CHAPTER 4 CONTINUED. . .

Education: A Common Goal And A Sense Of Being

African Americans could freely pray, dance, socialize, and trade among themselves but they realized that their uplift in the mainstream was through education. Therefore, they sacrificed land and donated their time, energy, and talents to develop their schools. Gibbs High School exemplifies such commitment.

Gibbs High was established out of a societal neglect. There were almost 7,000 African American residents in St. Petersburg in 1927 before the county established the first "Negro" high school. It was originally designed as an elementary school for 350 pupils. Anticipating an influx of new residents, the city had built the structure for its White children. However, in 1925, the land boom of the Twenties went bust. Therefore, the school was not used. It was vacant for a year before African Americans persuaded the county to allow them to use the facility. Former Gibbs students recall that the school was quite inadequate for its 700 high-school students. For the first 25 years, it did not have a football field, a gymnasium, auditorium, library, nor science equipment, and the bathrooms were sized for elementary children. Ernest Fillyau, a photographer and presently a city council member, and Ernest Ponder, a retired history teacher, explain that the African American community worked together to improve the physical plant of the school. Mr. P. P. Perkins, a contractor and teacher at Gibbs asked the community to help build a gymnatorium (auditorium and gymnasium). Individually members of the African American community bought bricks. Collectively, fish fries, basketball games, and singings (concerts) were held to raise funds. These methods were also used to construct a cafeteria and basketball and tennis courts. With Perkins' guidance, community members, students and teachers labored together to expand the facility.

The community gave the school many gifts. The Non-Pariel, a women's club organized by Fannye Ponder, a Gibbs teacher and socialite, purchased the first science equipment for the school. For two decades after the school was established, the county did not provide school buses. Therefore, the first three school buses were bought by the African American community. These sacrificial efforts bonded the community to the school.

Gibbs, more than any other institution, gave the African American community a sense of belonging. Churches, social clubs and neighborhoods divided people by philosophical interests and geographical boundaries but Gibbs bonded them through a common experience of education, intimacy and collective struggle. Children of maids, lawyers, doctors, porters from different vicinities attended the same school. All who passed through doors of Gibbs became Gladiators.

Segregation allowed African Americans significant control over the curriculum. They were supervised by a Negro superintendent. The teachers and principals primarily determined the curriculum, states Emmanuel Stewart, a retired Gibbs principal.

Race influenced the curriculum. Although Shakespeare, Latin, Spanish, and French were taught, the students also were enculturated in the Negro world view. Bob Perry, a 1963 Gibbs graduate describes the curriculum in this manner, 'Our teachers made us realize that we were black and we had obstacles to face and we really didn't have much time to waste' (White 1980:20). Hence, Gibbs invited prominent individuals to meet with its students. Such notables as Eleanor Roosevelt, Dr. Mary McLeod Bethune, founder of Bethune Cookman College, Langston Hughes, an author and poet, Elston Howard, a New York Yankee, and Reverend J. C. Austin, a Chicago minister, lectured at Gibbs. Not only were students exposed to outstanding individuals, they were provided opportunities to experience the larger world. Ernest Ponder, a retired history teacher, recalls that he and the late Olive B. McLin, chair of the English Department, organized St. Cecile Choir to give students greater exposure and encourage them to go to college. They performed in the Bahamas, Atlanta, Washington, D. C. and many other locations in the South. Ponder posits that the curriculum was designed to demonstrate that Negroes could overcome insurmountable odds and be a credit to their race. Gibbs students were educated to succeed despite racism.

In 1960, the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools confirmed that Gibbs had a quality curriculum. It became the first black school in the entire Southeast to be accepted in the association. To be finally accepted in the ranks of white schools meant that Gibbs had transformed that elementary school into a learning center of higher education.

