In 1990, a decades-old dream was finally realized. It started with a visionary named Albert Lang, who, way back in 1914, decided he wanted something to help bolster the tourism and appeal of the bayside hamlet of which he was the visionary mayor. Then, sixty years later, the leaders of the now-burgeoning city realized St. Petersburg's best days were behind them: crime was rampant in the southern and downtown parts of the city, and the northern reaches were relegated to nothing more than over-glorified retirement communities. The tax base was way down for even the most basic of emergency services, thereby straining the coffers to the point of breaking. "White Flight" was just as prevalent here as it was in the Rust Belt. Something needed to be done, and they had an epiphany: they needed to use the one thing that still brought the people back every spring and make it a more permanent fixture, bringing people here to spend their money in the dead of summer so they can realize it's not a bad place to live and bring their money with them full-time.
Thus, the Florida Suncoast Dome was born. Of course, like Rome, it wasn't built in a day - or a decade for that matter. But eventually, after much fighting regionally between St. Petersburg and its bigger sister across the bay, Tampa, and in-fighting within St. Pete's city limits itself, a site - and a design - was finally chosen. Fast forward back to 1990, and the builders, city leaders, and design critics all call the lopsided dome with concentric, self-supporting rings holding its roof aloft "the stadium for the 21st Century." It's the jewel of St. Petersburg - even though the then-commissioner of Major League Baseball told the city that just because they build it, they won't necessarily come - and a state-of-the-art masterpiece in all of its air-conditioned glory.
Now, the stadium that was built only two short years prior - the year in which the dome (now renamed the Thunderdome) is inhabited by both the NHL's Lightning and AFL's Storm - is now "functionally obsolete" for the original purpose it was built, a sport that hadn't even been awarded to the area yet and won't be for another four years. Everyone "in the know" now wants their very own Camden Yards in their downtowns; apparently, what works in one city is a goldmine everywhere, or so the thinking goes.
So, with that in mind, the 9th-newest stadium in Major League Baseball when the Rays first took the field is today the 9th-oldest (soon to become the 8th-oldest in 2012 with the opening of the Marlins' new house in Little Havana). Tropicana Field, as it's now called, is a relic long before its time. By declaring his intentions on June 21, Stu Sternberg has said, without a shadow of a doubt, that the Trop is done and needs to be replaced. And, he's not mincing words, either:
“Baseball in the Tampa Bay area does not belong to Stu Sternberg, just as it doesn’t belong to St. Petersburg or Tampa, Pinellas or Hillsborough. It is a regional asset. It belongs to our fans throughout the region. For this asset to be preserved, a comprehensive process to explore a new ballpark must begin."
So, as you can see, he's trying to force "regional cooperation" in determining the next site of the Rays base of operations. Personally, I'd love to see that myself, because for far too long, Tampa and St. Pete have acted like fierce rivals in some sort of chess match for total domination of the region. However, as a St. Petersburger, I can understand why residents on this side of the water feel constantly at-war with their neighbor to the northeast.
We are not like other "twin cities" in the country, namely Minneapolis/St. Paul and Dallas/Fort Worth. In those regions, they work together more than just philosophically; they share tax revenue from the areas' attractions - including their sports teams - along with spending money equally for regional services. Even now, here in Tampa Bay regional transit is beginning to take shape...with each county paying its own way, but only if the citizens of those counties vote to approve it at all in their borders. We do not cooperate like the Twin Cities or the Metroplex because we prefer to act independent - and bitch about it later when we can't afford luxuries we became accustomed to anymore.
When St. Petersburg built the Suncoast Dome 20 years ago, it was with St. Pete and Pinellas County money. Tampa brought nothing to the table, nor did Hillsborough, Manatee, Pasco, or any other county government for that matter. Basically put: if St. Pete loses the Rays, we lose not only a team or a piece of our civic pride, we also lose the money brought to this city by them each and every year since we were the only ones to bear the financial burden. This city and county had to go it alone, and sadly, this is how pretty much any public works project goes around here, and until that mentality changes, I can completely appreciate why the city of St. Pete refuses to listen to a suit from New York tell them how to "cooperate".
