Vice president in charge of sales at a pharmaceutical company, wealthy and white, Teach lives in a handsome South Tampa home and hangs out at the country club. He's a recent widower, but he is comforted by his close relationship with his bright teenage daughter, Deanie, a talented ballerina.
Once upon a time, Teach was a football star, first as quarterback of a championship Gators team, then, briefly, in the NFL.
Now, at 45, he just tells and re-tells his glory-day stories to strangers in bars over a couple of bourbons, or maybe half a dozen. Who's counting? The main traits Teach retains from his football career are a towering ego and a propensity for violence. The latter erupts in the book's first chapter, a prologue set in , and again to set the plot in motion in Drinking in a bar one afternoon, Teach heads for the men's room along with another customer he had been talking to.
Into the bathroom walks a black teenager with a threatening air and what Teach thinks is a straight razor in the waistband of his jeans.
When the kid says, "You bes better give it up," Teach knocks him unconscious with a blow to the head. Turns out the razor wasn't a razor, and the kid is Tyrone Battles, a high school football star whose family, a police detective tells Teach, is "a walking history of the civil rights movement in this state. With his job and prestige on the line, pressured by both the fiercely intelligent Detective Aimes who happens to be another one of Tyrone's uncles and an aggressive reporter named Marlie Turkel, Teach finds a way to get Thurman Battles to drop a possible civil case.
But his relief is short lived. Teach has a lot of secrets in his past, including a stint as a drug smuggler when he was a kid growing up in Cedar Key, a job he returned to briefly after his football career tanked. His partner from those days, a black man named Blood Naylor, lives in Suitcase City, although Teach doesn't know it, and Blood has issues with him. As the story accelerates, Teach finds himself being blamed for something far worse than a barroom scuffle and desperate to find out why.
Some forums can only be seen by registered members. View detailed profile Advanced or search site with Search Forums Advanced. This thread prompted by misinformation noticed numerously on city-data about towns near USF.
University, Hillsborough County, Florida - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia The community is often notoriously referred to by locals as Suitcase City due to the high rate of transients Here are driving distances to suitcase city from the various areas The closest area to suitcase city is Lake Magdalene which is suitcase city-adjacent as the eastern border of Lake Magdalene is I which is also the western border of suitcase city.
Also, the roughest part of suitcase city is probably along Nebraska though extends E towards Bruce B. Nebraska is, of course, a bit rough at parts or industrial and lower income pretty much all the way to downtown Tampa. From the lake, Lake Magdalene itself, it is merely 2. From the lake, Lake Carroll itself, it is all of 2. Lets take that out a little further just in case you think I'm cheating.
Here shows Dale Mabry in Carrollwood to Suitcase city just 3. So where does Temple Terrace fit into all this. Oh, but you saw signs on I pointing that way to Temple Terrace so it must be somewhere over there, right? And TT extends W of 56th only by very few blocks. Plus there's a acre campus population 40, students between Temple Terrace population 25, and all that, so pretty much a campus the size of two good sized towns in between. Tampa Palms is closer.
This location is only 3. Originally Posted by jaybird Originally Posted by Beezwacks. Last edited by housingcrashsurvivor; at PM.. Originally Posted by Pragmaticus. Of course you do but why would you look at that? The objective of the thread is to show that suitcase city is far from Temple Terrace but close to other paces that people usually recommend in here.
Originally Posted by housingcrashsurvivor. The neighborhood is just west of the University of South Florida, and it's known as "Suitcase City" because of its large transient population.
Some people lost their homes, some were sold mortgages they couldn't afford, others are doing all right but are walking away from homes with values that have dropped below the mortgage. We took a tour with Sylvia Alvarez, a licensed realtor and executive director of the Housing and Education Alliance, a HUD-certified counseling agency helping the 15, homeowners in the Tampa Bay area facing foreclosure.
Alvarez took us along streets with abandoned, boarded-up houses and said that there are even alligators in some of the abandoned swimming pools. We stopped by the home of one woman who said that her house has been in the family for 50 years, but, along with other homes in the neighborhood, it has recently lost most of its value.
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