The force behind the Spring

The woman whose energy made the Spring of Tampa Bay the largest domestic violence shelter in the state retires after 18 years - and moves on to the next challenge.

By SHARON TUBBS, Times Staff Writer
© St. Petersburg Times
published January 1, 2002

[Times photo: Ken Helle] At a December fundraising breakfast at the Tampa Convention Center marking her retirement, Mabel Bexley, right, gets a hug from Delores Hardy. Bexley was for 18 years director of the Spring of Tampa Bay, Florida’s largest domestic violence shelter. Hardy, a former shelter client, is now a member of its staff.

TAMPA -- Mabel Bexley transformed the Spring of Tampa Bay domestic violence shelter from a shabby single-family house with three staffers into a campus with a $4-million budget and more than 100 names on the payroll.

But with her 65th birthday coming in January and the zeal to start something new, she decided it was time to retire.

So in mid-December, 1,000 supporters -- and perhaps some naysayers -- stood clapping, their eyes focused on the round table where Bexley sat. The occasion was the Spring's annual fundraiser breakfast at the Tampa Convention Center. Judges, police chiefs, doctors and corporate executives came suited for the occasion.

At least one woman, a former client, got choked up recalling how Bexley told her she was not alone. Former coworkers helped create a video tribute, To Mabel -- With Love.

"Victims understood that her tough exterior camouflaged a loving heart," the emcee said.

Bexley nodded and smiled politely at the attention. Unassuming as usual in a casual flowing skirt, matching shirt and flat shoes, her white bobbed hair tucked behind her ears, Bexley rose and walked calmly onstage.

"The past 18 years have been just wonderful," she said, keeping her speech cordial and brief. Bexley introduced her "wonderful" successor and walked back to her seat.

Those who know Bexley expected no tears or sappy "I'll miss you's," and there were none. Bexley had always been the kind of person who couldn't be stopped once she fixed her mind on a thing, determined to do it her way. But when it was done, it was done. No regrets.

A new direction

When Don Castor got to know Mabel Bexley in 1982, she was making a name for herself at an organization now called the Centre for Women, a social service agency in Tampa.

By then, Bexley and her husband, James "Bo" Bexley, had traveled extensively. She worked as a foster parent, an aerial photographer who sold pictures to real estate developers and an employee for an organization that helped women get back on their feet after they were arrested for petty crimes. Along the way she had earned a master's degree in special education for gifted students from the University of South Florida and had worked toward a doctorate in educational psychology in Canada.

Castor, a lawyer then, was on the Spring's board of directors. The Spring needed a new executive director, and Bexley seemed a good pick.

"We were impressed with her energy and devotion to women and children," said Castor, who later became a county judge and is now retired.

Bexley didn't jump at the offer.

Her oldest son, Christopher "Kit" Bexley, had been killed in a motorcycle accident two years earlier. After his death, Bexley promised her other three children a trip to Australia, and they were planning to go soon.

Another factor: "The reputation of the Spring was not good, and I didn't want to get too involved," she said.

From what she heard, women at the Spring didn't get the help they needed to achieve long-term results.

Bexley came on board anyway in 1983, saying she would commit to just six months before the family trip to Australia. Once she got started, though, she couldn't stop. After the trip she went back to the Spring.

Soda in the baby's bottle

The Spring had relocated several times since opening in 1977. Bexley learned of a four-bedroom house with room for 25 victims and land for expansion on a 1-acre lot.

She persuaded Tampa's mayor at the time, Bob Martinez, and other officials to set aside city funds for the cause. They did. The shelter moved to its permanent home in 1984.

There was other work to be done. When victims fled to safety, children often missed school. They took up two-thirds of the Spring's beds, Bexley noted. By 1984, Bexley and Hillsborough County officials had created the first public school in the nation located in a domestic violence center.

The children needed good nutrition, too -- something lacking among the sometimes impoverished families at the Spring. Victims bought their own groceries, often stocking up on cheap soda for their babies' bottles.

The Spring needed a mass feeding program, Bexley decided. The community would have to pitch in. "Everybody can help meet the need," she said.

She found private companies willing to sponsor the program. In the coming years, many others would follow.

Veterinarians now care for pets whose families are at the shelter. A Cuban baker donates his breads for meals. A Mexican restaurant owner who went out of business donated decorations to the Spring's education building.

The Spring's board of directors began to flourish, attracting names with social and economic clout. Impressed by the organization's progressiveness, TECO executive Bill Cantrell (now president of Peoples Gas) came aboard.

"Once I met the people and I met Mabel, I just realized there was a real need in our community," said Cantrell, who organized the Spring's tennis tournament fundraiser for years.

Bexley also forged tight bonds with police. Many abuse shelters shy from close relationships with the authorities. In October 2000, the Spring became the first such organization in the state to dedicate a workroom strictly for police use.

Today, about 60 percent of the Spring's $4.5-million budget comes from private donations. The center has no debt, Bexley says.

Bexley persuaded people "They could further their cause by partnering with her," says Candy Olson, who served as president of the Spring's board and is now a Hillsborough County School Board member. "I could only compare her to a missionary."

A passionate advocate

But Bexley's passion sometimes put her at odds with the people she worked with.