However, that leaves only three options to solving this mess, and none involve the lame - and tired - argument of "enforcing the contract through 2027 via legal proceedings"; let's face it: if the Seattle SuperSonics, original Cleveland Browns, and Baltimore Colts can all get out of their contracts relatively unscathed, so too can the Rays:
St. Petersburg must come to the table with a kickass proposal to be located in the Trop's current parking lot - something that will satiate Stu's wanderlust - while understanding we're going to have to probably front about 67% of the costs; not doing this will cause the city to lose a massively substantial tax base and, by extension, lose even more city services,
Tampa and St. Petersburg - along with all the surrounding counties, as well as others in the demographic area (Polk, Hernando, Sarasota, Citrus, Sumter, Hardee, and Desoto) - need to finally put "regional differences" aside, realize we need each other to survive in the 21st Century against the Charlottes, Austins, and Portlands of the country, and start working on a regional sales tax to pay for public works projects that affect more than 60% of the metro's population base, such as public transit, tourism advertising, and (yes) stadiums, or
Pack Evan Longoria's bags for him to move with the team to Norfolk/Virginia Beach, San Antonio, or Vancouver (What? Canada's hungry for another team!).
That all said, we're really not left with many choices. As much as Stu Sternberg is being vilified by the region (myself included) for telling us how to run our lives, his concise assessment may actually be something that will help us all much sooner than anyone expected. He said something that needed to be said for a long time, but no one has the muscle - or balls - to say it until now: we're a broken region with our petty parochialism. It's our own fault, though, but now's our chance to shine and make up for the shortsightedness of our parents. What was seen as a good idea with "home-rule" in the '50s is holding us back from becoming the next great region today.
However, tomorrow's another day, and hopefully we'll have come a long way by then. Hell, at least our grandparents had enough foresight to fly the world's first commercial "airline", as well as build the then-world's longest bridge, all in attempt for cross-bay cooperation. Maybe we can take a lesson from them instead and put it to use in 2010....
I was going to write my next blog on the virtues of high-speed rail and why it will be the best thing for Florida since the advent of air conditioning, but while trying to think about how not to bore you with endless prose, I came across something that broke my heart: according to Ballpark Digest, Al Lang Field is now considered the most endangered ballpark in the country. What does that mean? It means the piece of property credited with starting the modern incarnation of Spring Training will, unless something is done quickly, become nothing more than another park.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge fan of the St. Petersburg waterfront. I believe the idea of leaving the waterfront parkland in perpetuity took tremendous foresight by the city's founders, especially in a time when the only true sign of a "major city" was factories billowing with smoke and water browner than mud. "It's a minor inconvenience to becoming a modern city," was the common contemporary thinking, and not to kowtow to that was incredible. Mayor Al Lang, for whom the current stadium is named, thought that, instead of trying to become an industrial powerhouse, get the teams of the northern metropolises to come to him. He then took a piece of that parkland and built a stadium on what is the parking lot of the current stadium and built Waterfront Park to replace his first brainchild, Coffee Pot Park, opened just 10 years earlier.
Everyone from Babe Ruth to Joe DiMaggio, and Stan Musial to Ozzie Smith, all played on this hallowed ground every March. A total of seven teams called this price of property bounded by 1st St S, 1st Ave SE, Bayshore Dr SE, and 4th Ave SE, home over the course of 86 years. With the left foul line a mere 100 feet from Tampa Bay and Albert Whitted Airport's 7/25 runway about 1000 feet from the outfield wall, its scenery is easily number one in the Grapefruit League, and quite possibly one of the best in the country. While there is no outfield seating (like most Spring Training ballparks in the Sunshine State), the berms along the foul lines are very comfortable and oriented perfectly fine for viewing baseball. But alas, at the close of Rays Spring Training in 2008, the bats have fallen silent.
There are many theories as to why it sits idle today, but what everyone can agree on one thing: the Rays left for Port Charlotte in March of this year for a new spring home. My theory is this: yes, they wanted a new pro stadium on the site, and to me, it seems like the natural progression from Minor League host city to Major League Player. However, a majority of the city thought differently, and the Rays are now looking elsewhere - be it in Tropicana Field's parking lot or Tampa - so the shell of the former icon sits mothballed, hoping to one day have a game played. So, it still sits empty, but with all the amenities I've explained, why would that be? It's because the seating area itself is outdated and not conducive to attracting another homeless team (like the Cubs, who just told Mesa, AZ, to give them a new home ASAP, or they're leaving HoHoKam Park at the end of next Spring Training. Hey, Mayor Baker, you reading this?!?), despite everything going for it. No matter how beautiful the locale, no one wants to play in a dump.
