Category: Tampa Bay

Chase policies – as in whether police can pursue stolen cars – is an ongoing and understandably controversial issue among police departments. Tampa (yes) and St. Petersburg (no) would be prime examples. The downsides of a pro-chase policy are obvious, sometimes tragically so.

Often overlooked, however, is the reality that unchased stolen cars have more than their share of accidents, including fatal ones. The nature of drivers of stolen vehicles is to be preoccupied with matters other than prudent driving.

It’s been well documented that the turnout in the last election was deplorable. District 7, for example, didn’t even break double figures. New Tampa, the more affluent part of District 7, topped out at 11 per cent.

And there’s no reason to think it will change in New Tampa. Not even a candidate, Joseph Caetano, who raised the issue of “de-annexation” could motivate voters. The very ones, mind you, who make no secret that they neither identify with the city – nor much care for being part of it.

To be sure, it’s vintage Joe Redner: that offer to waive the Mons Venus ($20) cover charge for those presenting an “I Voted” sticker. It injects, if nothing else, some humor into a local electoral process crying out for an infusion of something other than inertia and apathy.

But the upshot is that it could be counterproductive to Redner in his District 1 city council run-off with Gwen Miller. Arguably, the voting public doesn’t need further reminding of who the gadfly-candidate with the strip club is. The better strategy, seemingly, would be to max out on opportunities to juxtapose his candidacy with that of the incumbent Miller.

By some accounts, Redner already has the pole position, so to speak, in the race. He’s knowledgeable about key issues, including the environment, mass transit and growth paying for itself, and he has rational, consistent answers on property-tax cuts. He has toned down the establishment-bashing, civic-irritant attitude. He speaks well enough and has added a coat-and-tie ensemble for public forums.

In the first go-round, he proved he was formidable in politically catalytic South Tampa and a favorite in West Tampa. He also has the “what-the-hell” and the “shake up the establishment” votes that can come from anywhere. He’s a wealthy businessman who can – and will – pour more of his own money into radio and newspaper ads and direct mail pieces. He may be a six-time election loser, but the seventh could be the charm.

He certainly has the perfect political foil. A candidate who’s less than conversant on the issues and doesn’t speak well when she tries. A candidate who’s been getting by for years as the quiet lady of color that no one wants to be seen as beating up on.

Sure, the case can be made that Randy Barron or Julie Jenkins would have been the superior run-off candidate against Miller, but it’s Redner who happens to be the one in a position to expose this long-running conspiracy of silence.The political planets finally seem aligned. It may be Redner’s race to lose. As long as he doesn’t go out of his way to remind folks that he’s got this business that nobody, including consenting adults, wants in their neighborhood.

Time was when going to a health club meant little more than an exercise in pedaling a stationary bike, lifting weights and looking for a spotter. Fast forward a generation. The fitness business is now a hyper-competitive, often glitzy, $15-billion industry.

It’s not enough to have the latest equipment, lots of televisions, a sauna, group-exercise classes, tanning booths, a host of personal trainers, a child-care facility, apparel lines, member-appreciation-day treats and, increasingly, 24-hour access.

Exhibit A could be Tampa Bay Health & Fitness in north Tampa. It incorporates the Giovane Institute/Clinic Med Spa within a traditional club framework. Under one roof, members are pumping iron, boxing (in an actual ring) and undergoing botox treatments, laser hair removal, vaser hormone therapy and mesotherapy for fat and cellulite reduction.

Another hybrid facility is Tampa’s toney Harbour Island Athletic Club & Spa. World class (clay) tennis courts as well as facilities for basketball, racquetball and squash. Plus a swimming pool, a well-provisioned café and a spa that features Sonya Dakar skin treatments. From treadmills and Cybex machines to green tea peels and “Visualift” eye treatment.

And for those just wanting something more exotic than, say, Pilates, there’s the popular salsa class at The Athletic Club in Brandon or “urban rebounding,” which incorporates contemporary music and a trampoline, featured at any of the Bally Total Fitness Clubs. A number of fitness centers now offer “Zumba” classes, a combination of aerobics and a fusion of Latin and other international music. It may be the hottest trend in group fitness. Shapes Total Fitness even has a “Zumba Gold” program for seniors.