Gibbs High contributed to the emergence of an African American middle class. A 1958 news article reported that several of Gibbs' students in the class of 1940 had become accomplished musicians. Frank Royal, Ernie Fields, Buddy Johnson and Samuel Robinson joined national bands. A St. Petersburg Times (1980:21) monograph on Blacks in St. Petersburg indicates that some members of the 1966-67 class became doctors, businessmen [sic], ministers, and received post graduate degrees. Resistance To The Status Quo

During the 1950s, an increased number of middle-class African Americans showed a new militancy toward racial discrimination (Arsenault 1988:266). African American ministers, doctors and other community leaders came together during this period, to persuade, petition, seek legal redress and appeal the courts concerning the needs of their community. Their strategies focused on reforming local racial conditions. They requested the courts to declare white primaries unconstitutional and sued the city to end segregation at the city spa, pool and beach (Davis 1979:69). In 1958, educated leaders encouraged and supported Dr. Ralph Wimbish's unsuccessful bid for a city council seat. He was the "first in his race" in St. Petersburg for whom a petition had been obtained. Their challenges made it difficult for city officials to pretend that the African American community was a mass of illiterate domestics and laborers (Arsenault 1988:207).

The Second World War also abetted African Americans' struggle against political domination by whites in St. Petersburg. Nearly two thousand African Americans from St. Petersburg served in the armed forces during the war (Arsenault 1988:302). Informants suggest that fighting against Hitler radicalized their opposition to racial discrimination. Henrietta Davis, a seventy-four year old resident of St. Petersburg explains the transformation, "Those young people had come up. They had been in the service. When they came back here, they weren't afraid of anything."

Power Exists In The Masses

The reform and middle-class movement of the 1950s became more combative and diverse during the 1960s and 1970s. Without doubt, local African Americans were strengthened by Civil Rights protests and radicalized by Black Nationalists. Students, church leaders, ordinary citizens and sanitation workers anchored themselves in the political equation of St. Petersburg. They led economic boycotts, sit-ins, strikes, and street uprisings and channeled years of humiliation into coercive a force.

Ostensibly, the dawn of a grassroots movement in St. Petersburg began with the boycott of Webb City. Four years after the Montgomery bus boycott, African Americans decided not to purchase items from Webb City, a complex of stores and a tourist attraction "sprawled over several city blocks" (Arsenault 1988:263). As a forerunner to the shopping mall, James Earl "Doe" Webb sold groceries, hardware, ice cream, and a variety of other products. Although African Americans were permitted to buy groceries and other items, they were prohibited from sitting down and enjoying a meal and a drink in the store's restaurant. No longer contented with the status quo, on March 2, 1960, the NAACP organized a community-wide boycott against this tourist-minded business.

From that March date until December 6, 1960, African Americans picketed everyday and eventually obliterated a racial barrier. Their cohorts who shopped there were ostracized and ridiculed. Blue Star Taxi drivers refused to serve any African Americans who patronized Webb City during that period. Webb lost most of its business, especially that Christmas season. When Doc Webb sought an anti- picketing injunction in court against the picketers, he claimed a $15,000-a-day loss (Fleming 1973:56). Although he won the injunction, he could not force African Americans to shop there. To prevent further financial loss, his only option was to change the store's policy toward African Americans.

In 1966, Joseph Waller a.k.a. Yeshitela Omali destroyed a symbol of white supremacy. For years a painting of African Americans in black-face as minstrel characters eating watermelons and entertaining whites on a beach was prominently displayed on a wall of city hall. Each time African Americans transacted business there, they were humiliated by this painting. Many people complained to each other. Reverend Enoch Davis led a delegation that confronted the city council concerning the depiction of African Americans. Rather than remove the painting, council members simply laughed and defended the caricature as "art" (Davis 1979:100). The Council's refusal led Waller to rip the painting off the wall. He also tore it into pieces to ensure that it would be eternally destroyed.

African Americans in St. Petersburg conclude that a beating and incarceration by police in May, 1964 radicalized Waller. While walking home from his job at the St. Petersburg Times one evening, he was jailed for vagrancy because he did not have any identification papers. A St. Petersburg Times (1.24.65) editorial characterized him as a married college student who was a father, home owner and a respectable law-abiding citizen. The editor wrote, "had he been a white man, Waller probably would not have been arrested." Reverend Enoch Davis (1979:101) writes, "Because of his arrest and other incidents, Waller developed a disrespect for the power structure, especially the police force."

