To the Editor:
Most people knew my grandfather, George S. Engle Sr., as an oil tycoon. He made his fortune pulling crude from the swamps of Louisiana and the sands of Venezuela. He lived in what is now the Coral Reef Yacht Club, overlooking Biscayne Bay, and could have spent his days sailing into quiet, gilded retirement.
But in 1955 he walked away from the oil business — and toward something infinitely more uncertain.
He bought a shuttered movie theater on Main Highway: the Coconut Grove Playhouse, a Mediterranean Revival gem fallen into ruin. It had once dazzled Miami, but after years of silence, most saw it as a relic. My grandfather saw something else: a stage.
He didn’t just restore the building. He revived it — and in doing so, helped transform Miami into a city of the arts. He chose not a safe musical or comedy to relaunch it, but Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot.”
It was a radical, confusing choice for a Southern city that had barely seen experimental theater. He brought in Bert Lahr, best known as the Cowardly Lion, and took a risk that most thought foolish. It worked.
The Playhouse became a hub for groundbreaking performances. Tennessee Williams, Tallulah Bankhead, and Jessica Tandy would soon grace its stage. Marlon Brando attended shows as a young actor.
My grandfather, the oilman, had become a patron of culture — not because it was profitable, but because it was necessary.
It became both. The Playhouse was wildly popular and official records show that on average it attracted 150,000 patrons annually in its last twenty-one years, generating millions of dollars for the Playhouse and 40% of the economy for Coconut Grove.
That building is a landmark. It’s listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is protected by Florida Statute 267. And yet today, the very structure he saved is being illegally and recklessly destroyed.
The county holds $20 million in bonded taxpayer money specifically allocated for the restoration of the Playhouse. Not its demolition. Not its gutting. Restoration.
And yet, demolition crews mistakenly removed a load-bearing wall and never put in place jacks to support this load. The third floor collapsed as a result. Two workers were injured, and Main Highway had to be shut down for safety concerns.
This isn’t progress. It’s neglect at best — and civic vandalism at worst.
Let me be crystal clear: This isn’t just about bricks and history. It’s about a city keeping its promises. It’s about cultural responsibility. It’s about honoring a man who gave up wealth to give Miami a soul.
My grandfather believed in building things that would last. Not just in oil and stone — but in art. In community. In stages that could hold a thousand voices.
And I refuse to believe his legacy ends under a pile of rubble and political compromise.
We owe it to him. We owe it to ourselves. We owe it to the future of a city that once had the courage to dream aloud.
George S. Engle, III
Miami
