Bal Harbour

BAL HARBOUR 53 BALHARBOURSHOPS.COM "Financially, it was devastating, but it was never about the money. And his doing that was a defining moment. It transformed him in people's eyes from just another guy trying to promote an event into a respected professional." The next year, Sanchez convinced former world racing champion Emerson Fittipaldi of Brazil to come out of retirement and take part in the Miami race. Fittipaldi didn't win, but his interest in racing was rekindled—he would go on to win the Indianapolis 500 in 1989 and 1993. The Grand Prix of Miami continued in various iterations until 1995, when the track was demolished to make way for what was then called American Airlines Arena. Sanchez would go on to build the Homestead-Miami Speedway, which has become a mainstay on today's NASCAR circuit. In many ways, that early Grand Prix of Miami probably embod- ied much of what present-day organizers hope the F1 Miami Grand Prix will become. Though the 2022 event was also proposed for the downtown streets, residents complained about the prospect of noise and tra"c disruption, so the venue was switched to the grounds of Hard Rock stadium and neighboring Miami Gardens. Last spring, as many as 1,000 laborers were deployed to build and create what organizers promised would be "the quintessential Miami experience." There were 85,000 temporary bleacher seats in grand- stands distributed around a nearly 3.33-mile track, with a faux marina including model "yachts" installed at the seventh turn. A later turn featured a landlocked beach. The original Grand Prix of Miami may have faced resistance from the city fathers, but not nearly what F1 organizers confronted in 2018. As one Sanchez confidante points out, "You have to remember that downtown Miami was not nearly so well appointed or congested as it is today. There were few hotels and restaurants, no Arena, no Bayside Marketplace, no Arsht Center, no Frost Science Museum, no Pérez Museum, and only a handful of condo dwellers." Sanchez also had the backing of Miami heav y weight developer Sher wood " Woody" Weiser, whose f ive-star Grand Bay Hotel in Coconut Grove ser ved as the chief lodging and watering spot for celebrities, including Michael Jackson, Elizabeth Taylor, Sophia Loren, and untold legions of "cocaine cowboy" hangers-on during the Miami Vice 1980s. Eventually, the race was approved. "We created the Regine's Grand Bay VIP Club inside Reflections restaurant [where Bayside Marketplace now stands]," says one of the event's organizers. "Tickets for gourmet dining, top-shelf liquor, and an unbeatable view of the race, the bay, and the downtown skyline, went for $500." That was no small sum in 1983, but by comparison, tickets for the VIP experience at the 2022 F1 Miami Grand Prix went for as much as $29,000. W hen R e f le c t ion s w a s r a z e d t o m a ke w ay for B ay s ide Marketplace, long time South Florida restaurateur Gene Singletary oversaw the relocat ion of the V IP lounge to tented quar ters in Bicentennial Park, near where the Pérez Art Museum Miami stands today. "Moving the V IP lounge to the g rounds of the park meant that once the race started, VIP spectators were essentially trapped," he says. " You couldn't just go strolling across a track where cars were going 200 miles per hour. The only way in or out was by tug- boat shuttle between the old Flagler docks and the Port of Miami." In the end, Singletar y says, this element only added to the event 's unique character. Noted racing world artist Randy Owens agrees. Owens, who cre- ated posters and other artwork featuring the original Grand Prix of Miami, thinks of the event in the same terms as the well-known races held in Long Beach and Monaco. "Monaco somehow made way for a race in the midst of the most valuable real estate in the world. And Long Beach and Miami ended up with revitalized downtowns after the races showed o£ their beauty." Those early races were unquestionably unique. Driver Danny Sullivan, who had won the Indianapolis 500 in 1985, came to the Miami race in 1986, and found himself approached by director Michael Mann, a fellow resident of Aspen. Mann cast Sullivan in an episode of Miami Vice, the plot featuring a race car driver accused of murdering a prostitute, with some scenes shot in the pit lanes of the Grand Prix of Miami. "The Miami Grand Prix was a happening, and Miami Vice wasn't just some TV show," says Sullivan. "I remember on one of our breaks on set, I took [Miami Vice star] Don Johnson for a ride at speed," says Sullivan. "He was yelling the whole time, but it was too noisy for me to hear what he was saying. When we got back into the pits, his hands were shaking so bad we had to help him take his helmet o£—but he had a great time." Fast for ward a few decades to last year's inaug ural Formula 1 Miami Grand Prix. The event, taking place on a typical May South Florida day where temperatures hovered in the low 90s, was an in- stant sellout— even with general admission tickets beg inning at around $600. The winner was Max Verstappen, a Dutch Red Bull Racing team member, who beat out Ferrari team driver and series points leader Charles Leclerc of Monaco. But by most accounts, it was the event itself that emerged triumphant, with the crowds exu- berant and the drivers describing the track as looking like it had been there forever. Maybe it's because a bit of that original Miami Vice spirit lingers on. Randy Owens created the commemorative poster for the 1987 Grand Prix of Miami, seen here.

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