Some years ago, the late Walter Ferguson, himself a Miami landmark, sat enjoying an early spring breeze, reminiscing about Miami before the boom.  The conversation turned to the Deering brothers and the two estates they built.  Someone asked Ferguson if he thought there’d ever be another Vizcaya. The latter smirked and sat back in his chair, “listen here.” He leaned closer, “I’ll tell you the truth, son. It’s remarkable, truly remarkable what a man can accomplish if he has both money and taste.”

Since there’s no shortage of money in present-day Miami, we need not hazard much to guess what Mr. Ferguson found lacking.

He had in mind two houses, one in the style of Venetian and Tuscan palazzi and surrounded by Renaissance gardens, the other of stucco and native oolitic rock fashioned into Moorish accents. Two houses for two brothers, separated by a shade-dappled way that winds along the coast’s whimsical ridge and takes the driver, the runner, the cyclist by many of Miami’s most important addresses.  If you know what you’re looking at, you’ll see the history of this town along that coastal road, the southern extreme of which my late grandmother often called “the last genteel drive in Miami.”

Visitors seem to prefer Vizcaya of the two estates: Vizcaya is closer to urban centers, the more grandiose of the two architecturally, and easily accessed (in theory) from the MetroRail.  But Deering’s estate down Cutler is a lovely, sleepy old place.  If you have nothing to do for a few hours on a balmy day, it’s worth the drive. Because the Cutler estate is so deep in the suburbs, it’s become a second city hall for the neighborhood (the recently incorporated “Village of Palmetto Bay”), and hosts concerts and fairs throughout the year.