Meant for Each Other

For the thousands who live there, Pelican Bay, just north of the Naples city line, really is a sort of paradise. Picture elegant houses and stately high-rises, manicured landscaping, scads of social groups, entertainment and activities, and uncrowded beaches along the jade and turquoise Gulf waters-just for you and your closest friends. But picture-perfect as this paradise is, all is not peaceful in Pelican Bay. Its leaders are waging a battle to break away from Collier County to become a part of the City of Naples, a move that could affect not only the privileged denizens of this community but the shape of local politics for years to come. And as in any divorce that involves a new partner, emotions are running high, as issues of money, power and property are sparking fear and resentment along with dewy-eyed hope for the future.

It's hard to find a Pelican Bay resident who doesn't gush about the place. "I love Pelican Bay," says Jeannie Davis. She's had a home there since 1981 and moved there full-time nine years ago, Davis explains, as she waits for her tennis partners. "The tennis is wonderful, and the beach and the people are great."

"We like everything-the beauty, the berm, the beaches, the flowers. The maintenance is top-notch," says Philip Westley, a 10-year resident who moved from the City of Naples.

Collier County has more than its share of luxury communities, but Pelican Bay is unique in several ways. First, its size. Stretching from Vanderbilt Beach Road south to Seagate Drive and east to Tamiami Trail, Pelican Bay includes more than 2,100 acres along the Gulf of Mexico and 72 separate communities. Second, it's the home of places that, for many, define Naples: the Philharmonic Center for the Arts, the Waterside Shops, the Registry Resort, the Ritz-Carlton. Third, it boasts nearly three miles of beaches that are largely private because, for the most part, they can be reached only by crossing private Pelican Bay property.

A fourth point that distinguishes Pelican Bay: Bay Colony, one of the most expensive and exclusive of Naples' many expensive, exclusive communities.

Of course, any property in Pelican Bay is pricey. A recent check shows that the lowest price listed for Pelican Bay property outside of Bay Colony was $425,000 for a two-bedroom condo. It was about 1,400 square feet and "needed to be totally redone," says Emily K. Bua, a sales agent for Premier Properties of Southwest Florida Inc., who handles a lot of properties there. On the upper end, about $4 million would buy a penthouse in one of the newer high-rises.

But Bay Colony is in a class of its own. Homes are strung directly along the beachfront without the mangroves that block views elsewhere; and denizens-who include high-powered executives, a number of founders of the über-exclusive Naples Winter Wine Festival and a sprinkling of celebrities, from Rush guitarist Alex Lifeson to TV's Judge Judy-enjoy their own tennis and beach clubs, a restaurant overlooking the Gulf, concierge service and many other luxuries. Here, says Bua, the lowest-listed property is around $900,000; and prices can run as high as $30 million for a beach-front single-family home. "That would compare directly to a large home in Port Royal on the beach," she says. "Bay Colony is definitely one of the most exclusive areas in Naples."

Pelican bay, a planned unit development (PUD), was hatched just over 25 years ago by Westinghouse Corporation, which eventually became WCI Communities, Inc. It includes 6,977 homes-single-family, villas, mid- and high-rises-most of them represented by the 72 separate homeowners associations, and all under the umbrella of the master association, The Pelican Bay Foundation, Inc. Everyone who buys property in Pelican Bay-including the Waterside Shops, the Phil, and other commercial properties-automatically becomes an assessments-paying member of the foundation, says foundation president and chief operating officer Kyle Kinney.

No more than about 25 percent of Pelican Bay's estimated 14,000 residents are full-time, he says, although many fly back for summer weekends, when tee times and restaurant reservations are easily secured. Kinney describes the community as "very active, well-educated, savvy, very Midwest and very much representative of Fortune 500 [executives]-a lot of self-made people who have done very well." Many residents, even those in their 40s and 50s, are retired, although others continue to run businesses.

In addition to the foundation (which is run by a board of resident volunteers elected by property owners), the Pelican Bay Services Division (PBSD) keeps the community operating. Guided by an advisory committee of residents appointed by the Collier County Board of County Commissioners, PBSD tends to public landscaping, street maintenance and lighting, and storm-water management, all paid for by residents through a Municipal Service Taxing Benefit Unit (MSTBU). PBSD works with the MSTBU Advisory Committee and the Pelican Bay Property Owners Association, a voluntary organization with about 3,000 members, which helps identify projects.

