For the past decade, the Florida Department of Transportation has been buying and moving historic structures out of Ybor City and Tampa Heights — 55 so far, with nine more houses to go. It's part of the department's preparation for what it calls the ultimate downtown interchange — the widening of both I-275 and I-4.
However, the creation of the interchange, which would have four levels, isn't scheduled to begin anytime soon — perhaps not for another decade, though others say they've been told it could be much later than that. In the meantime, affected neighborhoods are suffering from the blight of nearby abandoned homes that have not yet been moved. And one optimistic homebuilder opted to construct an "expansion mansion" in an otherwise devastated area, having been assured that years would pass before he'd have to leave.
Now high-speed rail has entered the picture. For the residents of Tampa Heights, construction of the new federally funded line won't have much impact. But for Chris Koury, the contractor building a house in the outskirts of Ybor, the news is potentially disastrous — his dream home may soon be demolished. And there's nothing he can do about it.
Six historic structures have been removed from Tampa Heights so far. Gail Smiley-Dixon, president of the Tampa Heights Civic Association, says she and her husband Jon are frustrated that some of the homes that the DOT has purchased have not been maintained. "They do not seal them correctly," Jon Dixon says. "I mean, every time I ever do anything, I see the vagrants all over the property, the crackheads inside it. It's just amazing that we're held to a level with code enforcement, and here they do whatever they want."
Gail Smiley-Dixon complains that she and her husband have had to collect nails and plywood to seal up those properties, because they say FDOT and the City of Tampa's Code Enforcement take too long to address the problems.
In Ybor the problem isn't deserted homes, but deserted space. Manny Leto is the editor of Cigar City Magazine and a lifelong resident of the district. He says that the story of post-war Ybor has been shaped by the interstate. "Once I-275 and I-4 bifurcated the neighborhood in1962, that was really the beginning of the end," he says.
University of Tampa Professor Robert Kerstein agrees. In an e-mail, he writes, "I think of that blow in conjunction with the urban renewal program that razed hundreds of
houses in Ybor a few years later [in 1965]. I think both of these projects dramatically hurt the neighborhood."
Dennis Fernandez is the city's historic preservation manager. He says that it's widely acknowledged that the creation of I-4 had an "incredibly large negative impact" on Ybor, but says that this time FDOT has taken steps to mitigate any deleterious impacts.
The Department of Transportation says that purchasing right-of-way for highway expansion (or projects like a rail line) can be one of the most expensive items on behalf of state taxpayers, and therefore the department maintains it's been doing the responsible thing by buying up land early before it gets more expensive (which had generally been the case with real estate before the mortgage crises and recession hit).
FDOT consultant Elaine Illes, when asked about the department's acquisitions years in advance of actually doing anything with the properties, responds, "This is the taxpayers' money. That's why if someone is willing, it makes sense from a taxpayer's standpoint" to make such purchases.
In 1996 a group of interested parties, including FDOT, the city of Tampa and the Florida State Historic Preservation Officer signed a memorandum of understanding calling for a number of steps to mitigate the potential environmental impact of improving I-4. Part of that MOU called for 35 historically significant structures to be relocated, rehabbed and ultimately deeded to the city. Twenty-six would be located north of I-4, and five were to be donated to the Ybor Museum State Park, which relocated them on 19th Street between Eighth and Ninth avenues — the noted "casitas" which now house restaurants and art galleries (including Singing Stone, profiled on p. 60.)
But while those homes were all sold to willing sellers, 12th Avenue in Ybor between 10th Street and Nebraska Avenue now looks like an area that's been bulldozed by aerial drones. Homes sit next to empty lots, making the area seem like something out of the Cormac McCarthy novel The Road.
Enter Chris Koury. The Atlanta-based homebuilder met his second wife, Vicki Brittain, a Florida native, while both were working in the Navy's intelligence department at MacDill Air Force Base in 1998. After purchasing a home in Zephyrhills, they began hanging out in Ybor, where he said he got the same feel that he did from Buckhead, a suburb of Atlanta back in the early '80s.
