Article 2: Researching Palm Beach and Florida Noir in the 1930s
When readers pick up a Drake Marlow mystery, I want them to feel transported to another era. The mysteries themselves may be fictional, but the world surrounding Drake is built from real history, real locations, and countless hours of research into South Florida during the 1930s.
Researching historical fiction can sometimes feel like detective work itself.
The process often begins with a simple question. What did Worth Avenue look like in 1933? What was organized crime like? What restaurants existed near the waterfront? Could someone travel from Palm Beach to Havana the way Drake does in the stories? Finding the answers usually leads down fascinating paths through old newspapers, photographs, maps, postcards, and archives.
One of the things that drew me to this period was how much South Florida was changing at the time. Today Palm Beach is associated with luxury and tourism, but during the Depression years the region was still evolving. The boom years of the 1920s had collapsed. Some grand projects survived while others failed spectacularly. New roads and airports were appearing. Wealthy visitors still arrived each season, but beneath the glamorous surface many people struggled financially.
That environment makes an ideal setting for noir fiction.
Classic detective stories thrive in places filled with contrasts. Palm Beach had plenty of them. Elegant hotels stood only a short distance from working docks and isolated stretches of coastline used by smugglers. Political influence and hidden corruption often existed behind carefully maintained public images. The more I researched the era, the more I realized how naturally the setting fit the tone of a hard-boiled mystery series.
Historical accuracy matters to me because small details create authenticity. Readers may not consciously notice every period-correct element, but together those details help make the world believable. I spend a surprising amount of time verifying things like whether a particular road existed yet, what kind of cars local police departments used, or whether a business was operating during a certain year.
Sometimes the research uncovers story ideas I never expected.
I’ve found inspiration in forgotten newspaper articles, unusual crimes, mysterious disappearances, political scandals, and strange bits of Florida folklore. South Florida in the 1930s was full of larger-than-life personalities—developers, gamblers, socialites, smugglers, reporters, and adventurers. Many of them seem as though they stepped directly out of a detective novel.
Another important aspect of the research involves understanding the mood of the era. Prohibition ushered in a disrespect for the law and gave rise to organized crime. This is glaringly brought to light with In the Gator’s Grip, the second book in the series. Prohibition affected the entire country, including Florida. People viewed money, success, and survival differently than they do today. That atmosphere shapes the decisions Drake and the other characters make throughout the series.
Of course, research can also become dangerous for a writer because it’s easy to disappear into endless historical rabbit holes. I’ve spent entire evenings reading about old train routes, hurricane reports, or long-demolished hotels that may only receive a sentence or two in a novel. But those details help me feel grounded in the world I’m writing about.
In many ways, Drake Marlow has given me an excuse to explore a forgotten version of Florida that still lingers beneath the modern landscape. Every old photograph, faded newspaper clipping, and abandoned story adds another layer to the world of the books.
And occasionally, history provides mysteries even stranger than fiction.
