From the early 1900s on, segregation limited St. Petersburg's black residents to specific areas. There was once a large black neighborhood north of Central Avenue, but as the years passed most blacks congregated south of Central. Integration opened the city up, diverse communities emerged, yet stereotypes remain. To the south, St. Petersburg includes places like Coquina Key, Pinellas Point and historic Midtown, where life's daily dramas unfold, some as struggles, some as triumphs. In the coming months, Neighborhood Times will feature slice-of-life stories that often go untold.

Florida, with its diverse population and sheer size, has always played an important role in presidential elections. And this year the Tampa Bay area will play an even more dynamic part as the Republican National Convention comes to Tampa in August to nominate its 2012 candidate to challenge President Barack Obama. Our Tampa Bay Times journalists have been covering candidates such as Mitt Romney, Newt Gringrich and Ron Paul for months. But in this special series of video reports, we're turning to Florida voters to find untold stories that can perhaps spark better insight into the 2012 presidential race and the state's role in it.

See the entire Red, White and Views video series.

Know a local political junkie who should be featured in this series? Have a behind-the-scenes look at someone who gives their time and money to a political cause? Let us know whom we should interview. Email us your ideas.

Florida, with its diverse population and sheer size, has always played an important role in presidential elections. And this year the Tampa Bay area will play an even more dynamic part as the Republican National Convention comes to Tampa in August to nominate its 2012 candidate to challenge President Barack Obama. Our Tampa Bay Times journalists have been covering candidates such as Mitt Romney, Newt Gringrich and Ron Paul for months. But in this special series of video reports, we're turning to Florida voters to find untold stories that can perhaps spark better insight into the 2012 presidential race and the state's role in it.

See the entire Red, White and Views video series.

Know a local political junkie who should be featured in this series? Have a behind-the-scenes look at someone who gives their time and money to a political cause? Let us know whom we should interview. Email us your ideas.

Florida, with its diverse population and sheer size, has always played an important role in presidential elections. And this year the Tampa Bay area will play an even more dynamic part as the Republican National Convention comes to Tampa in August to nominate its 2012 candidate to challenge President Barack Obama. Our Tampa Bay Times journalists have been covering candidates such as Mitt Romney, Newt Gringrich and Ron Paul for months. But in this special series of video reports, we're turning to Florida voters to find untold stories that can perhaps spark better insight into the 2012 presidential race and the state's role in it.

See the entire Red, White and Views video series.

Know a local political junkie who should be featured in this series? Have a behind-the-scenes look at someone who gives their time and money to a political cause? Let us know whom we should interview. Email us your ideas.

From the early 1900s on, segregation limited St. Petersburg's black residents to specific areas. There was once a large black neighborhood north of Central Avenue, but as the years passed most blacks congregated south of Central. Integration opened the city up, diverse communities emerged, yet stereotypes remain. To the south, St. Petersburg includes places like Coquina Key, Pinellas Point and historic Midtown, where life's daily dramas unfold, some as struggles, some as triumphs. In the coming months, Neighborhood Times will feature slice-of-life stories that often go untold.

The last time they danced at the Manhattan Casino was in 1955.

Or maybe it was ’54.

John T. Baker, 80, and his wife, Beatrice, 77, don’t agree on the year. They can’t remember the name of the group that played that night. The couple stayed for only two or three dances. Their last one, the band blared Annie Had a Baby, and they didn’t like the song.

Don’t be fooled, though. Their minds are sharp, their memories fresh.

They both went to Gibbs High School. He played basketball.

Three years her senior, he teased her. She didn’t like it.

He still affectionately teases her. She still doesn’t like it.

After graduation, he joined the Air Force to see the world, then came back to St. Petersburg on leave from Europe.

“Immediately, I had to go check her out,” he says.

Neither owned a car, so her dad and a friend with a taxi drove them around.

They enjoyed going to the soda fountain shop at 22nd Street and Ninth Avenue S.

He asked her parents if they could get married. Her dad said yes. Her mom said no, but relented.

That night on the dance floor, in 1955 or 1954, John and Beatrice plotted their future.

They wed at Mount Zion Primitive Baptist Church, had a son and daughter, lived abroad, finally settled in St. Petersburg and now have three grandchildren.

Recently, the two danced at the Manhattan Casino’s grand reopening to jazzy tunes of local old-timers who played there in its heyday, when the likes of Louis Armstrong, Dizzy Gillespie and Little Richard headlined shows in the only place in the city that African Americans could go to hear such music.

After so long together, he wants you to know, he is “very happy.”

“He’s been a very good husband and a good father,” she responds. “And we get along really, really good together.”

