Stadium For Rent: 14. The Dog and Pony Show

STADIUM FOR RENT:
Tampa Bay's Quest for Major League Baseball
By BOB ANDELMAN

14. The Dog and Pony Show

"To my friends and neighbors in the Tampa Bay area,
I wish every success in their efforts to secure a National League Expansion Franchise. As a resident of the Tampa area I know how deep their commitment to baseball is, and how long they've worked to get a team.

"We'll be watching the baseball season ahead from here until we all arrive home safely . . . so be sure to save a seat for our troops wherever their favorite team plays.

"Sincerely,

"General H. Norman Schwarzkopf

"Commander In Chief

"United States Central Command"

To all the bizarre and Byzantine twists to Tampa Bay's unending efforts to land a baseball team, add General H. Norman Schwarzkopf.

"Stormin' Norman," American hero of the 1991 Allied war in the Persian Gulf, was dispatched to the Middle East from U.S. Central Command at Tampa's MacDill Air Force Base. When the war was over, Schwarzkopf planned to retire. And one of the things he indicated he would like to do in retirement was help bring a baseball team to Tampa Bay.

The message wasn't lost on Rich Hickman, marketing and public relations director for the City of St. Petersburg.

Hickman got to work on a letter for Schwarzkopf's signature. He wanted the war hero to promote baseball in Tampa Bay in a full-page advertisement that would appear in the first issue of Baseball Weekly, a new publication from USA Today, as well as television spots to appear on ESPN.

"We went to great lengths to get something ready," Hickman says. For instance, to get a usable copy of Schwarzkopf's signature, a search was made at MacDill for documents the general might have signed. His autograph was then delicately lifted and transferred. "We sent two [possible ads] to MacDill. We knew, if we were going to get authorization, it was going to come by phone or fax from MacDill. [Public affairs] read the copy, then faxed it to him [in Kuwait]. They explained what we were trying to do."

In the end, Schwarzkopf either couldn't or wouldn't sign off on the promotion, although he continued to press his support whenever the opportunity arose. When Tampa honored the returning conqueror at war's end, Schwarzkopf said he would like to see a Major League Baseball franchise in Tampa Bay.

"We took a shot," Hickman says. "We thought his endorsement would have had an interesting effect."
* * *

Part two of the National League expansion committee's dog-and-pony show meant a road trip for the four-man fact-finding committee. The visits were split into two sets: Miami, Orlando and St. Petersburg first, then Washington, D.C., Buffalo and Denver.

Bill White, Fred Wilpon, Bill Giles and Douglas Danforth arrived in low-key style on February 26, 1991, at the Florida Suncoast Dome.

"People wanted to greet the committee," Dome administrative manager Anita Treiser says. "But the committee said they had limited time and that's not the way they wanted to spend it."

In Denver and Miami, the committee's visits were engineered by private dollars. Cash in those cities could be spent more frivolously than in St. Petersburg, where the Join The Team interest fund had limits. Still, the Porter group left arrangements -- and costs -- to the city, Treiser says.

"What was going on was the appearance of due process," Porter says, downplaying the importance of the committee's visit. "They set up a procedure and they followed it. The question was whether they were going to turn up anything that would be disqualifying. Not that anything said or done was going to be qualified. They had almost everything on paper."

In preparing for the visit, Rick Dodge called Porter.

"Steve you ought to lead the tour of the stadium," Dodge said. "We'll write the script."

"No," Porter answered, "I don't want to do that. It's your house."

Dodge tried again. "The assistant city manager and the mayor -- that's not the impression you want to make. The impression should be that it's your house. You are going to play ball here."

Confirming Porter's guest list was no easier. Let's see, there's you, Cousin Joel, Sidney Kohl ...

"I'm not sure Sidney can be there," Porter said.

"He has to be," Dodge said. "Do you understand? If you can't convince him, I'm going to call [Milwaukee Brewers owner] Bud Selig, with your permission."

Dodge did call Selig, who, in turn, applied pressure to Kohl. Kohl reluctantly agreed to fly to St. Petersburg and play his part.

When the big day finally came, the expansion committee arrived at the Dome and toured the facility in the company of city officials and the Porter group. Immediately following the tour, the city officials excused themselves and the committee met privately with Porter, Schur and Kohl.

"In that meeting," Dodge says, "as reported to me by members of the expansion committee, they had questions about financial structure. Kohl said, 'I'm your guy. I've got too many friends in baseball not to stand up for this. I'm the guy. You can take that to the bank.' And as soon as he said that the issue of financial concern for the group went away."

Hearing about it afterward, Dodge was led to believe his problems were elsewhere; financing was taken care of.

"Kohl went on the line that day," Dodge says, "and Kohl also got off the line."

