Days ago at the Surfside Community Center, located five blocks down from the site of the now-collapsed Champlain Towers, dozens of Jewish and non-Jewish kids splashed and slid at the on-site water park available to community residents. It’s just one example of the attractive amenities offered to residents of this sleepy beachside Miami town.
But after the tragedy, the water park was closed off with yellow tape, and the community center turned into the Family Reunification Center for victims of the collapse. Members of the press were cordoned off to the side of the main street, often standing in the rain, while volunteers from all over South Florida – many visibly Jewish – came to deliver food, blankets and toiletries to those affected.
Most of all, they came to deliver the most valuable amenity of the hour: human warmth.
“It’s really tragic. It’s hard to put into words,” said Rafi Caroline, a local resident, holding a black service dog in his arms. Behind him, the community center was overflowing with people and more food and drinks than they could possibly consume: pizza (kosher and non-kosher brands), salads and snacks, often delivered out of the blue by strangers.
““Just having people sitting here waiting to hear if their family members are alive – it’s really something that’s so difficult,” Caroline said. “And just the not-knowing, which is why I brought this guy along so that he could offer even a little moment of peace to people. I don’t think it will affect the general mood of the area.”
As a homeowner in the area, he has seen how the Miami Jewish community has ballooned in the last few years, with the real estate market booming. While no hard numbers are available, “guestimates” point to some 40,000 out-of-state Jews moving to South Florida during the pandemic. While Surfside is the permanent home to an estimated 3,000 Jews, the town and surrounding environs welcomes many more thousands as annual visitors – particularly snowbirds, mostly from the New York area, who flock here for the winter warmth.
Caroline doesn’t think the tragedy will deter Jewish migration to South Florida. “It will definitely affect the mood temporarily but this community is so wonderful and we could see how many people are here – they’re overwhelmed with the number of volunteers.”
JUST A block away is a city block with arguably the highest concentration of kosher restaurants – low-end and high-end – in the entire country. Most of the pedestrians are visibly Orthodox.
The spiritual bulwark of the community is The Shul of Bal Harbour, a Chabad-affiliated synagogue, located a few blocks from Champlain Towers (as well as from the home of Ivanka and Jared Kushner) on Collins Avenue, the seaside artery running through Miami-Dade County.
Just last month, perhaps as an eerie foreshadowing of tragedy to come, Gov. Ron DeSantis solidified his status among Florida Jews as a great friend of the Jewish people and of Israel when he addressed The Shul and signed a bill allowing volunteer emergency rescue services, including the Jewish-run Hatzalah, to operate as an ambulance service and thus receive certain benefits.
Hatzalah has worked alongside local authorities in the search and recovery efforts, with the organization sending a delegation of therapists, psychologists and first-responders from its Psycho-trauma and Crisis Response Unit to assist. DeSantis has declared a state of emergency for the county to enable federal assistance.
ON THE night of the collapse, a more glitzy show of support and solidarity for the victims took place at the swanky National Hotel in downtown Miami, where “Nellyslist,” a Jewish party production outfit run by Nelly Rosenking Fronen, decided, in consultation with the community, that the party must go on.
Mounted as a benefit for FIDF (Friends of the Israel Defense Forces), the party morphed into a fundraiser for Surfside victims as well, with placards on the tables directing visitors to the disaster relief fund which, at press time, has raised about $700,000.
“We had a lot of trepidation about holding the event,” said the Los Angeles-based Jonathan Fronen, who stood in for his wife, Rosenking Fronen, since she is at home nine-months pregnant. “We spoke to a lot of people, and it’s been something that we thought would be the best thing for the community because we’re not just doing an event – we’re actually raising money in association with the Chabad Shul of Bal Harbour.”
A tropical rainstorm, which hampered search and rescue efforts, forced the event to be moved swiftly indoors from the palm tree and pool-lined patio. It’s this ability to adapt and improvise, Fronen said, that makes Miami an appealing place to live and work – and also to respond efficiently to tragedy.
WITH MOST of its operations in the New York area, Nellyslist has been operating in Miami only in the past year, since the city has opened the fastest during the pandemic.
“We thought it’s better to do something that’s immediate than to cancel the event and really stop the flow of something that could be positive,” Fronen said.
Still, while 400 well-dressed people danced to the DJ’s American and Israeli pop, there was an undertone of sadness to the event.
“I’ve been crying a lot today,” Fronen said. “It’s been very hard. There’s a family of five – that’s just like our family – missing. It’s really devastating.”
Rivky Koot, a pious Orthodox woman and mother of nine, did what she could – she came as close as she could to the site of the tragedy, which was cordoned off by a massive police presence.
“If you listen to the news, they’ll tell you: we need to pray,” Koot said. “They say straight up – Florida news! The most normal reaction is to pray. It has nothing to do with [being] religious.”
She opened her prayer book to Psalms, faced east towards the ocean – and Jerusalem – and prayed for the victims, and for Jewish redemption generally.
“If we can’t help physically, we have to help spiritually.”