Haddon Hall Hotel: Where Living is a Pleasure

When I moved down to Haddon Hall Hotel in December of 1999, Miami Beach was barely holding on as the safe haven of the retired person, full of sunshine, cheap rents and early bird specials. In its place had sprung up a town thriving on debauchery and hedonism. Silicon, sun tan oil and cocaine replaced banlon, Bengay lotion and rice pudding. In the mid-80s the decrepit buildings of South Beach were rediscovered for their architectural significance. Committees were formed and historical societies deemed them to be landmarks. The seedy hotels in the deco district that once provided affordable accommodations for the “snow bird” jumped on the gentrification bandwagon and began to evict the older residents in order to renovate and replace them with a younger, richer clientele.

Haddon Hall was one of the few options available to those seniors who wished to stay. Once used to bunk World War II soldiers stationed in Miami Beach for training, it was the last of the old-time hotels that housed the remaining senior citizens of Miami Beach.

Upon eviction from other hotels, many of the beach’s elderly ended up at Haddon Hall. The seedy hotel offered the displaced seniors a place to live at a relatively cheap price. Most of the tiny rooms were equipped with a single bed, a television with lousy reception and a small kitchen enabling the tenant to make their own meals. The payphones were removed from the lobby so the elderly people were forced to go across the street to make calls on a payphone outside.

Their days were spent sitting on the veranda watching the traffic go by or snoozing by the pool out back. During the winter months, when the seasonal guests arrived, bingo was played three nights a week and twice a week a mediocre trio played big band standards. Most of the conversations overheard at the hotel centered on the “good old days”.

Paradise for the seniors was short lived. Haddon Hall too began its own renovations in the fall of 1999. Rather than closing the hotel down to remodel from top to bottom, they conducted the refurbishing with its inhabitants still inside.  Several residents were forced from the prime rooms to smaller ones. The move would be exhausting and emotional for the 80+ year old person who was given no choice in the matter.

Other inhabitants were deemed inappropriate guests, due to their appearance and declining health, and were asked to leave. Those fortunate enough to still have family moved in with them. The only option for the others was to move into a nursing home.

When I discovered the hotel I found a unique community of people society chose to ignore. Suspicious of strangers, I decided to make myself known to them by joining them. I lived at the hotel for two months beginning in December 1999 and became the group’s surrogate granddaughter. By gaining their trust and friendship, I was permitted into their guarded lives and was able to photograph and learn about these individuals. Eventually I moved into my own apartment but continued my visits to the hotel; sometimes to photograph, other times just for company.

The project ended two and a half years later when most of the hotel guests either passed away, moved to nursing homes or became too sick to make the trip down to Florida. I myself moved back to New York in April 2002. These images are a documentary of the hotel’s last days as a place where seniors could live out their golden years.