It's the kind of place where the local lake sports a giant bunny display at Christmas as a reminder that Easter is just around the corner. Where you hang around evenings at 8:30 for the hot Cuban bread to come out of the oven at Mauricio's bakery, eating it all before you get home. Where neighbors get together one Saturday a month in a Habitat-meets-barn-raising cooperative effort to complete a home improvement project for another neighbor. Where the houses are older than you are – or even your parents, for that matter. Where the local hardware store has a watch-cat and where the ice cream stand has been in business for 50 years.
Greater Seminole Heights is a hundred-year-old Tampa neighborhood that was ignored for years after being dissected by the interstate. In the past decade, though, it has become one of the hottest housing markets in the city, thanks to beautifully restored 1920s bungalows that still sell for less than the ones in that "other" bungalow neighborhood, Hyde Park.
In fact, some residents of Seminole Heights call it "Hyde Park for the rest of us" or "the poor man's Hyde Park." You would be challenged to find a more vibrant, diverse, urban, liberal and involved neighborhood in this region. Boasting not one but three strong civic associations (one area planner calls them the model for what neighborhood groups ought to be), their influence is seen in weekly pot luck dinners in Hampton Terrace, Dog Days in the Park, and concerts in Rivercrest Park. A national non-profit dedicated to strengthening neighborhoods named Southeast Seminole Heights National Neighborhood of the Year in 2003.
Many residents moved here from other areas of Tampa, looking for lower housing costs, a feeling of community or a funkier lifestyle. But homeowners weren't the only transplants; when the retail overhaul of Ybor City displaced longtime restaurants, two of the better-known ones landed in Seminole Heights – Ybor Pizza & Subs (its name still intact) and Angelica Diaz's arts-center-meets-Mexican-cafe Viva la Frida (the successor to her Angelica's in Ybor City, bulldozed to build Centro Ybor).
The residents are involved and opinionated. Aesthetics are important in Seminole Heights. You can't chat for long without hearing a take on whether a Starbucks would represent the neighborhood's coming of age or a threat to Seminole Heights' non-corporate, non-franchised way of life.
The civic associations, in fact, court the kinds and types of businesses they want, and they're picky. Plans for a Sav-a-Lot, Krystal, car wash and Walgreen's came under attack. But residents were instrumental in convincing Publix (the only upscale chain grocery store in Seminole Heights) to keep an aging branch open on Nebraska Avenue. Publix kept the store small and remodeled it in art deco style. Very Seminole Heights.
Crime is down, although still a problem, as burglar bars on some Seminole Heights homes attest. Volunteer patrols have cut back the number of prostitutes who famously showcased their wares on Nebraska. The quality of life is on the rise. "You've seen it steadily get better every year," says Gary Ellsworth, president of the South Seminole Heights Civic Association.
Rose Ferlita has operated an independent drug store on Nebraska Avenue in Seminole Heights for two decades. On Sundays, she puts out coffee and pastries for her older clientele, and she's been known to fill prescriptions gratis for neighborhood residents who can't afford them. The pharmacist-turned-City-Council-member sums up Seminole Heights simply: "It's just not a plain-old-Jane neighborhood. It's a special place."
Riding the Wave: Sherry King of Sherry's YesterDaze
Sherry King led a good life as a shopkeeper in South Tampa. She owned an older home in the Palma Ceia neighborhood, just a few blocks from her antiques and vintage clothing store on S. MacDill Avenue, Sherry's YesterDaze. She had a solid customer base. Newspaper stories featured her wide-ranging collection of vintage clothes, from pillbox hats to her beloved rack of party dresses from the 1940s and '50s.
But the times were changing, and the New Jersey native didn't like the changes. The cost of houses was skyrocketing in Palma Ceia and everywhere south of Kennedy Boulevard. Right behind her house, a developer was putting up a series of two-story multi-family townhomes where single-family houses had once stood.
So King started looking for somewhere else to live. Seminole Heights called to her. "There's just an incredible sense of neighborhood," says King. "We're inclusive and exclusive at the same time."
