SEIZMICK RIUFT: The rest of whole world may be going to hell in a handbasket, but here in Santa Barbara, we are insisting that our handbasket be aesthetically pleasing in warp, woof, and weave. Admittedly, this can get precious. But it’s the Santa Barbara way. I’m not just talking white stucco walls and red tile roofs; it’s more the human scale of our built environment. And that’s a rare accomplishment. Architectural shouting has always been frowned on here.
All that’s changing. New state laws designed to liberate would-be housing developers — some affordable, but most not — from a lot of the gauntlet of design review rules, and what passes for local control, are now kicking in. And some — our city planning commissioners in particular — are screaming their heads off about it.
We’d all better listen. Here’s why.
A couple of weeks ago, while searching for a football game, I stumbled onto a televised rerun of the October 9 Planning Commission meeting. The deliberations were over a development project that would radically transform the Paseo Nuevo mall in the heart of downtown.
As developments go, it doesn’t get much more important than this. It’s two square city blocks. It’s our community living room, though increasingly one of those where no one sits unless company calls.
My mind was blown by what I saw. It was an epic cultural shift. We have lost any semblance of control of what gets built, where, how much, and under what constraints in our very own downtown.
Once upon a time, planning commissioners were the city’s philosopher kings, self-appointed know-it-alls who worried over what seemed like trivial things, but it turned out they knew what they were talking about. It’s really made a big difference.
On my TV screen, however, the planning commissioners were being sternly schooled by Dan Hentschke, an assistant city attorney who told them they were not allowed to talk about what they were talking about. They couldn’t ask questions that anyone in a position of oversight should feel compelled to ask.
What couldn’t they ask? “Is this really a take-it-or-leave-it deal?” “Is it really now or never?” “Do we have any idea what new stores and markets the developers plan to bring?” “Do we really want to donate a downtown public parking garage to the project?” And lastly, “On what planet does it make sense for City Hall to donate not just the parking lot but two city-owned blocks to a private developer, AllianceBernstein — who has assets of nearly $800 billion?”
To her great credit, Planning Commissioner Lesley Wiscomb — the personification of smart, sensible, and civil — went head-to-head with Hentschke, politely telling him to go pound sand. Wiscomb’s quiet intensity gave the moment a genuine sense of revolt, a spirit embraced by all five commissioners present.
Wiscomb worried about giving city-owned land to a private developer. She worried that the new development would be too “exclusive” even for Santa Barbara, that its proposed high-end supermarket and top-drawer shops would gentrify the street. Every single commissioner was similarly troubled.
There is much to love about the project: 233 units of market-rate housing. People living downtown. Eighty below-market-rate units — way more than the 24 required by law. The potential for new economic life downtown.
But there is much to hate, too. For starters, it is 15 feet higher than the city’s height limit, which was ratified by a vote of the people. There’s the massive donation of public land we will never get back.
But mostly, the Planning Commission’s biggest beef was everything we still don’t know. Which in this case is pretty much everything.
To get 80 units of below-market-rate housing — and we still don’t know what that means — City Hall will have to destroy Parking Lot 2, located in the shadow of the Canary Hotel. That’s around 185 parking spaces — built on the taxpayer dime — up in smoke. Does anyone know how many parking spaces currently exist on city streets, in private parking lots, and in our public lots? No, we do not. And if we don’t, how do we know we can afford to give these away?
And don’t forget a new state law to encourage new housing that pretty much eliminates all parking requirements for new residential.
Do we really need a new Gucci-fied supermarket so high-end it will make Gelson’s look like a 7-Eleven? And do we really need a new gym? Isn’t State Street already awash with pop-up gyms?
The commissioners were told — again by the aforementioned city attorney — that they could only comment on its design features and whether it was compatible with the city’s general plan. They retorted, en masse, that since the project’s designs are not yet even half-baked — final designs come later — it was hard to comment meaningfully.
What’s my point? This was the Planning Commission’s last known opportunity to weigh in on the most important planning decision in 40 years. The developers have held only two public open houses, neither of which was well publicized. Either way, they fell way short of the public outreach blitz urged by the City Council earlier this year.
Have they ever asked us what we would like? It might be a good question.
What’s my point? Slow it the hell down. If it’s such a great deal, it’ll survive. If not, maybe it wasn’t meant to be.
In case you hadn’t heard, the expression “To hell in a handbasket” refers to what happened to the human head after it was chopped off by a guillotine.
Let’s hope that’s not us.
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