Condo Complex

I may have mentioned this before, but I’m really a bit of a history geek. I’m not talking about a bunch of boring dates and wars – the kind of enormously uninteresting history they like to teach you in school. What excites me is the common stuff – the kinds of things that make you feel like you could actually step into another time – like photos, journals, and clothing. (It doesn’t even have to be that old, really. I’ve been known to dork out over an original Rubik’s Cube or a Rolling Stone from 1975.) I dig old cars especially, but my true love has to be architecture.
I’ve never been abroad, but I think I might fall into ecstatic convulsions if I could lay my own eyes on the Tower of London or, God help me, the Coliseum in Rome. As it is, I live in a 1925 bungalow that I am in love with for its sheer, decrepit oldness. (I also want to rip out my hair over its sheer, decrepit oldness, but that’s another story.)
In Florida – a handful of Spanish forts notwithstanding – my house is one of the oldest things around. Let’s face it, until the marvel of air conditioning (and serious mosquito control), Florida real estate was undesirable, if not practically uninhabitable.
Naturally, St. Petersburg is not exactly a mecca for historic architecture, but we do have a smattering of old buildings – some of which are actually cared for and maintained. Others, like the woeful YMCA building downtown, have been left to languish. Of course, there’s always hope: the Vinoy – that gloriously restored, carnation pink feather in St. Pete’s cap – was a pathetic, abandoned heap for nearly twenty years until its 93 million dollar salvation.
Big money restorations are a rare thing, however, particularly in a city where “historic” is a very relative designation. Who wants to spend loads of money on a “fixer-upper” when they could just demolish a whole city block and start from scratch? The bread-and-butter of Florida real estate has always been new construction and, by the looks of downtown, high-rise condos have at last taken over.
Have you seen these monsters? How could you miss them, really? And you can’t walk three blocks without coming up against a plastic construction barrier advertising some attractive, happy (and clearly, very rich) people lounging in a mock-up of a soon-to-be-built penthouse suite. Since 2005, no less than 14 condominium towers (not including Progress Energy’s new office high-rise) have been planned or completed in the downtown area. People are actually talking about a St. Petersburg “skyline.”
Well, no, it’s hardly Chicago or NYC. And, thanks to Albert Whitted Airport and FAA restrictions, we’ll never have a behemoth like the Chrysler building. But, from a distance, it certainly seems that there may soon be more to characterize St. Petersburg than the Bank of America “tower” and the featureless white lump of Tropicana Field.
While St. Petersburg is getting a skyline that may one day be worthy of etching on a Starbuck’s mug, the most interesting changes are actually happening on the ground. You see, if developers want to attract big-spending residents who can actually afford these condos, they’ve got to throw in better amenities than a pool and a view. Who wants to drop that kind of dough when the coolest neighborhood feature is The Pier? (No offense to The Pier, but honestly, we’ve all done enough novelty hat shopping and fudge eating to last us until the in-laws come back in town.)
This is where we – the lowly majority of area residents who will probably never even know these condo types, let alone afford one of their flats – get thrown a bone. You see, these proliferating towers have now mutated into entire communities. Where once we might find only a foreboding and lavishly guarded front entrance, we now find welcoming (if pricey) retail stores. Remember when Beach Drive was little more than a couple of jewelry shops and the kind of art galleries your grandmother would like?
In one block alone, under the colossal shadow of the new Parkshore Plaza (where, according to the condo association’s website, residents enjoy “unparalleled service and sophisticated, indulgent, urban living”), we common folk can now experience reasonably-priced, decent dining at the (brilliantly-named) Parkshore Grill, a dizzying array of herbal beverages at The Hooker Tea Company, or (and, I think this is what the Parkshore people mean when they say “indulgent”) the “Italian Gelato Renaissance” in Paciugo Caffe.
There are dozens more condo-shops where these came from, either opening their doors, or in the works. I have no doubt that in the next few years you will be able to shop Baby Gap, enjoy Seattle’s Best coffee, and register at Crate & Barrel – all within view of the downtown waterfront. I never thought I’d see the day, but St. Petersburg is fast evolving from “God’s Waiting Room” to “Yuppie Playground.”
I have to admit that the part of me that wonders about the days of the green benches is a little bit heartbroken. That part of me that, ten years ago reveled in the gritty debauchery of Club Detroit (itself a reincarnation of St. Pete’s first hotel, the Detroit) is sad to see an era come to its end. In a few years, there will be condos clamoring for space next to the State Theater (if the State can survive) and I’m sure that even Janus Landing’s days are numbered.
As Florida’s thirst for new construction outstrips its respect for the old, I will simply have to satisfy myself with the few salvaged pieces of our past. Who knows? Maybe somebody will restore the YMCA building.
But, after all, you can’t stand in the way of progress. And, until I can set foot in the Sistine Chapel, I can at least stick a spoon in some awesome gelato.


Published in The Gabber Newspaper, Gulfport, FL 8/2/07