Impact Zone
O‘ahu's North Shore is growing fast, but residents are fighting to preserve their little slice of paradise
    

Catharine Lo

December 17, 2003

     Norman Marsh, a robust 50-year-old shaper better known as Stormin’ Norman, had it made. He and his German shepherd Mako lived in a spacious, 10-room, 3.5-bath group house across the street from Chun’s Reef. His shaping room — his office for the past eight years — stood 20 yards away in the unkempt brush.
     But in September everything changed. “I got a call from the owner saying she was putting the property on the market,” Marsh remembers. “Within a month, she had accepted an offer, and that’s when I really felt the rug being pulled out from under me.”
     Unable to find a comparable place, he moved to a cramped living situation 15 miles away in Mokulë‘ia, after briefly considering camping on the beach with Mako.
     Rochelle Soares, a teller at First Hawaiian Bank in Hale‘iwa who grew up in a three-bedroom, 1.5-bath house in Wahiawä, also received notice in September. “I lived there all my life,” she recalls. “It was a great neighborhood where everybody knows everybody.”
     The asking price of $245,000 was steep, particularly for the old house in disrepair. They moved to Kapolei and their rent doubled.
     Then there are the illegal vacation rentals. While short-term renters help owners pay mortgages, long-term renters suffer the cost. Rooms that once may have been rented for $500 a month go for as much as $100 a night, so owners can afford to leave them empty for long periods of time.
     “People who do vacation rentals are worse than absentee owners, because they’re operating on pure greed,” declares Willie Day. Day, along with his wife Carla and their 1-year-old daughter Kehau, recently moved from one Turtle Bay condo to another in October after their unit was sold. “Usually it’s easy,” Day says of finding another place. “But this time we had to take what we could get.”
     These stories have become all too familiar, the result of a growing population and a dwindling supply of rentals.
     “Each time a house sells to a new owner-occupant, it takes that house out of the rental pool,” Richard Sterman explains. The North Shore’s primary Realtor claims that this is the tightest rental market he’s seen in 25 years. According to Prudential Properties, resales are up 14.6 percent and new home sales are up 43 percent this year.
     The ballooning of the North Shore’s population each winter is expected, but the long-term growth trend accompanied by the shortage of available housing is a serious matter. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the North Shore’s population grew from 15,729 in 1990 to 18,380 in 2000. The 16.8 percent increase is almost twice the statewide growth rate, and more than three times the growth rate of Honolulu County.

     Everybody Go Surf
     Before the ’60s, Hale‘iwa was a quiet plantation town and fishing village,” Sunset Beach resident Randy Rarick remembers. Surfers moved there for the surf, but otherwise the North Shore remained a sleepy little place.
     But in the ’80s, H-2 was completed, cutting an hour off the commute to Honolulu. The bypass road soon followed, shortening, along with cable, fax and e-mail, the distance to the outside world.
     In the ’90s, increased media attention spurred a sharp growth in the popularity of surfing. The North Shore was heavily marketed to the rest of the planet, and the surf has become the main draw.
     If you ask for a North Shore address, you’re likely to get a surf break before a street name. Oceanfront residents leave daily surf reports on their answering machines. A dozen surf shops sit within a 1-mile radius in Hale‘iwa — the “surf capital” of the world.
     Still, the area has retained a rural charm. Only three stoplights regulate the 30-mile drive from Ka‘ena Point State Park to the James Campbell Wildlife Refuge. Locals draw energy from the surrounding beauty that possesses an innate ability to heal, rejuvenate and foster caring communities. It’s no wonder that people love to live there. But that popularity is the very thing that threatens its special appeal.
     Ted’s Bakery now serves soy-optional espresso drinks to go with their famous chocolate haupia cream pie. Down the street at the Püpükea Foodland, a chef prepares fresh sushi to go. Bumper stickers plastered on stop signs read “North Shore Haole Wood.”
     “There used to be a distinct philosophical and physical difference between town and country, but that line has been blurred,” says Jeff Giacobetti, a sixth-grade science teacher and 12-year resident. “You used to have to make a lot of sacrifices to live here. Now, there’s more amenities.
     “I could never understand people who move to the North Shore who don’t surf,” Giacobetti continues. “They pay the high price without reaping the true benefits. These are the people who piss me off the most because they’re the ones buying up the land and making it expensive.”

