I button up my windbreaker as I step out along Fifth Avenue. Orion hangs low on the horizon and confirms that the pre-dawn hours are the coolest part of the night.
A gust of wind howls as I gaze up the north face of RHO; there are some of you who are still awake doing a variety of thing—watching the boobtube, reading or having a limb either caught or asleep in that always-awkward post-coital cuddle. Having channeled my inner Coleman, it is time to make like Serge A. Storms and go on a nightwalk.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with the antics of the homicidal Floridaphile Serge and his sidekick Coleman, do yourself a favor and pick up any Tim Dorsey novel. Our heroes frequently find themselves traveling on foot or in a vehicle somewhere in the Florida night such as the Keys, US 1 or Tampa Bay. Serge narrates the history of the area—including streets or building that appeared in films—pointing out historic places, while Coleman continues his never-ending quest to stretch that dazed feeling you get when you wake up into permanent existence.
I walk to the east. The sea breeze continues to bawl through the magnificently illuminated entrance to the Mahaffey Theatre and I look at the new Dalí Museum. Reynolds and Eleanor Morse began collecting Dalí pieces in 1943, and 40 years later they had gathered the largest collection of the artist’s work. The beautiful building is closed at this hour so no melting clocks tonight. At least not Dalí’s.
After looking at the Dan Wheldon Way street sign I get goose bumps as I recollect both Wheldon’s last lap in the 2011 Indianapolis 500 and Helio Castroneves’ tribute to Wheldon after winning the 2012 St. Petersburg Grand Prix. I let go of the imaginary fence that my hands are clinging to. Time to move on, and I head north along the seawall.
I step off the sidewalk along Bay Shore Drive. The cathedral that is Al Lang Field is now in front of me. Constructed in 1947 and refurbished in 1977, this yard has hosted the St. Louis Cardinals for 50 years. The New York Yankees left the field in 1961, the New York Giants stayed for a sole spring in ’51, the New York Metropolitans started a 25 year stay in 1962, the Baltimore Orioles played in the park for four years starting back in 1991, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays held their spring training for the first decade of existence before moving on to Port Charlotte in 2008.
Looking out onto the field, I see the ghosts of baseball’s past flicker in my mind: The ’69 Miracle Mets (hard to believe that was Nolan Ryan’s only Series ring), Bob Gibson, Yogi Berra, Joe DiMaggio, Mickey Mantle and Cal Ripkin Junior, to name a few.
The ballpark was also featured in the 1955 film “Strategic Air Command” starring then Colonel James Stewart; he ended up achieving the rank of Major General. As I continue north, I hear two cracks of leather in succession and wonder if Gibson and Ryan asked Yogi who threw harder, an answer that belongs to the ages.
I cross Bay Shore again at the First Avenue South bridge. In 1888, this was part of the Orange Belt Railway, which ran between St. Petersburg and Sanford. Due to financial difficulties the railway slipped into receivership in 1893 and was purchased by the Plant System in 1895, which was later purchased by the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad in 1902.
The station, situated on the north side of First Avenue between Second and Third streets, served passengers until the ACL replaced the downtown station in 1906 and again in 1913 and moved to the 34th Avenue station in 1963.
As I gaze down First Avenue I can imagine steam swirling in the wind from a beautiful Baldwin 4-6-2 locomotive taking on water, preparing to depart or a brand new EMD E-unit diesel locomotive painted in a fresh coat of silver and purple pulling the West Coast Champion full of snowbirds from New York City. The nostalgic traveler in me sighs as I hear the whistle whine as the 4-6-2 pulls out of the station and I continue northbound.
Walking three blocks along with wind that shows no sign of letting up, I change my course to the east and walk down Second Avenue North.
Here I am, footing over what was the “Million Dollar Pier,” which opened Thanksgiving Day 1926. The Mediterranean Revival-style building that was originally at the end of the Pier was demolished in 1967 and the inverted pyramid that we all know and love opened in January of 1973.
Glancing to the right, you can see a plaque commemorating the world’s first regularly scheduled flight, between St. Petersburg and Tampa. The first departed across the bay on Jan. 1, 1914.
I’m standing at the end of the Pier now, looking to the east—I can hear traffic start to pick up behind me and the sky is becoming a faint black. It’s set to get lighter in an hour and half or so when that big orange-red-yellow ball of gasses will poke above the horizon.
I trace my route back as the city stirs and I contemplate my night walk. I glance up at the red Hilton “H”; built in 1973 a part of the Hilton family of hotels. Hilton pulled out in 1979. During the early ’80s this building was the Bayfront Concourse and home to the Suncoast Playboy Club from 1981 until 1983.
Serge would approve. Coleman would think I was lacking in his department. Another time, good sir. There are not as many lights on in RHO, and maybe your arm or leg has woken up.
fkurtz@mail.usf.edu
