By the Coral Gables Gazette editorial board

The Coral Gables City Commission’s latest decision on the Gondola Building marks more than the next chapter in a long-running preservation debate. It signals an evolution in how the city thinks about history itself.

Rather than treat preservation as a static exercise in architectural fidelity, the Commission is moving toward something broader and more resonant: historic presence. This shift deserves attention.

The Gondola Building was never meant to be a relic. Built to launch gondola rides for Biltmore Hotel guests in the 1920s, it once served as a whimsical portal to another world. But after decades of neglect and a façade collapse in 2021, the structure became invisible to most residents—tucked away, fenced off, and largely forgotten. In its disrepair, it lost not only form but function.

At this week’s meeting on Sept. 25, the Commission unanimously backed a resolution to send a joint letter to state officials requesting flexibility in the building’s relocation. That letter—described as including maps, photographs, references to sea level rise, and documentation of safety hazards—seeks permission to rebuild the structure in a more visible and accessible location just east of its original site. It is a reasonable request, and a thoughtful one.

This approach embraces historic principles with a modern sensibility. It recognizes that history, to matter, must be engaged—not just observed. That a replica placed where people can see it, touch it, and learn from it can do more to honor the past than an “authentic” structure hidden behind trees and fencing.

This is the essence of historic presence: making history available, legible, and alive. Commissioner Ariel Fernandez’s call for a letter signed by all five commissioners—“a sign of unity”— was an act of civic storytelling. It said: Coral Gables believes its past belongs in the public square.

Vice Mayor Rhonda Anderson, who had earlier supported the more secluded location, offered a striking reflection. “No one got the experience of the gondola building,” she said. Her change in position was grounded not in convenience, but in conviction: that safety, visibility, and use are part of what makes preservation meaningful. As she put it, “I will take the blame… because I was so concerned about life safety.” The honesty of that admission—and its underlying principle—deserves recognition.

Some, including Coral Gables Historic Preservation Board Vice Chair Alejandro Silva, argue that anything short of rebuilding on the original site creates “a false sense of historical development.” That position, drawn from the Secretary of the Interior’s standards, carries weight. But it also reflects a narrower conception of what preservation is for.

The City Commission is asking a different question: How can we carry the past forward so that it lives in the present?

In a city where Mediterranean Revival architecture defines the civic identity, restoring the Gondola Building has symbolic power. But symbols are only as strong as their resonance. A building that no one sees is not a civic asset. A restored landmark that speaks to residents—young and old, longtime and new—is.

The Commission’s resolution does not settle the matter. The state still holds the key. But the Commission’s stance, and the public narrative surrounding it, offer a new preservation litmus test. Not simply “is it historically accurate?”—but “does it invite the community to connect with the past?”

We applaud the city’s commitment to reconstructing the Gondola Building. We also applaud its evolving sense of what that reconstruction should mean. History must be preserved, yes—but it must also be placed where people can feel it.

That is how legacy endures.