Rolling countryside, palmetto thickets, oak forests. cypress-filled swamps – that's what used to be here. For the most part, the land lay idle until the early 1940s and World War II, at which point Dale Mabry was paved to connect MacDill and Drew airfields. Nine homes were erected on North A Street (some of the first funded by the Federal Housing Authority) and the neighborhoods of North Bon Air and Westshore Palms were established shortly after, attracting new inhabitants and becoming the setting for an influx of homes erected through the 1950s, '60s and '70s.
Today, these two neighborhoods, separated only by the increasingly busy Lois Avenue, serve as a frequent and far too handy cut-through to West Shore Boulevard or to Dale Mabry. And while residents aren't pleased by the superfluous traffic flow, they stay because they are close to everything and can continue to enjoy all the amenities of South Tampa without having to get fully immersed in the scene south of Kennedy. These neighborhoods have also remained peaceful and scenic despite the hustle and bustle on all sides.
Ansley's Natural Marketplace closed last November, depriving the neighborhood of the only grocery-type store in the immediate vicinity. But any pressing necessities (bread, milk, dog food) can be picked up at the Walgreen's on the corner of West Shore and Kennedy. Other conveniences – the airport, the stadium, downtown Tampa, and South Tampa shopping, dining and services of all varieties – are no more than a 10-minute drive away.
Of course, as mentioned previously, the area's convenience makes the traffic horrendous even with speed tables and stop signs installed on the busiest cut-through, Gray Street. This predicament could potentially worsen with the widening of I-275; construction starts in 2007 and both neighborhoods have lost much of the land and houses on their outer edges (those areas closest to the interstate).
In Westshore Palms, there are also concerns about the growing number of townhouses sprouting up all over the neighborhood, which have limited parking and represent an increase in an already sticky traffic situation.
This leads to a big difference between the two neighborhoods: zoning. The Westshore Palms area is primarily zoned for multi-family use, so more "dwelling units" can be constructed per so many acres. Developers purchase a few houses (or a string of houses) on a block, tear them down and erect anywhere from six to 12 or more units, which sell for anywhere from $250,000 to over $300,000 each. This is around the same price (or less) that you'd pay for a single home in the same locale.
Hazel Allen's husband built their Westshore Palms home in 1956. It sits on a very large, very enticing piece of land. "I get offers all the time from people trying to buy my property because I have two lots," she said. "But I live in the ideal location. I like it and I have no intention of moving."
Concerns about construction are varied, however, and some residents even boast that their neighborhood is unique because it is eclectic in both variety of residents and type of abodes. Ethnicities range from white to Hispanic to Asian, a mix of professional and working class, young and retired (or semi-retired) folks.
Aside from the abundance of townhouses, there are scattered apartments, some in faded but charmingly funky buildings and others in more utilitarian structures, a few of which accept Section 8 vouchers. There is one small, gated community of condominiums as well as larger blocks of condo "complexes"; and a variety of houses, from modest, brick homes to larger, tastefully renovated upper-class houses.
In contrast, North Bon Air residents (like Edna Patrick, who's lived there 55 years, and Michael Damaso, who's been there off and on for 25 years) are extremely proud of their neighborhood's single-family zoning designation and work hard to maintain it.
North Bon Air consists of mostly modest and "upgraded" single-family homes, with a few small apartment buildings that were grandfathered into the neighborhood's comprehensive plan many years ago. There are no townhouses going up here and the residents want to keep it that way. North Bon Air seems to have more retirees, but, as in Westshore Palms, its residents are, for the most part, ethnically and vocationally diverse.
Homes in both neighborhoods have remained affordable, more so in North Bon Air than in Westshore Palms, although houses have sold here for under $100,000 as recently as last year despite skyrocketing prices for property in most other parts of South Tampa.
The neighborhoods are also considered favorable because they lie in the district of H.B. Plant High School, recognized for providing an extraordinary education and named a Blue Ribbon School of Excellence by the U.S. Department of Education (Ed. Note: The author's a little biased – She's an alum). Crime is next to nonexistent – most of the reported incidents come from the surrounding business district.
Overall, despite traffic concerns, residents in both neighborhoods are content with their surroundings and location. And even the folks who are less impressed with the area's location, like Westshore Palms president Harold Bright, still enjoy the people who live here because they are, as he says, "as nice as can be."
Secret Gardens: North Hubert Art Studio and C. Broughton Williams Park
It could be any anonymous building, a squat, tri-colored, concrete structure with windows covered by heavy metal screens. However, inside you'll find a valuable (and little-known) city-funded art center: the North Hubert Art Studio. You'll also find Phyllis Goodwin, who's worked at the Westshore Palms location for the past 18 years, cheerfully and patiently teaching arts and crafts to students ages 2 through 92.
People travel from all over Tampa to take advantage of the classes offered here, which include hand-building clay work, jewelry making, ceramics, mosaics, sewing, glass fusion and more. The fees are more than reasonable; the most expensive class is $5 a week (Knit-a-Bit for adults) while others, like Family Crafts, are offered for as low as $1.50 a week. "People will pay outrageous prices for art classes at private studios thinking that they're better because they're more expensive," says Phyllis. "They're just plain wrong."
She also remarks that very few residents in the area's immediate vicinity take classes here, or are even aware that an art studio exists in their neighborhood.