Nevertheless, the leadership of St. Petersburg severely punished Waller for his direct action against the cultural hegemony of white Americans in St. Petersburg. The St. Petersburg Times, his former employer was not forgiving. The newspaper editor characterized his protest as extreme and "hoodlumism" (Hooker 1984: 66). The Times argued that he 'showed a lack of poise and common sense' (Hooker 1984: 66). Waller was tried twice for destroying the picture that was allegedly worth $11,000. Initially, he was found guilty of disorderly conduct and sentenced to 320 days in jail by the Municipal Court. He was retried in Circuit Court in May 1967 for grand larceny and sentenced to jail for six-months to five years for the same crime. Such judicial approach raised the issue of double jeopardy.

The United States Supreme Court took the appeal under advisement and ruled in 1971 that no two courts in a state may try a person for the same crime. It annulled Waller's conviction but did not decide whether he was subjected to double jeopardy in the city and state courts. The case was returned to Circuit Court. For the third time Waller was tried, found guilty and sentenced six months to three years in prison. A lower court justified such harsh action as it suggested that Waller encouraged civil unrest during a tense period.

The leadership that significantly altered the course of history in St. Petersburg, came from the sanitation workers. For 116 days, beginning May 5, 1968, and ending August 29, 1968, 210 African Americans and 1 white sanitation worker struck the city of St. Petersburg for better benefits and pay. Joseph Savage, a Georgia native with a third grade education became the strike- organizer.

Lack of health and retirement benefits and low pay inspired the strike. Many of the workers were literally dying on the job because they could not afford to retire, Savage recounts. The city did not even deduct Social Security taxes and paid the men only sixty-seven cents an hour. Basically, the sanitation workers were tired of being exploited.

The city attempted to intimidate the strikers. Initially, city manager Lynn Andrews refused to negotiate with the workers. He fired each of the striking garbage men and hired strike breakers who were White. Police arrested sanitation workers for disorderly conduct as they led forty marches on city hall and the home of the city manager.

These strikers were not deterred. Energized by a broad range of support received in the community, they continually marched, protested and held community meetings. The strike became a celebrated cause. Cohorts of Doctor Martin Luther King Jr., Doctor Ralph Abernathy, A. D. King, and Reverend C. K. Steele, a civil rights leader from Tallahassee visited the sanitation strikers and gave national prominence to their struggle.

Some youths in the community became frustrated with the city's treatment of African Americans. Concerned about a lack of employment, the displacement of their families by the interstate highway, and the city's disregard for the striking sanitation workers, they rebelled. Businesses on Sixteenth Street were burned and looted August 15, 1968. Windows were smashed. Equipment was destroyed. Fires were set. Whites were attacked, and bricks were thrown at police. Eighty- three youths were arrested and several people were beaten by the police. A civil emergency was called in a 550- block area of the predominately African American Southside community.

The youth rebellion gave power to the sanitation movement. The Evening Independent wrote on August 16, 1968, "The thing that couldn't happen in St. Petersburg -- a race riot-has happened." The St. Petersburg Times wrote that St. Petersburg as a "resort city" should have the motivation to find a solution. It warned that racial trouble only brought bad publicity to an area that depended on tourism to survive. The St. Petersburg Times was distressed that headlines around the world read, 'The resort city of St. Petersburg has experienced looting and fire bombings caused by racial tension.'

The white power structure expressed concern about the increasing influence of the African American youths. James W. Bax, Special Envoy to Governor Claude Kirk concluded that great change was taking place in the leadership structure of the black community. "Power in the black community is gravitating from older professionals to the young power groups and not only Joe Waller's group," he reported (Blumenfield 1968:1 B). Two days after the street uprising, a St. Petersburg Times editorial stated, "Re-establishment of order must be followed immediately with the re-establishment of the moderate Negro leadership." A week after the street disturbances, a compromise between the city and the workers was made and the four-month strike ended. Despite, the strength of the strikers, they were unable to reach a settlement with the city until the youth rebelled in the streets.

To ensure a return to moderate leadership among African Americans and maintain the status quo, St. Petersburg's Chamber of Commerce, during this 1968 upheaval, organized the Community Alliance. This "bi-racial organization," initially comprised of 21 white members and 12 black members, attempted to subvert the power of the youths. David Welch, (an accountant), John Hopkins, (a teacher), George Grogan, (owner of the Manhattan Casino), and Doctor Gilbert Leggett, (an activist), and Reverend McNeal Harris were invited to join the Alliance. The chamber's identification of these African Americans began to influence who spoke for the African American community and determined their needs. The purpose of the Alliance was to establish and maintain communication between "black and white communities." In this way, the Chamber established the criteria by which African American leadership should be selected.

