Dear Editor:
There are places in a city that are more than brick and mortar. They are vessels of memory, spirit, and story. The Coconut Grove Playhouse is such a place – a grand old dame of South Florida’s cultural soul, standing at the corner of Main Highway and Charles Avenue like a sentinel of imagination, longing to breathe again.
Beneath its weathered façade still echo the footsteps of giants. Legends like Tallulah Bankhead, George C. Scott, and Colleen Dewhurst once lit the boards with fire and finesse. The audience, rapt and reverent, once leaned forward in their velvet chairs not just to see a show, but to be transported – to be reminded that art, when done right, can heal, provoke, and uplift.
To allow such a space to fall to dust, to the tides of bureaucracy or the bulldozer of commerce, is to betray the very heart of Coconut Grove. For this theater is not only a relic of Florida’s artistic heyday – it is a lighthouse for the future. In a city often defined by its transience, here is a place rooted in authenticity. Here is where a child might see her first play, where a writer might debut a bold new work, where an aging soul might remember the taste of youth and wonder.
We are told that progress demands compromise. But does progress mean paving over the past? Must we silence the stage so a parking garage may speak?
The Grove is not just another neighborhood. It is a village steeped in bohemia and bravery, in lush banyans and rebel hearts. The Playhouse is its crown jewel. Its preservation is not mere nostalgia—it is a defense of identity. It is a promise to the next generation that beauty, history, and community still matter.
Let us not bury this treasure beneath profit margins. Let us raise our voices—like a chorus swelling before the final act—to demand restoration, not erasure. Let the curtains rise again. Let the stories return. Let Coconut Grove remember itself.
Because once you tear out the heart of a place, you may never find the
rhythm again.
Charles Dundee
Coconut Grove
