Clearwater BP office shells out for claims

John Mavrogiannis doesn't have any boats to fix.

Craig Lahr hasn't taken any fishing charters out for nearly three weeks.

Lillian Malavet had to take a second job and have her boyfriend move in with her to help pay the mortgage and bills.

And Bessie Cooper had to tap her retirement fund because sales at her small retail store are in a funk.

Hundreds of miles away from where more than 172 million gallons of oil spewed into the Gulf of Mexico, the nation's worst environmental disaster has affected the Tampa Bay area.

In a strip shopping center about 15 minutes east of Pinellas County's white beaches, people come looking for financial relief. They arrive at the BP claims center - tucked between an eye doctor's office and a beauty academy and across the street from St. Petersburg College and Bright House Field - armed with tax statements, check stubs and hope.

The Clearwater office - the only one in the Bay area and one of 13 in Florida - has paid out more than $1.5 million in claims. With a police car out front to provide off-duty law enforcement protection to those inside, as many as 100 people visit adjusters every day.

Each one has a story.

There's the cab driver whose turf is the beach and he doesn't have as many customers. There's the woman who said she has dreams about the oil and needs to be compensated. There are fishermen, boat repairmen, waitresses, bartenders and hotel owners - all who say they have taken a huge financial hit in the aftermath of the oil catastrophe. There are even people who say they can't sell their house because of the gusher in the Gulf.

"It just goes on and on and on," said Bettina Crosby, regional manager for the BP claims process.

For some people, just coming to the claims office is a tough task.

"They don't want a helping hand. They have worked hard all of their life," said Crosby, who lives in Tampa and works for Worley, a third-party company based in Louisiana. "They don't want to have to ask for a helping hand."

Some don't have a choice.

Clothing sales plummet

Count Cooper among those.

"Since the spill, it has been very slow," said the woman who sells urban fashions at her New Millennium store at 34th Street and 22nd Avenue South in St. Petersburg. "We have dropped down to a third of what we used to make."

Cooper's store is about 15 minutes from the Sunshine Skyway Bridge and south Pinellas beaches. It used to be a hot spot for tourists stopping in to buy reggae shirts and other clothing, she said.

"There are no tourists at all," Cooper said. "We usually get people that come from all over the beach."

Her husband, Dean Cooper, said the couple might make one or two sales a day.

"This is the worst it's ever been," he said of the 11-year history of the store. "Nobody is coming in."

Bessie Cooper, a 64-year-old former surgical technician at Largo Medical Center, said she had to withdraw money from her retirement fund to pay bills. The store is the couple's only source of income.

"If it weren't for that, we would not be able to keep the store open," she said of the money from her retirement. "I can't keep tapping that."

The Coopers were able to tap BP for a check for $2,600 to help cover their June losses. They are hoping for more money from the oil company to take care of July and August shortfalls.

"Rent is very expensive there," Bessie Cooper said, saying the couple has to pay $2,400 a month. "It's just me and my husband working there now. We can't afford our employees. We had to lay all of them off."

Fishing business has sunk

Lahr, a charter boat captain who has been in business for 28 years, doesn't have employees to worry about. But he does have to worry about himself.

As of the middle of last week, he hadn't been out on the water for 17 days.

"It's getting worse," said Lahr, who operates Skinny Water Charters. "That's my sole income."

Normally, Lahr would take his 22-foot fishing boat out three times a week with two to four people aboard. He would earn $400 for each four-hour trip.

His phone has stopped ringing. He said there is a certain stigma - call it even a fear factor - about fishing in the Gulf.

"This was probably one of the best years we were having," Lahr said of fishing business before the April 20 fire and explosion aboard the Deepwater Horizon rig off Louisiana. "Then everything just fell off.

"All you can do is plug along," he said. "I'm not relying on them."

"Them" are the BP claims workers, of whom most people leaving the Clearwater office one day last week spoke highly.

"The reps are cool," Lahr said. "They are doing what they are supposed to do, but they give you as little as possible to go on."

For the charter boat captain, that meant a check for $1,400.

Mavrogiannis has seen his boat repair business at Pinellas Marine in Tarpon Springs dry up.

"All the fishing boats are gone," he said. "There's no fishing business. The fishing is pretty much history."

No boats, no repairs

Mavrogiannis suspects that many of the fishing boats from this area have gone to become "vessels of opportunity" to help deal with the oil situation in the northern Gulf of Mexico.

"I've got no repair business whatsoever," he added.

Mavrogiannis has received a $5,000 check from BP for his losses.

"They try their best," he said. "These people go out of their way to help you. They can only do so much."

He hopes that eventually, with the well plugged and much of the oil gone from the surface of the Gulf, things will improve.

"Business has got to change," Mavrogiannis said. "If it doesn't, we'll all be out of business."

Struggling to pay bills

Malavet knows all about dwindling business. She had to take a second job as a bartender to help make ends meet.

When her income plummeted from her job at Les Partners Lounge, an Island Estates bar a stone's throw from the beach, she took another position at Britt's Laguna Grill on Clearwater Beach.

"We've been hit pretty hard," Malavet said. "People have canceled reservations at the hotels, and the restaurants are more empty than they ever have been. I've seen a dramatic change in my salary since the middle of May."

This time of year, she said, the beach should be busy, with families sneaking in last-minute vacations before children head back to school later this month. She's not seeing that this summer.

Malavet is worried that tourists who used to come to Clearwater Beach every year for their vacation have found another beach destination in another state where they aren't concerned about the threat of oil. She further worries that they will fall in love with their new place and won't return to Clearwater Beach.

That does not bode well for her income, which she said has plunged $250 to $300 a week.

"Your life is based on those tips," Malavet said. "It's been tough all the way around."

Trying to help

The 17 full-time workers at the claims center do their best to help.

Working for the company based in Hammond, La., they are familiar with all kinds of claim situations, Crosby said.

Worley is considered a "catastrophe response management company" that handles claims related to hurricanes, tornadoes, plant explosions or even batches of bad gasoline, Crosby explained.

Fishermen - many of them wearing fish images on their hats or shirts - are the most common customer.

"We're trying to get them through the tough times," Crosby said.

Adjusters work with people, telling them what financial records they need to prove they are owed money. Although some say they get the run-around and the process is confusing and frustrating, claimants must show their income from past years and prove they have suffered a loss in the past months to get money from BP, officials say.

Sometimes, adjusters find themselves offering familial advice. One adjuster recently spent time trying to encourage a down-on-his-luck boat mechanic not to move to Texas, saying his teenage daughter in Pinellas needed him.

They dole out advice along with the checks, and sometimes wish they could do more.

"I'm sorry I can't give you any more money today," the adjuster told the mechanic after giving him a check for a few hundred dollars.

They call people to see how their record-gathering is going and try to put money in their hands as quickly as they can.

One adjuster was checking with a woman to see when she would be bringing in her latest paperwork, only to find she was heading out of town for a family trip.

"Have a great vacation, I'll see you next week," he said. "Enjoy the beach."