Real Estate Agents - People abandon South Florida for Palm Coast

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People abandon South Florida for Palm Coast

MarkBrug

2007-05-24, 9:25 am

Posted on Wed, May. 23, 2007
Old Florida enclave is new Florida hot spot

Before it became a people magnet, Flagler County's biggest claim to fame was
Exit 284 -- where I-95 runs closer to the Atlantic Ocean than at any other exit
from Maine to Miami.

That's all changed. Flagler has a new national title, courtesy of the Census
Bureau: America's fastest-growing county. During this decade, the once rural and
sleepy Old Florida enclave, tucked between St. Augustine and Daytona Beach, has
doubled its population to nearly 90,000.

Driving a chunk of Flagler's growth: a couple thousand South Floridians. Some
say they left to escape congested roads, confining cookie-cutter developments
and skyrocketing home prices.

'We call them the `Hiccup People,' '' said Carl Laundrie, a spokesman for
Flagler County. ``Lots of them originally came from the North, went down to
South Florida and now they've hiccuped and landed back up here.''

The Hiccup People, along with thousands from across the country, have frustrated
longtime Flagler residents, who see signs their community is becoming a lot like
South Florida.

SIGNS OF CHANGE

Former potato and cabbage fields have given way to subdivisions, shopping
centers, hotels and gas stations. Bungalows in the city of Flagler Beach have
been torn down to make way for McMansions. And one-time open-space, seaside lots
of palmetto pines are now Hammock Beach, a massive resort development of
Mediterranean-style, million-dollar condo towers and single-family homes,
complete with private restaurant, golf course and water park.

Much of western Flagler County -- particularly the county seat of Bunnell --
remains Old Florida and would like to stay that way. Think Davie in Broward and
the Redland in Miami-Dade, complete with a grassy land bridge over I-95.

While the coast communities are going condo and water park, a billboard on the
western fringes celebrates Cracker Day. And the state is building a sprawling
Florida agriculture museum, with working farms from different industries and
time periods.

The old-time locals and the new urbanites don't often see things the same way.

''As the demographics change, so do the desires,'' said Jim Darby, a Hialeah
High School graduate who is chairman of the Flagler County Commission.

``We just put in a skateboard park. And they want to put a Starbucks inside the
Flagler County Library.''

The challenge: Maintain growth without losing charm.

''We're not so interested in being No. 1 in the nation,'' Darby, 68, says as he
drives his low-slung 2002 Camaro through Princess Preserve, 2,500 acres of slash
pine forest, dirt roads and a newly built hiking trail that county residents
voted to purchase to stockpile and protect open space.

''We're more interested in getting the quality of life and ambience part right.
I don't bad-mouth the South Florida life at all,'' he says. ``Plenty enjoy it.
But there are others out there who enjoy a different type of life. A slower pace
in a more pristine place.''

Nancy Norris, 55, a ''hiccuper'' from Broward County, says she traded away the
cultural choices and higher pay of South Florida for peace and tranquillity.

Her family moved when she was a child from Montreal to Lauderdale Lakes to
escape the cold. She also lived in Wilton Manors and Oakland Park, but by 2000,
she and her husband Michael had soured on South Florida. The final straw: One
morning when it took Michael Norris an hour to travel one mile on traffic-choked
roads to his carpentry job.

''He had had it,'' she said. 'During a trip to see some friends in Daytona, he
found Palm Coast. He called and said, `You gotta see this.' ''

A few months later, the Norrises found their dream house. They closed on a new
three-bedroom, two bath for $112,000 in just 17 days. At the time, there were
only three houses on their street, which was lined with Florida slash pines and
palm trees.

''It was so beautiful and quiet,'' she says. ``It was all woods and no traffic
and deer walking on the streets.''

Today, Palm Coast, a place locals call ''Palm Jersey'' because of all the
retired northeastern firefighters and police, isn't a rural oasis anymore. There
are 70,000 people, and it's growing.

The city's main road, Palm Coast Parkway, now looks a lot like Pines Boulevard
or Kendall Drive. People frequently get stuck at traffic lights or are forced to
sit on a clogged parkway lined with shopping centers.

''I know sitting through one light cycle doesn't sound like much to someone from
South Florida, but it's a huge concern for people who have lived here a long
time or who moved here to get away from that type of thing,'' says Darby, who
left Miami in 1978 to work for ITT, the company that built Palm Coast.

And traffic isn't the county's only problem.