It seems Sidney Kohl did not make the best of impressions during the expansion committee's visit.

Kohl arrived just in time for the start of the business meeting with the expansion committee. Although it was only his first visit to the Dome, he skipped the tour.

And Kohl left St. Petersburg as soon as the meeting was over. When the committee sat down to lunch with Porter, Schur and city officials, Kohl came in, shook hands, said goodbye and hurried off to the airport, reportedly on his way to Europe. It was the last time he'd be seen in St. Petersburg.

"Sidney Kohl flew in and flew out," Treiser says. "He got there in time for the business meeting and walked out almost before it was over. The major financier didn't put it in his schedule to be there [very long], so the National League didn't have the opportunity to meet him."

Kohl's performance shocked the committee and sent up a first red flag with city officials. The visit had been planned for weeks; if baseball was at all important to Kohl, why didn't he come early and stay late -- or at least long enough to wave goodbye to the committee? Didn't he understand the importance of at least going through the motions?

Here's what Kohl missed at lunch: Each dining table featured a floral arrangement bedecked by baseball cards, balls and bats; One of the NL owners picked up a ball and tossed it to Porter, saying, "Catch this and you've got a good chance of catching a team."

He caught it.

(Later, Dodge was asked if he would have changed anything about the visit.

("One thing," he says. "I would never, ever agree to allow the ownership group to [meet the expansion committee] without a representative of the facility. I'd never do that again. I'd make that a condition. It doesn't have to be me but for the consistency of understanding what was said and how it was responded to and to make sure there weren't any overt misrepresentations or questions asked.")
* * *

Elected officials from across Tampa Bay were invited to meet the NL expansion committee at the last minute when the city found a loophole in the National League's demand for a limited reception. "I kept saying, 'Can we please invite our elected officials?' " Treiser says. The answer, over and over, was "No."

Three days before the committee's visit, the National League finally relented. "Okay, invited your dignitaries," came the message. "But we're not going to spend time talking to them."

Once the invitations went out, the demands came in. I want this . . . I want that

. . . They were uniformly and politely told, No. Come, be seen, but you won't be heard. Didn't go over well, as retired Tampa Tribune sports editor Tom McEwen might have put it. Elected officials -- wearing "WELCOME National League Executive Committee" buttons -- were ushered into the press room, where print and electronic reporters waited hours for the committee to show up for a press conference, only to find mayors, state representatives and county commissioners sitting in the front rows.

Somebody, maybe Rick Dodge, started the press conference by asking the officials to relinquish their seats in the front to the working press. All but one did so, stubbornly refusing all entreaties that she move.

Bill Giles was the first member of the committee to enter the room. He went straight to the nearest microphone.

"Before the rest of the committee gets here," the president of the Philadelphia Phillies said, "I want to announce that we've granted a franchise to ... Clearwater Beach!"

Only Giles laughed.

The actual press conference finally began at 1:30 p.m. with the introduction of every elected official in the room to the lords of baseball. "Afterward," Treiser says, "we got the message that the committee was impressed by the broad representation we had."
* * *

Expansion committee member Bill Giles wondered if the Florida Suncoast Dome's white fabric roof made it difficult to see a fly ball. Although the Dome's playing field lacked turf, the City of St. Petersburg anxiously agreed to a demonstration in March. It was a convenient time for Giles because his Philadelphia Phillies were training in nearby Clearwater.

The day before Giles conducted batting practice on the bare concrete floor, city staffers and members of the ownership group took BP themselves.

"We didn't want any surprises," Rex Farrior Jr., representing Steve Porter's group, said.

Rick Dodge had someone catch fly balls in the stadium more than a month earlier, even before the National League expansion committee visited. "They could see just fine," he said.

What if fly balls weren't visible?

"We'd paint the Dome," Farrior said.

Batting for the Phillies: No. 9, outfielder Von Hayes. Playing the field: first base coach, No. 18, John Vukovich.

Hayes took a bag of balls to an approximation of home plate as Vukovich ran to left field. When Hayes took his first swing, the ball sailed to a spot near Vukovich, who stood as if he could not see the ball. Rick Dodge nearly blew a vein, then Vukovich laughed. He saw the ball just fine.

"His sense of humor escapes me," Dodge told the Tampa Tribune.

The test lasted less than 30 minutes. Giles appeared not just satisfied but pleased with the results of the test, although he considered a return to check on afternoon lighting.

"You had to believe this was the clincher for his vote," Treiser says. "What other indication could it have been? There were no problems presented to us."

