Good thing too. A damn reporter might point out that Bill Clinton could learn a thing or two about fudging the facts from Harris.
A careful reading of the above exchange shows that Harris never exactly said she had engaged Schneider in a formal debate. That's because Harris has refused to, so far.
With a double-digit lead in the polls, why should Harris bother when there are books to sell? —Francis X. Gilpin
Boomtown Spin
It's long been the awkward, redheaded cousin of Tampa. But with downtown redevelopment fueling a resurgence in the Bay area's second-chair city, St. Petersburg has become the envy — or maybe just an odd curiosity — for Tampa leaders trying to revamp their downtown.
People are living downtown, shopping downtown, eating downtown, partying downtown. St. Petersburg is booming. It's just not booming as much as Mayor Rick Baker would like you — and the media — to believe.
On Oct. 10, Baker met with reporters to tout fiscal 2002 as "the largest construction year in St. Petersburg history."
The city pegged the value of construction permits, which included those for the new Raymond James offices in north St. Pete and the Hampton Inn on Beach Drive, at almost $300-million.
"We're not going to be the financial center of the Southeast," Baker said. "But ... we probably have one of the most beautiful downtowns in the Southeast."
Indeed, the resurgence of downtown St. Petersburg has been impressive. But Baker shouldn't claim 2002 as the best year for development. That honor goes to 1997, before Baker took office.
After subtracting $60-million in Tropicana Field renovations, the 1997 construction value was $283-million. That's $317-million in inflation-adjusted 2002 dollars, however, topping this year's nearly $300-million figure.
Despite the transparent attempt to spin 2002 as the best development year in the history of St. Pete — ironically, Baker does fashion himself something of a city historian — the meeting was intended to brief reporters on how St. Pete will increase its tax base, which is significantly lower than those of other Florida cities.
The city administration will focus on three sections of the city: Dome Industrial Park, Midtown and Albert Whitted Municipal Airport.
Baker would like to bring "well-paying" manufacturing jobs to the languishing area around Tropicana Field, but the city's ability to do that remains questionable. A lackluster workforce, coupled with the city's unwillingness to offer tax breaks, would be unlikely to attract companies that can offer high-wage jobs.
—Trevor Aaronson
World Beat Celebration
Early in his exhilarating, two-hour-plus concert at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center Sunday night, Ruben Blades talked to the crowd in both Spanish and English. It didn't take long for the international star to dispense with the English altogether.
That made taking notes a little tougher on a particular English-only Anglo with a notebook in his hand. The quick-witted Blades' easy repartee with a near-capacity audience was lost, as were the message-heavy lyrics. But the sense of celebration was not. Backed by a brilliant, 12-piece band, Blades, a native of Panama, delivered a classy, marathon performance for a well-dressed menagerie of folk from Tampa Bay's diverse Latin community. Several of his songs spurred the crowd to sing along word for word (and a few pockets of people to wave Panamanian flags).
Blades (BLAH-dase) is no one-dimensional salsa artist. Scattered among the vibrant Latin dance numbers were pieces from his new, ambitious album Mundo, which seeks common ground between seemingly disparate music styles of the world. Hence: an Irish bagpiper played distinctively Celtic lines over a loping Latin groove. A Brazilian vocal quartet sang a wordless version of Pat Metheny's "First Circle."
Blades played lead singer and ringleader. His soulful tenor stayed strong and expressive throughout. The guy drips charisma. Dressed in gray slacks and a dark blazer, his trademark rumpled fedora perched lazily on his head, he sauntered the stage with easygoing authority, coolly danced about, and worked his shakers emblazoned with the Panamanian flag. Crowd members, mostly women, routinely approached the stage requesting autographs. At an American show, such impudence would either go ignored by the artist or induce strong-arm tactics from security. Blades? He accommodated every last one with a thoughtful inscription, even asking for names.
His band was extraordinary. A bevy of percussionists routinely switched drums. A horn section consisting of one saxophonist (tenor, alto and soprano) and two trombonists provided brassy punctuation. An acoustic guitarist doubled on keyboards. An electric guitarist doubled on percussion. A violinist played elegant lines and solos. And here was the kicker: The ensemble further enlivened the music with full, powerful background vocals.
I may have missed a lot of nuance, and most of the jokes, during Blades' show, but the overall effect — that of celebration and love — came through as clearly as could be.
