No one expected a somber, farewell party.
Certainly no one in the long, animated buffet line that seemed a permanent fixture throughout the evening. Or those appreciating an Italian tenor or the upbeat, 4-piece band Breezin’. “In The Mood” even elicited dancers.
The crowd of several hundred–plus first-team print and electronic media–had gathered at Higgins Hall at St. Lawrence Catholic Church on North Himes Avenue for the next step in the final hoo-ray for Tampa’s most successful politician ever–Dick Greco. The undefeated, erstwhile boy-wonder Dick Greco. The four-time mayor with his own downtown statue.
Conventional wisdom said the man with the gold standard in name recognition, endorsements from the police union and local builders groups, and nearly a half million dollars in campaign funding would be moving into the March 22 run-off. The question was: Could Rose Ferlita hold off either Bob Buckhorn or Ed Turanchik, the candidates endorsed by the two local dailies? The unsurprising answer: Ferlita held off Buckhorn. The blindsiding part of the parlay: Buckhorn held off Greco. Once again, conventional wisdom was less wise than conventional.
Greco supporters were thus forced to witness his “Last Hurrah,” an unwelcome updating of Edwin O’Connor’s classic novel about Boston mayoral politics. But with Dick Greco as Tampa’s own Frank Skeffington caught up in a generational crucible. It was sad.
To be sure, the 77-year-old icon’s campaign will be grist for future political-science mills–from that gimmicky, presumptuous “Gimme Five” hand to the lack of a campaign presence with enough stature, savvy and personal history to be something other than a Greco “yes” man. But legacy blemish notwithstanding, Greco was still Greco–reflective, gracious and empathetic.
Amid shout-outs of “We love you” and “You’re a better man,” he conceded that those “Gimme Five” placards now meant “politically good-bye.” It was the evening’s most poignant moment. In taking the rhetorical high road, Greco acknowledged some (mailed) “things happened that shouldn’t have” at the end, but didn’t dwell on it.
“I don’t feel good about this,” he said, “but by the same token, I did what I had to do, what I had to be. I believe in our system. This is how it turned out. I accept it. I feel worse about letting you down.
“We are fortunate to live in this country, this state and this city,” added Greco. “But this is not an easy time. We’ve got everything we need to go forward, but it will be a challenge. Let’s protect what we have–our city and our friends. It’s time to hold hands–not throw darts.”
And then he added another vintage Greco touch. He publicly recognized a relatively obscure volunteer in the crowd. “She says I spoke to her 3rd grade class,” he noted with welcome generational humor. “God bless you.”
Then he came down to work the crowd one last time while Breezin’ struck up “Unchain My Heart.”
Among those watching in the wings: James Tokley, Tampa’s poet laureate and a close friend of Greco’s.
“You can’t retire Captain Kirk, and you can’t put Dick Greco out to pasture,” Tokley observed. “He’ll still be here. He’s everyman. A leader, a businessman, a dreamer. A man for the ages. He did it, and he was willing to do it again.”
Then there was Irene Guy, the former Verizon executive and Republican candidate last year for the Florida House District 47. She was wearing an orange Greco pin, a matching orange (right hand) glove and a solemn expression.
“I’m going home and cry,” she said.