By CHASE SQUIRES and TAMARA LUSH
Published September 3, 2004
PALM BAY - They got the message in Barefoot Bay.
In the sprawling southern Brevard County development that calls itself "Florida's Largest Mobile Home Community," the images of mobile homes devastated by Hurricane Charley three weeks ago are still fresh in their minds.
As officials went door-to-door Thursday urging residents of the 5,000-home community to run from Hurricane Frances, they found little disagreement.
They were among the thousands of mobile home residents in Florida told to evacuate.
About 1 in 5, or roughly 181,000, of the state's 849,000 mobile homes were under mandatory evacuation orders in 14 counties.
The memories of Hurricane Charley and the threat of Hurricane Frances prompted Gov. Jeb Bush on Thursday to say the state's policies toward mobile homes might need to change.
"In the recovery phase of both our storms the question of housing will be a significant issue," Bush said. "Right now, though ... if you live in a mobile home you need to fortify it and get out."
Hurricane Andrew in 1992 prompted the state to tighten building standards for mobile homes, which appeared to pay off in Hurricane Charley, said Chief Financial Officer Tom Gallagher.
About 100 miles south of Barefoot Bay, a Riviera Beach mobile home park called Palm Lake Estate was nearly deserted Thursday afternoon. Many are owned by snowbirds and were empty anyway for the summer. The rest were emptying because of Frances.
A few procrastinators loaded belongings into waiting cars while others attached hurricane shutters to their windows.
"Living here is great," said Jim Yancy, a 69-year-old retiree who plans to ride out the storm at his daughter's nearby home. "But there's always a downside. One of the downsides is a hurricane."
Marjorie Jensen, an Illinois native who has lived in the park for 14 years, has never been in a hurricane and doesn't plan to stick around. "I figure I'm in the hands of God," said Jensen, 79. "If I lose it, I lose it." She packed her underwear and a change of clothes and a few photos. On Thursday, she cleared her porch, and tsk-tsked at neighbors who left birdhouses and potted plants outside, which could become projectiles during the storm.
In Barefoot Bay, nearly all the residents, mostly senior citizens, were gone late Thursday afternoon, said code enforcement officer Paul Ingardia. They either drove out the gate onto U.S. 1 or piled into yellow school buses bound for shelters.
"It's been a steady stream all day, out the gate," said Brevard County Fire Rescue Lt. Johann Brockhausen. "Everyone's got the picture here. Most people are worried about their families and their welfare. Most people are saying, "I fully expect my house not to be here when I get back.' "
Those who remained scrambled to leave.
Pio and Linda Shampney were making last-minute adjustments to their recreational vehicle about 3:30 p.m., heading for an RV park in Ruskin. They said they were ready for gridlock as they joined a flood of evacuees heading west.
Pio Shampney, 58, works part time at the Dodgertown baseball complex in Vero Beach, about 15 miles south. He helped secure the stadium before packing.
"When Dodgertown locks up," he said, "it's time to go."
The Shampneys packed favorite photos: their wedding, their children, their grandkids. "You can replace the furniture, the house," Linda Shampney said. "We just took the things you can't replace."
Throughout the park, winding streets with names like Periwinkle, Persimmon and Pinewood were empty. Single-story double-wides, most built in the 1970s and '80s, were vacant. Some had aluminium awnings down, draped over the windows as makeshift storm shutters, but others were just abandoned.
Among the last to leave was 89-year-old Dorothy Burhans Johnson, who made a final stop at the fire station. She cleared out her freezer and brought the ice cream and Cool Whip to the firefighters. "I hope they like it," she said, peering out from behind thick glasses under a sun visor. "I've never seen anything like this, and I've been here since, oh, let's see, since 1980. I never thought I'd see something like it."
