I first visited Tampa in 1990 to write a story about the city prior to its hosting Super Bowl XXV. At that point I had been in Florida a little over a year and I knew enough to begin my visit – as I began my story – in Ybor City, specifically at La Tropicana Café, more specifically at the table with the nameplate: RESERVED FOR ROLAND MANTEIGA. Manteiga was the editor of La Gaceta, which had been started by his father as a Spanish newspaper in 1922 and now claimed to be the only trilingual paper in the United States. (In addition to Spanish and English, it featured a column in Italian.)
I still remember sitting at that octagonal table, where Manteiga regularly held court, and hearing him talk about the imminent rebirth of Ybor City. Later, walking past the empty storefronts on East 7th Avenue, I had serious doubts. Subsequent visits, of course, have proved him right. But even as I was skeptical about the resurgence of Ybor City, I got a sense of its enduring spirit. A man behind the counter at S. Agliano & Sons Fish Co. (which closed its doors 15 years later) told me that, when he was in the army, people would ask him where he was from. “I always told them Ybor City,” he said. “Not Tampa. Ybor City.”
Yesterday morning I was in the mood for a little Ray Charles (Georgia on My Mind) and by afternoon I was leaning more toward Jimi Hendrix (The Star Spangled Banner).
This year I missed seeing people parading their college colors up and down Las Olas Boulevard – another casualty, thanks to fan-free Bowl games, of the pandemic. They give the street a festive atmosphere, and they remind me of the days when kids wore the names of colleges on their sweatshirts (usually bought by aspirational parents) instead of those of clothing chains. Our national decline can probably be traced to the year in which Banana Republic replaced Columbia University on casualwear.
Over 80,000 people passed through Miami International Airport on Sunday. Half the country is suffering through a pandemic and the other half is taking a vacation.
“How can you live there?” northern friends sometimes ask Floridians after an election, especially those of us who moved here from the north. The tacit suggestion is that we should leave such a backward place. (Never mind that Broward, our home county, voted overwhelmingly for Biden). While my question to them is: “If you’re so disappointed in the state’s performance why don’t you move here and improve it?”