NEW YEAR, OLD PROBLEM

Residents Patrolled Nebraska Avenue Through 2001, Intent On Ridding The
Area Of Prostitutes And Turning The Neighborhood To Respectability. They
Failed.

TAMPA - Maggie DiPietra moved five years ago to the 1927 bungalow on
Caracas Street.

Hemmed by Interstate 275 and Nebraska Avenue, the street is lined with
historic houses renovated by families and couples looking for the next Hyde
Park.

It's where DiPietra hoped to raise her children, where neighbors know each
other's names, where front-yard signs boast honor roll kids.

But its quaintness is deceiving.

"Daily, I get to see people urinate and defecate in the alley," says
DiPietra, 39. "My husband gets up at 5 a.m. and gets accosted by
prostitutes in the driveway. They've tried to open the car door as he's
leaving."

A corner coin laundry nearby sees more hookers than dirty clothes, DiPietra
says. On Saturdays, she wakes before her children, ages 3 and 14, to pick
up used condoms in the yard.

The worst: "My son [14] now knows what a 'ho' is."

Residents from Ybor City to north Tampa have long struggled with
prostitution along Nebraska. Frustration led more than a year ago to the
formation of The Exercise Club and a motto: "Out by 2."

Get rid of prostitutes by 2002.

They got late-night workouts walking pets on sidewalks frequented by
hookers. That scared off some business, but not enough.

A year older and wiser, the group admits their task turned out to be
tougher than they thought.

"We've seen firsthand how hard it is to eradicate them," says Frank Roder,
a teacher who lives on Louisiana Street and helped start the club. "A lot
of doors are beginning to open, ... [but] now we have the problem of
getting residents here to realize things move a lot slower than we hoped for."

Reaction To The Club

When residents first took to the street, walkers were chased by drug
dealers and threatened by hookers. They turned to the police for support
and demanded escorts.

A task force they organized brought together civic groups and city and
state leaders. Members went after the "johns," notorious motels, poor
street lighting and lax laws.

Residents once criticized police for letting prostitution thrive on this
beaten stretch of highway.

Their attitude changed.

"There has been a lot of enlightenment," says Marilyn Durst, head of
Tampa's Neighborhood Watch. "Everyone was able to sit back and see it from
the other's perspective."

Officers' attitudes have changed, too, says Roder, 49.

"They've bought into that this is an image problem, and they realize we're
serious about it," he says. "I think we've earned their respect."

The club grew quickly from neighborhood group to citywide task force. Now
it must clear the next hurdle: keeping momentum.

"I think the prostitution problem is worse," says Buddy Williams, 50, a CT
scan technician who lives on Shadowlawn Street. "I've seen more out there
than ever."

It was Williams' discovery that dog walkers and streetwalkers didn't mix.
Now he wonders if all the work was for nothing.

Weekly walks dropped to monthly. Dwindling participation and threats of
violence cut short patrols.

"Staying out [later] made a bigger buzz," Williams says. "We got a lot more
flak."

Still Wants A Cleanup

He wants the city to clean up the thoroughfare and get businesses involved.

He wants Nebraska's seedy reputation to go away.

"It's going to take a long time to get rid of it," says neighbor Denise
Toledo, 45. "I feel like we're on a crest, and it could go either way."

North of Sligh Avenue, Nebraska is slowly improving, but prostitutes are
persistent, says house painter David Moore, 40.

He and his wife moved to their Oak Street home eight years ago because of
thick oaks, no deed restrictions and close proximity to I-275.

Behind them sits the Haven Motel, where hookers and drug dealers keep a pay
telephone busy.

"We've had johns turn around in our driveway and drop off hookers in the
front yard," Moore says.

Coastal gas station manager Sherry Clark says police could do a better job
if the city would let them.

"I'm mad as hell at the mayor [Dick Greco]," she says. "He took the SAC
(Street Anti- Crime) squad and put them in Ybor City. He pulled one of our
safety precautions away."

Undercover officers routinely visited the store at Sligh and Nebraska,
where prostitutes met johns.

In October, police Chief Bennie Holder dismantled the unit and reassigned
some officers.

That's when the prostitutes returned, Clark says. It got so bad last month
she removed the telephones outside.

"I'd like to see the mayor come out here," she says. "If he had the guts."

Once On Greco's Route

When he lived in New Tampa, Greco occasionally drove home along Nebraska
Avenue.

"I used to count the hookers, there were that many," he says. "We're not
ever going to get rid of them."

Enforcement is key, Greco says. He credits Holder for revamping the SAC
unit so police could devote more manpower to prostitution.

"We can't work any particular crime 100 percent," Holder says. "But
prostitution is a very top priority."

Sgt. Marc Hamlin went from overseeing eight officers to 24 who spend 75
percent of their time arresting prostitutes and johns in undercover stings.
The squad also combats underage drinking and robberies.

Arrest statistics are the same as last year, Hamlin says. Police made 800
prostitution arrests in 2000; 810 in 2001. But that doesn't mean the
problem is the same.

"There are less hookers on the street, less activity out there," Hamlin
says. "The johns - I don't ever see that letting up."

Police now look to creative alternatives.

Next month, the department will team up with TECO Energy to install more
lights in neighborhoods along Nebraska and study their effect on crime. The
program is called CPTED, or Crime Prevention Through Environmental Design.

"We need to light up Nebraska like a runway," says police Cpl. Gary
Bradford, who deals with community relations. "We spend a tremendous amount
of police manpower arresting prostitutes and johns. I think prevention is
the way to go."

Past methods haven't always been successful or popular with the community,
Holder says, but sometimes they lead to new ideas.

"It's like putting together a puzzle," he says. "We don't have all the pieces."

But he is certain of one thing: "You cannot arrest your way out of this
situation."

He urges residents to continue walking and working with officers, to demand
from elected officials stiffer penalties and, above all:

"Don't give up."