That name likely means little to most, if not all, readers. But for many who lived or worked in Venezuela in the mid-20th Century that name brings a flood of memories to both children and adults.

In brief, after the Caracas-La Güira Expressway was inaugurated in the early 50s, enabling better access not only to the international airport but also to the spectacular beaches north of Caracas, entrepreneurs saw the potential for a 5-Star hotel/resort. This project was launched and successfully completed in 1957; however, January of the following year brought the coup overthrowing the Pérez Jimenez regime and the ensuing upheavals and political posturing delayed the inauguration, including the determination of just who would administer the property.

Finally, in 1963, after a bidding process, Sheraton Hotels was awarded the property on a royalty-type basis. This was the first Sheraton hotel in Latin America and the Caribbean.

Up to that point, most international travelers would spend the night in one of the Caracas hotels, such as El Conde or the Hotel Tamanaco before leaving early the next morning for the 30-minute drive (before the expressway was built it took about an hour) to catch a flight from Maiquetía.

The Macuto Sheraton was a leisurely 20 minute littoral drive from the airport. It rapidly became the preferred spot not only for Americans (and international flight crews) but for Venezuelans on either an overnight stop during travels, a weekend get-away, or a family vacation. The Spanish Meliá chain had built a major hotel near the Macuto Sheraton in the early 90s. The competition had energized both hotels and both operated successfully during the 90s.

In 1999 the catastrophic Vargas cataclysm hit the area. The Macuto Sheraton was not greatly damaged (nor was the Meliá) and it rapidly converted to a shelter for the thousands left homeless. Although the victims were eventually re-housed away from the hotel, the cost of repairs and refurbishing added to the immensely aggravated political and regulatory environment brought on by the Chávez regime eventuated in Sheraton’s decision to cede the property and its administration to the Venezuelan state. However, the property itself was mostly intact at the time.

Despite promises and assurances of converting the property along with the neighboring Meliá Hotel into a major 6-star resort, such visions remained as ephemeral as the utopian dreams of Socialists everywhere. 

Our family stayed in the Macuto Sheraton during a trip to Venezuela in 1994 when we had four children, the youngest being about a year old, and we can attest that it was still a great family friendly, bustling property. 

If the 1999 Vargas tragedy nevertheless left room for hope of an eventual restoration, the 2026 earthquakes put the kibosh on such. The materialization of the Macuto Sheraton and Meliá under whatever names the Venezuelan regime might favor is now out of the question. At least for my lifetime.

(This area of Venezuela has had two name changes since my childhood. It used to be known as the Central Littoral, a section of Caracas to the north, on the coast, where the major airport and seaport are. In 1998, the area was turned into Vargas state, named after Venezuela’s first civilian president, elected in the early 19th Century. In 2019 the name was changed once again, this time to La Guaira, the country’s largest seaport. So when reading Litoral Central or Vargas (such as when discussing the terrible mountain slides of 1999), or La Guaira (such as when reading reports of the earthquakes last month, they are the same area.)

Last week I was in a tiny Caribbean coastal town where one shoreline reminded me of my childhood on the coast along the Macuto Sheraton, even to a leaning palm tree silhouetted against the gentle sea at dusk. And that sight brought the above thoughts to mind.

And such thoughts in turn brought to my memory a trip I took to Venezuela when I was in my mid-teens. Having departed late from Miami, the flight arrived at Maiquetía (Caracas’s airport) late at night. An elderly, American gentleman and I found ourselves, with our baggage, waiting for a taxi. When one finally arrived, he asked me where I was headed, “Macuto Sheraton,” I replied.

“Well, that’s where I am going so would you like to share the taxi ride? There don’t seem to be many taxis tonight.”

We agreed to board the same taxi and we headed to the hotel.

Having paid the fare we approached the front desk. The American spoke Spanish although with a bit of difficulty and he did not notice that the hotel clerk was assuming that he and I were father and son. 

So I spoke to the clerk directly to advise that he was to check in the gentleman separately and then he was to take care of me. If he would check the hotel reservations he would see that our names were different. I explained this to the gentleman and he was surprised at the confusion since he thought he had clearly told the clerk the same thing!

We eventually got checked in and bid our farewells, never to see each other again.

On another occasion, also in my teens, I arrived with limited funds, having determined to surprise my family. I walked up to the hotel desk letting them know that I only had enough money to pay for a taxi to return to the airport the following morning. 

But I offered them my watch and assured them that my father would arrange to have the Bethlehem Steel pay for my night and my father would reimburse the company. The young men behind the desk were a bit taken aback but after checking with their manager, they accepted my watch and gave me a key.

I arrived in El Pao the next afternoon to the great shock and surprise of all. My father arranged for the company to get my watch and pay the hotel on his behalf which he of course reimbursed. 

There was at least one other time where I arrived late, with little money. On that occasion, the taxi driver would not take me to the Sheraton because I had told him how much I had and he and I calculated it was enough to go a certain distance, pay the absolute minimum for an accommodation and pay the fare (discounted!) to the airport the next day. 

So he took me to a very dilapidated, shady looking joint and spoke to the clerk on my behalf. I paid the lodging, went to my room, placed my luggage against the door, and went to sleep. The next morning, as promised, the cab driver came right on time and took me to the airport. 

“I am sorry you had to stay in that place, but it was safer than to have stayed on the street or at the airport,” he said.

“Oh, no problem at all. On the contrary, I thank you for taking care of me,” I replied. He had truly been very kind.

Although, at first glance, it seems to be the case that times were different in those days, that is actually not true. 

It was that the people saw themselves as responsible first to God and second to one another. In other words, it’s not the times that change, it’s whom people see as their gods. If we see ourselves as completely autonomous beings — our own little gods — or as products of blind forces of chaos, we feel no moral obligation to anyone. If, however, we see ourselves as responsible to our Creator, we will be kind to our neighbors, who are made in the image of our Creator to Whom we will one day give account.

The Macuto Sheraton is now gone. As, very likely, are that elderly American gentleman and the cab driver. The clerks may still be around. As am I. We’ve seen and lived among people who remember Whose image we bear. And we’ve seen and lived among people who forget Whose image we bear.

And we agree on this: the former is better.

“Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for your souls. But they said, We will not walk therein [Jer. 6:16].”

The Macuto Sheraton, circa 1975

View from a room circa 1967

A few short years after Sheraton bowed out and the property was officially expropriated in 2002

The below YouTube video is in Spanish but is a good birds eye view of the Macuto Sheraton’s history.

The rise and fall of the Macuto Sheraton: the hotel that marked the Venezuelan coast.