She ended up in the Hampton Terrace Historic District, a Lake Roberta-centered neighborhood where there's a weekly potluck dinner that rotates among four hosts' homes. King bought her late 1920s Craftsman bungalow on E. Hanna Avenue in July 2003. She's putting in 1920s fixtures and a 1930s gas stove. She adds: "I'm taking the burglar bars off the windows, too."
King is an inveterate scrounger who loves tracking down vintage clothing for her shop. At first, even after she moved to Seminole Heights, she wanted to keep her shop on MacDill. She didn't mind the commute.
Slowly, she changed her mind. Seminole Heights was already a hot housing market; it sits poised on the edge of a retail rebirth, too. King found the right property for her business on Florida Avenue, one of three main thoroughfares in Seminole Heights. She has been active in trying to establish a viable retail corridor on Florida, which is unfortunately a one-way raceway out of downtown Tampa with bad sidewalks and far too many used car lots.
Previous attempts aimed at establishing a gallery district failed here, but new businesses – including a day spa – seem to have a broader appeal. King and a handful of retail pioneers have put together a brochure touting all the Florida Avenue businesses, and some are participating in a planning effort to create a strategy for growth.
No matter what they come up with, though, King believes that the future for her brand of retailing is bright in a neighborhood that embraces art and old-fashioned commerce.
"The vibe, to me, is more artistic-progressive," says King, whose own progressive roots include an on-air stint on the community radio station WMNF. "This is the next wave."
Sherry's Yesterdaze, 5207 N. Florida Ave., Tampa, 813-231-2020
The Magic Bus: Monica & Roberto Morfin of El Taconazo
The multicolored plastic flags criss-crossing the patio at El Taconazo snap briskly as a cold front moves in, but the gray clouds do not deter the constant stream of humanity seeking lunch al fresco and Mexicano.
They come from the surrounding neighborhoods and beyond, for food good and cheap enough to draw often-snobby South Tampans "north of Kennedy."
The working-class crowd, tattooed and tired, rubs elbows with the white-collar contingent from downtown. Anglos and Latinos in nearly 50-50 proportions; some sit and eat, most grab food to go. Many make it only to their car, where you can see them wolfing down a taco or burrito at the wheel before engaging their transmissions and heading back to work.
All this for marinated pork, fresh tortillas and ceviche served from a permanently parked white school bus that has been converted into one of the most recognized and recognizable kitchens in Tampa Bay.
The Taco Bus.
The restaurant is a lot of things to a lot of people. One Seminole Heights resident called it "our ace in the hole." It is a neighborhood icon, an oasis of authenticity – cool, eclectic, affordable and historic, just like the neighborhood it calls home.
El Taconazo may be its formal name, but don't make the mistake of calling it anything but the Taco Bus if you want to be hip. As in, "Have you been to the Taco Bus yet?"
Monica Morfin flits out of the bus/kitchen wearing one of the Taco Bus' signature pañoletas tied around her head doo-rag style (the bandannas are on sale inside the attached building for $1 per). She's carrying a plateful of tacos, including that day's special, a slow-cooked pork masterpiece. Here, taste these, she insists to a customer who has already eaten an overwhelming portion of chicken mole.
"We have a very good business here," she reflects. What started as a restaurant catering to other Mexican-Americans is now a critical smash; the St. Petersburg Times' restaurant critic Chris Sherman put El Taconazo on his Best of 2004 list in January.
The Taco Bus wasn't always parked here on Hillsborough Avenue just east of Nebraska. Monica's husband, Roberto, El Taconazo's chef, started the business on the go as a sideline while working as a cook in Tarpon Springs. Roberto sold Mexican food out of a small truck at various sites on weekends and for catering jobs before settling at the Farmer's Market down the road.
Then he found and gutted an old school bus, making it into a working kitchen. Two years ago, Monica and Roberto (natives of Sonora, Mexico, who came to Tampa 15 years ago) decided to make their business more permanent and found a rundown auto mechanic building on Hillsborough that had enough room out back to park the Taco Bus. Some landscaping with picket fencing and cacti completed the look.