And while music is a given, the way it’s programmed is key. For example, it will differ according to the time of day and location – for Lifestyle Family Fitness members. Those frequenting the Sarasota and Seminole clubs are likely to hear “Oldies” early in the day, because the demographic skews older. At Lifestyle’s Hyde Park facility in Tampa, the youngest membership of its 29 Florida venues, the music is urban and up-tempo all day.

The people have spoken. Well, at least 15.6 per cent of the people. That was the percentage of the electorate who troubled themselves to vote last week in the races for mayor and city council.

Sure, it’s an off-year and the top of the ticket didn’t even feature a competitive mayor’s race – but 15.6 per cent?

As to the other 84.4 per cent, we don’t want to hear from you. You’re a large part of the problem. Your abdication from responsibility debases democracy, unless we all agree to redefine it as motivated-minority rules. The idealistic, the pragmatic, the purely habitual and the narrowly self-interested determine elections. In this case, about one in six registered voters.

A final point. To lazy non-voters: shame on you. To clueless non-voters: thanks.

*Retail politics? It used to be that at the ultimate, grass-roots local level, politics was decidedly different. It was certainly the case in Tampa. By charter, party affiliations were not determinative, fund-raising was reasonable and negative ads were rare.

Those were the days.

It was obvious that partisan politics was driving some races. In District 4, for example, rookie candidate Julie Brown became the fan favorite of builders and developers and her consultants were Republican regulars. The Brown-John Dingfelder race was only “non-partisan” to those not privy to the party-line winking and nodding.

District 2 clearly matched the Republican Shawn Harrison and the Democrat Mary Mulhern. After the latter’s upset win, her campaign manager, Mitch Kates, underscored Tampa’s realpolitik. “This race was a partisan race, but as far as I’m concerned, this is the new Democratic team and the new Democratic Party,” he said. “And folks around here better start getting used to this because we know how to win, we know how to organize, and we know how to spend our money wisely.”

City councilwoman Linda Saul-Sena, who had no opposition in District 3, regularly implored voters to elect “progressives” to the council. That was transparent code for fellow Democrats Mulhern and Dingfelder.

Defeated city council (District 2) candidate Shawn Harrison raised a record-setting $215,000. Incumbent winner Dingfelder and challenger Brown each raised about $150,000 in their District 4 race. Even Charlie Miranda, who had token competition in District 6 from Lisa Tamargo, raised more than $100,000. (Mayor Pam Iorio raised about $123,000.)

The upshot is that Dingfelder announced on election night that he would be making a motion at city council to reform campaign financing for city elections. Florida law caps contributions from individuals and organizations at $500. He would limit it to $100. He’s also pondering what might be done to at least rein in the third-party, soft- money 527s as well.

“We’ll see what legal has to say,” says Dingfelder. “This election was a wake-up call for me. We need to clamp down on this and bring some sanity back. And, who knows, maybe some other cities might want to jump in too.”

But first things first. Campaign-finance reform should be a political winner. But not all candidates — or would-be candidates — agree it’s a swell idea to limit the name-recognition-enhancing, get-your-message-out money that supporters can bestow.

The final fortnight of the District 4 race turned noticeably mean-spirited. On behalf of the Brown campaign, Election Watch Florida, an independent electioneering committee, skewered Dingfelder in a series of (“DING’FELDER FOLLIES”) mailings impugning his character and priorities and even distorting his facial features.

It likely backfired.

At the ultimate retail level — city council — voters can actually know their incumbents. If an attack ad doesn’t ring true, it could be counterproductive — not just ineffective.

“As a wife, it was devastating to read that,” says Lynn Marvin Dingfelder, who is also the candidate’s campaign manager. “That’s not John. I was nauseous for days. We didn’t expect it – all that 527 stuff.

“This district is all about neighborhoods,” she points out. “It’s like insulting the family. I think it hurt her, and I think it reinforced a principle about what people will tolerate with local grass roots politics.”

*The rule of thumb is that District 4 voters will turn out in numbers greater than any other district. This was borne out again. The turnout: 21%. Still a disgrace.

*There was little question that New Tampa’s Shawn Harrison, term-limited in District 7, would have used the citywide District 2 seat as a pivot point for a run at the Mayor’s office in 2011. So much for that seamless scenario. Shows you what $215,000 doesn’t buy.

