Sunday Favorites: The Mystery of Midnight Pass

When you live in Sarasota, you hear a lot about Midnight Pass, a small channel located on the southern end of Siesta Key that used to separate it from its neighboring island Casey Key. This channel no longer exists. It closed up in the 1980s. Living here, I heard a lot of rumors and talk about why. Was it a hurricane? Did it close overnight hence giving it the name ”Midnight Pass?“ There have even been unsuccessful efforts to re-open it, some sanctioned attempts, others by resentful renegades. None have been successful.

The real story of the mysterious pass is really nothing more than a geography lesson in the nature of barrier islands and how they change throughout the years. It wasn’t a hurricane or tropical storm that closed the waterway, instead, it was local governments pressured to save two very expensive properties owned by two very prominent people. Today, the area surrounding what once was Midnight Pass makes up two parks – Jim Neville Marine Preserve and Palmer Point Park.

Midnight Pass has been around for more than a century. There are maps of the waterway dating back to the 1840s. Formally known as Buccaneer Pass, its name was changed to Midnight Pass because of the nature of its wild migration – the pass would seem to change overnight. Historic charts showcase its significant movement over a three-mile stretch of coastline. During the past 100 years, it would migrate north and south significantly, according to an article ”Midnight Pass: Lessons Learned after 30 years,“ published in 2013 by Siesta Sand.

In the 1960s the pass seemed to settle into its surroundings and Mote Marine acquired it for its laboratory. At the same time, the US Corps of Engineers began dredging the Intracoastal, but Midnight Pass was not part of the project.

By the 1970s, the pass had narrowed and began migrating North. It became imperative that Mote relocate as the pass filled in, preventing Mote vessels from accessing the Gulf. The changing landscape was reducing Mote’s 10-acre grounds by a few acres every year. A document Siesta Sand obtained from Mote predicted the result if the organization stayed. ”The inexorable onslaught of the waves, the shark tanks, the docks, the trailers would be gobbled up by the Gulf,“ it warned.

By the early 1980s, the homes of two prominent citizens were at risk. Pasco Carter, a retired engineer received permits to place large eight-foot sandbags in front of his home as waves began to break against the sides of his swimming pool. Next, Syd Solomon, a famous artist, received a permit for sandbags, as his home and studio were beginning to show the wear of waves.

Pasco and Solomon approached state and local governments about relocating the pass. After much deliberation, it was decided that what remained of the pass should be filled in and Pasco & Solomon would relocate the pass to a more Southern location, far away from their multi-million-dollar homes. The efforts were approved by local governments on the condition that they would keep the pass open for two years.

On December 5, 1983, the pass was filled in with heavy machinery. What ensued was eight unsuccessful attempts to relocate it– eight! Pasco and Solomon eventually gave up, citing financial hardships and the pass remained closed.

All of this went down way before my time. I was just a baby when Pasco and Solomon were petitioning local governments to close the pass. I didn’t experience the landscape back then or use the pass to access the Gulf. While I can see how closing the pass would have made a lot of people very upset – the nearest Gulf access point to the North is Lido Key, to the south, it’s Venice Inlet. That being said, I’m glad it’s not there anymore.

Between the aquatic preserve and the park that now exists in the location, there is this diverse ecological landscape, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. You are able to fish in the bay, then beach your vessel for a picnic, or go play in the waves. I’m constantly seeing manatees, rays, birds, and other wildlife. There are no privileged owners of million-dollar houses who harass you over property rights (like some beaches I used to enjoy). It’s all just a public park. It’s all for us.

I seriously doubt that if Pasco and Solomon had been successful in their efforts, they wouldn’t have found some way to profit off their endeavor, building structures and seawalls that would offset the natural environment. While trying to manipulate Midnight Pass should have never happened, it taught us a lesson that resulted in the establishment of a beach front protected area, that’s a rarity in these parts. Perhaps Midnight Pass will naturally reopen one day, until then, I’m going to thoroughly enjoy it for what it is now.