The manipulation of the voices of the African American community is seen clearly in the garbage settlement. When city manager Lynn Andrews held a press conference to announce that the garbage dispute had been settled, David Welch, co- chairperson of the Community Alliance sat by his side. Welch described himself as coordinator of various groups in the black community, the sanitation workers and the city administration. However, James Sanderlin, the lawyer who represented the sanitation workers said he was very surprised to find out that Welch was also present. >From the onset of the strike, Sanderlin, a young lawyer and a Boston native, guided Joe Savage and the other strikers. Welch's participation was encouraged only by the city manager.

The sanitation strike became a watershed in the history of St. Petersburg. African Americans directly challenged city hall en masse for the first time. They publicly demanded jobs for their youths and insisted that city hall positions and city council chambers reflect their presence. Their protests led the city to create a voting district comprised primarily of African Americans. As a result, in 1969, Bette Wimbish became the first African American in St. Petersburg to be elected to city council.

Is This Integration? But We Thought. . .

Shortly after the color barrier in city government was crossed, the Fifth Circuit United States Court of Appeals desegregated the schools. In 1968, the court ruled in New Orleans that all Negro schools in Florida and six other southern states must be integrated or abandoned. In 1971, seventeen years after the Supreme Court decided in Brown versus Topeka Board of Education, Pinellas County complied with this ruling.

This judicial ruling dismantled the African American school. The Pinellas School Board closed all but three of the traditional African American schools. Wildwood Elementary School, although a new facility, became a welfare agency for the Department of Health and Rehabilitative Services (HRS). Jordan Elementary was transformed into a Head Start Center. The School Board even tried to close Gibbs High School. However, protest from the community prevented this action. Nevertheless, integration reduced the number of schools in the African American community.

Although Gibbs remained in the African American community, it was no longer of the community. Gibbs' leadership and student body became predominantly white. In collaboration with the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), district federal court decided that no school population could comprise more than 30 percent African Americans. School administrators separated Gibbs from the community that surrounded it. In 1980, Bruce McMillian, the first white principal at Gibbs described the area in which it was located as a high crime neighborhood. African Americans complained that the principal's statement was insensitive and showed that the school was divorced from the community. With integration, the predominantly white administration changed the name of Gibbs' marching band from the Marching Gladiators to the Sound of the South (White 1980:19). Three years after desegregation, Gibbs, a school that trained many prominent African American musicians, did not have one African American member in its band. By 1991, the school board posted a security fence around the school. No other high school in the county is walled off from its surrounding community. Desegregation alienated African Americans from Gibbs High.

The altered world view of the desegregated schools led to a high rate of suspension among African American students. During the 1971-72 school year, African American students represented 22.5 percent of the 1,155 students suspended in Pinellas County (DeLoache 1981 :17). By 1979, 40 percent of the suspension were African American students (DeLoache 1981:17). However, they comprised 18 percent of the school population in 1971-72 and 17 percent in 1979- 80 (DeLoache 1981 :17). In the 1991-92 school year, African American students made up 17 percent of the entire student body in Pinellas schools, but they were 39 percent of the students suspended in middle school (Thomas 1992:1). African American students in elementary schools accounted for 44 percent of school suspensions and 55 percent of in-school suspensions (Thomas 1993:6). The Juvenile Welfare Board of Pinellas County (1988) concluded that black males in the ninth grade had the highest dropout rate of any group in the county. School records show a significant number of African American children are suspended because they fail to"show respect' (Jones 1991 :3). Mildred Kennedy, a veteran teacher suggests, "Most of the white teachers do not understand black youngsters because their backgrounds are different" (Jones 1991:3)

The students' parents are also estranged from the schools. For example, Gibbs alumni perceived that the desegregated Gibbs no longer belonged to them. In 1978, when Gibbs High school celebrated its Fiftieth anniversary, African Americans did not support the event. They held a separate program. The Gibbs after desegregation does not represent them, these alumni argue.

