A Playground Partnership
Turning Two Vacant Lots into a Community Park

By Jim Weiss and Mary T. Dresser

In 2000 Sgt. Wilton Lee Jr. of the Clearwater, FL, Police asked Chief Sid Klein if the department could help build a park in the city. There were three vacant lots totaling a quarter-acre plot of land in the historic area of the city, an area with many long-time minority residents. Two roads bisected the area so the children had no place to play except the streets— Lee knew this because he grew up in the area.

Lee told Klein he would contact people in the city and the community to try to put it together as a community relation’s project. Klein, who makes it a priority to keep the people in the city informed of police activities and hosts a law enforcement TV show on the cable network, thought this was a classic example of empowerment. Klein approved the idea.

Plans Made Possible
First, the city had to obtain the title to the property. At city hall, the director of the Neighborhood Services Division searched for the title and discovered that AmSouth Bank owned the property. The bank was willing to donate the land to the city for many years of back taxes.

The police department raised the $5,124 needed to pay back taxes from drug money, seized in arrests. The money, once meant by the dealers to be taken out of the city by exploiting the people, had been confiscated and would now be put it back into the community for the benefit of a neighborhood.
To fund the playground, the department received $12,500 in Weed and Seed federal funds; anonymous donors gave $28,000; the Allegany Franciscan Foundation contributed four thousand; and various businesses gave additional amounts.

In its own form of harmonious government, the city was now calling on all departments to aid in the planning and help to cut red tape. It was necessary to contact the Park and Recreation Department to be sure all equipment met city standards. The land had to be cleared and city drainage codes had to be met.

The Saint Petersburg College architectural building arts department contributed the design for the playground. The course instructor had his architectural class submit designs for a hypothetical playground and contributed the top entry to the project.

The Clearwater Arts Foundation, a non-profit organization, collected donations for the park. One of its suggestions was to include a public art project. It wanted someone to sponsor a fiberglass turtle for the children to decorate. The turtle’s artist waived her normal thousand-dollar artist’s fee. Rocky the Turtle would cost about $2,700, and would be the park’s guardian spirit that children could climb over.

A police volunteer program could be used to keep the park safe. The program would be made up of volunteers assigned to the neighborhood. They would not be structured or trained as an auxiliary police, but would attend a departmental citizen’s police academy. They would take no law enforcement action, but learn what steps to take to report such concerns as people drinking in the park and other suspicions to police headquarters.

The park was planned to appeal to children under 11 years old who should not be crossing streets and rarely use such equipment as basketball hoops. The new park would have two swing sets, three slides and a jungle gym of platforms, tubes and playground apparatus. It would also have a hexagonal designed shelter containing benches and tables for the adult supervisors. And, of course, a turtle.

Prioritizing
As the original ideas were carved up there soon began a progression of subtle problems and predicaments. Good-natured diplomacy on all sides reinvigorated a stalling program; things could be uncomplicated. The police worked with the staff of the Parks and Recreation Department.

The Road and Drainage Division of the city’s Public Works Department would pave the sidewalks and try to keep paving down to cut costs. At first, an idea had been floated to have a hammer-headed parking lot in the park. However, once the park was built, Parks and Recreation would be responsible for the maintenance of the park, in theory, forever. Structures in the park would have to be to specifications that they could operate with.

The St. Petersburg’s College original, conceptual architectural design, though made in good spirit, wasn’t up to real-life specifications. They tweaked the submitted design to fit city codes. The donated gym set would now have to be of metal wrapped in PBC plastic. Still, the consensus was that this righteous idea for a neighborhood park needed to get done.

Ideas became interwoven and went beyond the original concept. Bids were submitted, signed and sealed. There were out-budgeted concerns and concerns about funds for the future. Every item in the park, even the plants, would have to have a replacement plan. The Parks and Recreation Departments saw to it that the Garden Avenue Park project moved to the top three of the department’s priority list of things to get done, and it did.

In September 2001 the city mayor, police chief, commissioners and other city officials turned over the first spadeful of dirt. The mayor told the audience gathered for the occasion that the small park represented a true partnership between the city and the police.

According to the mayor, this helped the people take control of the environment of their neighborhood. Klein called the new park a remarkable example for the community and the city— taking a small step that brings fun into lives of people. The park would also revitalize this historic neighborhood and help create a sanctuary for fun and recreation. Lee was congratulated for his clear vision of community policing.

Goal Realization
On a warm, sunny day in January, with full ceremonies, the park opened and even the attending plastic turtle seemed to be smiling. After community leaders made their various comments, Clearwater Police Department units such as canine and SWAT set out displays and put on demonstrations. Uniformed police served up grilled hot dogs, hamburgers, mullet and barbecue beans, soft drinks and potato salad. And Klein, Lee and the Parks and Recreation Department’s manager walked through the park smiling broadly.

Fresh concrete sidewalk circled the play areas to keep the recycled rubber mulch inside the play areas. It was landscaped, with shade trees supplied by a forestry tree bank. The shrubs and smaller plants were graciously contributed by Home Depot and landscaped with recycled virgin wood mulch. The street side of the park stood open. Solid, white plastic fencing that would not rot or rust bordered the other three sides.

At no cost to the city, Florida Power moved a power pole, overhead lines and underground cable. Under the slides and jungle gym lay rubber matting, put there with the children’s safety in mind from Parks and Recreation Department stocks. There would be no hard edges to fall on. Partnerships were the only way and people wanted to play a part.

Benches in the park faced the play area. Nothing was made of wood. There were two swing sets, and off to one side stood a 16 foot hexagonal gazebo, with permanent tables and benches underneath it, a handicap accessible picnic pavilion and a water fountain.

During the ribbon-cutting ceremonies, the children held back shyly as if over awed by all the important adults in their play space. When the speeches were over, it was the kids’ turn. Besides climbing on the jungle gym and whooshing down the slides, the children began to cluster around the exhibits set up by the police department. Officers talked to the small boys and girls, assuring them that the guns, masks and shields on display were meant to protect kids and their parents from danger and bad people. The kids smiled and some thanked the officers for taking care of them.

Clearwater is a city of partnerships. Through one officer’s idea, a chief’s empowerment and a lot of community partnerships, the historic Old Clearwater Bay Neighborhood has its children’s park—attractive, safe and functional.

Jim Weiss is a retired police lieutenant from the Brook Park, OH, Police Department and a frequent contributor to LAW and ORDER. Mary Dresser is a freelance journalist who has worked in Chicago, Washington, DC, and Florida.