Koury sounds slightly messianic in describing his Ybor jones.
"Honest to God, there's a social element to both Vicki and I, and what we saw was a need. They were missing something, and I thought I could deliver that something."
So he looked into buying land on 12th Avenue. But after attending a meeting with the local zoning board in Ybor, the Barrio Latino Commission, he was told that building there could be problematic, because FDOT had possible uses for the area in the future. But, he contends he was told, not anytime in the immediate future. In fact, Koury says that FDOT consultant Elaine Illes told him that because of budget constraints, any work that would affect the street would be at least 15 years away, maybe 25 years, and perhaps might never happen at all. So the 55-year-old said that sounded good enough to him. And besides, he says, Illes told him "we can't stop you anyway."
So he went ahead and made the purchase, on a plot of land that sits in the shadow of the western beginning of an I-4 overpass. He began construction of what he calls a prototype of his "expansion mansions," a concept of homes "that you can grow into, not out of." In other words, a house than somebody who hasn't yet begun a family might think of purchasing.
But after construction began, rumors started floating late last fall that Florida was under serious consideration for high-speed rail funding from the feds. Virtually every elected official believed it would be a boost for the Central Florida area, so the legislature held a special session in December to pass legislation paving the way. Then President Obama and Vice President Joe Biden came to the University of Tampa on January 28 to announce that the state was getting $1.25 of the $2.5 billion plus needed to begin construction of a Tampa/Orlando line.
Suddenly, high-speed rail was on. Attorneys have informed residents along 12th Avenue that eminent domain proceedings will begin sometime later this year, leading to their homes being taken. And Chris Koury was pissed, because FDOT had said nothing to him as he continued to pour thousands of dollars into his home.
At this point, Koury says he owes it to himself to make the best house he can, and then be prepared for FDOT to pay the market value to take it away from him, which in a way, is a bad deal for the taxpayers. But he says several times since he began construction he asked FDOT to make a good faith offer. "But they wouldn't do it. Couldn't do it. They said, 'Keep on going.' Then the banks start saying you can't leave us with an unfinished house." So he kept on building.
When asked if she had told Koury that the earliest that FDOT would begin working on 12th Avenue would be 15 years, and maybe never, the department's Elaine Illes admits, "It could be. We don't have a crystal ball." FDOT officials also point out that plans do change, sometimes suddenly — witness the infusion of federal stimulus money that is allowing for the construction right now of the Selmon Expressway connector in Ybor.
Although attorneys have blanketed 12th Avenue residents with letters offering representation in dealing with eminent domain, FDOT officials still say that officially they know nothing about what high-speed rail would do to Ybor.
But when will rail take the street? Nazih Haddad is chief operating officer for the Florida Rail Enterprise, the new state agency responsible for running the high speed rail system. He says that his organization is currently conducting a survey of the exact parcels that will have to be taken to help construct the line. Haddad says that will probably take another 5-6 months before the right of way process will take place, with construction beginning in approximately a year.
But Koury, who's fallen in love with his place in Ybor, speaks mournfully of what's happened to 12th Avenue. "They've decimated the spirit of this neighborhood," he says. "They've obtained so many of these lots, with no purpose in mind had high speed rail not come along."
Some of Koury's neighbors are similarly bummed about his plight. Nelson Medina lives across the street. "We love the house, we think it's an incredible asset," he says of Koury's creation. "He's the only one who's ever moved here for the betterment of the community, and I think it would be an enormous loss to lose a man of this character, for a train that nobody wants to ride!"
Koury says he doesn't share those sentiments about high-speed rail, but just wishes its implementation wasn't affecting him personally. He expects to complete construction by the middle of April, meaning he might have until fall before FDOT razes his dream home.
This article appears in Mar 24-30, 2010.