*To anyone watching any of the public forums — or noting the endorsements of both the St. Petersburg Times and the Tampa Tribune — the biggest surprise in the District 1 results had to be that Randy Baron fared so poorly. Not making the March 27 run-off had to be disappointing. But finishing last in a relatively undistinguished field of six?

*Now District 1 features the political junkie’s supposed dream: strip-club icon Joe Redner, 66, squaring off with current city council chairwoman Gwen Miller, 72.

Memo to Redner:

Demand a debate. Maybe more than one. Your opponent has been given a minority pass for 12 years, getting by as the nice, quiet lady of inclusion who listens. This is euphemistic, political-speak for lightweight who still hasn’t mastered subject-verb agreement. Nobody will say it on the record, but Miller as city council chairwoman is an embarrassment for a city of Tampa’s stature.

It may be too late in life, but limit if not eliminate the attitude. You’re more than conversant on the big issues, so come across as knowledgeable about the environment, mass transit, property taxes and growth paying for itself – not as a dismissive smart ass. Don’t berate; don’t belittle. Don’t act like the millionaire renegade with nothing to lose except a seventh try at public office. In fact, you do have something to lose: the sort of legitimacy that your money has never been able to buy you.

And, yes, it will be especially challenging when the inevitable question arises about your adult-club background. Take a deep breath, especially if a panelist just implied that you and Luke Lirot pervert the First Amendment. And remember this is not an imposition-of-morality issue. But, yes, it is a priority and (legal) cost issue.

And, yes, it is also a quality-of-life issue. Sorry, but even consenting adults don’t want a Mons Venus in THEIR neighborhood.

Lose the pony tail; this isn’t a beach community. Even with a coat and tie, it’s the look of the bohemian, the aging hipster, the provocateur. A candidate’s debate is manifestly mainstream stuff. Image, as you know, matters.

*Imagine, another 90 votes and Charles Perkins (31 per cent) would have made the run-off in District 7. Sad commentary when no public-forum appearances and no discernible aptitude for public office is no problem. Was there that much nostalgia for “White Chocolate”or was this the practical-joke vote?

Over the years, the city of Largo has had image issues. “Provincial” comes to mind. A disproportionate number of hicks is a less benign labeling. Now add “intolerant” to the short list of pejorative stereotypes.

Largo commissioners voted to fire City Manager Steve Stanton, 48, last week in the aftermath of his revelation that he will be undergoing a sex-change operation.

In the end, it didn’t matter that “Steve” Stanton, for all of his personal conflict and agony, had been a good enough city manager to keep for 14 years and had served well enough to warrant a 9 per cent pay hike (to $140,000) just last fall. What mattered was the transgendered “Susan” Stanton and how fundamentally icky that made a majority of commissioners and a lot of residents feel.

But the transcendent issue is this: When performance is not a factor in a firing, it’s cause for real concern. In fact, it’s an outrage worth having a come-to-Jesus meeting over.

Which brings us to the final point.

The rhetorical pitch-fork crowd was typified by this comment from Ron Sanders, pastor of the Lighthouse Baptist Church of Largo: “

No one, seemingly, saw it coming. A serious challenger, that is.

Certainly not City Councilman John Dingfelder. And certainly not a race with intimations and accusations of sign sleuths, push polls and a “hatchet job.”

The District 4 incumbent has, quite arguably, been a sensible enough, if sometimes quirky, successor to Linda Saul-Sena, the patron saint of all things aesthetic, in an area known for affluent neighborhoods, a commitment to historic preservation and a fear of scale-skewed development. A mediator by training, Dingfelder has seemed well suited for the formidable task of balancing the vested interests of the private sector with government’s charge to manage growth intelligently. He’s known as a neighborhood guy.

The Tampa native is a partner in the Scarritt Dingfelder Law Group, but knows a side of life where white collars aren’t part of the dress code. His career incarnations have included stints as an assistant public defender, algebra teacher at Robinson High School and science teacher at Booker T. Washington Middle Magnet. He’s also done volunteer work for Habitat for Humanity that didn’t include photo ops. He’s handy enough to have built his own backyard deck.

“I think it put me closer to the average citizen,” says Dingfelder of the public school experience. “You’re teaching everybody’s kid, including the military’s at Robinson. The public defender’s office? It gets you grounded in a hurry. You see it all.”

Saul-Sena has seen enough to be impressed in Dingfelder’s four years on city council.

