By ALICIA CALDWELL
© St. Petersburg Times, published June 2, 2001
We wanted this, didn't we?
Lots of people living in downtown St. Petersburg. Actual night life. Music. Crowded sidewalks.
Ten years ago, it was possible to tether a herd of Winnebagos on Central Avenue after nightfall. Now, sometimes you actually have to cruise a few blocks to find a parking space.
It's difficult to believe it's the same place. In some ways, it's not.
Which brings us to a problem that has been percolating as the city has reveled in its bad self.
Noise.
Some of the people who have spent lots of money to buy posh condos have been paging the police department noise czar, annoyed at the thumping night life. Have you noticed how loud music can be really irritating if it's not your loud music?
The front line of the noise battle has settled in St. Petersburg for the moment, but it's a conflict with public policy lessons for other Pinellas cities.
The latest downtown redevelopment plan for Clearwater contemplates a new concert amphitheater in downtown Coachman Park, along with downtown residential development.
And last year, Largo enacted a more specific noise ordinance in response to some exuberant teenagers who had conducted a punky version of Woodstock.
As Pinellas evolves from a suburban county to one that is truly urban, its problems are going to change, too.
You can talk about noise meters and fines, but in the end, the solution is going to revolve around something that is tough to measure and even more difficult to cultivate: tolerance.
People who move downtown should expect noise at inconvenient times.
"I can't imagine anybody in this day and age could move into a downtown, especially one that has been struggling to redefine itself, and expect peace and quiet," said Rob Douglas, Jannus Landing concert promoter and veteran of St. Petersburg noise control efforts. "That's foolish."
But tolerance is a two-way street.
The entertainers need to remember that if they crank the PA and drop an F-bomb, people with Monet prints in their living rooms are going to be upset. Before long, someone with a badge is going to be involved.
That would be Sgt. Gary Robbins, who has acquired the informal title of head of downtown noise patrol for the St. Petersburg Police Department.
He is aware that irreverence always has been a basic ingredient of the music culture. And he's faced the difficulty of talking temperance with people who have been awakened from a sound sleep.
Robbins has homed in on what he believes is truly bothersome to residents -- the deep tones you feel in your soul. About six months ago, the city tweaked its noise ordinance to restrict volume in that range. It is a change, he said, that seems to be working.
"You know how your parents would say "That music!' " he said. "It's the beat and the bass."
Robbins brings to the situation a let's-work-it-out attitude and is generous with his pager number.
He has managed to sooth some DJs into turning down the bass, and he gently reminds residents they are living in an entertainment district.
Robbins is pretty sure his pager will get a whole new workout once people start moving into the swank new Vinoy Place condominiums and cityhomes, which are perched on the edge of Straub Park, party central for all manner of festivals each year.
The police department, he said, is about to launch a public awareness campaign about the city's noise rules. The hope is that both sides will adjust their actions and attitudes.
"We're talking about a learning curve," Robbins said. "Not only for the bands, but the residents."
It's a curve that will be a whole lot easier to ride if everybody involved brings it down a notch.