Under cover of a legitimate business venture,
my appointment allowed me to investigate the current state of a memorable location from Goldfinger: The Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami Beach.

Real estate developer Stephen Muss acquired the Fontainebleau Hilton Hotel in 1978 and it is currently in the midst of a $90 million renovation. That made my reconnaissance even more important:  Each renovation takes a Bond-era property farther from its 007 roots.  

After arriving in Orlando from San Francisco, I departed for Miami not by air but by land.  In honor of the Ford Motor Company’s involvement in Goldfinger, my automotive choice was a 2004 Lincoln Continental. While it lacks the distinctive styling and presence of its 1964 counterpart, it more than makes up for that in creature comforts and performance.  

The trip through long, flat stretches of the Florida Turnpike (a mainstay of Floridian travel since 1957) was enhanced as the landscape flew by in a blur of triple digit speed.

Four hours later I motored across Biscayne Bay with the strains of John Barry’s “Into Miami” playing through the Lincoln’s sound system.  

I drove past the Fontainebleau to my hotel, the Wyndham, and checked in.  I smiled wryly at the fact that I would be staying in room 1007.

Presidents, Kings, and the entertainment elite have enjoyed the Fontainebleau's comforts for the last 50 years, including JFK and Jacqueline Kennedy who started their honeymoon here.

I reflected on the fact that from its fixtures to its chandeliers, across three buildings housing over 1,000 rooms and 60 suites, the Fontainebleau still reigned as an opulent beachfront  vision.

In fact, since its construction in 1954, the Fontainebleau has been the crown jewel of Millionaire's Row on Miami Beach. Designed by famous architect Morris Lapidus (who once said, “I don't care if it's Baroque or Brooklyn, just get me plenty of glamour and make sure it screams luxury.”), nothing about this hotel is small scale.  

I made my move from the Wyndham, casually strolling the half mile or so southward on Collins Avenue through the heat of a Florida mid-afternoon.

From the exterior, little seems to have changed at the Fontainebleau in the forty years since Goldfinger was filmed here.   A shining alabaster façade set against a brilliant blue sky made the hotel seem frozen in time.   

As I walked up the famous curved driveway the only thing missing was a plane overhead towing a “Welcome to Miami Beach” banner.

The front lobby was a mix of art deco cool and contemporary corporate functionality. Luckily, in the quiet of a weekday afternoon there were few people milling about so I was able to stroll comfortably and take in the full view.  As I glanced towards the windows, the only thing standing between me and the famous pool area was a bar. Ah well, a refreshing cocktail or two on a hot afternoon couldn’t hurt.

Trying to capture the feel of the 1960’s is the mission of lobby lounge, but not James Bond's 1960’s -- The Rat Pack’s.  Towering images of Frank, Dean, Sammy, Pete, and Joey graced the tinted windows.  Video monitors replay black and white television loops of their past performances.  And drink specials at the bar each present a tortured concoction meant to suggest the personality of each member of the Rat Pack.

The place was nearly empty as I sat down. Perfect opportunity to get the inside line on the place from the lovely young Cuban waitress dressed in a tight white blouse and elegant high heels.  The air conditioned environment was filled with piped-in smooth jazz, hardly the John Barry strains I wished for.

After a few moments, Elizabeth approached from behind the bar. I ordered an ‘Old Blue Eyes’ (Absolut Kurant, Grand Marnier, cranberry juice) and made small talk.

She was professionally aloof and yet, at the same time, seductively interested. Her sad brown eyes danced about as we moved from topic to topic. The drink, some kind of homage to Sinatra, had a sweet tartness to it – somehow quite fitting.

Elizabeth was eager to tell how the Fountainbleu hosted filming of Al Pacino’s Scarface, Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston’s The Bodyguard, as well as some episode of The Sopranos. She had rattled these names off many times for easily impressed out-of-towners.  But this was no ordinary barfly before her.  Had she heard of Goldfinger, I asked?  Oh, yes, she had. They used the pool, was all she knew.

With the bravado that comes from a belly full of vodka I made my way to the resort’s pool and entertainment area. A robust woman of marginal intelligence wearing the unflattering uniform of hotel security was unmoved by my request to get a first-hand look at the pool and lounge area: no hotel key, no entrance. Period.

I demurred momentarily, knowing that things would get easier once the sun went down.

After a dinner of local fare – an inconspicuous little hole-in-the-wall place called El Rincon de Chabuca where the menu was in Spanish and the bite of the tableside salsa steeled my mind for the task ahead – I returned to the Fontainebleau. This time stealthily approaching my target from the ocean side.  The area was almost deserted, I heard the quiet brushing of palm fronds in the evening air.  I pushed through the unguarded wooden gate . . .

. . . and the harsh reality of 21st century renovation hit me. I was not in 007's world.  I was in "Cookie’s World".

To survive in the real estate battlefield known as Miami Beach a successful hotelier must be willing to entertain not only the elite guest but their offspring, as well.   

The multi-story high diving board is long gone and the recreation area includes a lagoon-style rock grotto pool.  Gone, too, is the lower level, indoor ice skating rink.

The children’s water playground jangled harshly against my expectations of the chic poolside scene where 007 enjoyed the company of the fulsome Dink.

 All that remains is the balcony in the Chateau building where Bond meets Jill Masterson and looks down upon the crooked gaming process being plyed by Goldfinger with her assistance.

However, my outlook brightened when I noticed there is still a handful of cabanas on the site, though they are now set into the building and no longer encircle the pool deck as they did in the film.  

And yet, if you stroll about the lobby of the Fontainebleau Hotel and simply take in the breadth of style and luxury still available, it is easy to see why some 40 years later Bond knew that M had booked him into the best hotel on Miami Beach.

As of this writing, the original Fountainbleau Hotel is completely closed for renovations.  I fully expect that what  echoes of 007 that remain will be ripped out with the plaster and carpet.  So I feel honored to have breathed in one last lungful of that era and am glad it was faithfully captured on film for what it was.