Miami's "Mayberry"

     Say "Miami," and people think of "Miami Vice," South Beach, Little Havana, "Cocaine Cowboys," or the celebrities living on Star Island. However, growing up in Miami-Dade, specifically North Dade, in the 1960s and '70s was more akin to growing up in Mayberry than South Beach. The neighborhood I grew up in was Ives Estates. Bordered on the north by County Line Road (dividing Miami-Dade from Broward County), to the east and south by I-95, and to the west by the remaining dairy land, Ives was a community which was isolated from the urban sprawl of Miami proper.  This isolation served to build a strong community spirit among the people of Ives.
    Most of us attended Madie Ives Elementary. No school buses were needed; we all either walked or rode bikes to school. The school was built to take advantage of the breezes from the ocean, as there was no air-conditioning. Unfortunately for the students, we still had vestiges of rural life, and we got the smells from the local pig farm and Wolfie's egg farm in that ocean breeze. The egg farm was directly next to the school, and often we'd find chicks from eggs the hens had hidden from the owners. No inside gym--we had a huge field to play in. An old-fashioned metal jungle gym, metal slides, and a black-top with basketball hoops, box ball squares, and hop-scotch squares all ready for us. Those of us who went to Madie Ives in the 1960s remember having to do exercises while listening to "Go, You Chicken Fat, Go!"

     Like Mayberry, we had a "main street." Well, we had a strip mall with a 7/11, Phil's Barbershop, a hair salon, and Harris Drugs. Even as a child, I was allowed to walk up to the 7/11 to bring back bottles for the deposit and buy candy. Harris Drugs had a lunch counter, and I remember getting free ice cream after getting a shot at Dr. Dobbrunz's office. Mr. Harris kept watch on us. I remember trying to buy a pack of cigarettes one time, and Mr. Harris, knowing my parents didn't smoke, questioned me and then called my mom. Never did get those cigarettes, but I got in trouble with Mommy!  My dad knew Phil from the barbershop, and I remember when he and my brother would go for a haircut, they would take at least an hour. I wasn't allowed to go in the barbershop--it was for men. I envision the men sitting and talking about sports or doings at the Optimist Club or whatever it is men talk about. Joe's wife owned the hair salon, and that was the first place I had my hair professionally cut. Ives also had Walker's Ranch. I could go to the corner of 206 and 12th Ave and watch the horses for hours!
    In those days, almost everybody went to church on Sunday. For the Baptists, it was at North Dade Heights Baptist Mission. My Catholic friends went to Visitation. The Methodists and Lutherans went to churches outside of the general Ives area. On my street, 206th Street, you'd see the families, all dressed-up, getting into their cars on Sunday morning. The Enterline boys would be clean and in dress shirts; the Jones girls would have on their chapel veils (which I envied!), and my brother and I would be dressed in our Sunday best as well. I still remember Preacher Jim and the fish fries we had at North Dade Heights. I also remember our whole street going together for Vacation Bible School at North Dade Heights.
    The Optimist Club was THE community center for Ives. We had Brownies, Girl Scouts, and Bingo using the Optimist building. In fact, Daddy made the first electric Bingo board for the Optimist.  They ran the Little League, football teams, and softball teams.  What fun to walk up to the fields on a spring night and watch Little League games, visit the concession stand, and visit neighbors! And all of Ives was excited when the TV show "Gentle Ben" actually filmed two episodes using our Optimist fields.

Ives Optimist Field photo by Craig McWhorter

     Like Mayberry, we had our special characters whom everyone knew. Mike Verle' (RIP) was the de facto Mayor of Ives. The Enterline family--Mike, Pat, Danny, Timmy, and Kathleen--provided me with friendship, entertainment, and, many times, excitement. The Phillips family. The Dunkmans. The Rabins. The O'Chipas. Mr. Perfetti, the school principal. The Burnsides. Coach Eunice Frost. The Emroes. The Consuegras.  I could go on, but I'll add just one more. My favorite paperboy, and first crush, Jimmy Philbreck.
    Maybe Ives sounds like a typical neighborhood, but it was so much more. We pulled together when a family had problems. I remember the visits, meals, and kindness of Ives when my mommy died. Moms watched out for each other's kids, even administering punishment when necessary. There were several bad hurricanes that came through in the 1960s. On 206 St., the electric was out for a couple of weeks. As we kids skid-boarded on the deep puddles, the moms rotated cooking at the homes with gas stoves. The dads helped clean up the whole street--not just their yards. The residents of Ives were an extended family; when one family hurt, we all hurt. When there was joy, we were all joyful. There was pride in our little "Mayberry" that other neighborhoods did not have. Truly, I have not lived anywhere that was like my childhood home in Ives.