Junkyard is just one of the eyesores on U.S. 19

OFF/BEAT GLIDEWELL E-mail: Click here Archive

By JAN GLIDEWELL

© St. Petersburg Times, published June 9, 2000

Funny thing about L.B. Richards' junkyard, now being cleaned up at a rate not quite quick enough to please Hernando County Officials when I went there the first time, it was an attraction.

I have to chuckle just the tiniest bit when I hear anybody refer to an "eyesore" (what they are now calling Richards' place just north of Weeki Wachee).

Being an eyesore on U.S. 19 is like being a pimple on a leper.

U.S. 19 is the best example to the world of what can happen with suburban sprawl, and that is a situation that could only be rectified if a tornado scoured the land of buildings (but not residents) from one end to the other, thereby doing several hundred million dollars in improvements.

I personally consider the existing melange of ugly signs, uglier buildings, a seemingly infinite number of strip malls, strip joints and strips of never-ending road construction to have lacerated enough eyes to put them beyond being made sore by a mere junkyard, but that's just my opinion.

There are probably people who find some kind of beauty in the sight of West Florida chic blight rising through the mist of all that exhaust smoke, and I take no small comfort from the fact that those who do are probably living where they deserve to.

It was 17 years ago that Times photographer Cherie Diez and I rolled up in front of what Richards back then was calling "The Accumulation," and asked him to show us around.

He did, with an enthusiasm that was almost scary.

He decried the then-recent four-laning (they did it to solve all the traffic problems) of U.S. 19, saying it would lead to people speeding by and not browsing as much as they had.

In fact it was the road "improvement" that made Richards dismantle the 100-foot-long log cabin that had housed what he then called the OK Corrall and described as an antique dealership.

That day, he excitedly showed us a bottle for Endurance Gin, a brand that he said was made for the guards at Devil's Island.

He said he had once had a Civil War tombstone that he was arrested for after he bought it from the nephew of a judge, although the sheriff in question had no record of the incident.

Richards, back then, had a suit of armor (he loved wearing the helmet while showing us around) and said, even then, that he had more than a million items in his collection.

And that was before he had his reputation as being the "hubcap man," because he had that particular not-too-antique commodity spread knee deep on the lot he recently began cleaning up.

Richards' situation does show one thing about the efficacy of Hernando County government and, in fact, government as a whole.

He was in the news this week because Hernando officials, concerned that he may not follow up on his promises to clean up, were considering enforcement of the little used state Junkyard Control Law and were holding that over Richards' head if he stopped cleaning up the land.

Some crack researchers from the Times library found me two interesting clippings, one of which, from January of 1986, begins:

BROOKSVILLE -- L.B. Richards, who has operated the OK Corrall Trading Post east of U.S. 19 for the past two decades was told Monday that he has one month to clean up his property and close down his business. Richards, who described himself then as being "down to the bare necessities," with a few Indian artifacts and some Roman armor, a stuffed zebra and a junk car or two, faced a fine of $250 per day if he didn't get his act and his land cleaned up. Ahh, what's 14 1/2 years among friends, or in government circles?

This time, however, it looks as if both Richards and the county mean it. He has the land up for sale and says he plans to go gold-mining in Alaska or fishing in St. Petersburg.

I, personally, can't wait to see what they replace the junkyard with.

Can't figure out whether it will be a Walgreens or an Eckerd.

Probably one of each.

© St. Petersburg Times. All rights reserved.