Claude A. Renshaw, City Manager Miami Beach, c. 1950
This article is from The Miami Herald Sunday, July 31, 1968 (by Nixon Smiley)
"I thought Miami Beach was a fantastic place when I came here in 1925 – and I still think it is," said former Miami Beach City Manager Claude A Renshaw in a rare moment of exultation.
Renshaw, a onetime Iowa farm boy, is a silent man who during his 33 years as city manager normally limited his conversation to a slow nod or a soft "no" – a "no" that sometimes made newspaper headlines.
He hasn’t changed. He's reluctant to talk about his experiences in the city administration. He’s afraid of taking credit for something that turned out well or of implying criticism of others where something turned out badly.
He’s particularly reluctant to talk about his disagreements with the city council, fearing it might indicated that he and that board never got along.
From where we lunched in the dining room of the Miami Beach Federal Savings and Loan Association we could look out upon major projects which became realities in the latter years that he was city manager – the huge convention hall, sprawling double-decked parking facilities, green strips of parkway planting along Washington Ave and in front of the city auditorium.
Renshaw served as president of the S&L from 1958 until 1963. He is now chairman of the executive committee.
What does a man like Renshaw think of at 75 when he looks back on one of the most successful careers that any other city manager in America can boast?
First, you don’t ask Renshaw questions like this. You would get a look but no answer. In spite of the sharpness of his mind, his thoughts are expressed very slowly, if at all. When the come out, they are like releases of tension.
During a two and on-half hour conversation he barely cracked the window of his mind.
"I’ve always found the people at Miami Beach terrific." He said at one pint. "The Jewish people – the drive they’ve got. Their energy – their sharpness – they’re amazing.>"
Renshaw, devoid of the explosive kind of energy the people at Miami Beach have so much of got along well nevertheless. As on Jewish admirer described him, Renshaw sometimes found himself the calm center of a hurricane.
"His mind was sharp, his ideas were good – and nobody ever questioned his integrity," the friend said.
One of the first important decisions Renshaw made after becoming city manager was to hire Steve Hanagan and Joe Copps to do publicity.
"Miami Beach had on thing to sell – climate," Renshaw said. "Hanagan and Copps posed a pretty girl in a bathing suit on the beach against a background of coconut palms, and the name Miami Beach became famous."
But Renshaw had tough years. "The boom soon ended after he became city manager and the 1926 hurricane hit.
"We got cleaned up and it looked like we were going to have some good years," he said. "Then the 1929 stock market crash plunged the nation into a depression. We could not meet the payments on our municipal bonds. The city’s credit got in bad shape."
Renshaw did not say so, but in 1933 he personally negotiated the refunding of the city’s $2,711,000 bond issue, under a plan agreeable to the bondholders and in line with the city’s ability to meet the payments. The city retrieved both its credit and its honor.
And in 1935 when the rest of the nation was still struggling with the depression, Miami Beach began a recovery that did not let up until the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941.
The City’s population grew from 6,494 in 1930 to 28,012 in 1940 – a gain of 21, 518.
"I guess you might say that Miami Beach led Florida out of the depression," Renshaw said.
So much construction took place during the last half of the 1930’s that in 1940 Miami Beach was declared by the experts to be "over-built".
I didn’t think so then, no more than I think it’s overbuilt now," Renshaw said. "When you increase the number of rooms you increase your promotion and fill them. After the war we issued permits for the building of 41 new hotels in one year."
Renshaw, a graduate of the University of Iowa School of engineering, was mayor of Roundup, Montana in 1925 when he chanced to see a special issue of the Miami Herald which described the delights of south Florida and its opportunities.
"Work was a bit slow at that time, so I decided to catch a train and take a look at this fabulous Miami area," he said. "It didn’t take me long to decide that this was the place I wanted to live."
So he wrote to his wife and told her "to come on down and bring the kids." Shortly thereafter he resigned as mayor of Roundup.
Later that summer he learned that Miami Beach was looking for a city manager. He crossed Biscayne Bay and was interviewed by John H. Levi, Miami Beach develop and city councilman. And Levi, who could judge a man as well as a chunk of real estate, hired Renshaw.
In the succeeding years Engineer Renshaw became a city financial expert as well as an authority on resorts and what’s good for them.
Only one time was his ability as an administrator under criticism. City council members criticized the work of some city departments, and Renshaw, then recovering from an illness offered to resign.
"if there’s anything wrong with any of the city departments it’s my fault for I am the city manager," he said.
The council never acted on his offer to resign.
At another time, in 1953, he stalked out of a council meeting to resign after his recommendation against accepting a $15 million proposal to build a 50-cent toll causeway across Biscayne Bay at 41st Street was over-ridden. The council voted to build the causeway without opening the job to competitive bidding.
Public indignation was so great that the council had to rescind its decision.
Meanwhile, some 19,000 signed petitions asking Renshaw to return as city manager. He did two months later, with a salary increase from $15,672 to $20,000 a year.
Renshaw’s stubbornness proved to be worth a lot to Miami Beach. The plan to build a toll causeway died. Miami Beach later got the Tuttle Causeway, part of the federal interstate system.
During his years as city manager, Renshaw never called a press conference to exhort the public on his views about public issues, nor did he ever make a luncheon talk on city affairs.
He learned early in his career that the possession a little quiet knowledge was much superior to giving a public impression of a lot of wisdom.
He preferred to work behind the scenes. When councilmen learned they could carry out campaign promises, Renshaw managed t o shift the blame to himself and get the critics off the backs of the politicians. But he never once went along with the council in anything he thought was wrong. And he was quick to make his position clear.
Renshaw managed to keep a good cash reserve in the city treasury against unexpected needs, such as a hurricane. And this reserve grew during the war years.
Later when money was needed for the beautification of the city Renshaw was able to "find" some money when the city council was reluctant to raise taxes for frills.
"I always tried to keep a million or so on hand that the council knew nothing about," he confessed, chuckling.
If Renshaw enjoyed unusual success as a city manager, he believes it was because he gave the credit to the city council and to the people under him, and when something went wrong he took the blame himself.
Renshaw and his wife, Zoe, live in an apartment on Belle Isle, but spend frequent vacations on their 20-acre farm in Ojus, where, until recently, they had a small herd of Hereford cattle.
Comments