On Nebraska Avenue — where throngs of prostitutes and drug dealers jostle each other for prime corner locations with scant interference from Tampa Police — there is a rather stately, Spanish-style, coral-colored, well-maintained former home just north of Hillsborough Avenue. No signs advertise what business, if any, is conducted in the two-story building. Considering Nebraska's dominant mix of seedy pawn shops and seedier rent-by-the-hour motels, the structure is a refreshing relief. Yet, in the wee hours of Sept. 2 last year, a legion of police descended on the building (probably having had to elbow their way past hooker hordes elsewhere on Nebraska). The people inside — consenting adults and clearly free spirits — were having fun, far too much fun for the city to tolerate. They were (egad! horrors!) swingers, certainly not a lifestyle for everyone, but one embraced by about 3-million Americans, which would equate to about 30,000 of your neighbors in the Tampa Bay area.
The denizens of the house belong to a club, Taboo Tampa. City officials argue that the activities were indeed taboo (although undercover cops, in lurid official reports, seem more than a tad titillated in describing the tiniest, sloppiest details of sex). Nonetheless, what transpires inside Taboo is hardly alien to American culture. An upcoming TNT cable movie of The Mists of Avalon features a very, very steamy menage a trois scene, with King Arthur, Guinevere and Sir Lancelot giving an entirely new perspective to "jousting." Spouse-swapping in films such as The Ice Storm hardly raises a blush. Even youth-oriented movies — the Austin Powers comedies — jokingly endorse the lifestyle ("Are you a swinger, baby?").
Don't start thumping a Bible in my direction. It's not necessary to approve of, much less embrace (so to speak), swinging. Most people object to it on moral/religious grounds — and others for reasons as diverse as AIDS, aesthetics and practicality. Probably the vast majority of adults are indifferent, although mildly curious. Whatever — at the heart of our secular society is the belief that adults have the right to associate and, in private, get what jollies this cruel life allows. True, demagogues always want to legislate morality — that is, however, repugnant to our concepts of freedom.
Unfortunately, this is Tampa, where wasting taxpayer money to advance political ambitions is a finely honed art. No rant sounds so righteous as one against an "alternative lifestyle" or libertinism in any variation. To wit, Mayor Dick Greco (much of whose adulthood has been an XXX-rated epic) has declared war on sexy businesses. It's all about politics, of course, and with a city election only about 600 days away, we're talking about high-octane, anti-sin posturing by Greco's would-be successors.
Here's what the police assaults on Taboo Tampa in September and February tell us about the problems of mixing Tampa politics with sex.
First, Tampa bureaucrats and cops elected to "raid" Taboo — not for crimes as most people think of evil wrongdoing but for (gasp!) allegedly ignoring zoning restrictions, at worst an obscure misdemeanor. It's worth noting that Taboo's owner, John Melfi, was properly trying to resolve Taboo's status through the city's administrative channels. Case law indicates that the city had the option of challenging Taboo through either legal or administrative routes, but not both. The administrative process was far from being exhausted when the cops shoved their way through Taboo's doors.
Second, the cops admit in their own testimony that Taboo club members are polite and friendly, and the swingers are also indisputably unarmed because, at the time relevant to their alleged heinous behavior, they're indisputably unclothed. Nonetheless, no fewer than a dozen of the city's finest, heavily armed, were needed for each of two "raids." This was obviously done to intimidate Taboo's members and was certainly police overkill. As witnesses describe and a hidden video camera recorded, the cops' main occupation seemed to be loafing, gawking and snickering at naked people and photos.
Third, the Tampa police are apparently short in the world-class spy department. Two undercover sleuths blew their cover by remaining covered, thereby raising suspicions by those who were unattired that those who insisted on modest dress were interlopers. The detectives further tipped their hands, according to breathless police reports, when a woman screamed in orgasmic ecstasy and the sleuths immediately "went down the hall to investigate," assuming that sounds of joy meant something was dreadfully wrong. Call it the wrong mindset for scoping out a swingers club.
Fourth, there's the cost. Just for the police officers on the two raids, we're looking at a salary hit of at least $10,000 — your money. But that's small potatoes compared to the hundreds of thousands of tax dollars squandered over the last six years on lawyers and police harassment raids of adult businesses — with the city yet to win a single major fight.
Fifth, let's ponder city priorities. Two weeks ago, the citizens of Seminole Heights met at a church a few blocks from Taboo. They were outraged by the city's apparent indifference to the hookers on Nebraska. After the meeting, I asked neighborhood leader Frank Roder if there was equal citizen concern about Taboo. He shrugged and said, "What they do is behind closed doors." I encountered that who-cares response from a number of other Seminole Heights residents, although some neighbors do object to the club. Roder is mad about misuse of police resources — scores of cops are needed to corral drunk kids each night in Ybor City (no taxpayer expense is too great to protect the investment of Centro Ybor's developers). And, obviously, the city feels it's more important to have a dozen cops lounge about for two evenings on a zoning violation bust than it is for them to chase real criminals — say, the hookers, pimps and dealers on Nebraska Avenue.