She wants to remodel a part of the house. He doesn’t.

From the early 1900s on, segregation limited St. Petersburg's black residents to specific areas. There was once a large black neighborhood north of Central Avenue, but as the years passed most blacks congregated south of Central. Integration opened the city up, diverse communities emerged, yet stereotypes remain. To the south, St. Petersburg includes places like Coquina Key, Pinellas Point and historic Midtown, where life's daily dramas unfold, some as struggles, some as triumphs. In the coming months, Neighborhood Times will feature slice-of-life stories that often go untold.

On this sweltering afternoon, the humming air conditioning strains to cool the St. Pete Boxing Club.

Billy Tavake leans against the ring’s ropes while waiting for owner and head trainer Dan Birmingham to lace up Lenroy "TNT" Thomas' gloves for a sparring session, sweat glistening on the heavyweight’s forehead.

Pictures of Muhammad Ali, Antonio Tarver, Evander Holyfield, and homegrown talents Winky Wright and Jeff Lacy adorn the walls, inspiration for the up-and-coming dreamers.

Many are too poor to afford the $10 a week to train here. Birmingham cuts them a break by having the young fighters clean up trash on the property.

"I’ve never thrown a kid out in 30-something years for not being able to pay," said Birmingham, who says he's not in it for the money.

Just ask Tavake.  He found a second chance in this well-worn building.

His story goes something like this: In his younger years, by his account, Tavake won enough fights to hope for a shot on USA Network’s Tuesday Night Fights.

He fought his last round in 1983 here in St. Petersburg and won, but never made it on TV.

Instead, Tavake, 53, retired from the profession disillusioned, drifted into drugs and bought from dealers in the neighborhood.

More than six years ago while in rehab, he read an article about the club and Birmingham, whom Tavake knew from his boxing days.

So he banged on the gym’s locked door during a closed practice session. A stranger peered out and told him the place wasn’t open.

He got his break, though.

"I saw Dan, just a little sliver of him in the ring," Tavake remembered. “And then he looked outside and saw a little sliver of me and said, 'Who’s that? Billy? Oh yeah, let him on in.'"

He now trains the amateurs — future champions, he brags.

Tavake is also studying to be a substance abuse counselor at St. Petersburg College.

"Hey, everybody’s got a Rocky story, you know what I mean." he said. "To me, this is my Rocky story."

From the early 1900s on, segregation limited St. Petersburg's black residents to specific areas. There was once a large black neighborhood north of Central Avenue, but as the years passed most blacks congregated south of Central. Integration opened the city up, diverse communities emerged, yet stereotypes remain. To the south, St. Petersburg includes places like Coquina Key, Pinellas Point and historic Midtown, where life's daily dramas unfold, some as struggles, some as triumphs. In the coming months, Neighborhood Times will feature slice-of-life stories that often go untold.

Under the lamp's glow, Yashu Sahih Ali , 3, rests against his father.

His older brother, Yasin Siraj Ali-McClendon, 5, leans in to get a better look.

Every night at bedtime, Donnie Ibn Malik Ali-McClendon reads to his sons the Arabic words from the Koran.

And the brothers softly repeat the words.

ALL PRAISE is due to God alone...Guide us the straight way — the way of those upon whom Thou hast bestowed Thy blessings...

Their father admits the boys are too young to truly understand the Muslim faith and how it relates to a complex world beyond their St. Petersburg home.

"It’s a springboard for them to be able to choose their own direction," Ali-McClendon says. "It’s the best of what I have."

In his 28 years, this is Ali-McClendon’s experience. Born in St. Petersburg, he attended Boca Ciega High School, played football, baseball, golf and tennis. He ran track, boxed and studied martial arts. He majored history and religion at FAMU, joined the Army and was stationed in Kentucky, then started a personal training business and settled next to his childhood home with his wife, their two sons and niece.

Since his teenage years, he’s helped his mother and father feed St. Petersburg’s poor, paid for with the family's money.

And while Ali-McClendon was raised a Muslim, he could’ve chosen to be a Buddhist, a Christian, a Jew.

His parents, who converted to Islam as Protestants, would have been okay with that.

"My father told me something one time and it stuck," Ali-McClendon remembers. "He said, 'What if we are wrong about heaven? What if we’re wrong about Islam? What if we’re wrong about religion? What if, when we die, there is nothing to meet us but worms? What have we lost by doing good?'

"I said, 'We haven't lost anything Dad.'

