If you're into metaphors, Jacksonville's struggle for a
downtown entertainment district resembles the Vietnam War -- an ugly battle for
hearts and minds that, so far, has been badly lost.
After all, opportunities to create a district have existed since long before
1991, when West Palm Beach began its whirlwind revitalization of Clematis
Street, but few in Jacksonville believed that a large-scale downtown
entertainment district could happen here.
Today a number of naysaying public perceptions -- some accurate, some not --
still exist, and they explain why Jacksonville has fallen so far behind the New
Urbanist curve:
Accurate or not, people think downtown is dangerous.
Accurate or not, people think a downtown district won't draw suburbanites.
Accurate or not, people think religious conservatism prevents nightclub
entrepreneurship.
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ENTERTAINING AN
IDEA
Destination created from 'demilitarized zone'
West Palm: Mayor's vision
revitalizes downtown
Reversing the flow of negative perceptions
Plenty to
do, all within walking distance
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And, accurate or not, people think there's no public mandate for a
pedestrian-friendly downtown neighborhood offering art, culture, music,
shopping, drinking, dining and dancing. This final perception looms largest for
private investors and city officials alike.
Before anyone a checkbook or grants a permit, Jacksonville still has to
establish whether it really has the resolve to create an entertainment district
in the first place.
A lack of interest
Tib Miller, an independent concert promoter, thinks simple public disinterest
explains why countless downtown nightspots failed in the '90s, and why a
district might not happen now.
"There clearly, to me, is very little demand for something like this," Miller
said. "Otherwise something would be in place. You have to ask yourself, why do
these places all keep going out of business or changing their format? Are they
all bad business people?"
It's worth noting that business people haven't been the only ones discouraged
from bringing entertainment downtown.
In 1998 Mayor John Delaney abandoned a very public bid to erect an
amphitheater near downtown (which he hoped would help cultivate an entertainment
district) when residents across the river protested the loud music and obscene
lyrics they feared would rain down on their neighborhood.
Jan Miller led that fight as president of Citizens for Amphitheater
Awareness. She's not opposed to a downtown entertainment district today, even
with music she'd rather not hear, as long as the district is well-designed.
To her, that means downtown can have, say, both a punk rock club and Chuck E
Cheese, just not next door to each other.
"I think the punk rock clubs would have to be farther down from the
family-oriented businesses and the hotels and the high-rises," she said. "I just
do, because it brings a different type that scares off the older people. They
need a place to go, [but] there are plenty of other streets where they could
build if they wanted to be loud."
Still, in order to truly have something for everyone -- and this is where San
Marco, Jacksonville Beach and Five Points fall short -- an entertainment
district must have diversity within walking distance.
That means along with the punk club and the kids' place, it should have food
for vegetarians and meat-eaters alike, both high and low forms of art and
watering holes with and without liquor.
Clematis Street has proven that this can be done in an inclusive and
non-condescending fashion. Jacksonville, on the other hand, hasn't even solved
the liquor issue.
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Things can
change: Benefitting from the Orlando's zoning change are entrepreneurs like
Barrie Freeman (center), owner of adjacent downtown nightspots called the Globe,
Harold & Maude's Espresso Bar and the Kit Kat Club, and neighbor to St.
James Episcopal Church in one direction and First Baptist in another. -- Barry
Wilson/staff--------------------------------------------------
Zoning roadblock
A popular perception holds that an entertainment district will never happen
in Jacksonville because of an infamous zoning law that says that a bar selling
liquor may notwithin 1,500 feet (about five to seven blocks) of church
property without seeking special permission from the City of Jacksonville's
planning commission.
The law has strong backing in First Baptist Church, which is one of
downtown's largest land owners and a formidable community presence with 23,000
members.
The law also has the support of City Councilwoman Ginger Soud, a First
Baptist member who has considered a run for the mayor's office when Delaney
steps down in 2003. Soud said she would support a downtown entertainment
district, but she wants it outside the 1,500 feet if nightspots plan to sell
liquor.
"I think we need to enforce the law because it's the best thing for our
children and our families," she said. "And if we plan carefully we can do that
without contention from various groups."
Those various groups have long numbered clubgoers, entrepreneurs and live
music advocates like North Florida Music Association president Michael
Fitzgerald, who thinks religious zealotry is perhaps the central reason
Jacksonville doesn't already have an entertainment district.
"I think the religious element doesn't want it here," he said. "I think
entertainment goes with drinking in their minds, and it's pretty well true.
[They think] rock music itself is the devil's work. So, I'm convinced that the
Bible thumpers will never let it happen if they have anything to say about it."