The loss of the school is lamented. "The worst thing that happened to the black community is the loss of Gibbs High School," mourns Gibbs 1964 graduate, James Hills (White 1980:19). "It was the one single thing beside the black church that Blacks could rally around. When you remove something that important from a culture, how can you expect it to remain the same?" he questions (White 1980:19).

Redevelopment Again Means Negro Removal

Almost simultaneously while African Americans lost control of their children's education, they found themselves in the path of interstate construction. As early as 1975, the Florida Department of Transportation (DOT) began relocating 1,000 families to construct Interstate 275. The vast majority of these families were African Americans and many of them lived in Campbell Park, Methodist Town, and the Gas Plant neighborhoods. Fifty-four businesses and churches south of Third Avenue South were either destroyed or relocated (Harwood 1980:50). Cherished landmarks in the Gas Plant neighborhood were destroyed. Among them was the stately 50-year-old home of the late Fannye Ponder and her husband, Doctor James Ponder. He was the first African American doctor in St. Petersburg. His wife, a teacher is widely remembered for her friendships with Eleanor Roosevelt and Mary McLeod Bethune and her activism to improve the condition of women. Many African Americans argue that their home should have been preserved. Nevertheless, the highway scattered neighbors, literally split the community, and walled-off Fifteenth Avenue, South a major east-west artery through the African American community, which ran from Fourth Street to Gulfport Boulevard.

Remove Those Green Benches, Let's Go Upscale

Changing demographics and St. Petersburg's concern about its image further uprooted African American neighborhoods. During the 1950s and 1960s, St. Petersburg attracted retirees rather than winter tourists. The "senior citizen" age group increased approximately 137 percent during the post World War period (St. Petersburg Planning Department 1965:30). By 1960, almost 30 percent of the population was over the age of 65 and the median age of those who settled near downtown was 70.6 years. Nationally, people 65 years and above represented only 11 percent of the population. In 1970, retirees in St. Petersburg comprised 34 percent of the population. As senior citizens found refuge from their winter homelands, St. Petersburg's image as an international tourist resort changed. The city became known as a retiree community. Opulent hotels such as the Princess Martha, Vinoy, and Soreno closed and pigeons nested there. Downtown St. Petersburg became desolate and derelict.

Nationally, St. Petersburg became the brunt of many jokes and was seen as a retirement center. Comedians defined it as "God's waiting room." Life magazine, in a 1958 article, described the city as where lonely and bored, old people pass the time listlessly on sidewalks and green benches (Vesper) 1985:41). Such images disturbed the business community and the city's leadership.

Merchants pressured the city to develop the downtown and improve its business climate. The St. Petersburg Times (1984:71) in a tourist guide wrote, "The city has a slum area, smaller than most, but still too large to suit us. Downtown badly needs redevelopment." The Times argued that for years it had worked to attract tourists and new residents to the area by publishing lavish special editions touting the benefits of the Suncoast area. The editors reasoned that the slow growth and the decaying downtown compelled them to describe the city disparagingly.

St. Petersburg Progress, a coalition of utility, business, and government officials in 1977 commissioned the Fantus Company to conduct a marketing feasibility study of St. Petersburg. The researchers recommended that the city remove the green benches and 're-establish its image as a community consisting of young, progressive citizens' (Vesper) 1985:45).

City officials interpreted this advice to mean that the downtown had to be reconstructed. Redevelopment became a guiding principle for the city. In a public- private venture, Bay Plaza Company was contracted to develop a waterfront retail district. Also, the city expended enormous energy and resources to bring a baseball franchise to the area. Despite the city's new public relation campaign, the majority of its downtown residents are not young and wealthy, they are mostly poor African Americans and retired whites living on fixed incomes. Therefore, redevelopment is a euphemism for removal of residents who do not fit into St. Petersburg's new self- image.