     The City Keeps the Country ‘Country’
     Most of the North Shore — from Ka‘ena Point to Waiale‘e, from the shoreline to Helemano, bordered by the slopes of the Wai‘anae and the Ko‘olau — is reserved for agricultural lands and open space. Commercial uses occur in Hale‘iwa and Waialua, and the primary residential communities are Mokulë‘ia, Kawailoa and Sunset/Püpükea.
     The North Shore Sustainable Communities Plan allows for 1,300 additional housing units to be built before 2020, predominantly in the “infill” areas adjacent to existing neighborhoods in Hale‘iwa and Waialua. It states that in the unlikely event all these units are built and filled, the North Shore would still fall within the population guidelines of 1.8 percent of the islandwide population. However, if the North Shore continues its current rate of growth, it will exceed the 2020 population projection of 19,560 well before then.Will city planners accommodate the growing population or preserve the country?
     Eric Crispin, director of the city’s Department of Planning and Permitting, responds, “There is a certain amount of development that can accommodate growth while maintaining the objectives of the plan — which is to keep the country ‘country.’ For that reason, a boundary was established to limit the amount of new land made available to development. If a project comes in for a zone change to urban zoning inside the rural boundary, it is very unlikely that we would recommend approval. Final say, of course, rests with the City Council.”
     Crispin adds that if, in fact, a project requires a zone change for residential development, the developer is required to have 30 percent of the units developed within the affordable housing range. “The city’s long-time preference is to have a well-rounded mix of unit types within a development, but bottom line is, as long as they provide the number of affordable units, or the equivalent options of in-lieu land or cash, then we’re okay with it.”
     Of the 77,050 acres of land within the North Shore, 96 percent are in open-space uses, with 53 percent designated as preservation, 40 percent as agriculture, and 3 percent as park. Country residents hope that planners will keep this balance between country and town. A community activist who cautions against the initiation of resort zoning made this analogy: “It’s like losing your virginity. Once it’s gone, you can never recover it.”

     Something That Doesn’t Love A Wall
     They were the last affordable rentals on the North Shore,” 18-year resident Cora Sanchez says of the 42 units that formerly overlooked Velzyland, a fast and furious wave at Kaunala Bay. In July 2001 the residents were evicted by the new landowner, Andy Anderson. He split the parcel into 29 lots that have sold for $350,000 to more than $1.5 million each. Sanchez once paid $700 a month rent for a three-bedroom, 1.5-bath unit.
     When the 19-acre property was first put on the market, an improvident mistake listed it for $4 million. For that price, the City Council thought they could condemn the lot and convert it into a park. But when the property was assessed at $11 million, the plan collapsed. The city was unable to condemn it for less than the property value, and the intended condemnation devalued the property enough that Anderson’s reported bid of $7.5 million was accepted.
     Meanwhile, residents who became excited about the proposed park fought against the new subdivision. At the time, the city was already knee-deep in the purchase of Waimea Valley, and there was not enough funding left to save Velzyland.
     Sunset Beach Colony, Anderson’s new gated community, is welcomed by those who are glad to be rid of the dilapidated units they considered a den of iniquity, but reviled by others who see the new development as the most recent heave of gentrification.
     “The North Shore is special, and I want to keep it like that,” assures Anderson, who plans to move to Sunset Beach Colony himself. But many neighbors are incensed by the new 7-foot-high stone wall that fends non-Colony residents away from the shoreline. Anderson argues that the wall will provide security for second-home owners who may not always be around. Plus, he says, the new development has eliminated the drug users that were there before, making the North Shore “a more wholesome place to live.”
     “We’re not blocking any view that anyone had before … there are walls and fences all the way up and down the North Shore,” Anderson points out, adding that he is contributing a bikeway, a dedicated beach park with parking, and a pedestrian right-of-way. “In fact, for the very first time in years, the public will have direct, legal access to the beach.”
     “He’s not going to get rid of the drug problem by putting up a wall,” Sanchez scoffs. “What he got rid of was the tight-knit community that was there. It’s no longer country — it’s a country club.”

