That was just the first of many unpleasant collisions with reality. Shortly after paying Barron Collier $51 million for his half of the land for the housing venture, Monaghan was surprised to learn that the new state development regulations that enabled Ave Maria's creation also required the partnership to set aside 17,000 additional acres for environmental preservation. That land belonged to Barron Collier too, but the company wasn't giving it away. Monaghan's half of the preserve cost him around $66 million, according to a source with knowledge of the deals. Then, in early 2006, his comments about prohibiting condoms and pornography made news, and in the ensuing furor, he was forced to backtrack. A chastened Monaghan appeared on the Today show, standing by silently as Barron Collier's president, Paul Marinelli, assured the national audience that Monaghan would have no control over Ave Maria's morality.

Since then, there has been a distinct power shift in the relationship between the visionary of Ave Maria and the firms selling its real estate. Pulte, which is building and marketing most of the homes in the development, is so sensitive about its association with Monaghan that a Pulte spokeswoman initially told me she did not want to put me in contact with its executives for a story that mentioned him. Jill Hoffman, a Pulte vice president, eventually got on the phone. "We do not target, we do not discriminate," she said, adding that any mention of Catholicism in sales pitches would violate Pulte policy and perhaps federal law.

James Bohrer, a devout Catholic who moved to Florida last year and got his broker's license in order to sell homes at Ave Maria, says that prospective buyers often want to talk to Pulte's agents about their enthusiasm for a community that embraces Catholic morality. "I'll say, 'Yeah, that's great, that's why I'm here.' And the Pulte person will just kind of—it's almost like they discourage the conversation," Bohrer says. "If I wasn't there, they wouldn't talk about it, or they'd change the subject or make it sound like it's not worth talking about."

During a joint interview with Monaghan and Marinelli, the Barron Collier executive repeatedly tried to cut off any discussion of religion. When Monaghan said he believed a "disproportionate share" of Ave Maria's residents would be Catholic, Marinelli jumped in, saying, "The university is going to have, obviously, an influence—a Catholic influence—but by no means do I think it's going to be, as it has been denoted, a Catholic town." Later, he went out of his way to mention that the first business to break ground at Ave Maria, a commercial bank, is run by a Baptist.

From the beginning, Ave Maria's developers have said that, to compensate for its isolation, the town needs a fast start to create a sense of momentum. But for now, building 1,000 houses a year seems a fanciful prospect. The number of annual home sales in the Naples area has dropped by more than half since 2005. Some national builders are abandoning the area, and others are trying to unload inventory at cut-rate prices. Houses in Ave Maria, currently selling in the $300,000 range, used to be priced well below the market, but that's not necessarily true any longer.

Like all homebuilders, Pulte has been hit hard by the housing collapse. The company reported a $593 million loss for the first six months of 2007, and its stock price has fallen more than 50 percent this year. Pulte's Florida ventures alone have lost at least $120 million since January, and the firm's financial reports indicate that it's stepping away from some projects in the state. However, Hoffman says Pulte is still committed to Ave Maria. But she did indicate that, contrary to what some people involved with the undertaking once expected, few homes, if any, will be built on spec. Pulte will break ground only when it has sales. "The market will drive what we do," she says.