For years, like-minded parties were equally frustrated in Orlando. But then,
as Orlando began its own sweeping downtown revitalization, city officials began
to think churches and bars could co-exist peacefully.
They relaxed the zoning law from 1,000 feet to 400 feet.
"There's not a day that goes by that I don't have to pick up bottles and cans
because of it," said Craig Leeds, administrative pastor at Orlando's First
Baptist Church. "The number of people who relieve themselves on my property is
horrifically high."
On the other hand, benefitting from the zoning change were entrepreneurs like
Barrie Freeman, owner of adjacent downtown nightspots called the Globe, Harold
& Maude's Espresso Bar and the Kit Kat Club, and neighbor to St. James
Episcopal Church in one direction and First Baptist in another.
Freeman has heard the argument about protecting children from bars but, as a
woman with a master's degree in city planning, she doesn't buy it.
"I think that is so Southern, so not realistic, not forward thinking,
stifling to the point of insulting," Freeman said. "Because I think there is
space for everybody."
Paul Krutko, executive director of Jacksonville's Downtown Development
Authority, suggested that an Orlando-style revision of Jacksonville's zoning
laws might bring bars and churches together for the betterment of the city.
"For us to have the kind of city that we want to have, we're going to have to
realize that these uses are compatible. It might be in our best interest to
revisit that language," Krutko said. "It [the law] might be relevant for a
suburban community, but it is clearly not appropriate for downtown."
Jacksonville's First Baptist Church officials declined to comment.
Worth the drive
Even if Jacksonville decides it wants an entertainment district -- meaning it
can handle the noise and the diversity and might consider revising zoning laws
-- it still has work to do.
It still has to convince suburbanites that downtown is safe, and that
downtown provides a destination worth driving past restaurants, shops and
nightclubs in their respective neighborhoods to reach.
Some of that responsibility falls to Terry Lorince, executive director of a
new group called Downtown Vision, which intends to help downtown become a
destination for suburbanites and a home for people who want to live in an urban
environment.
Lorince hopes that Friday Fest, the weekly downtown street party with music
and sundries, will spur long-estranged suburbanites to reconsider their downtown
as a viable entertainment center.
"Changing the past perception of downtown," she said, "would be one of our
number one objectives."
A recent transplant from Pittsburgh, Lorince has only been in Jacksonville a
few months. But she's already hearing people use the city's size as an excuse
for downtown's lifelessness.
In some ways that's undeniable, given that Jacksonville has the largest area
of any city in the lower 48 states.
But Clematis Street draws day trippers from places as far afield as Fort
Lauderdale, Boca Raton and Miami.
West Palm has proven that people will drive from other cities, not to mention
the suburbs of your own city, if you build a compelling entertainment district
like Clematis Street or
CityPlace, with its high-end retail and its ornate, reserved seating movie
theater with bar and meal service.
"Do you realize how many people drove past not just one but maybe two, three
movie theaters to go to Muvico?" asked West Palm restaurateur John Spoto. "How
many restaurants did they pass to get to CityPlace restaurants?"
They probably passed dozens, just as they would driving from Atlantic Beach
to downtown Jacksonville. But people in Atlantic Beach haven't had a reason to
go downtown for several decades, and now they're averse to the idea of driving
to the city when they've learned to find what they need at the beach.
"We've been a little spoiled here in terms of drive times. If you were in
Atlanta or Boston, you'd think nothing of driving 45 minutes to get someplace,"
said Bob Green, managing partner of The Atlantic and Ocean Club, two fashionable
beach nightspots. "People at the beach think Riverside is a plane ride away."
The fear factor
Suburbanites certainly won't drive downtown if they think it's dangerous,
which many people still do, even though it's actually one of the safest parts of
the city.
"We have the city divided into 17 sectors," said Captain Bill Chitty of the
Jacksonville Sheriff's Office. "In terms of how much crime, it's actually No.
15."
Downtown is also Jacksonville's most heavily patrolled area.
"Other than a [Fraternal Order of Police] softball game or something like
that, you'll see more officers per block downtown than you'll see anywhere,"
Chitty said. "Downtown is virtually crime free," Mayor Delaney said. "You would
have far more chance of getting your car stolen or your purse snatched at one of
the big area malls than you do in the downtown.
"There isn't any question that what [Lorince is] saying is right, that people
feel [unsafe] down here, and it's one of the safest places in the county. Now,
there's not a whole lot of people down here, and that's one of the reasons."
Fitzgerald is blunter about the latter point.
"Hell, the muggers don't even hang around downtown," he said. "You can walk
downtown at night and not see a soul."