     Paradise Lost, Then Regained
     The Lihi Lani development site at Püpükea Paumalü behind Sunset Beach Elementary School is a spectacular green swath of tree-lined cliffs and ravines, the mauka mirror of Pipeline’s makai. The panoramic view from the 200-foot coastal bluff is every bit as magnificent, an unobstructed survey of the Pacific from Ka‘ena to Kawela. This 1,129-acre parcel of land is for sale by the Obayashi Corporation for $12 million.
     When Obayashi proposed the development of Lihi Lani 10 years ago, it forced a divisive split in the community. Supporters of the project saw the opportunity for affordable housing, elderly homes and a YMCA as a positive addition to neighboring Püpükea. Opponents, who started the Save Sunset Beach campaign, contended that it would result in the proliferation of expensive ranch-style houses and obliterate the mauka view. They rejected the idea of rezoning 765 acres of AG-2 (one house, 2 acres) land to a Country (one house, 1 acre), a decision that would contradict the land-use directive to “discourage conversion of agricultural lands to large-lot rental subdivisions with no agricultural activities.”
     In 1995, the City Council, by a 5-4 vote, approved two bills: one that granted a Special Management Area permit for the elderly housing and YMCA facility, and another that rezoned the 765 acres. The opponents — including Save Sunset Beach Coalition and Life of the Land — sued the city and Obayashi and lost. Opponents then appealed the rezoning decision, but on Oct. 20, the state Supreme Court affirmed the 1998 final judgment in favor of the defendants, ending the eight-year court battle.
     The prospect of new luxury developments upsets Aunty Ka‘ula Chun, a kupuna who has spent much of her life on the North Shore. “These developers building palatial homes — they’re using a lot of water, but [the Board of Water Supply] says there’s not enough for the people already here. They’re telling me to turn my faucet to a dribble so that they can turn theirs on full force.
     “The danger is a slow change made by others who have come to make their home here, who miss what they leave behind and try to recreate it. What will save us are people who share our values, who continue to appreciate others for who they are, not for what they can give you.”
     Chun pauses. “You get old like me, you start reading the obituaries. You see the names — Japanese, Filipino, Hawaiian — of people who died wherever they decided to move to so they could afford a decent living. When I see their names, I feel a great sadness, knowing they grew up here. Is that the way it’s going to be for the rest of us?”
     Chun turns her thoughts to the Waimea Management Company, which had tried to turn the valley into an amusement park. “The trend now is to make as much money as fast as you can,” says Chun, who worked at Waimea for 14 years. “The ATVs, the zip line, the jungle trek — they had absolutely nothing to do with the valley. They mounted parrots and put a plastic giraffe on the side of the hill!”
     For Melvin Amantiad and his late mother Sally, champion of the elderly and the homeless, the final straw happened at Sally’s 75th birthday party last August. The management refused to waive the $3 parking fee for the partygoers. “After working here more than 10 years, that made me so mad,” remembers Melvin, who along with others had thwarted a previous effort to open a 300-seat restaurant at the top of Waimea. “They weren’t interested in serving the community.”
     So when the city bought Waimea Valley, and the question of management was raised, two community factions — those who considered the Obayashi project “bad development” and those who heralded the project as “good development” — came together to support the Audubon Society’s bid to oversee the valley.
     Working closely with the city, the coalition that called themselves the Friends of Waimea Valley successfully ousted the neglectful management team.
     “It starts with bringing the community together to one way of thinking,” Amantiad says. “Waimea was a start. Let’s make another start and continue that pattern.”
     Call it community empowerment. “The North Shore Neighborhood Board, especially those who have been there a long time, know and understand the land use plans,” says Ben Kama, executive director of the Neighborhood Commission.
     “When people want to come in and start rezoning huge plots of land, that’s when we start to get nervous,” board chair Kathleen Pahinui says. The Neighborhood Board is the first line of defense in rezoning or special use requests. “We’d rather sit down and roll our sleeves up and say, how can we make this work for everybody?”
     Pahinui refers to a variance granted last year to the Dole Company, who initially requested a major zoning change instead of a variance, at Helemano that would allow additional commercial activity and a home for the mentally disabled. “If they had gotten what they originally wanted, it would have been open season,” says Pahinui, pleased with the win-win outcome.
     Asked about the reputation of the board, Pahinui replied, “We’re known for getting things done.
     “We want to keep the North Shore as pristine as possible,” she adds. “We don’t want to build a Mililani against the mountain.”

     Pu-pu-kea Paumalu-
     Several developers, including Andy Anderson, have expressed interest in the Lihi Lani site. Anderson, who has approached the North Shore Neighborhood Board about the project, emphasizes the importance of good, planned development. “Your kids are going to grow up and need a place to live. It’s a hard line in the sand to draw. Saying ‘I’ve got mine and you can’t have any’ isn’t going to work.’ ”
     Anderson continues: “I’m not trying to urbanize it. The large acreage is going to give people the opportunity to raise a horse or grow a vegetable … it would not be a rich man’s subdivision.”
     Peter Cole, one of the plaintiffs in the Obayashi case, hopes the September ruling that suspended the Höküli‘a luxury project on the Big Island will set a precedent for preventing noncompliant land use. “We will be watchdogs,” warns Cole, president of the O‘ahu Surfrider Foundation. “The cement, the elimination of trees and vegetation, and the runoff caused by this road scaling up the side of the cliff — it would be a disaster.”
     What happened with Obayashi was a strategic exercise in dividing the community to conquer it. The victory at Waimea showed that a community united can win the fight for the greater good.
     Blake McElheny, a member of the Neighborhood Board and Empower North Shore O‘ahu, would like to channel that momentum into another alliance for the sake of protecting Püpükea Paumalü. The Friends of Püpükea Paumalü, a broad-based community group, is a project of the North Shore Community Land Trust whose mission is to preserve land and open space. They hope to raise enough money to buy the property and ensure public benefit of the land.
     “We have to be smart about protecting the resources that people come to see,” McElheny says, stressing the dual mandate to grow the visitor economy while maintaining a healthy local economy. The two objectives, he explains, are not mutually exclusive. “There’s a future in protecting special places. What happens here will affect the whole North Shore.”