“John’s very smart, he really listens and he’s very good at finding creative solutions,” assesses Saul-Sena, who is running unopposed (citywide) from District 3. “He really pays attention to the people and the issues in his area. He not only attends civic functions, but he also creates public forums. He has the guts to initiate that.”

Indeed, Dingfelder founded South Tampa’s Neighborhood Empowerment, an issues-driven group that holds quarterly sit-downs with senior city officials.

By reputation, Dingfelder also has the gumption to go with his gut – even if it isn’t popular. He took heat when he took on the police union, voted for a stormwater fee and supported the expansion of a Tampa General Hospital garage over the protestations of Davis Islands residents – and old friends.

“TGH is the regional medical center,” explains Dingfelder. “And like it or not, it’s on Davis Islands. We have to support it. We have to look beyond the parochial. I always vote my conscience.”

From the perspective of former Mayor Dick Greco, Dingfelder is the member paradigm for a body often asked to play city council Solomon to competing, often well-organized, well-heeled interests.

“He will go overboard sometimes to get input and consensus on an item,” points out Greco. “He’s meticulous and asks a lot of questions. He’s been a mediator; it’s part of his makeup. And that’s an important trait, especially in a position where you have to weigh the arguments, say, of developers and neighborhoods.”

To Dingfelder, it’s an extension of a personal philosophy. “As a society, we don’t have to slay each other in court,” he says. “Conflict resolution is healthy for the soul.”

Dingfelder is on record for “leading the (mini tax-revolt) charge,” much to the peeved disappointment of Mayor Pam Iorio, for millage reduction last year. He also findsmerit in more millage rollbacks — as long as assessments keep ascending. He’s earned a reputation for being honest and principled, even if gaffe prone. That’s a combination that, on balance, should get you re-elected. Maybe easily.

Perfect storm candidate

Unless a perfect political storm hits. In this case, the one personified by Julie Brown. The apotheosis of “uh-oh.”

It wasn’t that long ago (2004-06) that Brown, 31, was an assistant city attorney who occasionally conducted business in front of city council. The closest Dingfelder, 50, and Brown came to a contretemps was when Dingfelder, who is known as a methodical inquisitor, called Brown on her use of “we” — as in representing her city hall client. Dingfelder reminded Brown that city council was also a client. It made for a little rhetorical head-butting — and a better-than-average CTTV moment.

Brown was a good friend of Dingfelder’s law partner, Tom Scarritt, and there were periodic opportunities for Dingfelder-Brown chitchat. They were invariably amiable, and any career talk, recalls Dingfelder, dealt with Brown’s interest in the FBI, not public office.

“Sure, I was surprised,” says Dingfelder. “She never mentioned politics.” Up-and-coming was now out-and-running.

Brown looks like the response to a Republican Central Casting call. A fiscally conservative blonde who is as articulate as she is attractive. An eclectic resume ranging from the arts to real estate. That Rockwellian portrait with requisite husband, infant and pet. A family pedigree, even if it’s her in-laws’, that is steeped in Tampa aristocracy. A pragmatic, if not prescient, educational parlay that combined a law diploma with an undergraduate degree in public relations.

Part of Dingfelder’s mantra is that he “asks the tough questions.” Brown, who’s hardly sound-bite challenged, replies that she will “give the tough answers.” Especially on matters of “smart growth” and budget scrutiny.

Is she Dingfelder’s worst re-election nightmare? “I often hear that,” Brown says.

Brown signs sprouted around the tonier parts of South Tampa like campaign kudzu. She lined up endorsements from the firefighters’ and police unions as well as Republican state representative Trey Traviesa, the Greater Tampa Association of Realtors and the Tampa Bay Builders Association. (Her husband’s company is a member.) Full-page ads dotted local dailies.

Her inner circle featured Republican political consultants April Schiff and Ann Voss and homeowner association activist Gene Wells. Obviously, someone noticed that — non-partisan election notwithstanding — there’s plenty of registered red in South Tampa. And lots of green.

Money matters

Brown’s coffers, abetted by builders and the expansive, extended Kuhn Volkswagen family, overflowed early. In fact, $20,000 of it was collected from car dealer Jason Kuhn’s relatives and associates, some of whom reportedly live in the voting district. Most gave the legal maximum of $500. The Florida Department of Law Enforcement has been reviewing the contributions for possible campaign-finance sleight of hand.