Exiting the stands, everyone on hand received a T-shirt emblazoned with a baseball soaring above the Florida Suncoast Dome and the legend, "I SAW IT!"
* * *

Back-channel baseball contacts were quite valuable to St. Petersburg. First Allen Keesler gave the city an "in" with Chicago White Sox co-owner Jerry Reinsdorf, then Clearwater Beach businessman Ken Hamilton used his friendship with Phillies owner Bill Giles (the Phils train in Clearwater each spring) to push St. Pete's case for an expansion team.

"I guess you could say I was his self-appointed local contact," Hamilton says. "I was friends with him. It was, hopefully, an asset to our area that I was in direct contact."

When Giles replaced Houston Astros owner John McMullen on the expansion committee, Hamilton approached St. Petersburg assistant city manager Rick Dodge and said, "I know Bill Giles; let me know if I can help." Hamilton became the city's liaison to the Phillies owner.

"I knew the difference between what was confidential with St. Petersburg and what was confidential with Bill," Hamilton says, "although I didn't necessarily enjoy the role of double agent. A lot of times I was able to get information related to the goings-on that was so different from what the media reported that I would find the sports reporting amusing."

Hamilton did things like sending faxes of newspaper articles to Giles, such as a Tampa Tribune story headlined "Bay area TV ratings big league." Then he'd underline passages such as "Tampa Bay had the second highest [baseball] rating in the nation with a 5.9, second only to Chicago, which drew a 7.6." Hamilton might also add a handwritten note on the side: "P.S. -- Want to move the Phillies?"

Another time he sent a newspaper report about the snowy May weather in Denver. "Great weather in Denver for May," Hamilton wrote, "and it is already 90-95 for highs here. Inside the Dome -- 72 degrees."

"Of course it was like preaching to the choir," Hamilton says. "[Giles] was very much in favor of Tampa Bay." Hamilton says that Giles repeatedly indicated to him that Tampa Bay was at the top of his list for expansion. "It was his first choice."

"I spent a lot of time faxing him material relating to the stadium bill in Tallahassee [which proposed that $2-million per year in Florida state sales tax generated at eligible stadiums would go back into the facilities, making $30-million in improvements at the Dome possible]. He told me directly that they [the expansion committee] were convinced that without the bill -- and with the current politicians in St. Petersburg -- they weren't sure the city could complete the stadium."

Giles turned to Hamilton again when Stephen Porter and the city bogged down in lease negotiations for the Dome.

"I understand the ownership group is having trouble putting the lease to bed," Giles told Hamilton. "I need some details." Hamilton called Dodge, who said the lease proffered by the city was similar to the one prepared for the Chicago White Sox in 1988. Dodge gave Hamilton a copy of both documents, which Hamilton forwarded to Giles.
* * *

Fourteen advertising agency executives and employees -- wearing baseball caps and pinstripes -- posed with bats and gloves for a billboard that appeared across the street from the Florida Suncoast Dome just before the National League Expansion Committee came for its inspection.

It read: "Our Team Wants Baseball Now !"

On the opposite side of the billboard, facing the parking lot where the committee's helicopter would touch down, another, less zealous sign simply said, "Welcome Expansion Committee."

Both signs were a result of efforts by St. Petersburg's long-time advertising agency for baseball campaigns, Landers & Partners.

Landers' involvement with the dreams of the city went back to the first of the three groundbreakings for the stadium, which it called the "Diamond in the Rough." Later, on November 22, 1986, Landers conceived and executed the world's largest groundbreaking ceremony, "Rally Round the Stadium."

"We had thousands of these little shovels that said 'I Dig the Stadium,' recalls Landers president Bob Guckenberger. "Nobody looked at 'em real closely. On one side they had a real jagged edge. They said, 'Use this side to scrape away ice.' They were the only shovels we could find."

Jack Lake -- sitting triumphant in the rumbleseat of a 1929 Chrysler Roadster -- led a parade to the stadium site. Rock 'n' roll legend Chuck Berry entertained on a makeshift stage that day and more than 9,300 shovel/scrapers were distributed. Fireworks concluded the happy occasion.

After that, Landers & Partners started work on a promotional video for the Dome. It used breakaway models to show multipurpose elements at the Dome. The purpose of the first video was two-fold: first, to entice athletic events, concerts and special productions; and second, to build excitement and support in the community.

A variation on the original video had been created to lure the Chicago White Sox. When the stadium played host to tennis' Davis Cup the same year, Guckenberger's crew shot tape from every sight line, showing the view from every seat.

Landers & Partners also created pins, bumper stickers and ads for the Clutch Hitters and designed materials for St. Petersburg's short-lived effort to attract an NBA franchise. "The Right Stuff For the NBA -- Tampa Bay ThunderBolts!"

In early 1991, Landers & Partners plunged back into the expansion chase in conjunction with the Tampa Bay Taco Bell franchisee, WTOG-Channel 44 and the City of St. Petersburg.