     The Mana Still Speaks
     Cultures change. Tradition is what we hold on to,” says Tom Lenchanko, a soft-spoken member of the Hawaiian Civic Club of Wahiawä. “The easiest way to save anything is to understand the history of the place.”
     According to Bishop Museum archaeological studies, there are hundreds of ancient sites located within the moku of Waialua and Ko‘olau Loa that span the North Shore where the mana still speaks loudly. Lenchanko stresses the need to preserve these sites as well as access to them: “If people build over them, what can you do? ‘Eh, braddah, can go your backyard? I like pray today.’ ”
     Lenchanko believes the simplest solution is to encourage landowners to accept a stewardship role. “Get them to work with Hawaiian Civic Clubs to preserve the history of Hawaiian culture,” he suggests. “The community can maintain and take care of these wahi pana. Then, have küpuna give programs in schools using these places as educational tools.
     “All sites on the land have a relation to the sea,” Lenchanko continues, explaining the Hawaiian concept of land division into ahupua‘a, which is based upon natural access and conservative use of resources from the mountains to the sea. These principles have been adopted into the North Shore Sustainable Communities Plan to guide the preservation of wetlands, streams and gulches, forest reserves, and shoreline areas.
     “For Hawaiians, it’s the oral testimony of tradition that stands,” Lenchanko says with conviction. “Western law interprets Western law; it doesn’t interpret Hawaiian understanding.”
     It makes sense for North Shore residents to gravitate towards a philosophy prescribed by nature. “Any time you grow up in a place that gives a lot to you, you want to give something back,” says McElheny. “We have a community of people who recognize their shared values and the blessings of this special quality of life. I am confident that the specialness will be protected.
     “We must always return to our foundation,” Lenchanko insists, maintaining that the link to healing, tradition and, ultimately, personal identity, is contained within the land. “Wherever people are, there is something they can mälama. If we provide access to healing places, we can grow practitioners who can heal the land.
     “Tradition must be passed on,” Lenchanko emphasizes. “ If you’re going to live here, the kuleana is on you.”

Hale‘iwa
Saying ‘No’ to another Lahaina
     Antya Miller’s father moved his family to the North Shore in 1961 to be a doctor at Waialua Plantation. One of only two doctors in Hale‘iwa at the time, he established the Hale‘iwa Family Health Center in 1965. Antya Miller worked there until she retired in 1999 to spend more time with her son (pictured).
     Miller became intimately involved in civic affairs and Hale‘iwa Main Street, the umbrella for the North Shore Community Chamber of Commerce.
     “It’s a double-edged sword,” Miller says of marketing Hale‘iwa. “If you promote the area, you’re going to encourage people to come here. That means more cars, more crime, more pollution.”
     She mentions smart-growth concepts as desirable alternatives: “We should have mixed-use towns that will encourage residents to support local businesses, and we need to create communities that are walkable.”
     A project to build a continuous sidewalk down Kam Highway was stalled due to objections from merchants with storefront parking, but the issue has been resolved and the project is slated to begin soon.
     When the Hale‘iwa Town Plan was drafted in 1991, it showed enough vacant commercial-zoned space to accommodate an additional 100,000 square feet through 2011. But until a centralized subregional wastewater treatment system is constructed, new development will be curbed. (Currently, 40 percent of the cesspools in the Waialua-Hale‘iwa area have failed and require frequent pumping.)
     The Hale‘iwa Design District laws that govern the aesthetic appearance of the town were formulated to preserve its appealing rural character. A revolving loan fund for the restoration of the town’s historic buildings has been proposed.
     Still, some worry about losing mom-and-pop stores to commercial retailers. After serving the community for 90 years and three generations, Fujioka’s supermarket closed its doors in September, now replaced by the Malama Market, owned by the Kalama Beach Corporation (a sister company of Foodland Super Market Ltd.). Ann Swim, owner of Waialua Bakery adjacent to the new store, has noticed Fujioka’s customers patronizing the IGA Haleiwa Supermarket across the street. “A lot of people miss Fujioka’s personal service,” she says.
     State Rep. Michael Magaoay says that Hale‘iwa doesn’t have to turn into Lahaina and assures that “big box retailers will be somewhere else.”
     But the realities of an unstable economy are very real. “Being a local business is a struggle. You don’t know what it’s going to be like day to day here,” Swim continues, acknowledging the recent closing of Caffe Notte down the street. “I’m not out to make a lot of money. I just want to have a healthy place for people to eat.”