The best thing the city can do is the following: tear down Al Lang Field as it is today. Turn the grandstand to where the outfield is today and orient home plate to face due north; that, right there, will get the sun out of the batter's eyes, plus give everyone in the seats the most spectacular downtown skyline view of almost any ballpark (what park do you know is a block from the city's tallest buildings?). Build outfield seating, even if it's just a berm with a boardwalk that raps around the entire structure, thus expanding seating. Recruit local restaurants to provide the concessions, giving the fare a distinctively St. Pete feel. Finally, bring Minor League Baseball back. While the biggest draw will be March and Spring Training, people like me who love baseball, while still going to Rays games religiously, would want to take in a Saturday night ballgame on a day when the Rays are out of town; they could easily work out a schedule that wouldn't conflict too much between the two organizations, even if they are separate teams. Just don't let it disappear.
The current mayoral race here in St. Petersburg has a lot riding on it. The two candidates are differing on many key issues, from policing to how to handle a new stadium for the Rays. However, what has never been brought up in the debates is how they will handle Al Lang Field. I recently e-mailed both candidates for mayor and asked what they intend to do with sacred ground. Bill Fosterplans to have an "Asian Major League" team train here alongside the MLB (which makes sense since the Grapefruit League now only has 15 members with the departure of the Reds for Goodyear, AZ, this coming year), and having Canadian and European teams fill the rest of the year. As he told me in an e-mail from 10/15:
"I am already working on this, and have great interest from a major league team from Korea, and the Canadian National team is already on board. Once Korea comes on board, a team from Japan can't be too far behind."
This could be a promising - and interesting - idea. My only question is how many people will actually come to Florida from Korea in March, and how many Canadians will actually come down in the heat of August? Getting anyone that's never heard of St. Pete to come is always a plus, but how realistic is that of an expectation? I'm open to new ideas, but I think we should get the guaranteed money in first before expanding globally. Definitely intriguing, though.
I have yet to hear back from Kathleen Ford's camp. The e-mail to both was sent out on 10/15. If she responds I'll update this post accordingly, but as of this moment, I have to take this as she is too focused on forcing the Rays into keeping the Trop until 2027 instead of worrying about things in her own backyard that can be solved today. I'm open to a future without Al Lang Field, the ballpark, if a reasonable alternative is presented. However, another open-space park is not one of them.
(10/30 UPDATE: She finally responded! See the info HERE!!!)
The loss of an icon, or a rebirth? That all depends on who you ask or what happens in the near future. Even if you don't like baseball, you need to be able to respect the land for what it has come to represent: the beginning of a springtime ritual that has thousands migrate south for 30 days of pleasure. While times have changed, Spring Training has not, and it's all based on the formula perfected on this plot of land by the small sleepy town of St. Pete. Just as St. Pete has grown into the 4th-largest city in Florida, has it truly outgrown its roots that much? I don't believe so, but I hope the the rest of the city feels the same way. Otherwise, another piece of our history will be reduced to a lawn.
So, it was brought to my attention that I was a bit of a dork. I'm obsessed with music and music history in what some people (*coughkevincough*....excuse me, something in my throat) consider an "unhealthy obsession". Sure, do I love experiencing music for all its richness? Yeah. Do I enjoy many different genres and appreciate the ones I'm not as fond of? Absolutely. Do I think something is missing from music today, not in its performance, but in its presentation? Yeah, but I couldn't figure it out until recently.
Apparently, though, I'm not the only one like that. Something I never thought I'd say again in my lifetime, but I'm more than ecstatic to shout it from the rooftops: LP (or for the younger generation - oh...my...God, I sound old as fuck! - vinyl records) sales, both units and dollars, have increased more than 120% from 2007 to 2008. This in an industry that has seen a contraction of about 25% year-to-year on its overall physical media (CDs, cassettes, music videos). While those promising numbers are nowhere near the figures posted by the virtual world (1.11 billion digital units to a measly 2.9 million LPs), this does represent a subtle change in how people want to hear the music, not just listen to it.
Let's go back to the beginning for just a moment. Thomas Alva Edison invented a bagillion things; everything from today's X-ray machine you find at your doctor's office to the stock ticker is thanks to him (and contrary to popular opinion, he didn't create the light bulb; he perfected it and made it long lasting so it could be mass-produced for consumption), as well as the "kinetoscope" (the precursor to the movie theater), the carbon telephone transmitter (the part you spoke into on corded phones...do people still have those?), and the electric generation plant.
