Rough Seas: Marineland fights to regain lost glory

Rust stains mark the giant fish tank and pounding waves have eaten away a deck overlooking the ocean, but when the trained dolphins leap high in twisting flips at the midday show, visiting children still squeal with delight.

Once Florida's most popular tourist attraction, this pioneering oceanarium has fallen on hard times. Travelers who once cruised by Marineland on State Road A1A now bypass the area on I-95, speeding toward the bigger, brighter, newer mega-attractions in Orlando.

Cute penguins, playful dolphins, and a sea lion batting balls with his nose still fascinate the youngsters, but older kids typically want high-thrill, high-priced rides based on "Star Wars" or the Terminator.

"We don't want to compete with Sea World and Disney, because we can't," said David Internoscia, interim manager of the 60-year-old attraction [six miles south of Pelican Dunes at Crescent]. "We're aiming for a mix of education, research, and entertainment. About 75 percent of our clientele now is school groups."

Whether those groups will be enough to keep Marineland in business is still an open question.

After struggling with declining attendance for decades, the attraction declared bankruptcy, closed briefly last year, and reopened three months ago under the management of a nonprofit foundation. A complicated series of deals has seen most of the land--more than 100 acres of georgeous open beachfront and picturesque dunes--sold to the state and local governments for a park and recreation area.

Perhaps most hopeful: Jim Jacoby, an Atlanta developer, has obtained about 40 acres immediately adjacent to Marineland where he hopes to build an ecotourism venture that will feature an environmentally friendly hotel and dolphin-therapy research facility.

We hope to build a real demonstration model, an environmentally sustainable eco-village of the future," said John Bevilaqua, Jacoby's marketing chief. "There will be a small, upscale hotel, a spa, and a research and education center."

Jacoby hopes to start a dolphin therapy program in which children with developmental problems such as autism can interact with the animals.

Work on his project begins this summer with the demolition of two aging hotels on the property, with construction to follow shortly thereafter.

But while it may bring new tourists to the area, Jacoby's operation will have no direct links to Marineland, which is struggling to break even on a consistent basis.

Looming over the future like a black cloud is $9.6 million debt owed to bondholders from a previous attempt to redevelop the park. The foundation is holding talks with the bondholders in hopes of renegotiating the debt.

"That would save the facility," said Internoscia. "But if it isn't approved, it will go to public bidding."

Since it reopened in March, Marineland has been operating in the black, with 600 to 1000 visitors per day. Scarce funds have been funneled toward maintenance and repairs.

An escape from the crowds

One of the biggest factors in Marineland's favor seems to be the fact that it isn't big, pricey, and crowded. Admission is just $12 for adults, a bargain compared to $44 for most of Orlando's parks. The cozy atmosphere lets children get up-close with the animal performers, and there no lines of sun-baked visitors like in Orlando.

Then there's the nostalgia factor. Marineland's history is a colorful combination of science and tourism schmaltz. Founded in 1938 by Hollywood movie producer Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney, it was used for more than a decade for filming underwater movie scenes, including the 1954 science fiction cult classic, "Creature from the Black Lagoon." The facility was opened to the public in the 1950s after trainers taught tricks to several of the dolphins. Throughout the 1960s, Marineland reigned as Florida's most visited attraction, drawing thousands every week.

But those were the days before interstate highways, when a Florida vacation usually meant a trip to the beach with perhaps a stop at a nature-based roadside attraction such as Marineland, Silver Springs, or Cypress Gardens.

The construction of I-95 in the 1960s took most of the traffic 15 miles inland, away from Marineland, and the opening of Walt Disney World in 1971 brought the dawn of a new era in Sunshine State tourism.

Marineland's steady decline began, and through the years the dwindling crowds saw the facility deteriorate. Rust popped out on the giant metal tanks holding corrosive sea water, while peeling paint and broken concrete grandstands added to the air of neglect.

"For years the place was run by dolphin trainers who weren't that good at maintenance, budgets, and finance," said Internoscia, an accountant by trade. "We've got a lot of work to do, but we're on the way."

Marineland's most valuable assets are its 19 dolphins, which would be worth well into six figures if sold to other marine parks. But Internoscia is determined to make a go of the park, and he believes the constant stream of school groups could be Marineland's salvation.