Brown hit six figures by the end of January. Dingfelder, who raised $40,000 back in 2003 against the formidable likes of Clay Phillips and the aforementioned Wells, was forced to match the effort and up the ante.

“As long as I’m the incumbent, I have to keep up,” explains Dingfelder. “The appearance it gives to the press and pundits is that somehow you’re vulnerable and weak. It’s unfortunate. It’s a flaw in the system.

“I was in favor of calling a cease fire a couple of weeks ago,” adds Dingfelder. “By then it was at $80,000. Beyond that, it was obscene.”

The unexpected and ever-ratcheting pressure to fund-raise – as well as slovenly e-mail account oversight – led to an embarrassing Dingfelder campaign blunder. A constituent reply on an ordinance change was followed up by a request for money. Ouch. There’s never a convenient time for damage control – especially in a truncated, two-month race.

To be sure, Dingfelder doesn’t have a reputation as Kid Pro Quo, and it wasn’t exactly Yacht BasinGate, but sloppy and stupid is an unholy alliance. Dingfelder acknowledged as much and apologized.

“I didn’t see that as an indication that he was unethical,” says Scott Paine, a former city councilman who teaches government and ethics at the University of Tampa. “It was a gaffe. These kinds of things get traction when a person doesn’t acknowledge the mistake – and do it quickly – and there’s some latent tendency to believe the worst. I don’t think that’s the case here.”

The Dingfelder campaign weathered any ethical
insinuations because most folks know the difference between dumb and devious. The race has finally slogged into its homestretch phase.

Key endorsements

The off-year turnout won’t be anything to make a democracy proud, but low numbers generally favor incumbents. District 4 voters, however, do turn out in relatively larger numbers than elsewhere in the city. There’s a core of constituents for whom the recent endorsements of Dingfelder by the Tampa Tribune, the St. Petersburg Times (which actually “recommends”) and even the tri-lingual weekly La Gaceta will matter. Possibly a difference-maker in a tight race too dominated by fund-raising and campaign carping.

Guess here is that Dingfelder, with his reputation as a staunch neighborhood advocate in a district with a wary eye for developers, keeps his cool the rest of the way and ultimately keeps his seat on city council. Close but no shoot-out. Incumbency remains a trump card so long as a track record tops campaign promises and wish-list bullet points.

Regardless, Julie Brown, vice president and legal counsel for The Talon Group, is obviously a player destined for public office.

We’ll give the next-to-last word to former Mayor Greco, who never lost a race around here. He thinks it will be “very close” but won’t venture a prediction. He does offer this:

“John Dingfelder is the kind of guy who, if he thinks you’re wrong will tell you,” says Greco. “And he’s told me. It’s not personal. It’s honest. And he does what he thinks is right.”

We’ll wax idealistic and give the last word to Abraham Lincoln:

“With public trust everything is possible, and without it, nothing is possible.”

The recent column on Gasparilla brought a spate of e-mails and a couple of letters that were all variations on the same theme: Thanks for the “sobering” look. Well, thanks, in turn, for the sobering feedback. It matters.

Most of the correspondents provided first-hand observations of disgusting behavior.

One, in particular, referenced a long day’s Gasparilla journey into a nightmare that ultimately resulted in a teen’s death by alcohol and drug poisoning.

“The paramedics and medical staff (in St. Joseph’s Hospital emergency room) were brilliant,” said the writer.

Alas, nobody else was.

Projects such as the Tampa Museum of Art, the Children’s Museum and the Riverwalk are obvious keystones of any downtown-revitalization scenarios. Complementary pieces include, for example, the new Embassy Suites Hotel, the under-renovation Floridan Hotel and the nearly completed SkyPoint condominium.

Museums, condos, hotels and 66,000 workers, however, don’t make a neighborhood – and that’s what Tampa says it wants its downtown to be. A vibrant in-town where people also live, dine and hang out. It’s a formidable, if not daunting, undertaking for a city where The Hub too long defined nightlife.

But then last year there developed an incipient Franklin Street restaurant corridor with the Thai Corner, Office Café & Grill and the artsy-vibed Fly Bar & Restaurant. In April, the new Malio’s Steakhouse — with chocolate-colored walls and burgundy columns — will open in the lobby of the 31-story River Gate (Beer Can) Tower. Now Phil Alessi is negotiating to open Alessi Bakery Café next to the Colonial Bank at Kennedy Boulevard and Tampa Street.

In and of themselves such enterprises, of course, hardly constitute an extreme makeover. More like food for thought, however, because they do signal a vote of confidence by those steeped in tradition and business savvy who want in as urban infill starts unfolding.

Another Gasparilla Parade has come and gone, and the familiar refrains have played out in its aftermath.

To many, Gasparilla remains engagingly raucous, inimitably colorful and just free-wheeling fun. A celebration of self that’s uniquely Tampa. It’s this city’s signature event – 103 now and counting. And it looks great on those Greater Tampa Chamber of Commerce brochures and Tampa Bay Convention and Visitors Bureau DVDs.

And who doesn’t like a world-class street party? Especially one that’s preceded by a one-of-a-kind, paean-to-pleasure flotilla.

To others, the trashy sideshow now trumps the parade, per se.

I used to be solidly in the former camp. Even threw beads from a float while a member of the Krewe of Mambi. Liked the camaraderie, the diversity, the costumes, the music – and enjoyed the look of appreciative kids and, yes, comely lasses who you could accommodate with a targeted toss.

But that’s the parade. An event that hordes of teenagers are – by the starting time of 2:00 p.m. — barely interested in or even aware of.

From the perspective of parade-route property owners and those merely proximate, teen-aged drunks and trespissers are the norm. And, I, for one, no longer think Bud Blight is worth it. Especially now that the Children’s Parade — with accompanying air show and fireworks — has ratcheted up in significance and size. It now draws some 200,000 attendees.

As a result, the Gasparilla Parade itself approaches anti-climax status.

Put it this way. The week before we are reminded that you can put on a mammoth parade for all the right reasons, including an animated civic celebration. It’s a family affair sans drunks and punks – yet still embodies Tampa’s pirate-culture cachet. Families actually wait in line to use the Port-a-lets. Imagine. What’s not to like?

With Gasparilla, what’s to like about teens behaving badly? There’s only so many police who can be shoe-horned into South Tampa — and still not feel that a veritable welcome mat has been extended to criminals elsewhere in the city.

But more to the point, what’s to like about parents who enable deplorable — sometimes injurious — behavior? That’s really the root of the problem: Loco parentage. And you know who you are – even if you are in continuous cell-phone communication with Skip and Flip from the various ground-zero venues. Assuming you can even hear anything decipherable amid the loud-speakered cacophony.

I’ve often wondered: What happens when these kids go home at the end of Gasparilla Day? What – or who – awaits them? Even if they’re staying at Biff’s or Buffy’s house, what do Biff’s or Buffy’s parents think? Or care? Or not. Is it all written off as some alcohol-fueled rite of passage that is somebody else’s problem? An annual exemption from norms? Nice message. Pass it on.

And how do the Tiffanys and Taylors and Madisons get out of the house looking like MTV strumpets? Or are these the same households who, a few years prior, thought it was Halloween cute to dress up their 9-year-old girls as Britney Spears?

I live near St. John’s Episcopal Church. Each year it sponsors a Gasparilla “Safe House” for the underage who overindulge. It’s a praiseworthy effort. Doubtless it has prevented the merely inebriated and the flat-out passed-out from fates much worse. Some of its visitors leave by gurney.

But it also dispatches this message: “Gasparilla. It is what it is. The unacceptable is expected; let’s at least try to mitigate worst-case scenarios.” Not unlike passing out condoms in high school. Let’s cut our losses and concede to the forces of inevitability.

Here’s another message: Given the reality that you can’t parent somebody else’s kids and the odds that something much worse than a Sunday hangover will eventually happen, let’s make a pre-emptive move. Eliminate it.

I know; I know. But arguably Gasparilla is now bigger than this one parade that is an all-call for teens and a siren song for alcohol-induced behavior.

Eliminating it leaves you with the burgeoning, unalcoholic Children’s Parade and the relatively raunchy night parades in Ybor, as well as the Gasparilla Arts Festival and the Gasparilla Distance Classic.

Something for everybody.

Except, of course, those who miss 45 tons of trash, ad hoc neighborhood urinals and too many teens driving the porcelain Buick through the streets and alleys of South Tampa.