Ghosts of South Florida: Richmond Naval Base and South Beach
by M.P. Pellicer | Noir Notebook
Two true ghost stories about iconic South Florida landmarks: Richmond Naval Station, a secretive World War II blimp base, and the Cardozo Hotel, built during South Beach’s Art Deco heyday.
Richmond Naval Air Station
Richmond rose in urgency during the earliest days of World War II—a blimp base carved from uncertainty and quiet fear. Built in just six months in 1942 for $13 million, the sprawling 2,107-acre installation quickly became one of the most active lighter-than-air bases in the nation. It housed 25 K-series blimps, PBY patrol bombers, three immense hangars, and thousands of personnel who lived and worked on the edge of an invisible war. Some even called it the “Country Club” of LTA bases—but beneath that nickname lingered something far more serious.
The hangars dominated the horizon—sixteen stories of Douglas fir, among the largest wooden structures ever built. Their massive beams, hauled in by rail, formed cavernous interiors capable of swallowing entire fleets. Inside, the air carried the scent of fuel, varnish, and tension.
From this base, blimps drifted silently into the Florida Straits, patrolling waters where Nazi U-boats slipped through the Caribbean depths. Richmond Naval Station became a nerve center in a shadow war—one fought without warning, where the enemy rarely surfaced, and danger often arrived unseen. so easily.
Then, on September 15, 1945, the war at sea gave way to something far more immediate.
A major hurricane bore down on South Dade.
As the storm approached, everything that could be saved was forced into the hangars—213 military aircraft, 153 civilian planes, 25 blimps, and 150 vehicles packed tightly beneath the wooden giants. The structures, once symbols of strength, became overcrowded vaults of fuel and machinery.
At 5:42 PM, as winds howled at 126 miles per hour, Hangar No. 1 suddenly erupted in flames.
Within moments, the fire spread.
All three hangars ignited, turning into towering infernos fueled by high-octane gasoline and fanned by hurricane-force winds. Explosions tore through the structures as fire raced along timber and spilled fuel. Firefighting became impossible—nature itself had taken control.
The blaze consumed everything.
By nightfall, the destruction was nearly absolute. Damages reached an estimated $30 to $50 million, making it one of the most devastating fires in the United States that year—some would say in its history. Amid the chaos, Fire Chief Harry Shulze lost his life, trapped beneath collapsing timbers near a cluster of small trucks—the only fatality in a disaster that felt almost apocalyptic.
What sparked the fire was never definitively proven. Some believed collapsing beams severed electrical lines. Others suspected ignited fuel vapors. But no single explanation ever fully settled the question.
And perhaps it never will.
The base never rose again; however, the small community around the base persisted. Small homes had been built in what was then a desolate area of SW Miami to house those working at the blimp station.
Deactivated in 1946, Richmond fell silent. Time moved on, and the land transformed. Today, families walk and gather where flames once roared. The former base now forms part of the grounds of the University of Miami’s South Campus. It is home to Zoo Miami, Larry and Penny Thompson Memorial Park, the Gold Coast Railroad Museum, and the Miami Military Museum.
But beneath the calm and carefully kept grounds, something of the past lingers.
Because places built in haste, tested by war, and destroyed by fire rarely give up their stories.
The following story was sent to Miami Ghost Chronicles in 2010:
Hi this happened when I was 18, I had picked up my niece’s coloring book, I’d walked maybe five steps and it slipped from my hands, and while I saw it fall it disappeared into nothing, this happened in Richmond Heights.Another instance was when me and my family were sitting in the living room watching television when the power failed and we saw at least five mist-like entities swirling around in a circle (this was at another home in the same area).There was a story about the house in which a wife killed her husband, and there were bullet holes still in the ceiling.In another house where my parents lived, one night my parents argued and my mother went to sleep on the living room couch. In the middle of the night she heard someone going through the drawers in the kitchen. When she went to look she saw a transparent old man riffling through the utensils. She went back to bed with my dad after this. Later on she found that an old man who was paralyzed had lived there before, and was found dead. It wasn’t clear what he had died from, whether it was starvation or if he was just sick.
The Cardozo Hotel, South Beach
Rising along Ocean Drive, The Cardozo Hotel stands as one of Miami’s earliest beachfront hotels—a pristine example of Art Deco elegance that feels almost untouched by time. Designed by Henry Hohauser, one of the defining architects of South Beach’s iconic skyline, the building was completed in 1939. Its smooth, rounded corners soften the rigid geometry of its windows, creating a structure that feels both balanced…and quietly watchful.
The hotel was named after Benjamin Cardozo, one of the first Jewish jurors appointed to the US Supreme Court.
It was bought in 1992 by Emilio and Gloria Estefan.
By day, sunlight reflects cleanly off its pale façade. By night, however, the mood shifts. The corridors seem longer. The air feels heavier. Staff and guests have occasionally noted an uneasy stillness—an impression that the building remembers more than it reveals.
Over the decades, The Cardozo has welcomed Hollywood productions, appearing in films like Any Given Sunday, There’s Something About Mary, Marley & Me, and The Birdcage. In There’s Something About Mary, one of the film’s most infamous scenes—where Mary unknowingly uses Ted’s “hair gel”—was filmed within these very walls.
Yet long after the cameras leave and the lights dim, the building remains.
And some visitors quietly wonder whether the echoes that linger inside The Cardozo belong only to its glamorous past…or to something that never quite checked out.
This story was sent to Miami Ghost Chronicles on 7-21-2011:
My wife and me are from West Palm Beach and had our honeymoon 11 years ago, we stayed in the Mayfair back than and decided for our 11th anniversary to stay in South Beach since we have never visited.
The elevator there is probably the oldest, a metal door, new or old I don’t know but when you get inside it has the old folding metal gate that slams awful hard before the door shuts, and fits 2 people comfortably; my wife never saw an elevator so old. Just for the record we were not drinking when these events occurred. After getting out of the elevator and walking, I believe on the 2nd floor, we walked to the last room on the left, we opened the door after using our card to get in.
My wife went in first, me right behind. she walked approximately 4 feet and stopped, did not say anything and turned slowly to my right sort of towards the side and than the back of me while waiting closer to the door. I walked to the same place she was standing and stood for about 3-5 seconds not saying a word, after I slowly turned and walked to the door. I asked her if she felt something and she said she felt the same thing before I told her how I felt.
After we slowly walked out of the room she said she felt like the floor was giving out and felt a strange feeling like the room was moving. I felt like the room was spinning like when you had too many drinks, I did feel warm but I think it was because the air wasn’t on but I remember thinking the ceiling fan going. I felt like there was a presence in the room but did not see anything but didn’t particularly look for anything, I just wanted to get out, my stomach felt nauseous when I was in the room.I told the man at the front desk that he probably would think I was crazy for asking if there were ghosts in that room or hotel, he said he just started working there a month earlier, I asked the girl sitting people outside since she told me she worked there for several years, she said yes but I don’t know if she said that to be polite and after I explained the story, she said I don’t know. She might not have understood since she might have been from Spanish culture and didn’t understand English. We than left.
We stayed at a hotel between 13th and 14th Street and Collins and we were not happy with the amenities so during our walk that evening which would be April 12, 2002 we headed out and visited a few hotels. We found another hotel and I told my wife, let’s check this hotel out since I knew someone at work who stays here all the time, several times a year since her sister owns a shop in the area. When we walked in everything seemed nice and on the dark side in general.