In 1972, thousands of Californians gathered at a critical moment in national history. They united by fear that the grand coast was overdeveloped, highly industrialized, ecologically reduced, and irreversibly privatized.
Rue Furch, a student at Sonoma State University, signed on as a volunteer for Prop. 20, calling for a committee to “preserve, protect, restore and strengthen the environment and ecology of coastal zones.”
“I was one of the workers’ bees and I felt it was great to be doing something positive,” he said, adding that his role was to “gather signatures, hold the signs, show up at the assembly.”
Steve Lopez
Steve Lopez is a California native who has been a columnist for the Los Angeles Times since 2001. He has won over 12 National Journalism Awards and is a four-time Pulitzer finalist.
In Sacramento, he helped organize the rides of coastal bikes led by Sen. Jim Mills, a young legislative assistant named Sam Fur (later to become U.S. Congress).
“Highway Patrol designed the route,” Far said. Far recalled that the cyclists camped in the state park along the way and ate food donated by supporters of Rolling’s “Save Over Owl Oker” call.
In Los Angeles, a team of young environmentalists originally said, “The Beach belongs to you – Don’t lock it up. Vote for Proposition No. 20.” Activists painted the word “yes” in “no.”
So why am I telling you this half a century later?
After traveling the California coast for several weeks in 2016, Los Angeles Times columnist Steve Lopez finally realized his childhood dream of surfing in Santa Cruz. The coastal tour marks the 40th anniversary of the coastal law. (Allen J. Scheven/Los Angeles Times)
(Allen J. Scheven/Los Angeles Times)
Voter-approved Proposition 20 has been unprecedentedly threatened, targeted by the Trump administration, federal legislation and other critics, leading to the creation of the California Coastal Act and Coastal Commission in 1976.
On a visit to Los Angeles in January after a devastating wildfire, Trump said the Coastal Commission was “thought to be the most difficult part of the nation,” and that when it comes to rebuilding, “it will not escape their antics.”
If that sounds personal, then yes. After hole 18 fell into the sea, Trump, who bought the ranch Palos Verdes Golf Course at a discount in 2002, started a dispute with the Coast Committee over the waterfalls on the property, and a 70-foot-high flagpole was erected without permission.
In February, Trump’s special mission envoy Rick Grenell painted Bullseye for the Coastal Commission. He called the Coastal Commission “leave a group of crazy unelected people,” and said “putting strings on them to remove the California Coastal Commission would make California better.”
Big Sur’s iconic Bixby Creek Bridge. California’s Coastal Commission is now more threatened than ever before, targeted by the Trump administration, federal law and other critics.
(Apollo(c)/beketoff -stock.adobe.com)
To be clear, the commissioners are chosen by the elected people. This is often the way the fees work. And speaking of strong unelected people, the name Elon Musk comes to mind, and Trump’s oval office playmate has a coastal committee and his own beef. Musk’s SpaceX company sued the committee last fall after rejecting a bid to increase the number of rocket launches from US military Space Force Base Vandenberg near Lompoc.
Military officials say they want to support SpaceX to increase the number of launches from 100 to 100 per year. The committee argued that most of the launches were for private interests rather than military purposes, and that the sonic boom and environmental impact were the issue.
And it might be wise to refrain from increasing launches after Thursday’s explosion of SpaceX Craft, which was torn off after takeoff from Texas. A shower of shards led to grounding flights at several Florida airports. This was the second SpaceX disaster in seven weeks. At the very least, SpaceX employees should justify keeping their jobs in order to get a note asking what they did seven days before each crash, just like the federal employees Musk targeted.
To be fair, scrutiny and pushback should be part of the process, as Coastal Commission staff and their commissioners have not exceeded the condemnation and neither committee members have always given them honor. Almost a decade ago, my Times colleagues and I looked into how wealthy property owners and developers used lawyers, lobbyists and political connections when trying to influence committee decisions.
In the case of the recent SpaceX case, the commissioner refused to bid for more launches and made bony-headed political comments about musk when naively handing him the litigation feed.
The committee, which consists of over 100 staff members and 12 voting members, also has a history of frustrating property owners and governors of painful, long reviews of applications (partly lacking) for everything from new coastal construction to different types of property improvements.
The dog competed in the 14th Imperial Beach Surf Dog Competition in August 2019.
(For the Rick Nocon/San Diego Union Tribune)
Several recent bills by Democrats have attempted to cut agency powers and clear more housing paths. Gavin News recently signed a committee restricting executive orders limiting oversight to accelerate reconstruction in the fire zone of Pallisard.
Meanwhile, Republicans just want to tear it all apart. On March 5, U.S. Rep. Kevin Killie (R-Looklin) called for it to be stripped of its power, saying “agencies are “out of control and are moving towards their goals of protecting the coast.”
Susan Jordan of the non-profit California Coastal Protection Network quickly sized what that meant.
“It’s like the federal government is putting a big sale sign on the California coast,” she said. “It basically strips the ability to comment and provide feedback on state projects. It’s like an open invitation to oil drilling, commercial ventures, liquefied natural gas terminals.”
There is a reason it hasn’t happened yet, and it relates to a movement that began in 1972 (the story was filmed in a new documentary about people who have decided to save the coast).
Whiplashes fly along the beach at the mouth of the Jarama Creek estuary in Jarama State Beach.
(Allen J. Scheven/Los Angeles Times)
There’s a reason you can see all of those roadside beach access signs when you travel the coast.
When beachfront property owners try to stoke illegal “private property” signs or drive away people who have the right to enjoy the beach, they are quoted and fined for reasons.
There is a reason why the 1,100 miles of natural wonders that stretch from the Oregon border to the Mexican border mostly doesn’t resemble the devastated, overdeveloped coasts of other states.
There is a reason that all development proposals have been thoroughly reviewed, with sea level dangers in mind, and all development proposals have been thoroughly reviewed to protect ocean and coastal habitats.
The reason is the California Coastal Act of 1976, a legislatively approved framework inspired by those leading state and local governments on land and water use in coastal areas, embodying the idea that this natural wonder is not owned by anyone and that it must be treated.
The agency’s first director, the late and legendary Peter Douglas, realized that there was always a threat to the committee and the coast.
That’s why he said:
“The coast is because a lot of people really worked so hard to sacrifice it and sacrifice it, and if we want to put it there for our children, we have to keep fighting to protect it. That way, the coast is never saved, and is always saved.”
If I’m going to ride another bike, I’m ready to roll.
steve.lopez@latimes.com
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