Stories

The Bimini Bay Rod and Gun Club

A Roaring Twenties tale of big dreams, “Big Fish” and a big bust

A Dry Nation—and a Nearby Escape

With the arrival of Prohibition in 1919, the quiet island of Bimini, a sleepy outpost of 600 residents just 45 miles across the Gulf Stream from Miami, Florida, suddenly took on a whole new light for enterprising Miami developers.

The 18th Amendment had outlawed the manufacture and sale of alcohol in the United States—but not in the British Bahamas. And that single legal distinction would ripple outward in unexpected ways, even helping to give a boost to one of the most fragile new industries of the era: commercial aviation.

Building a Sporting Paradise

At the center of this story was Miami hotelier and entrepreneur Thomas J. Peters, the so-called “Tomato King,” who in July 1919 joined forces with fellow members of the Miami Angler’s Club to create an ambitious new resort: the Bimini Bay Rod and Gun Club. Captain Charles H. Thompson, one of the most noted fishermen in America, was vice president of the enterprise.

From the beginning, the vision was bold. Construction began almost immediately on an $80,000 clubhouse—an imposing, modern structure with upwards of 80 to 100 rooms, each with private bath. Tennis courts, trapshooting grounds, gardens, and even plans for a golf course were laid out. The club would be exclusive, its membership carefully screened for “men of good character and standing,” and its tone one of refined sporting life.

But there was an unspoken reality behind the marketing.

Yes, Bimini offered some of the finest fishing in the world—bonefish, tarpon, and more. Yes, it boasted abundant game birds and a mild, healthful climate. But just as important was what it offered that Miami could not: booze. Legal booze.

As one contemporary account put it rather bluntly, the club’s popularity was expected to stem “not only from the fact that liquors will be served there,” but also from its sporting attractions.

At left: Image courtesy PBS.org, Ken Burns, “The Roots of Prohibition.”

Getting There: From Steamships to Seaplanes

Getting there, however, was half the adventure—and increasingly, that meant flying.

The club’s promoters quickly recognized that ease of access would be critical. They lobbied successfully to relax passport requirements between Miami and Bimini, treating the island almost as a suburban extension of South Florida. Supplies for the resort flowed out of Palm Beach and Miami, and so did its guests.

Steamships and yachts made the crossing, but the most exciting—and fastest—option was by air.

By late 1920, seaplanes were carrying well-heeled passengers from Miami to Bimini in as little as 90 minutes. On at least one return trip, aided by favorable winds, the journey took just 42 minutes. Passengers described the approach in glowing terms: the shifting blues of the Gulf Stream, the pale sandbars, and the palm-fringed shoreline emerging from the haze.

Prohibition Fuels Early Aviation

For fledgling airlines like the America Trans-Oceanic Company and Aeromarine, destinations like Bimini were more than scenic—they were essential. These early carriers operated largely on a seasonal basis, and they needed a reason for passengers to fly. Prohibition provided exactly that. Weekend trips to Havana or Bimini offered something Americans couldn’t get at home, and travelers were willing to pay a premium for the experience.

The Bimini Bay Rod and Gun Club even operated its own seaplane, whimsically named the Big Fish, painted with fish scales and making scheduled trips between Palm Beach, Miami and the island. Aeromarine advertised regular service as well, though capacity was limited—often just ten passengers per flight—and ticket prices remained out of reach for most.

A Glittering Opening—and Early Success

Still, for a brief moment, it worked. The club opened formally in December 1920 with great fanfare: dignitaries, fishing contests, dances, and even an “aerial regatta.” Distinguished guests arrived, including international figures and prominent American sportsmen. The ballroom filled, the dining rooms bustled, and cocktails were served in defiance of the dry laws back home.

Trouble Beneath the Surface

But beneath the glamour, problems were already surfacing.

The harbor entrance was shallow and treacherous, limiting access for larger vessels and complicating supply deliveries. Mosquitoes proved relentless. Ocean crossings—whether by boat or plane—could be rough, expensive, and unpredictable. Seasick guests were not uncommon.

Even aviation, for all its promise, brought risks. In the winter seasons of 1922 and 1923, a series of dramatic and deadly incidents involving seaplanes underscored just how precarious early air travel could be. These events did little to encourage tourism.

Decline of a Grand Vision

Financially, the model was also flawed. The resort catered to a wealthy clientele, but it was simply too large to sustain itself on that narrow base. Despite efforts to revive it—including a 1921 lease to a northern hotelier, plans for orchestras and daily steamship service, and a later rebranding as the “Bimini Hotel”—the club was disbanded and the momentum faded.

By 1924, the once-grand project was being described as a “white elephant.”

The Hurricane and the End

The final blow came in September 1926, when a devastating hurricane struck both Miami and Bimini. The island was battered, lives were lost, and the hotel itself was heavily damaged. It was never rebuilt. A poignant account of the disaster, “Hurricane Honeymoon,” by Miami historian Thelma Peters, daughter-in-law of club founder Thomas J. Peters, appears in the August 1975 issue of Update, a publication of the Historical Association of Southern Florida (see “Additional Reading,” below).

Legacy of a Lost Resort

And yet, for all its short life, the Bimini Bay Rod and Gun Club left behind a remarkable legacy.

It stood at the intersection of several defining forces of the era: the optimism of the Florida Boom, the ingenuity of early aviation, and the unintended economic consequences of Prohibition. For a brief glittering moment in the Roaring Twenties, it provided South Florida’s early airlines with a crucial stream of adventurous—and thirsty—passengers.

Additional reading:

South Florida History Magazine, Spring 1990: “The Bimini Bay Rod and Gun Club,” by Jane S. Day, sfh-1990-2.pdf
Update, August 1975: “Hurricane Honeymoon” by Thelma Peters. update-v2-n6.pdf

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