"In the interest of being fair, Mabel did great things, but she was hard on people," Olson says cautiously. "I'm a politician, so I don't want to make her appear to be a saint. . . . She had a very clear idea of what needed to happen, which could be tough. If you didn't agree with her, she would be hard on you."

Castor recalled how the board once got complaints from employees about Bexley.

"She was so energetic, some of the employees felt that she expected more than they could provide in terms of devotion," Castor said. "I guess she came in early and worked late. . . . We had to call a meeting and talk to Mabel about slowing down a little bit."

Castor was intrigued by Bexley's drive. "She was so aware of the needs," he said. "She wanted her colleagues to maintain the same energy level."

Bexley said she remembers several people throughout the years telling her she should "do less, care less." She wouldn't.

"If I knew any other way to do it," Bexley said, "I'd do it."

Last year, former employee Donna Bevis filed a slander lawsuit against the Spring, Bexley and another employee. Bevis accused Bexley and her chief operating officer, Rosemary Fleishman, of spreading lies about her because they mistakenly believed Bevis wrote an anonymous memo suggesting things needed to change at the shelter.

Spring officials have denied the charges in court records. Bexley won't talk about the case in detail. "I feel certain that that will go away," she says.

If there were bumps along the way in her nearly two decades at the Spring, Bexley says, "I didn't notice."

"I guess that's too glib," she says. "There were business-as-usual forces," she said, referring to other nonprofits intent on competing for funding. But they didn't stop her or the Spring.

'The Burning Bed'

The Spring -- now the state's largest domestic violence center, serving more than 1,000 victims a year -- has succeeded in part because domestic violence moved to the forefront of national news in the 1980s.

Olson remembers seeing a report on TV's 60 Minutes about the battered wife of a doctor, shattering the stereotype that domestic violence only occurred in poor families.

Then came the 1984 made-for-TV movie The Burning Bed with Farrah Fawcett, about a battered wife who sets her husband on fire.

"I think I was an agent for change," Bexley said. "But people were ready. There had to be an element of acceptance. I think people were beginning to acknowledge that if what happened in the bedroom happened in a barroom, there would be an arrest."

In 1987, the state passed a new law intended to protect domestic violence victims. Police officers could make arrests without warrants in suspected domestic violence calls if they believed a battery had been committed and there was the danger of more violence. Before, the victims had to press charges in such cases for an arrest to be made, and they often refused to do so out of fear of their abusers. Activists, including Bexley, rallied legislators behind the cause. Once people in the Tampa Bay area became aware of the Spring's work, contributions and volunteers flowed in. "I really think people long to be part of something bigger than themselves," Bexley said.

A new challenge

The Spring is in for a definite change.

Employees remember Bexley in jeans, button-down shirts and Birkenstocks. Until recently, she wore her hair in an easy bun.

Sue Spitz, Bexley's replacement, is a staunch businesswoman who headed Seniors First in Orlando. She's not the kind to arrive at the office with toes exposed in a pair of sandals.

"Mabel's incredible," Spitz says. "She brought vision. She brought growth." But, she says, "Mabel and I are different. . . . She's a social worker . . . I'm all business."

Bexley describes herself as a "startup" person.

"A startup person is one kind of person," Bexley said. "A growth kind of person is a different kind of person."

Her next adventure will unfold on a wooded plot in central Pasco County, where the Bexleys bought their first house together in 1961. For years, James Bexley, a retired naval officer, has commuted to the Pasco land to work as a pine tree rancher. The couple plan to create and run a nonprofit agency, Center to Preserve Native Florida, near the ranch. The land will be a laboratory to teach kids about nature.

The Bexleys will move there from their Tampa home this month and say they will clear the land themselves. Mabel Bexley recently bought a pair of snakeproof boots for the cause. The center will open sometime in the next few years, she says.

Of course, Bexley will never forget her time at the Spring. Nor will history. A documentary filmmaker is working on a profile of the center to be aired on PBS sometime in 2002.

But Bexley says it's time to focus on a new story because the one about her life with the Spring has ended. "It's old potatoes," she said.

Milestones at the Spring

Highlights at the Spring of Tampa Bay under Mabel H. Bexley's leadership:

1984: The Spring moves to a permanent site and becomes the first domestic violence center in the nation to house a public school for students in grades kindergarten through eight. It starts a program that provides treatment for abusers.

1985: A mass feeding program is established with three hot meals a day and two snacks for shelter residents and their children.

1986: Licensed day care is established, giving parents greater freedom to work during the day.

1988: Board members raise $1.25-million to build a 7,000-square-foot dormitory.

1996: Public and private dollars pay for an educational facility.

1999: The Spring adds to its thrift store operation a donation center on Willow Avenue in Tampa.

Still to come: Before leaving the Spring, Bexley helped set in motion a new outreach office in Plant City. The program is a collaborative effort with other nonprofit organizations for families in south and east Hillsborough County. Another outreach program is under way in Tampa's Hyde Park to provide services for children and victims of abuse.

The Spring of Tampa Bay has 102 beds and is the largest domestic violence shelter in Florida. The agency partners with the Hillsborough County Hotel and Motel Association, which allows emergency clients to stay in area hotel rooms when those beds are full.

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