When a Casino Meant a Swim

In the early 1900s a 'casino' meant a bathhouse. Before the bridges, before the hotels, day-trippers crossed Biscayne Bay by ferry to a bare wooden pavilion with a pyramid roof at the island's south tip. You paid at the door, stowed your clothes in a locker, and rented your swimsuit. It was wool. Women's suits came with a skirt, long stockings, sometimes bathing shoes, and some women sewed weights into the hems so the skirts would not ride up, which made actual swimming nearly impossible.

A steamboat man, a sheriff, and two rival bathhouses

In 1909 a Connecticut steamboat man named Avery Smith bought the spot, rebuilt it two stories tall with a dance floor and a refreshment stand, and ran his own ferries across the bay. In 1913 the sitting county sheriff, Dan Hardie, opened a rival bathhouse one block north, and for a decade the two competed for the same sunburned crowd. By 1918 both had seawater swimming pools. No hotels yet. The beach itself was the ticket.

The 1926 hurricane closed that chapter, but every towel on this sand still owes those wooden pavilions.

Would you have rented the wool suit?

Where to find us on Collins

Green Market sits at 5101 Collins Ave in Miami Beach, open 7am to 10pm every day. Coffee from the espresso bar starts at $2.50, combos from $5.79. Walk in from the beach, or order on WhatsApp at +1 (305) 876-4513 and we deliver across Miami Beach.