SCHOOL CROWDING

Since 2000, enrollment in Flagler County schools has grown from 6,130 to 12,250.

''Two years ago, we had 140 portables, which was just unheard of for us,'' says
Bill Delbrugge, superintendent of schools. ``We've caught up some and are now
down to 20 portables. But the kids keep coming. We get 120 new students a
month.''

In April, enrollment was up 1,100 from the same time last year. Delbrugge sounds
breathless when he talks about it. The largest influx of kids has come from the
New York metro area. The second largest: from Miami-Dade.

Another headache is the lack of affordable housing.

The hot real estate market and Flagler's allure as one of the state's last
undeveloped coastal communities -- 70 percent of the county remains untouched --
has driven prices out of the range of many working folks.

Six years ago, a vacant lot in Palm Coast cost $3,000 to $5,000. Now it's up to
$100,000. A beachfront lot on A1A went for less than $100,000 in 2000. Now, it's
$400,000.

''We're a small-town county with that big urban area issue now,'' said Linda
Provencher, manager of the Golden Lion restaurant and a Flagler Beach city
councilwoman. ``The median income here is around $40,000; I don't think even a
$200,000 house is affordable for the workforce. But nobody is really dealing
with the issue here.''

She fears it will worsen once the real estate market rebounds.

Provencher's concerns are warranted, say demographers at the university of
Florida's Bureau of Business and Economic Resources. They project that, like the
rest of Florida, Flagler County will continue to grow, albeit more slowly than
it has recently.

As any region gets more populated, growth rates like those in Flagler are
unsustainable, said UF's Scott Cody. Still, UF demographers project Flagler will
swell by some 25,000 people in the next three years. By 2025, its population
could climb to 200,000.

''The character will keep changing,'' Cody says. ``With people comes pavement.''

Segundo Gudino, a semi-retired accountant who in 1990 moved to Palm Coast from
Long Island with his wife Gloria, wishes Flagler County could go back to being a
best-kept secret.

Said Gudino, originally from Ecuador: 'I keep saying, `Shhh. Stop telling
people.' But it's a little late for that.''