Sixth, there's that annoying document called the U.S. Constitution, which guarantees that cops need a warrant before entering a private establishment. When the Tampa cops raided Taboo, the club's operator, Melfi, demanded to see a search warrant. The lead cop, Detective Brett Bartlett, ignored the demand, physically pushed Melfi aside and boasted, "I can do whatever I want."
And he did. The cops wiped their feet on the Bill of Rights as they stormed Taboo. Bartlett, in an interview, justified his action by claiming: "We thought a crime had just occurred" inside Taboo. With that logic, the city's stormtroopers could probably find some technical zoning violation at any private home or building and come crashing through the door. Your door, perhaps.
The courts have been pretty tough on the rules for warrantless police raids. Bartlett, a veteran officer, should know that unless there is evidence of a crime in plain view or the resident invites a cop inside, the Constitution trumps his "we thought."
Bartlett himself may have participated in a crime — a more serious misdemeanor than Melfi's alleged wrongdoing. While at Taboo, Bartlett had officers take information on the patrons. These documents, clearly public records, are now missing. Bartlett called Melfi's attorney, Scott Boardman, "an ass" for suggesting the cops destroyed the papers. "We don't shred documents. They're just misplaced," Bartlett said in response to a public records request from the Weekly Planet. However, another police officer, Ken Norris, has testified that the documents were put through a police shredder, according to Boardman.
Hillsborough County Judge Joelle Ann Ober threw out virtually all of the evidence because the police did, as Bartlett proclaimed, whatever they wanted. Which meant that your tax dollars were doubly wasted — first by a "raid" to resolve a zoning dispute and then by incompetent police actions.
At a trial on June 15, the city's lawyer, Richard Lawson, was unable to convince a jury that Melfi had violated the city's adult use zoning laws. The jurors couldn't reach a decision — in essence, a victory for Melfi.
Lawson bungled proving that a "consideration" was paid for any adult activity. In fact, when the undercover cops did ante money to enter Taboo Tampa, all they found were fully clothed people socializing around a buffet table. When the cops later witnessed Taboo-ers getting frisky, the officers had entered the club without paying a fee.
The city's adult use ordinance specifies a half-dozen types of businesses. None of the definitions remotely applies to a members-only club such as Taboo. The ordinance requires that a "consideration" be paid to view sexually oriented activities — and the city was unable to prove that that's what went on at Taboo.
What the city wanted the jury to believe was that some vague, open-ended language in the ordinance allowed officials to go after virtually any business deemed to be offensive. As Boardman argued, a married couple who rented a room to "entertain" each other could subject the hotel to the adult use ordinance. (Incredibly, besides Melfi and his girlfriend, the only other arrest at Taboo involved a married couple, who because they were unclothed were collared for violating the city's "six-foot" rule — written to keep nude dancers at a distance from strip joint patrons.)
Put another way, a lot of female employees in the county courthouse have been providing sexual favors for judges — apparently for the "consideration" of keeping their jobs, perhaps for money. And at least one judge engaged in adult entertainment for an assistant by dancing around in thong panties. So, perhaps Detective Bartlett and his crew should storm the courthouse and declare it an adult use establishment.
Taboo is undeniably for adults. But does that make it subject to the city's adult business law? "People pay money for the right to socialize with other people who think as they do," said Boardman. "No one is guaranteed they they'll engage in sex or even see nudity."
Lawson, the city's attorney, has said he will retry Melfi in August. Boardman counters that he will seek a protective order requiring that the city go through the administrative process.
"What the city is trying to do is unconstitutional as hell, and we're going to prove it," Boardman said.
Constitutional or not, does Taboo Tampa belong in Seminole Heights? It would be hard to argue that a swingers club is appropriate for a residential neighborhood. It's equally hard to argue that Nebraska Avenue is residential or that a well-groomed building with no lurid signage and opaque windows is somehow worse than the surrounding landscape.
All of the arguments may become moot, however. A new state law prohibits any adult business within 2,500 feet of a school. That law supercedes county and city ordinances. However, the courts have ruled that government can't use zoning as a de facto means of outlawing adult businesses. Since 2,500 feet would almost entirely eliminate adult businesses in urban areas, it's safe to bet there will be constitutional challenges, probably successful. That could leave counties and cities without any adult business restrictions.
And, since Tampa's Keystone Kops and righteous politicians have blown the chance to work out a deal with the swingers club, we might find a McTaboo on every corner.
Editor John Sugg, whose motto is "Clean Mind. Clean Body. Take Your Pick," can be reached at 813-248-8888, ext. 109, or at johnsugg@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Jul 5-11, 2001.