Monica has a great affinity for the neighborhood that keeps her in business. She is concerned about staying family-friendly, so El Taconazo won't sell beer or wine. But enough talk, it is mid-afternoon, and she has to get ready for dinner. Back into the bus.
El Taconazo, 913 E. Hillsborough Ave., Tampa, 813-232-5889
The Retail Problem
From inside Tampa Bay Hardware on Florida Avenue, watched over by Rebel Rouser the house cat, owner Tom Roberts has seen lots of changes over the decades in his neighborhood.
His business used to sell mostly to other commercial establishments, which accounted for roughly 70 percent of his receipts. But that has changed 180 degrees in the past 10 years. Today, it's much more likely that the customer looking for that one nut or bolt is finishing a home improvement project.
"In years past, there were a lot of commercial businesses here, but they're gone," Roberts says.
The store, which has been around since 1941, is one of only a few independently owned hardware stores in the city, the rest victims of competition from Home Depot and Lowe's. It is also one of the few commercial businesses in Seminole Heights that serve the neighborhood. The lack of retail is a problem for residents, who have to leave the neighborhood to do most of their shopping.
Much of Seminole Heights' commercial activity draws customers from the entire Tampa Bay area. Many of them are automotive in nature, either selling used cars from small lots fronting right onto Florida Avenue or repairing cars in aesthetically challenged garages. That makes it tough for the few neighborhood-oriented businesses to get enough synergy to grow.
"It's a mixed bag," says Tony Garcia, a principal planner with the Planning Commission who is heading up efforts to come up with a business strategy for Seminole Heights. "These [non-neighborhood-oriented] businesses shut down at dusk, and to somebody turning off the interstate, it doesn't look inviting and it doesn't look safe because they are dark and closed."
Although many of the residents dislike the heavy commercial business, especially the used car lots, Garcia (no relation to the author) points out that a lot of the owners have been there for years, through the good times and the bad. "There's nothing wrong with that," he says.
In fact, there is historical precedent, according to Steve Gluckman, who chairs the Old Seminole Heights Neighborhood Association's Preservation Committee. Seminole Heights has never been a retail hub. The first restaurant in the neighborhood didn't show up until the 1930s. The major north-south streets – Central, Florida and Nebraska – helped people travel from downtown to the attraction of Sulphur Springs to the north.
"We never, as far as I can tell, had much of consumer businesses," Gluckman says. "Seminole Heights was built around a number of through streets. To make it pedestrian-friendly with a lot of neighborhood-serving businesses really flies in the face of 70 to 80 years of developmental history."
But that is what some of the residents and businesses, mostly newer arrivals, would like to see happen. They'd prefer that the main thoroughfares slowed down, with fewer lanes and more on-street parking. The state has plans to narrow Nebraska Avenue from four lanes to two, but on the more important Florida Avenue, a similar solution is highly unlikely.
Garcia advocates tweaking the business corridors, not wild reinventions of what Seminole Heights stands for. "Business owners are concerned about losing some traffic and exposure," he says. "The problem the business community has is it needs to establish a sense of place."
The HIT Parade
The spirit of neighbor-helping-neighbor is strong here, even when ordering a HIT.
A Home Improvement Team, that is, not a hired gun.
Maria Garcia (also no relation to the author), who owns a 1925 Craftsman-style bungalow in Southeast Seminole Heights, helped launch the HIT program. You join by agreeing to help fix up at least two neighbors' homes during a once-a-month fix-'er-up blitz. Then, you are eligible to have that undone project at your own home join the list.
Garcia recalls with a chuckle the "all-girl HIT team project" that fixed the collapsing wooden floor of a friend's old garage.
"She didn't know what to do," says Garcia, who works downtown as a graphic artist. "She didn't have the money to pay someone. And here comes a dozen women to fix her garage. I don't think you get that in a lot of neighborhoods."
This article appears in Mar 2-8, 2005.