The Hard-Learned Lessons of a Coastal Preserver

In the late ‘60s, when I was in my 30s and thought anything was possible, I made up my mind to save the California coast.

I was sitting on the Los Angeles Regional Water Quality Control Board, listening to industry requests for permits--permits for projects that would forever destroy remaining portions of Southern California’s unspoiled coast.

My plan was to combine the concept of the San Francisco Bay Conservation and Development Commission with the structure of the State Water Resources Control Board and its several regional boards, whose proximity would encourage local citizen participation.

I met with environmentalists in Santa Barbara, Big Sur, Carmel and San Francisco. All of them enthusiastically embraced the idea. Later, after watching the Legislature kill or weaken coastal bills (with the help of special-interests lobbyists) we realized that an initiative was our only hope.

One of the toughest problems was deciding whether local elected officials should also be appointed to the commissions. After all, it was the influence of their campaign contributors that had resulted in local governments’ giving away so much of the coast already. However, we were persuaded that if we didn’t include them, they would work to defeat the initiative. Big mistake.

Proposition 20, the landmark California Coastal Zone Conservation initiative, passed with 55% of the vote, despite the fact our campaign was heavily outspent by the developers, oil companies and utilities--and opposed, ironically, by local government.

Lesson No. 1 : Elected officials should not be appointed; when someone becomes a candidate he or she should be required to resign from the commission. Further, no member of the commission or staff should be permitted to endorse or directly or indirectly raise funds for political figures. As members of a quasi-judicial panel, these aspects of First Amendment expression must be suspended, to avoid even the appearance of impropriety .

By January, 1972, Gov. Ronald Reagan, Assembly Speaker Bob Moretti and the Senate Rules Committee had made what were, by and large, good appointments. The staff of both the state and regional commissions were made up of some of the best and the brightest. Many were young, idealistic planners and attorneys who were determined to bring the public-interest ethic to this new agency.

The mandate was to save the coast; Proposition 20 was written to make that possible. In the beginning it even seemed probable. That was before I got my first call from a staff member in the Speaker’s office. He congratulated me on being appointed to the statewide Coastal Commission by his boss. Then he told me he’d like me to second the nomination of another appointee to become vice chair of the commission.

I was noncommittal but mad as hell. We had not even had our first meeting yet; I wondered how many more instructions I would be getting. I called Moretti and told him how upset I was. He said he was outraged that anyone in his office would do such a thing and that I would not be bothered again. I wasn’t.

One of the commission’s first actions was to deny the application of Occidental Oil to drill in the Pacific Palisades. We were doing the kind of thing we were set up to do. (The commission, however has recently approved a new Occidental application for drilling in the Palisades.) However, the single most significant action in the commission’s then-brief history was its decision on the expansion of the San Onofre nuclear power plant.

The staff prepared an eloquent statement likening the destruction of the scenic San Onofre coastal bluffs to the demolishing of a magnificent cathedral. It recommended that the permit be granted, but with such environmentally protective conditions that it won the commission’s approval.

Hard-hatted utility workers picketed outside before the vote was taken. Afterward, the utilities took their appeal to court, to chambers of commerce and to newspapers and broadcasters. There were rumblings in Sacramento that the commission’s budget might be cut. Soon the matter was back before the commission for a new vote.

It was held in the Santa Barbara Board of Supervisors’ hearing room after a caucus in the men’s room. As the only woman on the commission, I can’t say what transpired there, but shortly thereafter San Onofre got the go-ahead largely on the utilities’ terms. (What an irony that California now has an electrical-generating surplus that will cost consumers several billion dollars to maintain through 1990--with the most notable expense being nuclear power plants.)

Lesson No. 2 : Any time an appointing authority has views on a matter before the commission, he or she should publicly state them before the entire commission. The public’s business must be conducted in the public arena, not by private means. Ex parte communications should be forbidden by lobbyists as well as their sometime agents, elected officials or their staff members. Private conversations between commissioners about business before the commission must also be forbidden.

The reversal on San Onofre was the turning point for me. It became clear that the best-written laws are no better than the motivation of those charged with enforcing them. As long as campaign contributors call the shots, many elected officials who depend on them for their campaign funds will probably continue to appoint a majority of commissioners who are sympathetic to those contributors. And the pressure on those not sympathetic can be excruciating.

Lesson No. 3 : The basis for most governmental decision-making is campaign contributions. We must minimize the need for so much money to win elections. Good people of moderate means should be able to run for office, vote for legislation in the public interest, appoint people of integrity and not fear the special interests pouring money out for their opponent in the next election.

A campaign-spending-limits initiative is expected to qualify for the statewide June, 1988, ballot. It would limit campaign spending and contributions, ban contributions to legislators in non-election years and ban transfers of campaign contributions from one candidate to another. The measure would also make public matching funds available to candidates who raise $20,000 and who face an opponent who has also raised that amount.

Beside this proposal, initiatives dealing with campaign-finance reform are being pushed by other groups hoping to qualify for the 1988 ballot.

If the Legislature is tired of being seen as a house of ill-repute, its members need not wait for 1988. Any day of the week they can pass these much-needed reforms.

My final disillusionment with the Coastal Commission I helped to create came as we selected coastal properties to recommend to the Legislature for purchase. These were to be the beaches and wetlands for future generations to enjoy.

One of the prime candidates for this list was the last remaining major estuary in Los Angeles County, Ballona Wetlands. Despite my pleadings and those of fellow commissioner Dr. Rimmon Fay, a marine biologist, the commission voted not to recommend Ballona. As a result, the Summa Corp.’s massive Playa Vista development, adjacent to the already congested Marina del Ray area, was assured.

Soon thereafter, the FBI’s political corruption unit interviewed me in regard to allegations of payoffs from representatives of Summa to political figures who Summa felt could exert pressure on certain coastal commissioners. However, no prosecution resulted. And, by then, it was too late for Ballona.

Please see Lesson No. 3.