"I watch people walking by with their dogs," she says, "and they notice the studio and go, 'Where'd this come from?'" The lack of local familiarity probably has something to do with the fact that there has been little or no advertisement of the place; the last time Phyllis canvassed the neighborhood about the studio was in the late 1980s when she first began working there. Two big, conspicuous signs were added only recently.
Mary Ann Fueyo lived in Westshore Palms for eight months and didn't discover the studio until after she moved away. Now, she brings her daughter Katie to Children's Clay and Crafts on Tuesdays, sewing heart mobiles and hanging out with other moms.
Attached to the studio is C. Broughton Williams Park, a small plot of grassy, tree-dappled earth that encompasses a large playground, basketball court, a few extremely climbable live oaks and plenty of open space for children and dogs.
Beach Park resident Jane Givens crosses Kennedy to enjoy the park with her Brittany spaniel, Mako. "We have a park [Swan Circle] but I like this park better because it's fenced," she says. Givens also says she enjoys the quiet, because aside from the after-school flood of children, art studio kids and the occasional assortment of delinquent teenagers, the place remains practically deserted.
309 N. Hubert St., Tampa, 813-282-2911
Sweet Tea & Hush Puppies: Jimbo's Real Pit Bar-b-que
Almost six years after successfully opening a barbecue restaurant in Lakeland, brothers Frank and Harold Lehman brought the same concept, recipes and large, showy sign design to Tampa, opening Jimbo's Pit Bar-b-que on Kennedy Boulevard in September of 1970.
Not much has changed since then, but the regulars and newbies seem to like it that way. "Why fix what isn't broken?" asks Joe Lehman, one of Frank's three sons who help manage the two restaurants.
The building, located within the boundaries of North Bon Air, has always been painted barn red and trimmed in black; the well-known sign has always sported the jolly, rib-grippin' Beetle Bailey-esque cartoon cook; and the lettering and flames have always glowed pleasantly in the evening hours. (The sign used to blink but the feature was eliminated when it was judged a distraction to drivers.)
Inside, the decor is old-fashioned and appealingly modest. There's nothing extravagant in the worn, polished finish of the oak picnic benches (most are originals from when the place first opened), and the casual, welcoming atmosphere is complemented with low lighting, oak-paneled walls, a red-and-black-checkered floor, and an alligator pelt hanging on the wall amid a multitude of old license plates. The collection is so large that only about one third are suspended at any one time. "He keeps the rest of them in boxes," says Joe Lehman. "We just have too many to put up."
Dining at Jimbo's is usually a satisfying experience. The ice tea is brewed fresh and can be ordered as it always should be in the South, strong and teeth-hurtingly sweet; the only barbecue sauce is the restaurant's longtime recipe, a tasty sweet and tangy mixture; and the menu, like much of the restaurant, has remained largely unchanged over the years: pulled pork, sliced pork and beef sandwiches (medium or hefty), barbecue chicken, beef and pork dinners, sides of sweet baked beans, cole slaw, French fries, deliciously crunchy hush puppies, and lots and lots of ribs. Joe estimates that the restaurant in Tampa goes through about a ton of pork ribs a week; the Lakeland restaurant, two.
Prices are reasonable (you can eat for under $10) and the waitresses seem to enjoy being there, especially Sarah, who's worked at Jimbo's for 34 years and shows no signs of leaving. A diverse crowd frequents the restaurant for breakfast, lunch and dinner; you can find plumbers and contractors chewing the fat with the occasional gaggle of journalists and politicos.
Even George Steinbrenner drops by occasionally; he orders the chopped pork and a raspberry shake.
Hours: 7 a.m.-10 p.m. Mon.-Sat., 8 a.m.-10 p.m. Sun.; breakfast is served until 11 a.m. everyday. 4103 W. Kennedy Blvd., Tampa, 813-289-1006.
For The Birds: Anna Reilly
Although Monk (a.k.a. Quaker) parakeets are native to South America, they've been flying free in the United States for the past 30 years. Imported escapees and liberated pets, these hardy little birds have made quite a home for themselves here in Florida, its semi-tropical climate and numerous varieties of flowering, nectar- and fruit-producing plants making it a particularly habitable place. In fact, this state has the largest population of feral Monks in the country.
In Westshore Palms, Monk sightings are commonplace. Many of the non-migrating families inhabit the trees lining North A Street, the incessant and often noisy chatterers causing more than a little grumbling from the neighborhood's human residents.
However, there are few here, if any, who would like to see them gone. And if you're like Anna Reilly, a relocated New Yorker who lives in a house near a particularly busy tree, you not only enjoy watching the charming little buggers but actively protect them from greedy opportunists looking to make a quick buck by catching and selling them to area pet stores.
One night, while Reilly was spending some quiet time at home, she heard a commotion outside. Upon further investigation, she found strangers with nets creeping about and shining lights into the foliage. Her neighbor had alerted her to a similar incident a few weeks before, so she knew something was amiss. Her decision to intervene didn't take long.
"The Monks in pet stores don't look healthy – they've been packed together in a very small space, they can't fly around and you can just tell they're stressed out," she says. "I didn't want these guys to end up the same way."
She went out and asked the intruders what they were doing. She says they made a snide comment about preparing for St. Patrick's Day, which confirmed her suspicions of their ill intent. So, she says, "I got a little riled up and started yelling at them." They quickly and quietly packed up and fled the scene. She will call the authorities if they return.
Reilly's modest about her show of gumption. "I enjoy the birds," she says simply, "and I enjoy nature."
This article appears in Mar 2-8, 2005.