"He said, 'Exactly, so why not do it?'" ... Read more

From the early 1900s on, segregation limited St. Petersburg's black residents to specific areas. There was once a large black neighborhood north of Central Avenue, but as the years passed most blacks congregated south of Central. Integration opened the city up, diverse communities emerged, yet stereotypes remain. To the south, St. Petersburg includes places like Coquina Key, Pinellas Point and historic Midtown, where life's daily dramas unfold, some as struggles, some as triumphs. In the coming months, Neighborhood Times will feature slice-of-life stories that often go untold.

The smell of ribs cooking on a wood-fired grill draws a steady stream of customers into an air-conditioned time warp. A Pac-Man arcade game sits between the soda machine at the front door and bubble gum machines selling candy and bouncy balls for a quarter apiece. At the order/pickup window, a sign greets folks: If you are grouchy, irritable, or just plain mean, there will be a $10 charge for putting up with you.

Just before the dinner rush on a typical Friday, customers like Greg Hunt take their turn in line.  Connie’s Bar-B-Que owner Melvin Hall cuts a slab of ribs and works the phone. His daughter, Brittany, works the register.

For decades, barbecue has been sold from this little block building near the northwest corner of 16th Street and 18th Avenue S, next to a beauty salon.

“Even before I was coming here, my dad was coming here,” says Nate Butler, who won’t buy barbecue anywhere else.

In 1974, it was Jack’s Bar-B-Que. Hall’s mother, for whom the business is named, took up shop here in 1986. Before that, she served barbecue at John Geech’s place up on 22nd Street S, the legendary road once known as the epicenter for St. Petersburg’s black culture.

By his account, Hall grew up in Georgia where he was raised by his grandma. When he visited his mom in the summertime, he’d hang out at Geech’s where, for a nickel, he could hear the jukebox blare Chubby Checker, Etta James, Little Richard and Big Mama Thornton.

“When Geech closed, everybody started coming here,” says Roland Waller, a regular.

That’s because Connie’s still uses Geech’s popular sauce.

If asked what’s in it, Hall chuckles.

Truth is, he won’t reveal a trade secret passed from Geech to his mother to him and kept daily in a white bowl, ready to be brushed onto mouth-watering ribs or burgers or hot dogs.

“I just tell 'em we’ve got a mustard-based sauce,” he says. “That’s about it.”

After high school, Hall joined the Navy, went to college, then drove trucks. He never thought about becoming a full-time barbecue man. He preferred the open road.

But Connie longed for retirement. And Hall longed to keep things going.

“There are a lot of different places like this that aren’t still around anymore,” Butler adds.

“I’m glad it’s still around.”

From the early 1900s on, segregation limited St. Petersburg’s black residents to specific areas. There was once a large black neighborhood north of Central Avenue, but as the years passed most blacks congregated south of Central. Integration opened the city up, diverse communities emerged, yet stereotypes remain. To the south, St. Petersburg includes places like Coquina Key, Pinellas Point and historic Midtown, where life’s daily dramas unfold, some as struggles, some as triumphs. In the coming months, Neighborhood Times will feature slice-of-life stories that often go untold.

Outside, the June sun sets to a cicada chorus and the buzzing from a neighbor’s weed trimmer. But inside the two-story wood-frame house, nestled less than a block from Tampa Bay, nine women tune out life’s daily distractions.

Their goal seems modest amidst a complex world: “To calm the breath, the body and the mind,” says Ann Schoenacher, who leads the weekly yoga class at the Vedanta Center of St. Petersburg.

“In the system of Vedanta, it is believed that humans can experience the divine,” Schoenacher explains. “To get to that place, you have to be able to control the senses, to control the breathing.”

Arms stretched upward, Schoenacher stands in front of Vedanta’s two important images. To the left is Sri Ramakrishna, whom Vedanta disciples believe is a 19th century Prophet of the Modern Age, a man God of sorts. He experienced the heavenly state they want to reach. To the right is his wife, Sri Sarada Devi, the Holy Mother.

The church spans six decades in the Old Southeast neighborhood. In 2005, it became an official part of the Ramakrishna Order of India. There are 171 centers like it around the world, this being the only one in the southeast.

At its core, Vedanta is a philosophy of all religions.

“There is no such thing as ours is the best,” says the center’s minister and monk, Swami Ishtananda. “Because in Vedanta, anything is okay. All religions are equally valued and true. And all religions are helping people reach that same spiritual goal.”

Getting there is not so easy, they point out.

“We have jobs and families and traffic and all kinds of things, so that our minds are racing,” Schoenacher says. “If you visualize a wheel, we are kind of on the outer part moving around so fast that we hardly ever come to the center and sit still and contemplate.”