The Bayboro Story

Before there was a brewery, there was a Marine. James Coleman was born and raised in Charleston, South Carolina, and served in the United States Marine Corps from 2000 to 2004. The Corps taught him the things you can't learn anywhere else — discipline, brotherhood, and the belief that hard things are worth doing right.

When his service ended, James headed for Tampa Bay and the University of South Florida. It was here, over weekends spent exploring beers from every corner of the world with friends, that he discovered his second calling: not just the craft of great beer, but the community that forms around it.

In 2016 James met Preston Dolinger, a fellow marketing professional with the same obsession. They started brewing together, and within a year they knew: they were going to open their own place. Three years of home brewing, recipe testing, and relentless refinement followed — along with two failed property deals that cost them dearly and would have ended a less stubborn dream.

Bayboro Brewing finally opened its doors in March 2020 — on the very day the world shut down. A St. Patrick's Day opening became a pandemic closure overnight. James, his wife Kelcy, and their families pivoted, adapted, and leaned on a community that showed up for them. The brewery that opened on the hardest possible day is still pouring today — and that says everything about the people behind it.

The beer tells the story too: Teufel Hunden, a peanut butter chocolate stout named for the Marines' "Devil Dogs"; The St. Pete Blackout, honoring the city's WWII coastal blackouts; and label art drawn by Kelcy in the style of WWII bomber pin-ups — a signal to every veteran who walks in that this place was built with them in mind.

Ask James what Bayboro is really about and he won't start with beer. He'll tell you about the veterans who come home and lose the community that kept them going — and how many are one connection away from someone lost to suicide. Bayboro exists to be that connection: a place where the "Buy a Vet a Beer" board is always stocked, where military families are recognized on sight, and where nobody drinks alone unless they want to.

That same spirit extends to the whole neighborhood. From the Warehouse Arts District's artists and murals to local schools, shelters, and the Carter G. Woodson African American Museum, the Colemans give hyper-locally — so the people who chip in can see exactly where it goes. It's not marketing. It's just how James and Kelcy were raised.