Residents pay $987 yearly per household ($598 without cable), which covers replacement of common-area assets such as kitchen equipment and beach trams, as well as operating costs. With a budget of about $6 million and a peak-season staff of 180, the foundation oversees recreational and social amenities, including a new 25,000-square-foot community center, now under construction, two Gulf-front restaurants (in addition to Bay Colony's restaurant) for Pelican Bay residents and their guests, and trams, oversized golf carts that transport residents and visitors along boardwalks through the mangroves to the beach.

"To have Gulf access, tram service, two tennis centers, a community center, covenant enforcement and beach restaurants for $598 a year is pretty remarkable," says Kinney.

As he talks, he drives a golf cart along the berm, which runs from the south end of Pelican Bay northward almost to Bay Colony. It separates the mangroves and wetlands from the tidy landscaping rimming the buildings and roadways.

What had started as a chilly morning has turned into a bright, warm winter day, and the berm bustles with joggers, strollers and trams. Birds in great variety, including a wood stork and a lone, colorful roseate spoonbill, feed busily in the adjacent salt marsh. Egrets, ibis and herons are unperturbed by passers-by, but cackling moorhens scoot away as the cart approaches.

Two boardwalks lead from the berm to two separate beach access points. People relax at the restaurants and bars overlooking the water, but a slight chill off the Gulf makes sunbathers scarce. Typically in season, all the beach chairs-complimentary-are snapped up before noon, says Kinney.

Pelican Bay boasts an extensive calendar of events, activities and clubs, from popular exercise classes on the beach to a 1,000-member-strong Women's League to a coffee club that draws some 300 men weekly to socialize and hear speakers.

A prime location sets the community apart, says Kinney. "Its environment is extremely unique. In some golf course communities, you can find some nice walking trails; but I don't think you can put yourself in a 500-acre mangrove preserve area and be in that environment, and 30 seconds later you're relaxing in a beach chair on the Gulf of Mexico."

But in a community filled with corporate executives, not everybody spends all day relaxing in beach chairs, and control is not easily relinquished. In the last few years, many Pelican Bay residents have started to chafe at being part of the county, which they charge often overlooks their interests. Pelican Bay, they argue, has much more in common with nearby Naples neighborhoods like Park Shore or Port Royal than it does with far-off Collier communities like Golden Gate or Ave Maria. About a year ago, a delegation met with Naples Mayor Bill Barnett to explore the possibility of being annexed by the city. Barnett says, "I'm not campaigning for or against it," but he notes that the city and Pelican Bay "are all part and parcel" of one continuous area of pretty green space and upscale shops and amenities. In fact, he adds, "If you asked most Pelican Bay residents where they live, they'd say, 'Naples, Florida,' and they wouldn't know they couldn't vote for me in an election."

"The county is rapidly growing, and all the emphasis is on growth to the east," says Kinney. "With that, less of the coastal community tax base is going to be spent on coastal communities. It makes sense to align ourselves with coastal communities, because we have the same concerns."

And Pelican Bay's tax base is hefty-$4.2 billion, as compared to $12 billion for the City of Naples and $51.2 billion for the entire county. That's enough to perk up the interest of city officials-and to pique the resentment of county officials, who would be losing not only a major contributor to revenues but their most prestigious neighborhood as well.

This isn't the first time Pelican Bay residents have suggested becoming part of Naples. In the past decade or so, Pelican Bay has looked into incorporation as well as annexation, but previous attempts have failed to gain momentum. Helping to fuel it this time are strained relations on two issues in particular: Cap d'Antibes and beach access.

Cap d'Antibes, a proposed project by the Gulf Bay Group of Companies, which has built a number of Pelican Bay's high-rises, is the final high-rise planned there. Many residents are up in arms about the building, which they say is outsized and was slipped through the approval process by county officials. Gulf Bay's plan is for two high-rises connected by a four-story structure, creating a building 650 feet across-frequently described as more than the length of two football fields. Although Pelican Bay Boulevard is lined with one imposing high-rise after another, critics say the project is out of character with the others, which are single towers. "It absolutely doesn't belong in Pelican Bay-or anywhere on the west coast," says John D'Aquanno, a retired banker from Pennsylvania who has lived in Pelican Bay for 13 years. "It's going to be a monstrosity."