"We all wanted to get the market to rally behind baseball in Tampa Bay," Daisy Whiting, the Landers account rep who handled Taco Bell, says. "We had Taco Bell's 41 outlets and a television station. It was a perfect marriage."

Whiting tapped the pool created by the 25,000 Join The Team season ticket deposits to print 41,000 blue bumper stickers that put the message across simply: "Baseball NOW!" Each Taco Bell distributed 1,000 stickers. They went fast.

In one TV commercial, Channel 44 sportscaster Bob Alvarez opened the door to a Taco Bell and was magically transported to the floor of the Florida Suncoast Dome. The commercial ran 50 times a week.

The promotion was timed to coincide with Super Bowl XXV at Tampa Stadium between the New York Giants and Buffalo Bills. The nation's sportswriters were in town to cover the big game and Whiting and crew did everything they could to get their campaign seen by the media, including distributing bumper stickers to airport cab drivers.

"The objective was, when the expansion committee came a month later, they would see 'Baseball NOW!' all over," Whiting says.

Also available at Taco Bell were 200,000 response cards that were filled out by fans and later carried to National League president Bill White by a fan selected at random during a showing of the movie The Natural on Channel 44.

Before heading for Broadway, however, Debra Davies of Channel 44 went through all of the entries by hand. "I didn't want Bill White to pull out entries that said, 'I hate baseball' or 'You're scum!' There were a few. Some used it for editorial purposes -- 'No baseball in the ToxicDome' with drawings of skull and crossbones. Other people wrote nicer notes -- 'I retired here, I'd give anything for baseball.' It was an experience reading all of them."

What made the promotion unusual was that none of the sponsors put its logo on either the bumper stickers, billboards or response cards. It was a selfless gesture: the bumper stickers live on to this day on cars, taxis, commercial vehicles and buses, although the sponsors are long forgotten by the public.

"There were no [commercial] benefits to this, no money generated," Davies says. "It was purely, 'We want baseball here.' "

Taco Bell incurred the production costs of the TV spot that aired on Channel 44. It also produced in-store mobiles. Patrick Media donated space on a number of outdoor billboards with hard expenses again paid out of the Join The Team fund.

Like many promotions in the history of this effort, "Baseball NOW!" came together quickly -- about two weeks from conception to execution.

There was at least one Landers campaign that the public did not see. Designed to be seen on St. Petersburg's Fourth Street North by the NL Expansion Committee if they traveled by car from Tampa International Airport to the Florida Suncoast Dome was a series of billboards, each with a different message:

4.4 Million People

Within A

2 Hour Drive

Climate Controlled

Stadium Designed

For Baseball

13th Largest

TV Market

Springtime Home

For Baseball

Since 1914

22,697

Season Ticket

Reservations

Across the bottom of each sign was: PLAY BALL TAMPA BAY!

"We were going to try to do these like the old Burma Shave signs if the committee was coming in by limousine," Guckenberger says. "But they came by chopper."
* * *

With three Florida cities vying for baseball, there was a lot of interest in the 1988 legislation offering $30 million in assistance to the next city to land a professional sports team.

St. Petersburg (baseball), South Florida (baseball), Orlando (baseball), Tampa (hockey), Jacksonville (football) and Pasco County (baseball spring training) all wanted to stake a claim to the bonanza if they were successful. Unfortunately, the legislation that set up the funding sunseted in 1990. So the communities agreed to jointly lobby anew for state support.

"We originally went into that group as a monitor," St. Petersburg government liaison Herb Polson says. "We didn't want to get hurt." The politics of the 1991-92 Florida Legislature did not shine brightly on pork proposals such as sports arenas. "Our own representatives said, 'You're nuts to expect anything,' " Polson recalls.

Actually, finding support in Tallahassee for professional sports was easier than anyone expected. The difference was that all five metropolitan areas lobbied for the same deal, making them hard to refuse. This time, there was no hired gun, as Ralph Haben was in '88. The cities approached the legislature alongside the Department of Commerce, which viewed sports as economic development.

What came out of that unusual cooperative effort was a beautifully wrapped package with strings attached.

* If a sports franchise in the state could generate $2-million or more in state sales tax, that money could stay with its facility. Anything less -- from $1,999,999.99 on down -- and the money went to the state. Anything over $2 million went to the state.

The deal was not available to existing franchises.

New franchises must commit to minimum facility contracts of not less than five years.

The tax funding was good for 30 years -- altogether, a $60-million user subsidy.

The package replaced what St. Petersburg would have won in 1988 if the White Sox came to town. It was fair and gave all comers equal footing.

END CHAPTER 14

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