Coastal Act turns 50: How a law shaped California’s coastal identity

“The coast is never saved – it’s always being saved.”

That quote from longtime California Coastal Commission Executive Director Peter Douglas is cited often when people speak of the state’s ongoing effort to find just the right balance between development and public access to the shore.

The California Coastal Act, co-authored by Douglas, is celebrating a milestone 50 years since it was signed into law in 1976. It is hailed as the blueprint for shaping the future and identity of California’s 1,200-mile coastline, the third largest in the United States.

During those first five decades, the Coastal Act and the California Coastal Commission — formed to navigate the line in the sand between overdevelopment and public access and maintaining natural landscapes — have largely kept massive high rises off the shoreline, negotiated large-scale projects to include public access and, in some cases, turned down proposals that would compromise sensitive habitats or public recreation.

”We have this powerful law and we find ways to improve and protect our resources, which includes views, access, a beautiful restorative place people can enjoy,” Coastal Commission Executive Director Kate Huckelbridge said. “I think that one of the most beautiful gifts we’ve given to the state is the Coastal Act. It has withstood the test of time.”

Environmentalism spawns Prop. 20

In the late 1960s, high-rise beachfront buildings in Long Beach started popping up, a vibe more like Miami Beach than Southern California, with plans for more. Up north, contamination concerns were swelling in the San Francisco Bay.

A massive oil spill in Santa Barbara in 1969 spurred worries about the health of the Pacific Ocean, and more plans for gated communities with private beaches along the coast drew concerns.

“Large swaths of property, especially coastal properties, were being bought up by private developers — proposals that would result in closing off large sections of coast to the public,” said Huckelbridge. “I think the public, who was used to having access to its land, started to see this as a threat to enjoying their own coastline.”

Environmentalists were successful in getting the McAteer-Petris Act passed to try to protect the San Francisco Bay from contaminants. But creating similar statewide legislation was proving no easy task.

“They said, ‘Let’s parlay this into statewide, let’s protect the whole coast,’” Sarah Christie, legislative director for the commission, said. “That bill got defeated every year in the legislative process. The opponents were very well funded and connected politically.”

So advocates went to the public, creating Prop. 20 for the voters decide. Needing a simple majority to pass, it earned a 55% vote of approval.

“I think of Prop. 20 as a David and Goliath story. You have everyday working residents, families in California, who were seeing their access to a clean and healthy coastline being cut off. It sort of galvanized the interest of these ordinary folks and pitted them against corporate interests,” said Huckelbridge. “It was up and down the coast, and it was really a bunch of dedicated and scrappy activists who really worked tirelessly to make sure that everybody in California knew what was at risk, and make them understand that everybody had skin in the game.”

Its passage created a temporary Coastal Commission and regional commissions, requiring all new development within the coastal zone to first gain approvals from those bodies.

“In order to get a coastal development permit, a project could not fill wetlands, could not harm coastal views, it could not disrupt sensitive habitat, it could not block public access. It could not convert agricultural land,”  Christie said. “So it set a pretty high bar for creating new development in the coastal zone — but only for four years.”

During that period — 1972 to 1976 — the Coastal Commission held a series of public hearings on what should go into a bill to make permanent coastal planning, which Prop 20 said had to be passed by the legislature by the end of 1976.

Opponents of Prop 20 figured that planning requirement would be a “poison pill,” Christie said.

“They thought there was no way a brand new state agency would be able to do all of the permit workload and be able to accomplish this gargantuan statewide planning task,” Christie said. “They thought it would be a flash in the pan, it would be over in four years and they could get back to business as usual.”

Coastal Act becomes law

But the commission delivered a coastal plan with just enough time for the legislature to translate it into the California Coastal Act of 1976, just as Prop. 20 sunsetted.

The Coastal Act and the Coastal Commission became permanent.

A year’s worth of celebrations and discussions are in the works to highlight the milestone law, passed by then Gov. Jerry Brown in September of that year, as he noted, “beaches are for all people. On a hot day you find millions of people at the beach, and it is the whole spectrum, from rich to poor.”

Already this week, lawmakers in Sacramento introduced a resolution commemorating the 50th anniversary and California Natural Resource Agency Secretary Wade Crowfoot held an online discussion for his Secretary Speaker Series themed “A Coast for All: 50 Years of Coastal Stewardship.” The Coastal Commission is asking the public to share on its website their favorite memories of enjoying the coast, and a beach party is planned for later this year.

Early permits that were approved by the commission were significant examples of stewardship, said Huckelbridge, citing a Sea Ranch development in Sonoma County that ended up calling for public access not in the original plan.

“It was kind of an indicator of how the Coastal Act was going to be implemented in a way that did allow for development, but in a way that was responsible for public access and protected the coastal resources,” she said. “I think there’s examples like that up and down the coastline, where there was development planned that eliminated or impeded access or trampled on coastal resources that were reinvisioned.”

Mel Nutter, a lawyer in Long Beach in the late ’60s, became one of the first regional commissioners and later, in 1977, one of the first state commissioners.

In his town, two tall buildings had popped up along Ocean Boulevard after Long Beach leaders changed zoning so proposed structures there had to be at least five stories tall.

