Bill Edwards & Mahaffey Theater

A Year of Milestones

St Petersburg’s beautiful and beloved waterfront theater known simply as “the Mahaffey” among locals, but more formally as the Duke Energy Center for the Arts — Mahaffey Theater, celebrates its 60th year in 2025. In January, Bill Edwards, the business juggernaut and noted philanthropist at its helm for nearly a decade and a half, marked his 80th. Both have undergone major reinventions, and both have contributed generously to the fabric of this city over the years. With continued strategic management and some much-needed investment, the theater, if not Edwards, could persist for generations, serving as a treasured asset to the community for decades to come.

Completed in 1965, the Mahaffey first opened on the shores of Tampa Bay as a component of the Bayfront Center, a sizable, city-owned entertainment complex that included the theater and a conjoined indoor arena. The double venue presented performances as varied as the Barnum & Bailey Circus, leading rock n’ roll acts, ice shows, symphonic performances, dance, touring stand up comics, and important local and civic events, among others.

The theater underwent a major, $23-million renovation in 1987-88, during which a mezzanine level was added, as well as swank box seating and an orchestra pit. It was after this significant remodel that the theater became the Mahaffey Theater for the Performing Arts, in honor of the Mahaffey family’s considerable contribution to the capital campaign.

2005 saw another major renovation, with the by then less-needed arena demolished to make way for the signature atrium and plaza. This renovation, finally, capitalized on the venue’s spectacular location and breathtaking bay views, which has helped to make it a coveted spot for private events in between scheduled shows.

In 2011, Bill Edwards, through his enterprise Big3 Entertainment, was awarded the contract to manage the Mahaffey. In what can only be termed as an extreme labor of love, Edwards has worked hard in the interceding years to build value for the community, and to improve the visitor experience at the theater for patrons and performers alike.

Believing presentation is vitally important, he freshened and upscaled the lobby, the seats, the boxes, and the green room, added a members lounge, and more, much of it done at his own expense for a building he does not own. In all, Edwards estimates he has spent in the vicinity of $12-million of his personal fortune on expenses related to the venue.

Class Acts, a curriculum-focused edutainment series begun by the city over three decades ago, brings school children from all walks of life to the theater to learn in a non-traditional environment. Initially serving about 500 students annually, Edwards grew the series to include both indoor and outdoor events, as well as a multi-week theater camp. It now serves tens of thousands of students annually, much of it paid for by the Bill Edwards Foundation for the Arts, which he seeded with his own initial contribution of one million dollars.

Other upgrades came at no cost. An arrangement with Imagine Museum founder Trish Duggan brought a strong visual art component to the lobby areas. Most recently, Edwards added culinary arts to the Mahaffey’s lineup, opening Sonata Restaurant and Lounge in 2023 with hours corresponding to scheduled shows. The upscale eatery offers a white-tablecloth dining experience focused on coastal cuisine.

From the dining area, British artist Luke Jerram’s giant, ethereal moon sculpture, also on loan from Duggan, competes with the bay for diners’ attention. At twenty-three feet in diameter and illuminated from within, it lends and otherworldly air. The massive-but-lightweight fabric artwork, which owes its faithfully-accurate presentation to topographic imagery from NASA, maintains its spherical form by means of an internal fan. And though it may seem an unusual choice of artwork for a performance venue, the pairing of restaurant and sculpture, Edwards pointed out, is a punny nod to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

Despite the love and care Edwards has lavished on “his” beloved theater, it is once again in need of major investment. The beautiful veneer cannot compensate for deprecating technology and critical infrastructure needs. Hurricane Helene broke windows and filled the orchestra pit with ten feet of water, ruining its mechanical and electrical workings in the process. Other control systems are at the end of their useful lifespan, as is the roof, which threatens to ruin the experience Edwards has taken such pains to create.

The lighting and sound systems have served well, but they too are showing their age and are in need of a major upgrade. Edwards can’t attract many of the leading shows, he says, because the equipment is out of date, requiring rentals to fill the gaps. This pushes costs too high, thins out profit margins, and sends acts looking elsewhere. The price tag to do everything needed comes to about $40-million, and Edwards is hoping that some of the money that was earmarked for the Rays stadium deal might be redirected to making the theater whole and competitive again. He can’t invest any more himself, but he is adamant the work that needs doing is well worth the cost.

The building is rock solid, according to Edwards. If it was torn down there’s no way anyone could build anything close to it for the cost of bringing it up to date, and its successful continuation is very much a legacy he’d like to leave.

Edwards’ dedication to the theater and his willingness to lavish so much time and money on it may seem strange to some, but in many ways, it makes perfect sense. Born into an impoverished, abusive, addiction-crippled household, he took his first job at seven years old packing eggs. By the time he was fourteen, he’d left school to work full time as a commercial fisherman.

Physically, he says, it was the hardest job he ever had. Like many youngsters, he and some friends formed a band. More than a passing interest, for young Edwards it became a lifeline, and one that would stay with him, to greater and lesser degrees, throughout his life. At seventeen and a half, he forged his mother’s signature to join the marines. Shortly before his tour in Vietnam was scheduled to end, he was grievously injured. The VA spent two years patching him up physically and discharged him. A hard transition back to civilian life and failed marriage followed. The sum of his heartbreaks and troubles weighed heavily, and he was determined to change his life for the better.

Edwards got involved in the mortgage business, and founded what would go on to become the largest veteran lender in the country. He prided himself on hiring people others wouldn’t, locating his office on the bus lines so his employees could get to work, often providing a few professional outfits to get them going. As they rose out of poverty, many began buying cars, necessitating a deal with a nearby church for weekday parking. The onetime mortgage mogul reckons he was the largest employer in St Petersburg for a time.

Other ventures included the founding of Big3 Entertainment in 2000, a now-shuttered record label and full-service recording studio that worked with big names Including AC/DC, Cheap Trick, Destiny’s Child, Robin Thicke, Usher, and Virgin Records. Other projects include his resuscitation of the Treasure Island Tennis and Yacht Club and the Tampa Bay Rowdies. He subsequently sold both to new owners.

Something of a professional contrarian, Edwards seems to relish in doing what others say can’t or shouldn’t be done. In one classic example, he produced a Sargeant Pepper live show that ran for three months in Las Vegas because John Lennon once famously said it couldn’t be done – the music was too complex. But a determined Edwards positioned the orchestra on a mezzanine above the band, and it worked.

By all accounts a major philanthropist, Edwards has given generously both locally and outside the area to support initiatives he believes in. For twenty years he put on a holiday event during which he gifted frozen turkeys and bicycles to needy families and their children, only ceasing when the pandemic interrupted his momentum. In certain circles, Edwards is proud to be known as the “Bicycle Guy.” Over the decades, he estimates, he has given over $100-million to charitable causes.

And though he’s reached his limit on personal spending for the Mahaffey, he’s committed to seeing that the refurbishment happens. Because music and the arts saved his life. And perhaps nobody enjoys a comeback story more than Bill Edwards. •