — a Scott supporter — to build golf courses in state parks in every region of the state, thus creating a Jack Nicklaus Golf Trail.
The House version specifically named one park to get a Nicklaus course: Jonathan Dickinson. Both bills said the courses “may include a hotel,” which would be eligible for liquor licenses, and they’d be exempt from any city or county regulations.
Nicklaus’ lobbyist told me the Golden Bear himself came up with this dopey idea during a chat with Scott about boosting Florida tourism. He promised to waive his usual $2.5 million design fee for the Dickinson course and settle for just $625,000 per course for the other four. Such a deal for the taxpayers!
Scott endorsed the plan. No one else did. Newspaper columnists derided it as “the worst idea ever.” Environmental groups howled in outrage. Even Arnold Palmer mocked the knuckleheaded Nicklaus Trail.
Just one week after the bills were introduced, the shell-shocked legislators withdrew them. Everyone assumed that was the last we’d hear of such foolishness.
Then word got out over the weekend that, despite what happened last time, DeSantis wants to act like Steely Dan and do it again. One of the people spreading the dire news was Dana Bryan, now retired, who spent 30 years in the Florida Park Service, most of it as chief biologist.
“This is being kept secret,” he told me. “Not even the managers of the parks involved knew about it.”
When Sarah Gledhill of the Florida Wildlife Federation heard the news, she told me she asked, “Is this April Fool’s Day?” And Julie Wraithmell of Audubon Florida told me her first thought was, “Really? Again? Floridians were horrified when this came up last time.”
Beyond the environmental consequences, Grant Gelhardt of the Florida Sierra Club saw economic concerns too: “Why should the state go into competition with private enterprise?”
All of them have alerted their members to be ready to fight this. There isn’t much time.
“I think the governor’s office and the DEP got their hands caught in the cookie jar and the only way they think they can get any traction is to rush it through,” Wraithmell said.
Rush to judgment
A number of reporters (I was one) contacted the DEP on Monday to ask some variation of, “What the Florida are y’all thinking?”
In response, the DEP issued a “put on a happy face” press release that promised wrecking these parks “will work to expand public access, increase outdoor activities, and provide new lodging options.”
The DEP is calling this their “Great Outdoors Initiative to Increase Public Access, Recreation, and Lodging at Florida State Parks.” That’s too much of a mouthful to make a good acronym. Instead, I’m calling it CRAP, which stands for “Creative Ruination of A lot of Parks.”
The press release is remarkably vague. One crucial point it fails to mention: There will be ONE date for nearly simultaneous, in-person public meetings on all nine of these park proposals. The big day is next Tuesday, Aug. 27, from 3 to 4 p.m., which means there’s little time to organize opposition.
“They are scrambling to rationalize these proposed changes,” Draper told me.
I hear the DEP has been ordered to play pre-recorded presentations at each of the meetings, then record the public feedback without answering questions, which will definitely soothe all the upset people who are sure to show up demanding answers.
DeSantis’ uncommunicative communications director, Bryan Griffin, wouldn’t answer reporters’ questions about this weirdly rushed process, but on X (formerly Twitter) he called it “an exciting new initiative.”
I bet everyone who objects to this “exciting new initiative” has already begun bombarding DeSantis and his DEP with calls, letters, and emails telling them not to Rick (Scott) Roll our precious parks.
If DeSantis wants to play golf, he should stick to that golf simulator he was given by a big developer. Let us fans of the real Florida continue to enjoy it in its natural state. Otherwise, he better look out for a visit from the ghost of Trapper Nelson.
Florida Phoenix is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Florida Phoenix maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Diane Rado for questions: [email protected]. Follow Florida Phoenix on Facebook and Twitter.
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