Trust Us. We Will Improve Your Neighborhood

When examining plans for the redevelopment of Jamestown (Methodist Town), it is clear that the Fantus study simply confirmed a path the city had already begun. As early as January,1974, city council began to remove residents from Methodist Town, one of the oldest downtown neighborhoods. However, the dislocation of the community was done under the guise of improving the homes in that area. The city council voted to construct 65 townhomes in the Methodist Town, rehabilitate 100 homes, build a $250,000 community center, and develop a two-block recreational area. Methodist Town residents embraced the redevelopment plan. The late Chester James, a well-respected community activist, especially considered this act a momentous event. He was so vigilant about the condition of Methodist Town, that the city changed the name of Methodist Town to Jamestown to honor him. Since 1933, he had requested the city to build a playground, pave streets, and enforce housing codes in Methodist Town. However, after voting for the development of Jamestown in a referendum, James learned that his home was to be demolished. He and three hundred and seventy- six ( 377) families living in Methodist Town were told to find other places to live. A disappointed James lectured city council. He said, 'Had I understood that you intended to take my home, I would never have voted for it. I have never, never, never, wanted to get rid of it (home) .... We've got nice homes out here' (Phelps 1975:1). James, who had lived in his house for 30 years suggested that the city manipulated the Methodist Town residents. James argued that the original plan indicated that homeowners with sound homes would be given low-interest loans to repair them. City officials denied the James' claim. However, the Jamestown Redevelopment Plan (n.d. :4-5) conveys, "Dwellings units found to be suitable for rehabilitation, in Phase II will be rehabilitated without acquisition."

When the city completed its "improvement" of Methodist Town, its past was preserved only by Bethel A. M. E. and three other churches. The neighborhood significantly lost its historical continuity. Most of the original residents were moved. Also, this once thriving community did not have a grocery store within a ten mile radius by 1985. Nevertheless, the city considered that it had removed a blighted slum from its downtown.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game

The Gas Plant community was targeted shortly thereafter. As early as June, 1973, Milo Smith and Associates, commissioned by the city council, prepared a redevelopment plan for the "Intown" section of the city. This study recommended that the Gas Plant be a priority area for development after Jamestown/Methodist Town (Gas Plant Redevelopment Plan n.d.:1). On September 7, 1978, the city council declared itself the St. Petersburg Community Redevelopment Agency by Resolution 78-738 and proposed to rid the downtown of blighted conditions in the Gas Plant. Essentially, the city proposed to upgrade the living conditions of the residents, relocate and rehabilitate sound structures and to build an industrial park to create jobs. The original plan left the Gas Plant intact as a whole community.

However, in 1982, St. Petersburg informed its citizens that the plans for the Gas Plant would be altered. The area was to become the site of a baseball stadium. On November 1, 1982, St. Petersburg offered the Pinellas Sports Authority the 66-acre downtown Gas Plant redevelopment area for $1 per year lease for forty years (Andelman 1993:68).

The Gas Plant was the right place because the price was right, argues Bill Bond, a former councilman. 'Economics drives every deal in the end,' recalls Bond (Andelman 1993:96). He concludes that the Gas Plant was out right the best place in the county to play ball (Andelman 1993:96). However, Bond doesn't explain why the Gas Plant was better than the three other places the city offered to the Pinellas Sports Authority. Al Lang Stadium, Albert Whitted Airport, and the former site of Webb City were offered in addition to the Gas Plant. Bond implies that acquisition of the Gas Plant was cheaper than the other public spaces. Why the relocation of an entire community is cheaper than the other sites, where not a soul lives, remains unanswered.

The city argues that the plan was changed because industries were unwilling to relocate to the Gas Plant. Allegedly the space was insufficient. However, such assessment seems inconsistent with the Gas Plant Market Study that was conducted for the city. For example, 61 percent of the firms polled said they would consider the neighborhood to be viable as an industrial area. Also, 51 percent of the respondents said that given the current status of their businesses, that location could serve their needs for more than five years (City of St. Petersburg Planning Department appendices nd: 1-4). Twenty-six percent of those polled were concerned about crime in the area. However, the city proposed that problem could be eliminated with increased security. According to the city's own study, the Gas Plant was perceived as adequate for industrial development.

Bob Andelman's (1993) book, Stadium for Rent: Tampa Bay's Quest for Major League Baseball, suggests that the Gas Plant was designated as the site of the stadium for two reasons. The primary reason was to keep the dream of baseball alive within the Pinellas Sports Authority. Andelman (1993:48) writes that as early as 1966, Jack Lake, a publisher of the St. Petersburg Times, proposed the idea that St. Petersburg needed a major league baseball team. In 1976, he helped establish the Pineilas Sports Authority to bring a team to Pinellas County. However, this county-wide all-white male group did not have major funding from the County Commission. Andelman (1993:64) argues that without the site being located in a specific city, the hope of bringing a team to the county was just an idea.

