Mark Twain and the Miami Beach Penthouse: Dispatches from the New Gilded Age

If Mark Twain were alive today, he’d likely be banned from half the condo boards in Miami Beach. His wit would pierce the shine of the glass towers now casting longer shadows over our waterfront, and his warnings would echo through commission chambers—if only they’d let him speak past two minutes.

I’m reading the new biography “Mark Twain,” by Mike Chernow, and it’s like opening a time capsule that somehow feels eerily current. The original Gilded Age, a term Twain helped coin, wasn’t just about robber barons and railroad tycoons—it was about the erosion of democratic norms under the glitter of wealth. Sound familiar?

“It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no distinctly native American criminal class except Congress.”

— Mark Twain

Today, we’re watching local control dissolve like cotton candy in a sea breeze. State preemption bills flatten community voices, while luxury developers promise “world-class” amenities as a substitute for actual public interest. In Miami Beach and beyond, neighborhoods are being refashioned not for the people who live in them—but for those who’ll fly in for three weekends a year.

Twain would recognize the characters: the smiling speculators, the backroom deals, the bureaucratic doublespeak dressed up in planning jargon. He might chuckle grimly at our modern Gilded Age—until he’d see how real the consequences are for working families, renters, overtaxed infrastructure, and the soul of a city.

But Twain was also a believer in calling things by their true names—and in the power of regular folks to punch above their weight with truth and tenacity.

“We’re not against progress—we’re against surrendering Miami Beach to people who don’t live here, don’t vote here, and don’t care what gets bulldozed. This is our home, not a hedge fund.”

— Daniel Ciraldo, Candidate for Miami Beach City Commission Group 1

So here’s our job: tell the story clearly. Name what’s happening. Laugh at the absurdity when we must. But show up. Speak up. Vote like your neighborhood depends on it—because it does.

The good news? This isn’t our first Gilded Age. And the last time, when things got too lopsided, people pushed back. Reformers, muckrakers, and small-town organizers pulled the country back from the brink.

We can do it again—armed with humor, history, and just enough righteous outrage to make Twain proud.