Posted on March 23, 2022
A half-century later, not many would guess that plans for The Sea Ranch supplied the impetus for California’s coastal protection law. There’s seldom a news story about this oceanfront community that fails to feature its architectural and environmental legacy. The stories use words such as “iconic”” and “visionary” and “paradise.”
A “modernist utopia,” declared the New York Times.
Gazing out at the meadow and at the ocean beyond, we can see why this remote corner of Sonoma County remains a lovely place to be.
Yet you can draw a straight line from the earliest days of The Sea Ranch to the political activism that led to the passage of Proposition 20, the coastal protection initiative that this year marks its 50th anniversary.
The fighting began when developers made known their intention to wall-off all 10.6 miles of shoreline from public access, and local activists, in turn, declared their determination not to let that happen.
Led by the late Bill Kortum, local environmentalists formed Californians Organized to Acquire Access to State Tidelands, forever after known as COAAST. In 1968, COAAST qualified a local ballot measure that would have guaranteed public access through all new coastal developments in Sonoma County. (Full disclosure: One of those early advocates for public access, the late state Sen. John Dunlap of Napa, would later become my father-in-law.)
The local measure failed, but Kortum and his colleagues would not be deterred. They joined with coastal activists from around the state to form the California Coastal Alliance, which asked the Legislature to adopt a coastal protection bill. When the Legislature failed to act, the alliance qualified a coastal protection initiative for the 1972 statewide ballot. In 30 days, they gathered 480,000 signatures.
Big business lined up against the measure, but Californians had seen enough of what they viewed as threats to the coast. When Proposition 20 won, voters forever changed how California judges shoreline development.
Local officials, too often chummy with development interests, would no longer decide the future of the coast. A state commission — and for a time, six regional commissions — would decide, and the law obliged them to apply tougher standards than existed before.
When the new commission and Sea Ranch developers could not agree on conditions for a permit, a state-imposed moratorium on new home construction followed.
It was a stalemate that wouldn’t be resolved until the Legislature in 1980 set down the conditions of a settlement that would reduce the number of homes that could be built and designate six public access points, including a three-mile Bluff Trail extending south from Gualala Point Regional Park. (It was called the Bane bill for its author, Assemblyman Tom Bane, D-Van Nuys.)
Before Proposition 20 became law, public sensibilities were already changing. (They were, ironically, the same new sensibilities that inspired the architectural and environmental ethic that came to define The Sea Ranch.)
Development proposals that came along during that time provided a glimpse of what the California coast might become — and voters didn’t like what they saw.
At Bodega Bay, PG&E began construction of a nuclear power plant, a project halted only when political pressure overcame the utility’s myopic ambitions. You can still see the excavation — “the hole in the head” — a stone’s throw from the San Andreas earthquake fault.
Above Jenner, a massive subdivision was proposed, a project to be paired with a gravel dredging operation at the mouth of the Russian River. Today, you can hike the 5,630-acre Jenner Headlands Preserve, a ramble that provides sweeping vistas, north and south — including the iconic view of the river as it wends its way to the ocean.
The beauty of the California coast has become an economic engine that drives a thriving tourist industry.
And, of course, people love the coast because each visit serves up its own inspirations. Couples walking hand-in-hand on a beach, families picnicking on an overlook, children tossing a football, solitary figures staring out at the ebb and flow of the ocean — it’s all part of the magic.
As for The Sea Ranch, you won’t find many places where people work so hard to live in harmony with the land. (If you want to build a white colonial, you’ll need to go elsewhere.) The Sea Ranch Lodge — recently reopened after a major renovation — was voted the most beautiful building in Sonoma County by Press Democrat readers.
If The Sea Ranch is sheltered from the grittiness of other places, well, that’s probably what the residents like about it. Home prices here have exploded during the pandemic as deep-pocketed urban residents seek more bucolic settings.
Walking along the bluff, a visitor sees the surf pounding against the rocks below, while the light changes each time the sunlight filters through the fog.
On such a day, it’s easy to forget that the outcome could have been different. The Sea Ranch could have been different, and the California coast would surely be different.
Fifty years ago, Californians decided their coastline needed to be protected, and even if government occasionally stumbles, not many would say the voters were wrong.
Pete Golis is a columnist for The Press Democrat. Email him at golispd@gmail.com.
You can send letters to the editor to letters@pressdemocrat.com.