However, one of his greatest inventions came about accidentally. He was looking for a way to record telegraphs so they could be "read" automatically and transmitted by telephone to the recipient - that an ingenious idea in and of itself - when he found a way to record and play back sounds instead of dashes and dots. There were other contraptions before his, but none were practical. His "graphophone" was born, consisting of a grooved tin-foil cylinder and a stylus. This later evolved, by other forward-thinking people, into the "phonograph", and for much of the 20th Century, it was the only way - other than live - most people would get their auditory pleasure. Whether it be in the form first depicted by RCA with Nipper listening intently to his master's voice (real dog, BTW) or the turntables attached to amps and equalizers of the '60s, the record, for intents and purposes, was king.
We became a car-crazed culture in the '50s and '60s with the new-found fortunes we had gained at the end of World War II, the advent of the Interstate Highway System, and Jack Kerouac's beatnik manifesto On the Road. We wanted to experience the wind in our hair, the sights not attainable on the old rural roads, and the unbridled feeling of being free - all while listening to our music. Sure, we had radios in our cars, but there were plenty of parts in this vast nation that simply didn't have the population to merit such expenditures like a radio station for people who would most likely never pay for their programming. Also, people wanted to create their own soundtrack, not one given to them across the airwaves. So, we tried everything we could to attach our beloved record players into our newly-beloved cars. When they managed to succeed, they failed. The major flaw with records: they skip sections of music when the stylus, which is on the record by pure gravity, loses contact with the vinyl.
Thus begins the dethroning of King Vinyl. Sure, it was slow and, as is always the case in situations where something as iconic as an LP loses practicality, not without backlash. The first practical attempt to make music portable came on the scene in 1964 with the 8-track. This was a popular medium for about 10 years, when the compact cassette - even though first developed before the 8-track in 1963 - burst onto the scene and chipped away at even the venerable LP.
By the mid '80s, the new kid - and new king, having overtaken LPs as the preferred medium of music for the first time since the days of Edison - on the block was now in danger of itself being overthrown by the threat called the compact disc. The CD was the ultimate in portability: high-quality digital sound, thinner size, and - for the first time - one-button pushing to jump from one song to the next. No more pushing fast forward and hitting play to see where you are if you reallllllllly need to listen to that certain song. The CD easily became champ in the early '90s, and stayed that way until the music industry found a way to eliminate the physical medium altogether: the MP3.
As I type this post, I'm listening to my iTunes right now (Yesterday by The Beatles just came on, and London Bridge by Fergie was just on, and All Your Reasons by Matchbox Twenty before that, in case you were curious), so I'm just as guilty as the next guy of buying into the digital media hype. In fact, digital music sales surpassed physical media two years ago for the first time and it continues to explode. The reasons are justified: iPods and other players are cheaper and more prevalent than just 5 years ago, instant gratification of having "that song", and no longer are you chained to buy the whole album - or pay the insane price for CD singles - if you only like one song. However, with all digital media, something magical is lost.
That something is the sound quality and the fidelity. Where the MP3 - and even, to a lesser extent, the CD and cassette - lacks is a process to make the music readable called "compression". It's not an evil plot by the music industry to sabotage the consumer, but in order for you to hear it with any clarity, some of the fidelity is lost. Instruments and sounds are lost in the translation, and it can cause the song to not be heard as it was intended. It's the biggest limitation with the digital format, and the reason vinyl did not, as predicted, die.
This phenomenon proves that LPs are still a viable media. For their clarity and richness, LPs are here to stay, even as a niche. However, all three (excluding the nearly-departed cassette) mediums are, despite their outward appearance of competition, complimentary to each other as all of them serve a specific purpose. LPs are great for their sound and, nowadays, nostalgia and novelty, but unless you want to listen to an entire album start to finish or go to the turntable after every song and try to find the hard-to-see "gaps" signifying the end of one track and the beginning of another, they're not practical.
CDs are great for making up those short-comings, and they're both recordable and portable, too. As any college kid or teenager can attest, road trips are naturally more fun with a stack of CDs; plus, they sound the best in a car since most car audio systems are built today specifically to account for the acoustics needed for CDs. Their drawback is while portable, they're not meant for physical activities like running, hiking, or anything involving great human exertion, since the CD, like the LP, can skip if mishandled.
MP3, while having the worst sound of the three, is the most convenient. You can have seemingly endless playlists with any combination of music you would like and, with a music player, take it anywhere you go. No need to worry about jogging too hard and causing a skip, as it's all digital now. But, what is gained in utility is lost in playback (as discussed above).
