From the Publisher/Arnold G. York
It was just like the good old days. The City Council chambers were filled. All the opponents and proponents had signed up to speak. Karen and I had come to the council meeting to speak in favor of Daniel and Luciana Forge’s proposed 28-room bed and breakfast, but got there a little late and found that the council’s dance card was already filled. More than 50 people were waiting to put in their two cents, or two minutes, so we were left as spectators.
There is, however, something strangely reassuring about looking around a full hearing room and seeing pretty much the same cast of characters you’ve always seen at these events. It’s a little like falling through a time warp and ending up 10 years back in time. Perhaps now we’re all a little grayer and a little rounder, but, this being Malibu, everyone was still as feisty as ever, and everyone had come determined not to give an inch.
Supporters of the project, the Forges, Paul Shoop, their lawyer, and Mike Barsocchini, the project architect, took everyone through the sordid history of trying to do a project in Malibu. It’s a little like death by a thousand cuts. There is a point your have to ask yourself, how did I get into this? Because we all know that trying to build anything in Malibu is a major exercise in masochism.
The reason is, in Malibu there is no such thing as a good project. The reason I know this is because in the 15 years that we’ve owned this newspaper, I’ve never heard the environmental crowd say, “Yes this is a good project.” Only the proponents of the project ever say it’s a good project. You would think that accidentally in the last 15 years someone might have bumbled their way into a good project. Even the worst of developers, setting out to rape and plunder the land (as we all know they do) might inadvertently stumble onto a decent project. Perhaps, but not in Malibu. Although this one actually came close.
David Brown, the local Sierra Club’s perennial opposition to just about everything, conceded the Forges weren’t evil people. Coming from the Sierra Club-which habitually demonizes anyone who wants to do anything, anywhere, anytime-this amounted to incredibly high praise. He even said the project wasn’t all that bad (not his exact words but a paraphrase), except it was just a wee bit too big, and a wee bit too high, a wee bit too dense, a wee bit too close to the stream, and a wee bit too threatening to the hypothetical steelhead trout. And, generally speaking, there was the possibility when it was built out, people might actually come and use it, and thereby cause incredible damage to the environment.
However, not to panic, because David Brown had a solution. He, and some other equally qualified non-architect, apparently had figured out over a cappuccino, or wherever, that, if you moved this, cut that and shifted this, all could be made OK.
Then, a parade of witnesses came to the podium to get in their licks. Then, it was the council’s turn.
The council members did, of course, what politicians always do. They tried to give everybody something so no one would be totally mad at them. To their credit, they realized if they cut back on any more of the number of rooms, which now stood at 27 units, this project would never fly because it wouldn’t pencil out and no one would finance it. But they were faced with a dilemma. They had to give the opposition something, without killing the project, because the city really could use the rooms and occupancy tax that comes with them. Somehow, they hit on the bright idea of cutting the rooms down in size.
The original plan called for an average of 680 square feet, designed on the style of Ventana Inn in Big Sur, or the suites in Post Ranch, or the San Ysidro Inn in Santa Barbara. All the rooms are suites with a sitting room and a sleeping room, which is why the Forges can get the rack rate to make this project work. Initially, the council voted to cut it back too 480 square feet per suite, which wasn’t even close to feasible, according to the Forges, and was an obvious killing of the project. When the council realized that if they stood firm at 480 square feet, the project was dead. They backed off, had another vote and settled on 580 square feet per unit. Why a 580-square-foot unit is more environmentally sensitive than a 680-square-foot unit mystifies me, but that’s what the council in its infinite wisdom decided, so that’s where it stands now. Whether we’ll ever see a B&B at that site, only time will tell.