Mark Debo

2007-07-30, 9:25 am

>Posted on Wed, May. 23, 2007
>Old Florida enclave is new Florida hot spot
>
>
>Before it became a people magnet, Flagler County's biggest claim to fame was
>Exit 284 -- where I-95 runs closer to the Atlantic Ocean than at any other exit
>from Maine to Miami.
>
>That's all changed. Flagler has a new national title, courtesy of the Census
>Bureau: America's fastest-growing county. During this decade, the once rural and
>sleepy Old Florida enclave, tucked between St. Augustine and Daytona Beach, has
>doubled its population to nearly 90,000.
>
>Driving a chunk of Flagler's growth: a couple thousand South Floridians. Some
>say they left to escape congested roads, confining cookie-cutter developments
>and skyrocketing home prices.
>
>'We call them the `Hiccup People,' '' said Carl Laundrie, a spokesman for
>Flagler County. ``Lots of them originally came from the North, went down to
>South Florida and now they've hiccuped and landed back up here.''
>
>The Hiccup People, along with thousands from across the country, have frustrated
>longtime Flagler residents, who see signs their community is becoming a lot like
>South Florida.
>
>SIGNS OF CHANGE
>
>Former potato and cabbage fields have given way to subdivisions, shopping
>centers, hotels and gas stations. Bungalows in the city of Flagler Beach have
>been torn down to make way for McMansions. And one-time open-space, seaside lots
>of palmetto pines are now Hammock Beach, a massive resort development of
>Mediterranean-style, million-dollar condo towers and single-family homes,
>complete with private restaurant, golf course and water park.
>
>Much of western Flagler County -- particularly the county seat of Bunnell --
>remains Old Florida and would like to stay that way. Think Davie in Broward and
>the Redland in Miami-Dade, complete with a grassy land bridge over I-95.
>
>While the coast communities are going condo and water park, a billboard on the
>western fringes celebrates Cracker Day. And the state is building a sprawling
>Florida agriculture museum, with working farms from different industries and
>time periods.
>
>The old-time locals and the new urbanites don't often see things the same way.
>
>''As the demographics change, so do the desires,'' said Jim Darby, a Hialeah
>High School graduate who is chairman of the Flagler County Commission.
>
>``We just put in a skateboard park. And they want to put a Starbucks inside the
>Flagler County Library.''
>
>The challenge: Maintain growth without losing charm.
>
>''We're not so interested in being No. 1 in the nation,'' Darby, 68, says as he
>drives his low-slung 2002 Camaro through Princess Preserve, 2,500 acres of slash
>pine forest, dirt roads and a newly built hiking trail that county residents
>voted to purchase to stockpile and protect open space.
>
>''We're more interested in getting the quality of life and ambience part right.
>I don't bad-mouth the South Florida life at all,'' he says. ``Plenty enjoy it.
>But there are others out there who enjoy a different type of life. A slower pace
>in a more pristine place.''
>
>Nancy Norris, 55, a ''hiccuper'' from Broward County, says she traded away the
>cultural choices and higher pay of South Florida for peace and tranquillity.
>
>Her family moved when she was a child from Montreal to Lauderdale Lakes to
>escape the cold. She also lived in Wilton Manors and Oakland Park, but by 2000,
>she and her husband Michael had soured on South Florida. The final straw: One
>morning when it took Michael Norris an hour to travel one mile on traffic-choked
>roads to his carpentry job.
>
>''He had had it,'' she said. 'During a trip to see some friends in Daytona, he
>found Palm Coast. He called and said, `You gotta see this.' ''
>
>A few months later, the Norrises found their dream house. They closed on a new
>three-bedroom, two bath for $112,000 in just 17 days. At the time, there were
>only three houses on their street, which was lined with Florida slash pines and
>palm trees.
>
>''It was so beautiful and quiet,'' she says. ``It was all woods and no traffic
>and deer walking on the streets.''
>
>Today, Palm Coast, a place locals call ''Palm Jersey'' because of all the
>retired northeastern firefighters and police, isn't a rural oasis anymore. There
>are 70,000 people, and it's growing.
>
>The city's main road, Palm Coast Parkway, now looks a lot like Pines Boulevard
>or Kendall Drive. People frequently get stuck at traffic lights or are forced to
>sit on a clogged parkway lined with shopping centers.
>
>''I know sitting through one light cycle doesn't sound like much to someone from
>South Florida, but it's a huge concern for people who have lived here a long
>time or who moved here to get away from that type of thing,'' says Darby, who
>left Miami in 1978 to work for ITT, the company that built Palm Coast.
>
>And traffic isn't the county's only problem.
>
>SCHOOL CROWDING
>
>Since 2000, enrollment in Flagler County schools has grown from 6,130 to 12,250.
>
>''Two years ago, we had 140 portables, which was just unheard of for us,'' says
>Bill Delbrugge, superintendent of schools. ``We've caught up some and are now
>down to 20 portables. But the kids keep coming. We get 120 new students a
>month.''
>
>In April, enrollment was up 1,100 from the same time last year. Delbrugge sounds
>breathless when he talks about it. The largest influx of kids has come from the
>New York metro area. The second largest: from Miami-Dade.
>
>Another headache is the lack of affordable housing.
>
>The hot real estate market and Flagler's allure as one of the state's last
>undeveloped coastal communities -- 70 percent of the county remains untouched --
>has driven prices out of the range of many working folks.
>
>Six years ago, a vacant lot in Palm Coast cost $3,000 to $5,000. Now it's up to
>$100,000. A beachfront lot on A1A went for less than $100,000 in 2000. Now, it's
>$400,000.
>
>''We're a small-town county with that big urban area issue now,'' said Linda
>Provencher, manager of the Golden Lion restaurant and a Flagler Beach city
>councilwoman. ``The median income here is around $40,000; I don't think even a
>$200,000 house is affordable for the workforce. But nobody is really dealing
>with the issue here.''
>
>She fears it will worsen once the real estate market rebounds.
>
>Provencher's concerns are warranted, say demographers at the university of
>Florida's Bureau of Business and Economic Resources. They project that, like the
>rest of Florida, Flagler County will continue to grow, albeit more slowly than
>it has recently.
>
>As any region gets more populated, growth rates like those in Flagler are
>unsustainable, said UF's Scott Cody. Still, UF demographers project Flagler will
>swell by some 25,000 people in the next three years. By 2025, its population
>could climb to 200,000.
>
>''The character will keep changing,'' Cody says. ``With people comes pavement.''
>
>Segundo Gudino, a semi-retired accountant who in 1990 moved to Palm Coast from
>Long Island with his wife Gloria, wishes Flagler County could go back to being a
>best-kept secret.
>
>Said Gudino, originally from Ecuador: 'I keep saying, `Shhh. Stop telling
>people.' But it's a little late for that.''

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