“That was one of the reasons people were in favor of Prop 20, they thought it was a pretty bad planning situation,” Nutter, now 86, said. “The people who lived on 2nd Street figured they would be in a continual shadow with those high-rise structures.”

Nutter and the rest of the Coastal Commission took issue with Long Beach’s plans for beachfront development, requiring the city to get rid of the zoning if it wanted more local control of its coastal planning and development.

Once it was all worked out, Nutter handed Long Beach Mayor Eunice Sato the keys to the city and a “Coastal Bureaucratic Thugs” T-shirt — a joke after a politician at the time called the commission the insult.

“Everything has a challenge,” Nutter said. “But there’s an awful lot of things up and down the coast that have been saved, preserved or protected, or didn’t happen, thanks to the commission.”

Coastal planning

Regulating the use of the most valuable land in the state means there will inevitably be controversy, Huckelbridge said.

“I think we’ve been successful in working through that conflict; while there are outliers, the numbers speak for themselves, ” she said.

Of projects that go before the commission, 99% are approved, she said; and while they may look different once the process is completed, it’s rare the commission will give a flat-out denial, she added.

The projects that go before the commission can be as small as a private property owner wanting to expand a deck in the coastal zone or large-scale developments that would have massive impacts on the coast. If a city wants to change the rules for short-term rentals or an agency needs to make an emergency fix, the commission weighs in.

Many proposals, especially larger ones, reach compromise, with developers scaling down their project or giving back to the environment as “mitigation” to get the go-ahead to move forward.

The Bolsa Chica wetlands, for example, were created with funds in return for projects approved at the ports of Long Beach and Los Angeles. A widening of the I-5 freeway also required the creation of a pedestrian and bicycle path in San Diego.

Some projects turn out much differently than originally envisioned, such as Crystal Cove State Park, once planned to be a luxury hotel, but today a rustic and beloved set of cottages.

Under then Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger, there was a deal with the developer of Post Ranch Inn, located in Big Sur, to redevelop what’s now known as the Crystal Cove Historic District into a luxury resort,  Christie said.

Douglas, at the commission’s helm at the time, was friends with the developer, but warned: “You’re never going to get approval, it will not meet the requirements of the Coastal Act.”

The public also rallied against the proposal.

“He could see the writing on the wall, and he walked away,” Christie said, adding that the state bought the property so the developer didn’t lose financially. “That cleared the way for the historic preservation.”

What followed is one of the most in-demand State Park “campgrounds” that offered low-cost visitor access to the coast.

But some projects simply have too much impact on the environment to find any kind of compromise, officials said.

Plans for a 241 toll road extension through south Orange County toward the San Diego border was a project that would have had significant negative impacts on the region’s environmental resources, Huckelbridge said.

The “Save Trestles” campaign galvanized surfers, environmentalists and others who protested the plan, filling Coastal Commission’s meetings to voice their concerns.

When the project’s coastal development permit came to a vote in 2016, the commission denied the application using the Coastal Act.

Another, more recent commission denial was for a proposed desalination project in Huntington Beach.

The commission has approved desalination plants for converting ocean water into drinking water before and after – the same group had gained approval for one in Carlsbad – but the system proposed in Huntington Beach, commissioned feared would have had an “enormous adverse impact on marine life, it would suck in ocean water and obliterate all life in every gallon of water taken into the plant,” Huckelbridge said.

“What we know is that there are other ways, and better ways, that have been developed to bring in brackish sea water and create drinking water,” she said. “The commission denied that project, in part, because of the impacts. It was too big to mitigate; the impact was too large.”

Everyone’s beach

There are few places along the California coastline where the public is shut out – not necessarily something that can be said in coastal states around the country.

California owns land seaward of the mean high tide line, and the Coastal Act makes sure the public maintains the right to use that area of beach.

The exceptions out there are remnants from the days before the Coastal Act’s inception, including the Emerald Bay development in Laguna Beach, which is why it’s still a gated, private beach today.

Hollister Ranch, a private 14,500-acre gated community up near Santa Barbara, is a 10-mile stretch of coastline where, historically, the only access was a private road – the development was approved just weeks before the Coastal Act became law.

In 2019, new legislation required a public access plan for Hollister Ranch, “so the public can enjoy its own space,” Huckelbridge said.

It’s not just about giving physical access to a beach, officials said, it is also about who is allowed to enjoy the coast in an equitable way.

A decade ago, the commission took issue with the Maverick’s big wave surf contest in Northern California, which wasn’t allowing women to compete. Commissioners denied the contest a permit until women were included, citing the Coastal Act.

In the ‘80s, the private membership Jonathan Club in Santa Monica wanted to expand its footprint. The Coastal Commission granted the necessary permit, but with one condition: open the club to women and minorities.

“They sued and it went to the Supreme Court, we prevailed,” Huckelbridge said. “That’s how the Jonathan Club became open to women and people of color.”

In Palos Verdes, a citizen group used the Coastal Act to sue the Lunada Bay Boys, local surfers known to harass visitors to prevent outsiders from accessing the waves.

