An Ill Wind That Blew a Few Somebodies Good

Thanks to a media mafia that thrives on bad news and human misery, Hurricane Wilma will be remembered as a deservedly forgettable South Florida event dominated by scary winds, unforgiving storm surges, power outages, governmental missteps, mangled buildings, downed trees, damaged lives and crippled fortunes.

The broadcast and print media were rife with images of suffering which seemed to settle disproportionately on the poor, weak, vulnerable and/or disadvantaged among us, many of whom had already endured the heartless embraces of Katrina and Lisa.

Predictably, there was a concurrent plague of opportunists, thieves, bullies and scofflaws to rub salt into the wounds of the storm's victims. For them may there be an especially toasty firepit in hell, since so few of them will have been adequately punished while still above ground.

On the plus side, just as predictably, were the many instances wherein caring individuals and groups showered their compassion and material aid on those in distress, almost always with no need or desire for recognition. For them there must surely be special rewards in what had damwell better be a kinder, gentler hereafter than the heretofore and now.

Natural disasters bring out the best and the worst in us, the measures of which will never be fully known by anyone other than each individual who was touched in one way by misfortune or touched in quite another way by the plight of the unfortunate.

The aims of this column are not grandiose: Merely to commiserate with those whom Wilma abused, salute those who came to their aid, vilify the relatively few dirtbags who sought to convert a human tragedy into personal gain and spotlight a small sidelight of the happening.

Automatic entrants into Wilma's Hall Of Shame are the price gougers who seized opportunities to convert desperate wants and needs into quick and excessive profits, a band of robbers as sure to be found during major storms as the "roofers from hell" in their aftermath.

Then there is the Kruse family - headliners who will never make (or covet) the headlines.

They were owners of the luxurious 180-room Pelican Beach Resort, smack-dab on the oceanfront sands of Fort Lauderdale and squarely in the cross-hairs of Wicked Wilma.

Possessing one of the first facilities to become even partially habitable after the storm, they could have jacked up the normal $295-465 room rates almost without limit, there being no shortage of ready, willing and well-heeled survivors of the killer wind.

Instead, the Kruses first provided free beds and full board for their employees and their families, then offered rooms, as they became available, to the public at - get this - "hurricane relief rates," about a third less than normal.

They did all this without diminishing the quality of service by a whit, jot or tittle (tittle-ations in service are invariably the first casualties in any disaster, as you surely know).

In order to maintain the highest possible level of hospitality, not only the hired staff, but members of the family pitched in as bellhops, shopkeepers, food providers and even table busers.

That's class, gang...even in the classy atmosphere of Floridian luxury.

Why make a big deal of it in this space? Simply because it is a shining example of how some good people at all economic and social levels rise to the occasion when the occasion demands selfless service.

Was this one of the most dramatic and spectacular gestures coming out of the violent "Wilmaness?" Certainly not - but the spirit behind it is very much the essence of what good deeds are all about.

I've never met any members of the Kruse family and wouldn't have known of their generosity except for one of my begats (Carol, Opus 7), who was among the beneficiaries.

However, if I (or you) hear of anyone interested in a posh place to stay in Fort Lauderdale, the number to call is (954)568-9431.

Footnote: If you want to read a really heart-warming storm story - this one about Katrina in Mississippi - visit Frank's Column  (it's posted by fellow columnist Frank Kaiser).

It's nearly biblical in its impact, and if it doesn't bring a lump to your throat, check the same area with your thumb and forefinger to make sure you still have a pulse.

Meanwhile, thanks for tuning in on this snapshot of Florida life, to which we returned just in time to meet Wilma - a really mean Mother if there ever was one!