The Indy races to put Metro in debit dust

July 18, 1986

First there was Hands Across America. Then Farm Aid II.

Brace yourself, South Florida. Now comes Ralph Aid II.

In a heartrending gesture of charity, the Metro Commission is considering bailing out auto racing impresario Ralph Sanchez with $5 million over 10 years.

In return, Sanchez promises to give the county 17 percent of the "adjusted gross income" from his Indy races at Tamiami Park.

What a deal. Except for one glitch: The Tamiami event lost money last year. A ton of money—$1.3 million, according to Sanchez.

On a similar note, this season's Grand Prix, held at the mutilated Bicentennial Park, lost $652,000—that, after getting a $350,000 subsidy from the tourist tax.

Isn't government wonderful? Used to be that when a private entrepreneur couldn't turn a profit, he or she was doomed to a cold fate. Going out of business, it was called. Used to be that the idea was to take in more money than you spent.

Apparently this isn't always possible when you're trying to put together a "world-class event," whatever that might be. Costs add up—you know, little things, like $23,500 for your lobbyist's new Mercedes-Benz.

Can't have a world-class event without a world-class lobbyist. God knows what Ron Book would have gotten if the Grand Prix had actually made money—maybe Sanchez would've sprung for a Rolls.

The architect of the latest giveaway is County Manager Sergio Pereira, who—invoking the Miss Universe Pageant Boondoggle Theorem—says the TV exposure makes the road races worth every nickel, tourist-wise. Pereira selflessly took it upon himself to review the ledgers of the Tamiami affair, and concluded that Sanchez needs help.

Right now he gets a piddling $100,000 a year for the Indy race. Pereira wants to increase the stipend to $500,000 annually for the next decade. What a guy, and what a grand gift at a time when Dade's economic condition is so bleak!

It seems like just last week that Pereira asked for property tax increases of 12 percent in unincorporated neighborhoods.

It seems like just last week that he proposed raising water and sewer rates, and cutting funds for meals for the elderly.

And it seems like just last week that the cost-conscious county manager declared an urgent need to wipe out the Dade Consumer Advocate's Office, as well as the Fair Housing and Employment Appeals Board. Citizens, he said, would simply have to go elsewhere with their job and housing discrimination complaints.

Pereira computed that these last two budget items would save the county a whopping $303,000 next year. Why, that's almost enough to pave another park and put in a race track.

The question is, would anyone show up?

Contrary to rosy press reports at the time, only half the expected crowd turned out at Tamiami, according to Sanchez's own estimate. We may never know the true attendance because, he says, he didn't bother to use the turnstiles for two days.

Such casual bookkeeping doesn't seem to disturb Commissioner Barry Schreiber, content with Sanchez's assertion that "we fill hotel rooms." Others, such as Commissioners Bev Phillips and Clara Oesterle, have expressed serious doubts about Pereira's plan.

Since the races are partly bankrolled by the city of Miami, Dade County and the state of Florida, taxpayers might be interested in details about the bottom line, which currently is red. Call us nosy, but we'd sure like to see the books before donating another half a million bucks.

Next week the county's finance committee will consider whether or not to set aside its fiscal worries, dig into your pockets and give generously to this sporting cause.

Considering his track record with the county commissioners, it's no wonder that Ralph Sanchez is back at Government Center, a pit stop in more ways than one.

Track developer now charity case for Homestead

August 1, 1993

For those wondering how long it would take the new Metro Commission to start throwing money away, the wait is over: $20 million for auto racing in Homestead.

The 11—1 vote came last Tuesday at midnight, when public attendance was conveniently at a minimum. It brought to $31 million the total that Grand Prix hustler Ralph Sanchez has charmed from the county commission since October.

It's his biggest jackpot ever. Who needs telethons when you've got such softhearted politicians? Sanchez and Homestead City Manager Alex Muxo had no trouble selling the outlandish proposition that South Dade's hurricane recovery should be anchored by a private racetrack, to be used for only three or four major events a year.

Behind-the-scenes players included two longtime Sanchez cohorts, lobbyists Ron Book and Sergio Pereira. Pereira is an old hand at frittering public funds. As county manager, he once spent $9,400 on a new desk.

The Sanchez giveaway comes from a sports tax on hotel beds. Muxo raided the same kitty before; the result is an empty $12 million baseball stadium. Now Homestead wants racing, even though Sanchez's track record is an 11-year skid of red ink.

While claiming his races are a hit, Sanchez remains mysteriously dependent on the dole:

• 1985. Despite receiving more than $1 million in public subsidies, Sanchez says his races lost more than $2 million. Nonetheless, he manages to find the money to pay for a new Mercedes-Benz for his lobbyist, Book.

• February 1986. Ralph Aid I: Miami paves Bicentennial Park into a grand prix track. The city also gives Sanchez $250,000, plus an interest-free loan. That's added to the $800,000 he's already gotten from the county and the state.

• July 1986. Ralph Aid II: Sergio Pereira, then county manager, decides Sanchez needs more. He proposes a $5 million bailout over 10 years. The Metro Commission pares the handout to $200,000 a year, plus a $368,000 payment for "unexpected" costs.

• 1987-1988. Still itchy, Pereira and Sanchez hatch a scheme for Metro to buy out Sanchez's operations, and move the races to the Opa-locka airport. That nutty idea costs taxpayers $300,000 in consultant fees. The plan is dropped when Pereira quits as county manager, after he's caught lying about his secret involvement in a land deal.

• 1992. Miami gives Sanchez his customary $200,000, plus $300,000 in fire and police services. Not enough! He wants to move the Grand Prix to Munisport, a toxic dump in North Miami. Residents protest, saying they'd rather have a quiet dump than a noisy racetrack. Sanchez turns to Homestead ...

And Homestead is ripe for the picking. Flattened by the storm, vacated by the Air Force, jilted by the Cleveland Indians, the city is frantic for a boost.

Disguising Ralph Relief as hurricane relief worked brilliantly. Commissioner Larry Hawkins played everything but the violin, and Sanchez got his racetrack without putting up a penny. The public got a $20 million lube job.

Like the ballpark, a track will bring temporary construction jobs to South Dade. But after it's built, then what? For all but a few weeks each year, the place won't draw flies, much less tourists. (Muxo says Homestead police might use the new track for training, making it the world's most expensive driver-education course.)

If the Grand Prix can't turn a healthy profit on prime downtown bayfront, Sanchez stands no chance in the distant fields of South Dade.

The only winners in this deal are the taxpayers of Miami, who will be spared their annual $500,000 bailout of Ralph's party. Now he is Homestead's charity case.