Zephyrhills Founder's Day archaeological dig enlists volunteers

From the Times:

By Wendy Withers

ZEPHYRHILLS — Organizers of this year's Founder's Day in Zephyrhills would like to start a new tradition.

From 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. on March 14, there will be an archaeological dig in a vacant lot in downtown. The event organizers are looking for volunteers to take part in some of the work, including sifting through dirt for artifacts and helping clean whatever is found.

Brenda Welcher, executive director of Main Street Zephyrhills, said the dig was planned for a number of reasons. She believes it is a way to get residents interested in the history and community of Zephyrhills.

And, this year's theme for Founder's Day is "Dig It: The '60s in Zephyrhills."

Welcher said the lot was chosen because there was probably a house on the land at some time, and possibly a store.

Margie Partain, who has been researching the history of the land, confirmed that she thought a house built in 1922 stood on the land, and that it was eventually turned into a store combo.

However, she said she would need to do more research to be certain what the property was used for. The city now owns the land.

Welcher said the University of South Florida's archaeological department will be leading the dig and will be logging any artifacts that might be found.

Welcher said she hopes this year's archaeological dig will find some city mementos.

"Depending on what we find this year, we might dig in the same area next year," Welcher said.

"If we don't find anything, we might dig in another place next year."

Piece of the past returns for West Meadows woman

Kim Polidoro waited in the car line at school to pick up her son last week, contemplating which of the antique china sets from her great-grandmother she should use for Thanksgiving. Chatting with her dad, she spoke of how grateful she was to own such sentimental pieces and the significance of passing things on.

Polidoro lamented that she didn't possess a single item from her maternal grandmother. Nana, who died in 1991, did not own much. She cared for her parents and her in-laws as they aged. Many of her belongings were items they bequeathed to her.

"It's just really sad," Polidoro told her dad, Ken Anderson. "It would have been nice to have something that belonged to her."

That same day, 1,200 miles away in Frankenmuth, Mich., someone walked into a thrift store to donate a very special item.

I've turned my page on history

This essay by Hunter's Green writer Melissa O'Brien appeared in the St. Petersburg Times on Feb. 9.

On my grandmother's bookshelf, wedged in between Katharine Hepburn's Me - Stories Of My Life and Ernest Hemingway's The Snows of Kilimanjaro was a copy of Adolf Hitler's Mein Kampf. It is a 1939 German edition, and inside the front cover, neatly scrolled like a wedding invitation, are the names of my grandparents and the date of their nuptials. My grandparents told me that this book was issued to every newly married couple in Germany in the late 1930s and early 1940s.

Having this book in my family's possession has always made me uncomfortable. Sometimes, when I would visit my grandparent's home, I would cautiously open the leather-bound book - flipping through it to see if there were any notes in the margin. Thankfully, there were no notes, and in fact, the book appeared as though it was never read. But it always surprised me that having settled in North Carolina after living in three states and three different countries, my grandparents never managed to purge this book with the junk most people get rid of every time they move.

Friday in New Tampa

History buffs will want to set that alarm to hear Burton Hersh discuss his book, Bobby and J. Edgar, at the New Tampa Rotary meeting, 7 a.m. Friday at the Tampa Palms Golf and Country Club, 5811 Tampa Palms Blvd. Cost is $12. Call (813) 972-9235.

History buffs will want to set that alarm to hear Burton Hersh discuss his book, Bobby and J. Edgar, at the New Tampa Rotary meeting, 7 a.m. Friday at the Tampa Palms Golf and Country Club, 5811 Tampa Palms Blvd. Cost is $12. Call (813) 972-9235.

You, me and Candice Dupree

That headline's not original. The sports press, better at this than us news folk, have followed Wharton High School's own hoops star through her days at Temple University and into the WNBA, where she is a forward for the Chicago Sky. Picture from hoopedia, which can tell you much more.

Branchton: See it while it lasts

We're back-posting stories we have published over the years that give you a taste of the history of New Tampa. We especially like this little number by John Balz, a young writer who covered New Tampa for a brief time and then went off to Texas to pursue his doctorate in American Studies. In it, he captures life in Branchton before the Cross Creek Boulevard extension.

Bruce B. Downs remembered

If you live in New Tampa or even if you don't, the name "Bruce B. Downs" is part of everyday language.

It creeps into conversation, in forms like: "Have you seen the new shopping plaza on Bruce B. Downs Boulevard?" Or, "Wow, I can't believe all of the development along Bruce B. Downs." "Sorry I'm late. I got stuck on #@&%! Bruce B. Downs."

Had public officials in the 1980s known that a desolate, two-lane country road would become such a hard-traveled mess, they might have picked a different name. The real Bruce B. Downs would never have approved of such congestion.

Yet somehow the name rolls off the lips, "broosbeedowns," never shortened to "Downs" or "BBD." The road endured growing pains along with New Tampa, as the one common vein that links that village of gated cul-de-sacs. Once known as the Road to Nowhere, it is now the Road to Excessive Growth That Won't Stop.

But who the heck was Bruce B. Downs?

* * *

His Empire On The Lake

By Michael Van Sickler, Times Staff Writer

Behind the gates at Cory Lake Isles, Gene Thomason's power is absolute.

The 10 miles of roads? He insisted upon brick and chose the contractor.

The tropical foliage lining the entrances of the 588-acre development in north Tampa? That's his doing.

The 165-acre lake? He dug it and named it after his son.

Taxes paid by homeowners will help repay about $20-million Thomason borrowed to create the development. Homeowners also pay Thomason a fee to operate it.

Thomason dictates how close homes can be to one another, which lawn companies homeowners can hire and the type of palm tree they can plant.

"He takes care of the property as if it were his own private yard," said homeowner Jane Taggart, who approves of the attention to detail.

Others complain Thomason wields too much power.

"He's like Jesus Christ up there," said Joseph Caetano, a Tampa activist who briefly owned a home in Cory Lake Isles.

How did one man acquire so much power?

Thomason exploited a state law that created little-understood but increasingly common community development districts.

Community development districts created by developers operate like independent governments and can borrow millions tax-free to pay for roads, utilities and amenities. Homeowners in the development pay off the debt.

Although much of the taxing authority shifts from the developer to homeowners after six years, a loophole in state law allows the developer to hold on to power much longer.

That helps explain why, after 13 years, Cory Lake Isles and its 300 homeowners remain under the absolute control of Gene Thomason.