I own about 140 CDs and over 1400 MP3s (about 500 or so are from said CDs), and plan on investing in a turntable soon. Do I own any records? No, but with all the garage sales lately with people trying to make ends meet, I can help my fellow neighbors by taking their (gently-used) vinyl off their hands. Also, stores like FYE and Best Buy are getting back in the LP game, with a surprising amount of new titles available on vinyl. (However, buy local and support your local record store; Google it if you don't know where they are. They have great deals, up-to-date selections, and are super-knowledgable on all genres.) Personally, I will only buy LPs I know I would listen to in entirety, but that doesn't mean you should take my advice on that. Hell, if I find Rhythm of Youth for $1 somewhere, I'd spend it just to see if my friends really do dance.
Hi everyone! How've you been? Yeah, I suck as a friend and at anything involving ambition as evidenced by the lack of a blog posting in more than a week. Blame it on my annoyance with computers after being at work on one for 9 hours straight, my constant lack of ideas, or something else, but I resolve to do a little better. It may not be as gung-ho as I planned on - once a day - but I'm going to do one at least 2 or 3 times a week. One day, I'll get back on track. But until then, you'll just have to deal with it.
You read that right, ladies and gentlemen; it is believed that, because the Moon separates the Earth from the Sun for any length of time, gravity's hold on us is less than normal. "Old wives' tale" or "nut-job conspiracy theorists" is probably your first thought, as it was mine, despite the fact it made it into one of the most-respected papers in the history of the world. "Must be a fluke, I thought," much like the numerous times a caller "Baba Booey-ed" FOX News. However, I did my homework and found this isn't the first time this was suggested; in fact, it's been suggested since at least the '50s that pendulums are affected by the total eclipse. Apparently, the pendulum changes direction violently during a total solar eclipse, and the theory goes as such: since gravity is constantly pulling the pendulum toward the Earth, that constant struggle between gravity and Newton's laws is what keeps it swinging in the first place; because of this, gravity - it seems - must be the culprit to cause those outbursts.
(Side rant: since the most scientific-type of pendulum swings based on a combination all three of Newton's laws of physics and his postulation of gravity, it's a pity it's named after some French guy who used Newton's ideas to come up with the idea the Earth rotates - in 1851, about 2000 years after Ptolmey and Hipparchus figured it out (just so the stupid and brash Europeans could become feudal lords and serfs and forget it until Galileo rediscovered it for them in the early 1600's; thankfully, though, the Indians and Arabs archived those works so they could focus on other things during the Medieval phase, like the concept of zero, perfecting algebra, and universities.) without anyone telling them. Anyway, back to your reguarly scheduled post.)
So, this has lead to the largest test of that theory to date. Hundreds of test sites are set up all over China throughout the "eclipse zone", all with both gravimeters and, in case they don't work like in 1999, backup Foucault pendulums. Since this will be a six-and-a-half minute eclipse, the longest we'll ever experience in our lifetimes, it should be sufficient time to figure out, once and for all, if that light-headedness you experience while day turns into night isn't just you and it really is your head trying to separate from your body.
Therefore, if you're looking for an excuse to not go into work on Wednesday, you can always say you've Velcro'ed yourself to your bed so you don't float off into space. In fact, you can even forward them the link to the story showing it's not just hogwash. However, be forewarned that if your boss has at least some common sense, they'll know the gravity-challenged area of the Earth will be on the other side of the globe from your cushy desk job in Center City and won't buy it for a minute. But let me know if it works; I'll use it for the next total eclipse in July 2010, when it's at least in the Western Hemisphere (Chile and Argentina, in case you were wondering), if they do buy it.
So, yesterday was our Independence Day. It's a day when we celebrate becoming the first long-lasting democracy in the world since the Roman Republic was dissolved in favor of making Gaius Julius Caesar dictator perpetuo. Sure, there were other attempts at a government "by the people, for the people," or societies that had some qualities of democracy between 41 BC and 1776 AD, but none of them gave such broad freedoms* to every citizen† as the founding fathers eventually did. But contrary to popular opinion, the Declaration of Independence didn't give us our freedoms; it was more of a complaint-laden diatribe against His Highness, the mentally unstable George III of the UK, and why we needed to kick his government to the curb. The Constitution codified those "truths" we held "to be self-evident;" the Declaration was just the jumping point to plant the seeds of freedom. (*-the right to vote limited to only White men 21+ years old until 1865 for all races, until 1920 for women, and until 1971 for 18+ year olds; †-3/5 of a citizen if you were Black or Indian before 1865)
Obviously, freedom didn't come easy, nor was it free from speed bumps. It took a long time to get the hang of this "American experiment" known as a federal democracy. The original idea - and the core argument behind the Civil War - was each State had precedent over the central government; this philosophy was endorsed in the Articles of Confederation. Needless to say, that failed, as we have the Constitution today. Then, the southern states tried to persuade Washington that was still the original intent of the rewritten Constitution and its 10th Amendment:
The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.
