Hansen: Live-work naysayers, back off

It resembled a midterm election rally in the old Boom Boom Room: red balloons, smooth jazz, refreshments and heavy-duty political talk.

But instead of election maps on the walls, there was art.

Artist Louis Longi invited people to an event March 14 to gather signatures supporting his live-work project in Laguna Canyon. The issue is supposed to go before the City Council on April 1.

What started last year as a routine 30-unit live-work housing proposal has turned into a heated battle, pitting some neighbors against Longi. A few have complained about potential traffic, the building’s size and compatibility with the surrounding environment.

As a result, Longi and architect Horst Noppenberger have made some adjustments, which satisfied the Planning Commission. Nevertheless, debate continues, including rather nasty letters to local media.

It’s become a common refrain in Laguna Beach. If you don’t like something — even if it abides by the rules — squeak that wheel loud enough until the City Council cries uncle.

In most cases, it’s not hard to do.

“The council members are saying, ‘Make sure you have more numbers than the squeaky wheels,’” Longi said. “That’s crazy. The squeaky wheels are the same squeaky wheels every single time. Let’s call them out.”

Longi admits that he’s in a difficult position with the council because his vote is coming up. He doesn’t want to say anything to jeopardize his standing.

But this is not how projects should fall into place. Longi has played by the rules. It’s his land and a good use for the zoning.

What’s interesting to me is that the opponents are using the “rural” card, saying the project is out of character for the canyon.

Have you been in the canyon lately?

Let’s ignore for a minute the fake cow rugs that are sold on the site during the weekends like a bad swap meet.

The few residences nearby include imposing fortresses — literally. One compound has 8-foot-high solid walls surrounding the entire property.

Right next to Longi’s land is every sort of business you can imagine: commercial koi ponds, a landscaper, a small apartment, a barking-dog ranch, a Hindu temple and an animal hospital.

But wait, there’s more.

Just a couple hundred yards down the road, there’s Laguna Self Storage, a massive, nearly 50,000-square-foot block of concrete.

While all of these businesses are fine, useful establishments, this is not some quaint, “rural” Laguna Beach with apple harvest tours and pony rides.

This is the worst kind of not-in-my-backyard protectionism.

“Where does it say in the standards, ‘It’s OK for you guys but not me?’” Longi asked, bemoaning the double standards that he has had to endure. “You guys bought houses next to a commercial property. I have a right to do what the code says.”

Longi has tried to reach out to the neighbors, but it hasn’t worked out.

“Everyone has this entitlement that I have to go talk to them,” he said. “I’ve had three neighborhood meetings. The homeowners association never took the time to come over. And then they’re saying I’m not reaching out to them? What am I supposed to do? Design it by their needs and wants?”

Longi doesn’t have to design it to any standard other than his own, as long as he adheres to the city’s specifications.

“This is designed by an artist, built by an artist for artists,” he said. “Don’t come in here and tell me how to design it how you live.”

If the City Council decides to limit Longi’s vision by downsizing the project or otherwise making it impossible for him to have a viable operation, it will send a terrible message to responsible developers.

Where in the “open for business” slogan does it say: “Open for business — unless some people protest.”

Laguna Canyon, while rich in history, is not some idyllic planning oasis. It always has been a quirky smorgasbord of humanity. No one has the right to say something doesn’t belong here because everything belongs.

And if it doesn’t belong, it doesn’t matter because it was grandfathered in a long time ago.

At least Longi’s project will look nice, which is a far cry from most of the structures we have now.

“Your greatest asset is sometimes your worst enemy,” Longi said. “Our greatest asset is we’re a small community, and we want to stay small. But then that’s also the thing that will kill us because then we don’t allow it to grow and expand when it needs to.”

The only thing we need to change in Laguna Beach is the witch-hunt mentality that plagues nearly every project.

It’s time the villagers put down their stakes.

DAVID HANSEN is a writer and Laguna Beach resident. He can be reached at davidhansen@yahoo.com.