As the real estate markets heat up again, the scale of new construction confounds Tampa Bay residents, particularly in posh areas. The 1 percent are buying and building and bulging out of their land-use corsets, with mechanical muffintops annoying the neighbors.
What does this rush of development, with its collateral damage of demolitions, mean to the traditional scale of these older neighborhoods? It dramatically impacts the scale and rhythm of the remaining homes, with their gardens and lower profiles, and replaces reasonably sized homes with McMansions.
Current flood regulations require that new construction begins at the 100-year floodplain, which on Davis Islands is 16 feet above sea level. This rule means that at least 4 feet of additional fill is necessary before the home’s living space can begin.
Since dirt is no longer dirt cheap, some homebuilders decide to create an entire ground floor for parking their numerous vehicles. By raising the entire home up 10 feet before the living areas even begin, the height of new construction towers over the neighbors’ ground-level homes.
Then there’s the math: $1 million for a building lot means that the subsequent construction investment will be at least twice that amount and at least 6,000 square feet. The original homes built near the water tend to be smaller than that, so there has been a steady demolition of these homes to be replaced by huge houses.
It’s as if someone sprinkled Miracle-Gro around the perimeter of Tampa Bay, and up sprouted these enormous structures. The rhythm of traditional neighborhoods, with the beat of home, garden, home, garden, is being replaced by home, HOME, HOME, home, McMANSION. The physical scale of the new construction, coupled with the additional pavement surrounding these behemoths, has taken its toll on the character of the neighborhoods.
“Land is king,” explains Ed Gunning, a South Tampa realtor who has seen folks spend $4.2 million on a teardown on Riviera Drive. He explains that, because desirable lots (particularly waterfront lots) in upscale neighborhoods are a limited commodity, their value is solid.
St. Pete’s Snell Isle and Old Northeast are subject to the same development pressures as Tampa’s Davis Islands, Bayshore and Beach Park: valuable land and smaller, older structures. Fortunately, there are some countervailing trends: residents who are willing and able to invest in adjacent property to create larger gardens and play areas for their families.
Peter Belmont, vice president of St. Petersburg Preservation, shared some positive news for the protection of the ’Burg’s older neighborhoods. On April 16 at 6 p.m., St. Pete’s City Council will consider adopting a revised preservation ordinance which would create more reasonable rules for preservation districts.
Working closely with Mayor Kriseman, this compromise proposal would allow 50 percent plus one of those neighbors who respond to a query about the possibility of a local district, such as Old Northeast, to begin the designation process. Currently, a rule requires two thirds of all property owners, whether they respond or not, which is an impossibly high bar.
Of course, the request for a preservation district is only the beginning of a three-step process, which mandates a staff survey of the existing percentage of historic fabric, followed by notification of all property owners (again) and then public hearings.
In the meantime, there have been painful losses, most notably, the demolition of the mini-White House replica in Old Northeast. C1 Bank CEO Trevor Burgesss purchased the property to build a new, more contemporary home there. Couldn’t he have purchased an empty lot or one with a less impressive historic home?
“Elegant lines, gracious rooms and character” were the reasons cited by Emily Elwyn, president of St. Petersburg Preservation, for her family’s purchase of an older home close to Burgess’s demolition.
“My husband and I wanted to live in an older neighborhood. We get value from the other homes on the street. We took advantage of the ad valorem tax benefits so our taxes are frozen at pre-improvement levels for 10 years. and we’re exempt from many FEMA regs. We’ve restored our original windows using local craftsmen, so the dollars stay here. New construction costs more, has less character and is stuck high in the air.”
Emily asks, “Why would anyone buy a historic home and demolish it?”
Why indeed? I contacted Burgess to give him an opportunity to answer Elwyn’s question, but at press time he had not responded.
CLARIFICATION
Today [Fri. March 27] I received a call from Trevor Burgess, who had been in Costa Rica the Dominican Republic when I'd attempted to contact him for the column on McMansions. He told me that the 1920s home which he'd purchased and razed in Old Northeast was full of black mold due to years of water damage. Burgess informed me that the "White House" facade had been an addition in 1986 and was not original to the structure. New construction will have to be only 6 inches higher than the current floodplain. — Linda Saul-Sena
This article appears in Mar 19-25, 2015.