Florida's Sunshine State

ONCE upon a time, a band of grownup boys set out to build the world's happiest place in the fantasy realm of Florida. So they went to their moneylenders and their architects and they created a warm-weather wonderland of spaceships and riverboats, of wilderness campgrounds, turreted castles and lagoons. People came from far and wide --Michigan, Pennsylvania, Ohio--to visit this playland. And the builders, who came from the Walt Disney World Co., made millions happily ever after.

That modern fable is being enacted in central Florida, where the new Disney World is exceeding the most optimistic expectations of its promoters. Its success is also a major force behind a business surge that is sweeping Florida, especially its central area and eastern coast. The state is in the midst of a tourist and real estate boom, as visitors and new residents pour in by plane, bus, car and camper. Many tourists who come to see the Disney show go on to visit Daytona Beach, Tampa, Miami, Cape Kennedy and other places--to the delight of hoteliers, restaurateurs, boat renters and other businessmen.

Newly Rich. Disney World alone attracts 1,000,000 visitors a month to its 27,000 acres of fun and games--and school is not even out yet. "It's great karma, man," noted one long-haired California youth as he emerged from the Mickey Mouse Review. During the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, traffic was backed up as much as 25 miles on the expressways leading into Orlando, site of Disney World.

Since it opened last October, Disney World has had to increase its staff from 5,500 to more than 10,000. In what used to be swamp country, the Disney Co. has put up two big, convention-oriented hotels with golf course and sailing facilities. The number of motel rooms in the Orlando area has doubled to 8,000 in the past seven months, and current and planned construction will raise the total to 24,000 in the next years. One would-be Orlando homeowner laments that construction of his house has been postponed indefinitely because bigger builders have cornered the entire supply of concrete block. Orange growers and ranchers who bought land before the current real estate boom have become newly rich. Property on the highway in sleepy Sebring, which is 90 miles south of Orlando, has jumped to $25,000 an acre. A motel owner in Vero Beach, 102 miles away, recently paid $150,000 for one-third of an acre fronting on the Atlantic.

Ed Skinner, manager of Vero Beach's Driftwood Inn, has a happy complaint: "Our business is up 20% from last year, and our rear ends are really dragging." Miami Beach's Hotel Fontainebleau posted a record 90% occupancy rate from November through April. This month it has booked an unprecedented five conventions--each taking up 1,000 rooms--and recently it turned down a booking for October 1977--because all rooms are already sold out. Earlier this year some hoteliers overbooked so egregiously that they had to turn away irate tourists who had confirmed reservations. In February, 150 people waited in vain for a whole day to get into the fully occupied Castaways motel at the north end of Miami Beach.

Housing Rise. On top of this, 3,300 new residents are crowding into Florida each week. Housing starts in the nation's second fastest growing state (after Nevada) have gone from 66,000 six years ago to 166,000 last year, and are expected to rise still higher this year. Condominium apartments are by far the most popular type of new building; for prices ranging from $12,000 to $125,000, owners often get such extras as pools, saunas and tennis courts. One of the thickest concentrations of condominiums is in Dade County, which includes Miami and Key Biscayne, vacation home of the nation's No. 1 tourist, but they have also spread fast in central Florida and many other areas.

The development surge is straining the state's social and environmental resources, especially its limited water supply. Recently passed laws give the state government firmer control of future land and water use and bar any development in areas where wildlife would be disturbed or natural resources threatened. Yet state officials do not really want to discourage population growth and new building. For all the glitter of its resorts, many parts of Florida--particularly in the Northern Panhandle and interior rural areas--are poor. Fully 37% of the state's families live on an income below the poverty line. The new rush of development should help to lift many of them.

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