The second motivation was the need to build a stadium before Tampa did. The decision to locate the stadium in the Gas Plant area was further pushed by the Tampa Sports Authority who proposed to bring a team to Tampa. Not to be outdone, within days of Tampa's proposal to bring a baseball franchise to the area, St. Petersburg identified the Gas Plant as the site of the baseball stadium (Andelman 1993:68). The Gas Plant was sacrificed to keep Jack Lake's dream alive and to get ahead of Tampa.

The city acknowledges that the Gas Plant was a well-established community and it disrupted the lives of some residents. The Gas Plant Redevelopment plan documents, "Many of the Gas Plant Project Area residents have lived in this area for over 40 years, the relocation of these families will involve some dispersal of long term neighbors." It also reports that Gas Plant was the site of the Davis Elementary, the first Negro elementary school in St. Petersburg and the first James Weldon Johnson library. Nevertheless a $138 million domed baseball stadium that still sits empty, replaced a neighborhood that was once an anchor in the African American community. Twenty seven businesses, nine churches and 800 residents were displaced and a social fabric of the Gas Plant destroyed. Every trace of its legacy is removed; only memories exist.

Three Strikes, You Are Out

In 1988, the city decided that 800 more parking spaces were needed to accommodate a major league team. Development officials argued that the city could not attract a baseball franchise without additional parking spaces. Therefore, the city acquired Laurel Park, a 5.6-acre federally subsidized apartment complex for low- income families for $4.3 million. Edward White, the executive director of St. Petersburg Housing Authority was so anxious to remove the Laurel Park residents that he began relocating the 168 residents on February 14, 1990 without the approval of federal Housing and Urban Department (HUD). He violated federal regulations governing that agency (Tampa Tribune 5.5.90). On May 4 and June 17, 1990, HUD notified White to stop the relocation of the residents. However, this federal agency on June 21, 1990 approved the removal of the other tenants and Laurel Park was razed. To date, the site is an unpaved lot.

As in the case of Jamestown and Gas Plant officials alleged that they were primarily concerned about the welfare of the Laurel Park residents. Edward White, Executive Director of the St. Petersburg Housing Authority, the agency that owned Laurel Park, argued that it was not fit for human habitation. Some residents suggested that if White's assessment was true, he was responsible for creating the condition. On May 5, 1990, thirty tenants wrote a letter to the Housing and Urban Development Secretary, Jack Kemp, and charged that White secretly conspired with the city to allow Laurel Park to reach an intolerable state. For example, in 1985 the city gave the housing authority $521,526 in Community Development Block Grant money to fix up Laurel Park (Stebbins 1990:17A). Also, the United States Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) contributed another $250,000 grant. The General Accounting Office (GAO) in a 1987 assessment of Laurel Park determined that its structure was sound, and that the housing officials were responsible for its poor condition (Stebbins 1990:17A). Despite the resources available to repair Laurel Park, the housing authority spent less than $15,000. White suggests that he did not improve Laurel Park because he knew the city would buy it (Stebbens 1990:17A). Off the record, a top-level city official instrumental in the redevelopment of the city also confirmed White's appraisal.

In their letter to Kemp, residents protested their removal and argued that White disregarded their needs. Delores Jackson, president of the Laurel Park Tenant Association and some of her neighbors asked that Laurel Park be preserved. They debated that the location provided them access to the stadium, bus routes, shopping and grocery stores. The tenants engaged a lawyer and HUD delayed the move for a few weeks while it investigated the sale of the building. One may conclude, that HUD's investigation was perfunctory. Thomas Sherman, Acting General Deputy Assistant Secretary for Public and Indian Housing had already ruled on September 26, 1989 that the disposition of Laurel Park was justified. He wrote in a memorandum to Raymond A. Harris, Regional Administrator of the Regional Housing Commission, that Laurel Park "is located where developmental changes in the surrounding area are adversely affecting the health and safety of the tenants. The area is no longer residential and is isolated from essential residential services." Obviously the residents' perception of Laurel Park, as a place accessible to service conflicted with Sherman's appraisal. The delay of the relocation was short-lived. The sale of Laurel Park was sanctioned by HUD and the residents were forced to find other places to live.