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They want their neighborhood back

Where Bellview Avenue meets U.S. 19, two worlds collide. Residents worry that problems associated with the highway, like drugs and prostitution, have seeped over to their streets.

By JODIE TILLMAN
Published July 31, 2006

NEW PORT RICHEY - She pulled back the curtains and peeked out the living room window. Outside, nothing but squirrels moved on this quiet evening.

But Elizabeth Lindley, 76, no longer believes in quiet evenings on Bellview Avenue. She keeps a baseball bat by the bed in case of intruders, and nails in the driveway in case of lurking motorists.

"They'll do their drug deal on that corner," she said, pointing to where the residential neighborhood on Bellview intersects with U.S. 19. "At night, I wake up because the lights are flashing in my window."

Where Bellview meets U.S. 19 is the $45-a-night Travel Inn motel; a gas station with Popsicles in the freezer and pipes labeled "for tobacco use" near a rack of High Times magazines; a day laborer service with sleepy men watching television news and waiting for work.

Where Bellview meets U.S. 19 is a part of an area that city police say they are watching closely, in light of complaints over the past three years that the problems associated with the highway - namely, drugs and prostitution - have infiltrated the nearby residential neighborhoods, a mix of working-class retiree houses and nearly $1-million waterfront properties.

Among the prominent residents of the neighborhood is Mayor Dan Tipton, who lives on Astor Drive, on the other end of Bellview from U.S. 19.

Not long ago, he said, he was working in his yard when he saw a woman riding a bicycle up and down his street. Finally a car slowed down. She threw her bike in the bushes and jumped in the car, which drove off. "She came back in 20 minutes," he said.

"It's a disaster," he said. "I've seen drug deals in front of my house."

No one can definitively link the crimes to one specific place, but people have their theories. Residents blame businesses, businesses blame each other, and everybody blames the highway, for whom and what it brings.

"It's everything on the outside," said John Hitchcock, who has lived with his wife in one of the Travel Inn rooms for nearly four months, "converging on this one spot."

At least some of the perceptions are rooted in reality, said police Chief Martin Rickus. "We're up there a lot."

Police are stepping up patrols in the area. Just last weekend, an undercover New Port Richey officer arrested two women in the area on prostitution charges. One was standing on the corner of U.S. 19 and Bellview.

In the past two years, police have made 13 prostitution-related arrests in the areas north of Main Street and east and west of U.S. 19. There were 53 drug arrests for that period.

"The real problem is the drugs," Rickus said.

The city's code enforcement officers also say they spend a lot of time in the area. "We're there on a daily basis, looking for violations, to be frank," said Mike Nastasuk, New Port Richey code enforcement administrator.

The city in February filed a lien of roughly $24,000 against the owner of the gas station building, Dunedin-based Excel Food Mart, for unpaid code enforcement fines related to the condition of the building and trash and debris. That lien now stands at about $40,000, Nastasuk said, because of daily fines.

Excel Food Mart president Khairunissa Mandani could not be reached for comment.

"We try to complement what the Police Department does. A lot of these problems stem from the conditions of the property," Nastasuk said. "If a property is rundown, it attracts a certain clientele."

Travel Inn owner Dinesh Patel looked through the open door of his motel office and whispered, "See that guy?"

A man with no shirt cut through his parking lot, on the way to the gas station. He came out five minutes later with a pack of beer and kept walking north along the highway.

"Drug dealer. There he goes."

How does he know the man's a drug dealer? Because, he said, he had seen him around, talking with other people. "You'd have to be blind!" Patel said, by way of explanation.

Patel said his motel is not the problem. "The neighbors don't know where they're coming from," he said. "They think they're coming from the motel and they're not. My clientele is not the problem."

One of his tenants, Jerry Collins, said he was staying at the motel with his wife, 2-year-old child and American bulldog named Jake because they couldn't find a low-cost apartment that allowed dogs.

He sits out in a chair in front of his room some evenings, but he said he gets tired of seeing the same women walking back and forth, cutting through the motel parking lot. "It's ridiculous," he said. "You get hassled for cigarettes and change."

Back at his office, Patel saw a sport utility vehicle stop on one side of his motel, on Cedar Lane.

"Come," he said, slipping outside and hiding behind a Dumpster. He watched the car idle for a while as a passenger talked on a cell phone. The vehicle finally drove away without stopping, and Patel returned to his office.

"It's a tough business," he said, sighing. "If I got good money, I'd get out."

By many accounts, Lindley, the 76-year-old Bellview Avenue resident, is one of the most vocal people in the area. A Chicago native who retired four times, most recently from Walgreens, and mows her own lawn, she knows police officers and code enforcement officials by name. She knows the cast of characters.

"Oh, my God," she said of one woman she thinks is a prostitute. "She hasn't got a tooth in her head."

Lindley wants to show people she's not scared. "You can't show fear," she said, and she doesn't.

"I had one tried to pick me up, old fart," she said. "I was walking to get my cigarettes. He was in a maroon van. He rolled down the window. Said, 'Good morning, miss, how are you?' I said, 'I'm fine, but you better get out of here before your wife finds out.' He took off."

Lindley put on her slippers and walked down Bellview.

"That's been there three days," she said, pointing at a Taco Bell cup lying on the side of the road.

She gingerly approached a piece of black material on the side of the road until she realized what it was. "Underwear," she said. "I'm not touching that."

Jodie Tillman can be reached at jtillman@sptimes.com or (727) 869-6247.

[Last modified July 31, 2006, 07:22:56]