South Carolina decided that meant if it's not covered in the Constitution explicitly it was up the States to decide (i.e., slaves and secession). Well, that really didn't turn out how Columbia thought it would when Abraham Lincoln called their bluff, did it? It took four years and over 600,000 lives, but the power of the Union - and of the Constitution - remained in tact. Also, an interesting caveat came of it; the formation of a new state from an existing one. West Virginia remains, to this day, the only state formed because of a war.
Maine and Kentucky, however, were carved out of existing states without bloodshed. Kentucky asked the Virginia Assembly and the US House for permission to form its own government and control its own destiny, and permission was given; Maine came about due to the Missouri Compromise so the "Slave States" and "Free States" had the same power in the Senate, but more-or-less, it was the same premise - state wanted self-determination and luck had it they were more needed than they thought. So, it has been done in US history; it's not an unprecedented events by any means, though it is hard to do for sure.
So, in that same spirit, why is it every time either South Jersey or South Florida talk of secession from their states, they are laughed off - by the governor himself, no less? These are people who are seriously expressing their displeasure with their governments and - in the case of South Jersey - how they are represented in the Assembly. Culturally and economically, they are a world away from their counterparts in the north and it's time for them to be allowed to govern themselves.
South Jersey constitutes the counties of (from north to south) Camden, Gloucester, Atlantic, Salem, Cumberland, and Cape May. (Side note: I would be tempted to include Burlington and Ocean counties, as well, but a friend of mine from Ocean County considers himself to be from "Central Jersey", and using that logic, the people from Ocean and Burlington would be less likely to vote for such a proposal.) South Jersey could make its temporary capital in Glassboro (since it has the foreign policy experience and the state university, as well as plenty of access to the rest of the new state with Route 55 and US 322), with a possible move in the future to a more-centrally located built-from-the-ground-up city in either Salem or Cumberland counties.
South Florida, though different from some proposals, would be from the following counties southward: Citrus, Sumter, Lake, Seminole, Orange, and Brevard. The capital pro tempore would need to be either Port Charlotte or Vero Beach, as not to give any one city a political advantage over another (which is why Tallahassee was chosen, even though it is over 600 driving miles from its furthest in-state city, Key West). At some point, a new capital would need to be built more centrally - like near Lake Placid - but only when infrastructure could support it.
Now is the time to rise up and push these movements to fruition. The French didn't let the monarchy run them forever, the Mexicans didn't stay under Spanish rule, and the Indians threw the British out of their land. On this Independence Weekend 2009, let's exhibit the most basic of fundamental human rights, it's the first one they thought of when amending the Constitution: the freedom to protest peacefully. Remember, as Thomas Jefferson once said, "When the people fear their government, there is tyranny; when the government fears the people, there is liberty." Let's help the government remember that - non-violently, of course; I'll never condone that - in a democracy, we're in control. We want our own states and will do what we can to get them! Enough of being North Jersey's bitch and North Florida's bankroll! It's our time - it's our turn!
OK, if you read through my political rhetoric that long, you deserve a reward. Happy Independence Day everyone!
In 1990, a decades-old dream was finally realized. It started with a visionary named Albert Lang, who, way back in 1914, decided he wanted something to help bolster the tourism and appeal of the bayside hamlet of which he was the visionary mayor. Then, sixty years later, the leaders of the now-burgeoning city realized St. Petersburg's best days were behind them: crime was rampant in the southern and downtown parts of the city, and the northern reaches were relegated to nothing more than over-glorified retirement communities. The tax base was way down for even the most basic of emergency services, thereby straining the coffers to the point of breaking. "White Flight" was just as prevalent here as it was in the Rust Belt. Something needed to be done, and they had an epiphany: they needed to use the one thing that still brought the people back every spring and make it a more permanent fixture, bringing people here to spend their money in the dead of summer so they can realize it's not a bad place to live and bring their money with them full-time.