“The judge found that what they were doing was not only unpermitted development,” Christie said, “but the activities themselves – harassment, vandalism, threats – was in violation of the Coastal Act because it was keeping people off the beach.”

Criticisms of delays and overreach

Cities and counties have now incorporated coastal protections into their local planning so the commission – once intended to be temporary – has outlived its usefulness, argues developer Sanford Edward, behind The Strand at Headlands project built two decades ago in Dana Point. In his opinion, the commission now holds too much control over what happens along the coast.

Years before he purchased property in Dana Point near the headlands, the city had said it could be developed with 370 homes and a 400-room hotel. When he came in to actually develop the property, he points out, he and the city came up with a plan for a maximum of 125 homes, a smaller hotel and 62 acres of open space, approved by the city in 2002.

But it still took two years for the proposal to get through the Coastal Commission — the staff was recommending denial.

“The original mandate was to provide coastal access, and to make sure that beaches remained in the public domain, which was a good and worthy goal,” but instead the Coastal Act created a way for “radical environmental groups to thwart any kind of development on the coast,” Edward argues.

“Whether it is a desal plant that would provide water or someone building a home, the knee-jerk reaction is that they are opposed,” he said.

Huckelbridge said the commission always tries to work with applicants. And while there is also criticism that it does not work fast enough, it is a small agency with a big territory.

“But honestly, I think a lot of the criticism comes from the fact that it’s just our role, we’re going to have people who bump up against us,” she said.

The commission recently changed some of its rules to ease the path for affordable housing construction in the coastal zone; it’s been getting an earful in recent years from housing advocates and some elected leaders about being a barrier to addressing the state’s need for more housing affordable to more people.

Some argue the commission has too much “green tape” for projects to overcome.

Assemblywoman Laurie Davies, R- Laguna Niguel, authored a bill in 2024 that would require specialized expertise be brought into the process for a more scientific approach to the commission’s decision making.

She’s also concerned that the commission’s focus doesn’t reflect coastal communities’ concerns.

For example, coastal cities in her district consistently seek help with sand replenishment issues, yet “those pleas seem to be ignored or placed on the back burner,” she said.

“I encourage the commission as we move forward to continue building relationships with coastal residents and take to heart their desire for streamlining and access to resources to help maintain our region’s natural resources,” she said.

The future’s tides

The biggest challenges Huckelbridge sees moving forward are how California will adapt to sea level rise, how erosion and loss of beaches will impact public access and how storm damage and flooding will impact the coast, she said.

It’s a “huge, complex challenge” with no easy solution, she said, adding people want their communities to look the way they always have.

“That’s inevitably going to be a huge challenge in the future for all of us,” she said.

Nutter has been around long enough to see how political wills can ebb and flow with who’s in power, saying that can play out in how the commission votes.

“The fact of the matter is, anytime you had a new commissioner come in, or taken out, the dynamic would change with the personalities,” he said. “For many years, all of the Coastal Commissioners served at the pleasure of their appointing powers, which means they could be removed at any time.”

These days, the commission has 12 voting members, appointed equally (four each) by the governor, the Senate Rules Committee, and the speaker of the assembly. Six of the voting commissioners are locally elected officials and six are appointed from the public.

When asked what the California coast would be like if the Coastal Act hadn’t been put in place 50 years ago, Huckelbridge said it would be “unrecognizable.”

In Honolulu, massive hotels and buildings line the coast. In New Jersey, you have to pay to go to the beach. In Florida, there are huge swaths of beach that are blocked off to public access.

“When you go to other coastlines around the world, and even within this country, you can see examples of what the California coast could have been,” said Amy Hutzel, executive director for the California State Coastal Conservancy.

The conservancy, created as a sister entity, is a non-regulatory coastal zone management agency that can help plan, design, purchase or grant land to become open space. It also turns 50 this year.

Through the years, there have been 500,000 acres conserved through land acquisitions and habitat restoration, such as wetlands and the California Coastal Trail, which runs from Oregon to Mexico, said Hutzel.

The conservancy has made its mark around Southern California. In 2001, it gave $2 million to help acquire Crystal Cove State Park, and more recently, it funded Crystal Cove Beach Cottage Restoration with nearly $30 million in grants.

In Newport Beach, the conservancy gave $11 million to the Trust for Public Land for the purchase of Banning Ranch, now known as the Randall Preserve, once planned as a big development but now dedicated open space.

It’s not just physical access, but also reducing barriers for anyone to enjoy the coast, such as ensuring affordable places to stay along the coast or adding beach wheelchairs for people with disabilities to enjoy a day at the beach.

The two groups together have forged 1,000 partnerships with nonprofits, public agencies, tribes and community groups and have restored 100,000 acres of coastal habitat. An estimated $2 billion has been invested in coastal conservation, restoration and climate resilience, officials said.

“It’s easy to imagine that the coast would not be a public resource; it could have been privatized and access to beaches or sections of the coast could have been not available for most people,” Hutzel said. “California has an iconic coast. It is a driver of our economy. People come to California to visit the coast, people who live in California love the coast. And it could have been very different.”