“We Are Here!” — Treasure Island’s Fight for a Small-Town Future

By Carlos Miro, Citizen Beach Newsletter

In Dr. Seuss’s Horton Hears a Who!, Horton the Elephant hears a tiny world on a speck of dust—the Whos of Who-ville—crying, “We are here! We are here! We are here!” to prove they exist to a world that ignores them. Only by uniting do their voices save their home from destruction. In Treasure Island, Florida, residents who cherish our small-town soul are shouting, too. “We are here!”—not to save a speck of dust, but to preserve the human-scaled, community-driven character of our coastal city against overdevelopment’s tide and moneyed interests’ sway. Like the Whos, we must rally to ensure our vision for a vibrant, small-town future is heard.

A Tale of Two Visions

Treasure Island, cradled by Florida’s Gulf Coast, glows with sunsets, sandy shores, and a laid-back charm. Our low-rise skyline, local shops, and neighborhood gatherings at Sunset Beach, Paradise Island, Isle of Palms, and Isle of Capri weave a small-town tapestry where neighbors connect, and public life thrives. Even our downtown, now barren and in need of revitalization, at one time pulsed as the heart of our community. This is the Treasure Island we love—walkable, welcoming, human in scale.

Yet, a rival vision looms: wealthy developers and some city officials see our city as a canvas for high-density condos and towering hotels. Backed by financial muscle, they push to loosen height limits—currently capped at five floors above a ground-level garage—and pack in denser projects, touting economic gains. But residents, like the Whos, find their voices drowned out or opposed by those with deeper pockets and insider access. This power imbalance marginalizes everyday citizens who, though not impoverished, lack the clout to shape our city’s path.

The stakes are stark. In Madeira Beach and St. Pete Beach, and high-rises have choked quiet neighborhoods with traffic, parking woes, and crumbling infrastructure. Developers, pocketing profits, often leave taxpayers to fund road, stormwater, and utility upgrades—costs that burden all residents, but especially those on limited incomes. Treasure Island stands at a crossroads: Will we safeguard a small-town spirit or yield to a growth-driven model that frays our community’s core?

Jane Jacobs and the Case for Human-Scaled Cities

Urbanist Jane Jacobs, in her 1961 masterpiece The Death and Life of Great American Cities, shows why we must fight for our vision. Jacobs championed cities built “by everybody,” not just elites, where walkable, mixed-use neighborhoods spark safety, trust, and connection through chance encounters—on sidewalks, at cafés. “Cities have the capability of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody,” she wrote (p. 238). For Treasure Island, this means low-rise buildings, green spaces, and public squares that invite community, not towers that loom over human bonds.

Jacobs decried top-down planning that favors profit over people, like 1960s urban renewal that razed neighborhoods for highways. Today’s “growth machine”—developers, realtors, and sometimes complicit officials—echoes this, equating bigger buildings with progress. In Madeira Beach, condo towers strain infrastructure, with developers dodging fixes (Tampa Bay Times, Oct. 31, 2023). St. Pete Beach forums lament traffic post-development. These warn us: cities that chase scale lose the vitality Jacobs prized.

We seek to revive Treasure Island’s small-town soul, guiding growth to enrich, not erase, our character. Picture pedestrian-friendly streets, like Gulfport’s, where ArtWalk and shops unite neighbors. Envision plazas hosting markets or festivals, fostering Jacobs’s “eyes on the street” for safety and connection. These are the pillars of a human-scaled city worth defending.

The Marginalization of Residents’ Voices

Here, marginalization isn’t just poverty—it’s the quiet sidelining of residents dwarfed by developers’ resources. Public hearings feel like theater when developer plans dominate. Flooding fears—acute in Pinellas County’s high-risk zones—or traffic concerns are dismissed as anti-growth. Some officials, lured by tax revenue promises, ignore development’s long-term toll, as seen in neighbors’ lagging infrastructure.

This mirrors Horton Hears a Who!’s lesson: moneyed voices overpower the rest. Developers wield lawyers and slick presentations; residents have passion, but less leverage. On Facebook and Nextdoor, we’ve raised alarms about height increases, yet without unity, our cries fade like the Whos’ before Horton’s aid.

Lessons from Neighbors

Madeira Beach and St. Pete Beach show the cost of unchecked growth: high-rises spark traffic, flooding, and eroded quality of life. St. Pete Beach’s website logs debates over height limits, with projects straining roads and parking. When development outpaces input, infrastructure falters, taxpayers pay, and small-town charm fades.

Gulfport, though, inspires. Its low-rise downtown and lively events preserve a human scale amid growth. By prioritizing local shops and public spaces, Gulfport balances progress with heart. Treasure Island could emulate this with zoning, height caps, and resident-led planning.

A Call to Shout “We Are Here!”

Like the Whos, we must roar to be heard. Attend city commission meetings, workshops, and elections. Join groups like Citizen’s Voice of Treasure Island or Protect St. Pete Beach to turn whispers into a chorus. I’m launching a citizen-led steering committee within the next two weeks to define our community’s needs—email me at [email protected] or text me at 727-238-5615.

Organize! Our planned face-to-face meetings on height limits and creative development can unify us and press officials. Use social media, this newsletter, or neighborly chats to rally support, as Horton did for Who-ville. Let our city officials know we want development that preserves our height limits and helps build the social nature of our community, including improving our public spaces—parks, plazas, boardwalks—where community blooms.

Why It Matters

This fight is about our identity. A small-town atmosphere breeds connection, safety, and belonging—qualities high-rises and gridlock steal. It’s about a city for people, not profits. Jacobs says cities thrive when everyone shapes them; Horton and the Whos prove no voice is too small.

So, shout, “We are here!” Flood meeting halls, email commissioners, and join neighbors. Rediscover Treasure Island’s soul—not by shunning change, but by steering it toward community. Our city’s heart, our children’s legacy, hangs in the balance.

Join us. Attend the next commission meeting, contact me, and email your commissioners: