Category: Tampa Bay

It won’t be the first time this has happened at Florida State University. In fact, it happens every year in Tallahassee. In the fall FSU will welcome fewer scholarship students than it had expected.

But in this case it won’t be a baseball player who forsook FSU for Major League Baseball bonus money. And it won’t be a hotshot football or basketball star who couldn’t produce a qualifying score on the SAT.

This one will be different. Tragically different. This one is an academic scholarship recipient who won’t be reporting — because he was killed in Iraq.

Lance Cpl. Andrew Aviles, not yet 19, had deferred his full scholarship to fulfill a more immediate dream than going off to college to get a bachelor’s degree in business. Ever since joining Junior ROTC, he had wanted to be a Marine. It was, say those who knew him best, out of a sense of duty and challenge and a constant quest for self-improvement.

What makes it so tragic is what makes Aviles, Robinson High School, Class of ’02, so special. It’s why the students and staff of Robinson took his death so hard.

Unlike many young men and women who sign on to this country’s all-volunteer armed forces, Aviles had plenty of options and the brightest of prospects. Scenarios for success tend to beckon for athletic class presidents who are members of the National Honor Society, third in their graduating class and winners of an academic scholarship. Family and friends spoke highly of his character — and sense of humor.

Aviles’ could easily have headed for FSU, gone on to graduate school and carved out a safe, successful, satisfying career in any number of fields. Instead he became a Marine and did his duty first. And last.

We are all in his debt, and we salute Tampa’s Lance Cpl. Andrew Aviles. One of the “best and brightest” was also one of the “bravest.”

In some quarters, Pam Iorio’s impressive mayoral victory was attributed in no small part to the public’s pendulum swing away from the chummy and loose managerial style of Dick Greco. Moreover, Iorio’s win was also seen in such circles as a resounding victory for the forces of inclusion and a deserving defeat for the troops of polarization. As in, business vs. neighborhoods and South Tampa vs. everybody else.

Would that it were that easy. But it’s unfair to Greco and simplistic regarding Iorio.

And there are others, some of them astute observers of the Tampa scene, who still scratch their heads over this “political phenomenon” who entered so late and won so big against such formidable competition.

Iorio is certainly the antithesis of polarization and an intriguing politician, but here’s why she was elected:

First, the competition. Irascible Charlie Miranda was too provincial. Blindly ambitious Bob Buckhorn was truly too polarizing. Newly arrived Frank Sanchez was too na

The passing of the torch at the mayoral inauguration was a seamless affair replete with patriotism, prayers, a poem and plenty of good will. Mayor Pam Iorio, 43, was gracious and generous in her praise for her predecessor, Dick Greco, and his wife, Linda.

As for Greco, 69, he wasn’t waxing as sentimental as his queue of well-wishers, a number of whom were teary-eyed. “It feels good,” he said about turning over City Hall to a successor. “That’s what you feel when you did the best you could.”

But for all the collegiality, there was something decidedly incongruous about the inauguration (and the swearing-in of city council) that drew a crowd of some 1,300 to the Tampa Convention Center. For the first time in memory, Dick Greco was not the flesh-pressing focal point at a local political gathering.

Don’t get me wrong. He had his receiving line and Greco was vintage, gregarious Greco ’til the last hug, back pat, memorabilia photo and “Call me” refrain. But Iorio was the mayoral magnet this day, encircled 10-deep with family, friends, political VIPs, generic glad handers and media.

Greco had walked in as the mayor and walked out as the former mayor. His day had begun at City Hall; the following one would begin at the offices of the DeBartolo Family Foundation.

It was the end of an era. But not of public service.

Pam Iorio is obviously a new-generation politician. What hadn’t been so obvious is that the 43-year-old, rookie mayor is also a generation-transcending pragmatist.

Institutional knowledge and history is so important to one so new to City Hall. Therefore, very astute move in bringing in Fred Karl. It also says volumes that Karl, a legal and political paragon, wanted in on helping the Iorio Administration hit the transition ground running.

Other impressive moves were the appointment of Shannon Edge as neighborhood liaison and the commitment to go national in a search for a cultural-arts person. So much rides on the signature cultural-arts district success.

So far, so good, Mayor Pam.

The die was cast early in the new year when Pam Iorio jumped back into the mayoral race and leapfrogged the field. Her media mastery, winsome ways, pristine reputation and celebrity-like name recognition presaged a strong primary showing that nearly obviated the need for a run-off. Frank Sanchez was second because, well, somebody had to be — and because Bob Buckhorn impaled himself on the sword of negativity on that final weekend.

But now it’s officially official. Mayor Iorio.

Congratulations, Madame Mayor, and, quite frankly, good luck. Mayors, not unlike presidents and baseball managers, get too much credit and take too much blame for what happens on their watch. Mayors of cities such as Tampa must be savvy, creative, persuasive, perceptive, tough, accountable, visionary — and lucky.

These last two terms of the Greco years were formidable ones. The combination of a charismatic deal-maker and a largely cooperative economy are a tough act to follow. The urban core was a Greco priority, and he pushed for major investments in Ybor City, Channelside, downtown and Tampa Heights. However controversial the Community Investment Tax that he championed, without it there would have been no relief for schools and public safety and no football stadium — or Buccaneers’ franchise. Greco’s last watch saw the construction of a $200-million, state-of-the-art refuse facility, a commitment to a cultural arts district and a $92 million investment in building and refurbishing parks.

Were he not term-limited, Greco would have the track record — the Steve LaBrake affair, THAP (Tampa-Hillsborough Action Plan) mismanagement and allegations of cronyism notwithstanding — to run on and win on again.

But Mayor Iorio, no slouch as the mistress of schmooze herself, will not be the beneficiary of a track record reflecting big projects requiring big investments from the city. That wherewithal left with Greco; hardly a Pamglossian scenario. Moreover, security concerns for a major port city that is headquarters for Central Command will only ratchet up. For all the talk of a more “livable” city with a more progressive, ethical approach, there could be a lot of caretaking over the next four years.

As a result, there’s the distinct likelihood that Iorio’s re-election will be a lot harder than her election. And it won’t necessarily be her fault. It’s her watch. Should the Tampa Bay Lightning leave or private-sector interest in downtown residential wane or the cultural arts district disappoint or controversy ensue over who’s named fire or police chief, all bets could be off. The days of being the patron saint of touch-screen voting will fade fast.

Which brings us back to Frank Sanchez. A lot of folks thought it was a given that the return of the native stuff only had significance had he won. The game plan, they would further assert, would surely have been to use the mayor’s office as a pivot point to the governor’s mansion.

Now what does he do? He still has that killer resume; he still has connections; and he still has an impressive upside for making the “growing-the-economy” case. At the recent Tiger Bay Club of Tampa mayoral debate, he seemed adamant about his commitment to Tampa.

“I did go away, but I chose to come back,” he said in answering a pointed question about where he had been prior to the last 14 months. “I had choices, and I chose to come back to my home town. I prepared myself and made a choice to bring those skill sets back to my home town.”

Does that now translate into doing his consulting business, which he had largely neglected while campaigning full time, out of Tampa? Does it mean taking a “best-and-brightest” position, if offered, with the Iorio Administration? Maybe as a trade trouble shooter?

Does it mean, in effect, doing whatever it takes to be much better prepared for future political scenarios, including, say, the mayor’s race of 2007?

Put it this way. Nobody not named Dick Greco was going to beat Pam Iorio in 2003.

With a savvier campaign, better ads and more political seasoning, Sanchez could have made it more competitive. But from January on, it was Iorio’s to lose — and she wasn’t about to allow it.

In his concession speech, Sanchez again underscored his commitment to Tampa and more than hinted that the political experience he gained in the mayoral campaign will be practically applied down the road.

After exhorting his supporters to “help Ms. Iorio move our city forward,” he promised that “There will be a tomorrow. I have only just begun to fight. My roots are here. My future is here. I will be with you from this day forward.”

Later in a private aside, he noted: “I do intend to do my business here. And as a private citizen, I intend to push some of these issues I’ve been speaking about.”

But, no, he wouldn’t be amenable to taking a paid position with the Iorio Administration, but would leave open the possibility of doing something on a “volunteer basis.”

*Best sign the Iorio Administration could hit the ground running: Fred Karl is in the house.

*If you’re looking for hints about the modus operandi of Mayor Iorio, here’s one man’s opinion. “She’ll shake things up without being threatening.” That’s from the mayor’s dad, John Iorio.

*Speaking of John Iorio, the former USF English professor is still busy “polishing” up at least three novels. The one closest to publication: a political satire.

*Best example of winning by losing: John Dingfelder’s second-place finish to Kathy Castor in the County Commission race. In that uphill campaign, Dingfelder gained name — and face — recognition, as well as acknowledgement for competence and common sense. He then won a City Council seat by an impressive margin.

Sure, the County Commission has thorny issues, such as adding ownership of the St. Pete Times Forum to its stash of sports possessions and public access TV. And, yes, Ronda Storms is still there. But it had to hit home to Dingfelder recently when Commissioner Castor reportedly was moved to tears over revelations in racial harassment suits filed against the county. It means the heat — once again — has been turned up on beleaguered Hillsborough County Administrator Dan Kleman. It also means that it’s starting to look — once again — like business as usual.

*Speaking of City Council, isn’t there something blatantly incongruous about that body? Tampa is the hub of the rapidly growing Tampa Bay market and is finding itself increasingly challenged to realize its potential to compete nationally and internationally. These are sophisticated times. Not to be cruel, but can’t Tampa do better than Gwen Miller and Mary Alvarez?

*Frank Sanchez was gracious in defeat and offered up no regrets or alibis at his run-off party at Ybor City’s Cuban Club. He even went to extremes to assist the Fourth Estate. Not only did he not blame them for bad press, but he literally rushed to the aid of a Tampa Tribune reporter who had momentarily upstaged him. She had lost her balance on the stage where an ad hoc press conference had broken out, tumbled backward, fell from the stage and took most of the bunting-adorned backdrop with her. She wasn’t seriously injured, the backdrop was reassembled and the press briefing formally concluded.

To liberally paraphrase John F. Kennedy: “Ask not only what our city can do for us — and our storm water, drug-hole and economic development issues — but what we can do for our city.”

These next four years will be very challenging economically. Volunteering and mentoring have rarely been more important. Our new mayor can use our help.

John Acosta has finally been sentenced for the beating death of classmate James Brier in October 2001. He was sentenced to nine years in prison and three years probation plus anger management counseling on the manslaughter conviction.

The 19-year-old Acosta finally showed emotion in court by crying.

More notable, however, was the deportment of his father, Jose Acosta, whose prepared remarks lasted some 25 minutes. After “apologizing” to the Brier family for their loss, he went on to exonerate his son. Even if he did “participate” in beating Brier to death, it was just a tragic accident, maintained Jose Acosta.

Even more to the point, Mr. Acosta found plenty of blame in a lot of other places. To wit: he blamed the media, the Brier family, prosecutorial and police misconduct, other participants and racial prejudice.

If he were looking for others to assign blame to — and since he had already precluded culpability for his son — he could have pointed a finger toward himself. Accepting responsibility for one’s actions has obviously not been a revered value in the Acosta family.

Perhaps blame management counseling is in order for the senior Acosta.

To Hyde Park residents, it’s become a familiar sight.

In this case, it was several trucks and a couple of vans crowding around an Orleans Avenue house for the better part of 12 hours on a Saturday. An off-duty police officer was there to help out. It was a New York production company filming a commercial for Publix.

At Ellen Cheek’s house.

She had received a notice left by The Artist Company that her house was being considered for a commercial shoot. She called, checked it out with Edie Emerald, the Tampa Bay Film Commissioner, negotiated a fee and agreed to do it.

She was also flattered. Somewhat needlessly, as it turned out.

“You know you initially think they’ve chosen your house because you’ve decorated brilliantly or some such reason,” says Cheek. “Actually, they take down a lot of your things. What they’re looking for is a certain perspective, you know, large windows facing a certain way, admitting plenty of light. That sort of thing. Not my brilliant touches.”

“I’ve seen the trucks and all on other streets, and I didn’t want it to be a pain for the neighbors,” Cheek says. “So they did their homework, checked out the traffic flow for themselves and agreed to do it on Saturday.

“It was a pretty positive experience, although it’s invasive,” notes Cheek. “But they’re professionals and they clean up. Would I do it constantly? No. But I’d do it around tuition time again.”

Speaking of money, such shoots — mostly commercials, but also infomercials and music videos — were worth $30 million in economic impact to the Tampa area last year, according to Film Commissioner Emerald.

“This is a very competitive business,” points out Emerald, “and we’re lucky to have some popular sites for filming. Hyde Park, the beaches, Bayshore Boulevard, the University of Tampa, the Columbia Restaurant, old cigar factories. The Port of Tampa is wonderful. Tampa International Airport is aggressive and organized and they get it. City Hall here is very cooperative. Mayor Greco’s been good to work with.”

According to Tampa City Council Member Rose Ferlita, who lives in Hyde Park, there’s very little down side to the commercial-shooting business. Especially during uncertain economic times. Problematic areas have been addressed with city code updates.

Ferlita says she’s had one complaint in the last year and a half. A port-o-let was left on someone’s lawn. “I called Edie, and by the time I got out of my house, it was gone,” recalls Ferlita. “From something bad came something good.”

“Zero Tolerance.” Here we go again.

It’s one of those buzz phrases that, in the good name of exhorting something positive, gives buzz phrases an especially bad name.

Not unlike “Just Say No” or “Three Strikes and You’re Out,” such modern shibboleths materialize in response to serious — but complex — societal concerns, such as weapons in schools, the allure of drugs or the threat of career criminals. They eschew equivocation and restore a sense of control. Reminders to us all that if only we show some fortitude, we can take back our schools, our kids, our streets. If not our rhetoric.

The policy-shorthand message is simplistic and not at all subliminal: Enough of the hand wringing and excuse mongering; ditto for social science and psychobabble. “Just Do It,” so to speak.

Which brings us to the latest installment of “zero tolerance” here in Hillsborough County. A sixth grader at a Brandon middle school has been suspended for violating the county’s “zero tolerance” policy on weapons possession in school. Such policies are not rare.

Who, after all, would want to be soft on weapons in school? Especially after Paducah, KY, Jonesboro, AK, and Lake Worth, FL. This is a different world than the one we thought we knew. Columbine meets al-Qaida. Automatic weapons or box cutters. Can’t be too careful.

But we can be too arbitrary. And too over-reactive.

That Brandon middle schooler didn’t pack heat with his lunch. He brought his mom’s calculator. It so happened, however, that it was one of those calculators that can do more than just calculate. Perhaps it was a Swiss Army Calculator; it came equipped with some gadgetry; i.e., a magnifying glass, a screwdriver and a 2-inch knife blade.

Strike up the contraband.

This is a weapon. Whether he brandished it or not. Whether he knew it had all these features or not. He had it; he dropped it; a blade popped out; and he was suspended — it’s automatic — for 10 days. He was also arrested and taken to juvenile detention.

While he’s certainly learned to leave his mom’s fancy calculator at home, he won’t learn any other lessons for at least a fortnight. The severity of the offense precludes him from making up the work. Conceivably, he could be expelled or sent to an alternative school, where he’d likely be the only one in on a calculator rap. Go figure.

“It’s a shame, but the way things have been in our society,” said sheriff’s Deputy Jeff Massaro to a Tampa Tribune reporter. “The bottom line is he had a weapon,” underscored Massaro, the middle school’s resource deputy.

Added Hillsborough County School District spokesman Mark Hart: “That’s what zero tolerance means.”

And he’s right. Even when the policy is wrong. It’s what’s wrong with any zero tolerance policy. They are well intentioned and a serious response to a serious problem. But they are invariably overly broad and inflexible and typically nail the wrong people in the name of getting tough with those who are societal threats.

The bottom line is that this middle school student had a calculator that could have been used as a weapon. The letter of the law addresses that.

The spirit, however, says to put this into a common sense context. What kind of “weapon” are we talking about and what was the kid doing with it? Moreover, what kind of kid is this sixth grader? And what’s to be gained by arresting him and punishing him academically?

There’s no lack of questions, including why cutting edge calculators have to be so literal.