Mother of the Land Trust

Persistent yet patient, determined yet diplomatic, feisty yet steadfast. These are just a few of the qualities family and friends use to describe Toni Robinson, also known as the “Mother of the Indian River Land Trust.” The nonprofit organization recently honored this remarkable visionary by naming a shoreline acquisition after her: the Toni Robinson Waterfront Trail. It was a fitting tribute to a woman who has spent the last 27 years advocating for the preservation, protection and restoration of Indian River County’s most precious resource — land. 

Robinson’s passion for conservation began in Michigan, where she grew up enjoying outdoor pursuits of all kinds, especially horseback riding. “Watching the land destruction there was quite disturbing,” she says, describing how developers systematically swallowed up the land, decimating nonrenewable natural resources in the process. So when she and her husband, Walter, chose to retire here with their family in 1985, it was Vero’s open spaces and lack of high rises that first attracted them.

Vero Beach was also home to the former McKee Jungle Gardens, a horticultural marvel created by Arthur McKee and Waldo Sexton in 1932. An 80-acre coastal hammock of native palms, ancient live oak and rare and exotic plants that attracted over 100,000 visitors a year, it was, in its heyday, the third most popular attraction in the state. The architectural curiosities from Waldo Sexton’s excursions around the world along with exotic birds and animals added to its appeal.

But the advent of interstate highways drew traffic away from U.S. 1 as the main thoroughfare and in 1976, a decline in attendance forced McKee to close its doors. All but 18 acres were bulldozed and replaced with condominiums. What remained of the striking flora and fauna, ponds, bridges and magical winding trails became strangled in vines. By the time Robinson saw the property, it had lain dormant for over 10 years and become a different kind of jungle — overgrown and strewn with garbage and debris. Robinson saw only promise. “It was a special place because there were the kinds of plants that don’t grow anywhere else in Florida and the tallest palm trees in the county,” she says, recalling her first impressions.