BY ROBIN MIMNA

Who’s to blame for paving over paradise? Well, that depends on who you ask. The Mackle brothers, the masterminds behind Deltona — now Volusia County’s most populous city — are often painted as the villains who sold Florida’s natural beauty one bargain lot at a time. 

But as West Volusia grapples with rising floodwaters, unchecked sprawl, and a shrinking wildlife corridor, blaming the long-gone Mackles feels a bit too convenient. They may have fired up the development train, but they weren’t the ones who ripped out the brakes, leaving us all to wade — quite literally — through the aftermath of poor planning.

Florida before the boom

Before Deltona was even a gleam in the Mackle brothers’ eyes, Volusia County was covered in vast pine forests, hammocks and citrus groves. The state had long been considered an untamed frontier — hot, humid and largely uninhabitable except for its coastal cities and small inland communities centered around natural springs or the St. Johns River. 

Henry A. DeLand, recalling his first visit, described riding through open pine woods, where he could see for miles through the towering trees. DeLand thrived as a small town with Stetson University at its heart, while Daytona Beach had already become a popular winter escape for the wealthy. But the land between these cities remained mostly untouched, dotted with small farms and homesteads. That was about to change.

The Mackle revolution

Post-World War II America was defined by rapid expansion, fueled by returning soldiers in need of homes, government-backed mortgages, and an optimistic middle class eager to settle down. Florida, with its warm climate and promise of affordable living, was poised for explosive growth. The Mackle brothers — Elliott, Robert and Frank Jr. — were among the first to fully capitalize on this new American dream.

Their company, General Development Corporation (GDC), pioneered the modern concept of planned communities. Rather than selling individual lots haphazardly, they envisioned entire cities with roads, utilities and amenities already in place. They weren’t just selling land — they were selling whole communities. With Marco Island and Deltona, they built golf courses and shopping centers, and even patrolled their developments with security guards.

But perhaps their greatest innovation was in marketing. The Mackles made it easier than ever to buy a piece of Florida, using installment plans that allowed people to purchase land with as little as $10 down and $10 a month. Their sales campaigns stretched far beyond Florida — even cruise ships in the Mediterranean featured sales pitches for prime Deltona real estate. 

It was an era where land speculation was booming, and the Mackles were at the forefront.

The real culprits of overdevelopment

While the Mackle Brothers had a role in shaping Florida’s landscape, they played by the rules of their time. In the 1970s, Florida’s leaders realized that uncontrolled growth was becoming a problem. In 1985, they passed the Growth Management Act, which required state, regional and local governments to work together so that roads, schools and other services could keep up with new development.

The issues we face today — overcrowded schools, gridlocked traffic, an endless sprawl of subdivisions and a fragmenting wildlife corridor — really took root in 2011, when the Florida Legislature, under Gov. Rick Scott, passed the Community Planning Act. This piece of legislation effectively gutted state growth regulations that had been in place for decades. With the guardrails removed, local governments were free to approve developments with little oversight. And, just to make sure the problem wasn’t too obvious, some lawmakers even tried to change the definition of “sprawl,” so it wouldn’t sound so… well, problematic.

By then, the runaway train of development wasn’t just off the rails — it was on fire.

Who is really to blame? Every time another stretch of Volusia’s dwindling green space is bulldozed for another cookie-cutter subdivision, it’s easy to point the finger at the Mackles. They started it, right?

Instead of blaming three men from the 1960s, perhaps we should be questioning our leaders’ commitment to protecting Volusia’s remaining rural lands. Do they have a plan to address the strain on our infrastructure?