Sinkhole politics: Who gets heard?

Midday on Friday, Gov. Charlie Crist toured a citrus grove in Polk County, noted the "incredible damage" caused by days of freezing temperatures and signed a letter asking for federal disaster relief for Florida's farmers.

That same afternoon, Sergio Plaza stood quietly, a protective arm around his 7-year-old daughter, staring at his condemned house. His driveway and front yard are no more, consumed by a 35- to 40-foot sinkhole Wednesday. The Plant City home he bought in 1991 on a friendly residential cul-de-sac now teeters on the edge of a pit.

He has insurance that will cover it - at least he hopes so.

No doubt, January has been exceptionally hard on Florida's farmers, who, in the peak of the strawberry growing season, have been desperate to keep their livelihood from freezing to death. Eleven straight nights of icebox temperatures led to 11 nights of watering to cover the strawberry plants in a protective coat of ice.

But that same plant-saving process plunders the aquifer, leading to unpredictable sinkholes and residential wells that run dry. This year, the aquifer - a naturally occurring layer of water underground - dropped about 60 feet, putting water out of reach for many who live in eastern Hillsborough County without access to municipal hookups.

Those experienced in the wintertime ritual knew to shut down their well pumps, but newcomers had no idea their expensive motors would burn up if the temperatures - and therefore the aquifer - dropped. And no one can guess whose house or street might suddenly cave in, although those who live near a large strawberry field seem especially vulnerable.

It's not a new problem for people who live in eastern Hillsborough, but the misery this year is extensive.

So far, the Southwest Florida Water Management District - residents' first stop in a lengthy, sometimes confusing bureaucratic process required to see whether they are eligible for help - has taken complaints about more than 600 homes without water.

The number of sinkholes grows each day, threatening more houses and closing roads, including, for several maddening days last week, Interstate 4. No one knows when the sinkholes will stop or whether weekend rains will aggravate the unsteady earth.

Strawberry city

Living with misery and anxiety breeds resentment, even in the small town of Plant City, the strawberriest place on Earth. With its berry-bedecked downtown decor, its annual strawberry festival and the crowning of wholesome strawberry queens, the city owes much to its farmers.

That's true now more than ever. Many of Plant City's blue-collar industries, long a backbone of this railroad town, have shut down within the past year or so. Unemployment is high.

And, according to Ted Campbell, executive director of the Florida Strawberry Growers Association, Plant City is the epicenter of the state's strawberry industry, which is worth at least $350 million annually.

Although an estimated 30 percent of Florida's crops have been lost, Campbell said watering by farmers diverted a catastrophe in the strawberry fields - a critical issue in eastern Hillsborough, where many associated industries glean benefits from a successful harvest.

But Plant City residents are starting to grumble that everyone from the mayor to the governor care far more about the farmers than the little guy.

"The truth is, they're getting their campaigns funded, their donations, from the farmers," said Jeff Gray, whose family goes back several generations in Plant City. His well has run dry in four consecutive winters.

Gray was annoyed by reports that U.S. Rep. Adam Putnam, who is running for state agriculture commissioner, toured a nearby fish farm last week.

"I feel sorry for the fish farmers, but don't just talk to them. Talk to the homeowners. We have a right to water."

Farmers are well aware of the hostility. Grower Carl Grooms said they are doing what they have to do to save their plants and can't help what happens underground.

"To me, they don't want me to be in business," Grooms said. "They want to get their strawberries from Mexico or some other country where they can do whatever they want."

Gray laughingly said his next pack of strawberries will be stamped "Hecho in Mexico."

He and others are threatening to boycott the strawberry festival - an act of near-heresy in this town - which begins March 4.

Mike Sparkman, one of Plant City's longtime power brokers and president of the festival, predicts it will be as successful this year as ever.

"I don't foresee that (a boycott) will occur," he said Friday. "We feature the strawberry. It's not the strawberry's fault."

Mayor Rick Lott cautioned last week that he didn't want to make any knee-jerk decisions about what to do about the mess and stressed that it's the farmers who are hurt the most.

Sparkman, a city commissioner and former longtime mayor, said a sinkhole opened 20 feet from his son's home last week. "My grandkids are seventh-generation here, and I've not seen this kind of severity before in my lifetime," he said.

Not the 1st time

First on the water management district's list of "talking points" about the crisis is a statement that this is an unprecedented event because of the number of days of freezing temperatures. But even short-term watering has done damage in the past.

Just last year during a cold snap in February, sinkholes appeared on six two-lane roads in eastern Hillsborough. County public works spokesman Steve Valdez attributed them to "quick withdrawal of groundwater" combined with long-standing drought conditions.

The threat of sinkholes worried those installing utility lines serving Strawberry Crest High School, which was then under construction at Newsome and McIntosh roads.

In 1977, the last time it snowed in the Tampa Bay area, 22 sinkholes were reported in Dover and Plant City, which were much less developed then. In February 1989, a sinkhole opened next to Trapnell Elementary School, swallowing a restroom and storage building.

A report written by the water management district and published in an environmental geology journal in 1989 described the problem of sinkholes and dry wells as resurfacing every couple of winters as farmers water to protect crops. At that time, no homes had been damaged.

'A loud sound'

Odalis Plaza, 7, was taking a bath after school Wednesday when her terror began.

"We heard a loud sound and the water got cold," she said. Her mother grabbed her and her two siblings, ages 2 months and 9 years, and ran from the house. Odalis still had shampoo in her hair.

When Sergio Plaza arrived, he found the huge hole and his family, all of them crying, standing in the street.

Two other homes in his cul-de-sac have been condemned. Curious neighbors stroll by, warily eyeing new cracks in the sidewalk. Maria McGraw, whose home is behind those with sinkholes, listens constantly for creaks or strange noises.

"I heard a bump and was scared," she said. "I go around the house several times a day looking for signs."

The water management district, known as Swiftmud, has the authority to regulate farmers' water use. Its board of directors is nominated by the governor and approved by the Legislature.

Robyn Felix, a district spokeswoman, said it would like to form a group to study options. No timetable has been set for discussions.

State Rep. Rich Glorioso, R-Plant City, said he doesn't know what the solution is. "We need to take a good look at it," he said Friday. "I'm not sure there are alternatives. Agriculture is a big industry and we need it."

Glorioso said he didn't know how viable it would be to try to run water lines to well owners.

"I'm going to request that Swiftmud put together a team and look at options. There should be residents on that team. I'm just thanking God we haven't had any injuries or deaths yet."