The Legacy of the Pacific Coast Club: ‘Cruel Lesson’ : Critics Say Its Loss May Have Changed Renewal Priorities Forever

There is a wound that won’t heal along Ocean Boulevard.

It has been nearly 18 months since the wrecking ball took the Pacific Coast Club, one of this city’s most elegant landmarks, to make way for a $40-million condominium tower. But not a stone has been laid in the foundation of the trendy high-rise that was supposed to ease the loss of the 62-year-old castle by the sea.

Indeed, the nonprofit Minnesota-based corporation that had posted the money for the project pulled out months ago and the real estate is about to be sold to a group of Japanese investors, developer Rob Bellevue said.

And the vacant land that has sat idle for so many months is less a testament to sensible modernization than a reminder of the “cruel lesson” preservationists and city officials say they learned when the city lost a piece of its stately past.

“I think it’s a disgrace,” preservationist Renee Simon fumed.

“It just makes me want to weep,” Planning Commissioner Nancy Latimer said.

There are at least a dozen accounts of what went wrong in the long fight to save a club that virtually no one wanted destroyed, the once-private enclave featuring oak beams and chandeliers where the city’s elite gathered to swim and dine.

Some blame the preservationists who bickered over pulling down part of the building to save the rest. Some blame the developer who secured the demolition permit when the city denied his plans to turn part of the club into a seaside hotel. Some blame the nearby Villa Riviera residents who groused that the hotel would have ruined their view. And some blame city officials who quibbled over legalities when time was running out.

A Slap in the Face for City

All sides agree, however, that the loss of the Pacific Coast Club and the similar demise of the historic Jergin’s Trust Building was a slap in the face for the city of Long Beach and may have changed its redevelopment priorities forever.

“It took the demolition of those two buildings to wake the citizens of Long Beach up,” said Douglas W. Otto, chairman of the Coalition to Preserve Historic Long Beach. “We learned through the Pacific Coast Club that the community cares about its past and is willing to go to some lengths to preserve it.”

The old club’s future looked grim almost from the day it was abandoned in 1970. A teen-aged boy plunged to his death exploring its decaying insides and its owner went bankrupt.

Then John Chenoweth took his first look at the towering old building and “fell in love.” Chenoweth, the executive director of the Minneapolis Employees Retirement Fund, said the nonprofit corporation had a social conscience, a billion dollars to invest and an urge to restore a landmark.

When it became economically impossible to save the entire club, developers created plans for a bluff-side hotel and condominium complex that would have saved some of the most elegant rooms from the bulldozer, he said.

Chenoweth flew to Long Beach in the spring of 1987 to present to the city his group’s plan to salvage a once-stunning piece of architecture. What he said he found, however, was a frenzy of politicking over the building’s fate, a City Council meeting that ran “like a kangaroo court” and city officials who behaved “like a bunch of Neanderthals.”

“We weren’t just some out-of-towners out to make some fast money and move on. We were out to make a commitment to that community,” Chenoweth, still miffed, said. “But the city of Long Beach did nothing to preserve and protect the historic old building it had there. Not only did they do nothing, they made life very difficult for those of us trying to do something. We were between a rock and a hard place.”

At an all-night meeting in May, 1987, city officials rejected the plan to build a 200-suite hotel, 100 condominiums and several restaurants around the the low-rise portion of the Pacific Coast Club.

“If anyone should be hung on the tree for a lack of regard for historic preservation, it’s Mayor Ernie (Kell),” said Chenoweth, a former state senator from Minnesota. “He was biased, he lacked basic courtesies and quite frankly, he exhibited the lowest standards of democratic procedures.”

Officials Claim No Choice

Kell could not be reached for his response. But other city officials say there was no choice but to reject the hotel proposal that would have spilled onto coastal land controlled by the state, obstructed views and set a bad precedent for beach development.

“You can’t put a private hotel on the beach. You just can’t do that,” said Robert Paternoster, director of planning and building. “We told them all along that even if the City Council approved it, it would get turned down by the (state) Coastal Commission.”

When the hotel plan died at the council meeting that night, the Minneapolis Employees Retirement Fund’s enthusiasm died with it. “We just want to close the book on Long Beach and on that mayor,” Chenoweth said bitterly in a recent interview.

Developer Rob Bellevue said he worked for nearly another year with the city and local preservationists to find a way to save the club. Every month it cost $130,000 to maintain and guard the abandoned building around the clock.

“You’re forcing me to be the executioner of the Pacific Coast Club, and it is something I do not want to be,” Bellevue then warned the city.

It seemed everyone wanted to save the building, but no one could agree on the way to do it. On April 26, 1988, the wrecking ball swung. It took a full month to bring the building down. A few chandeliers and column heads in the city’s storage yard are all that remain today.

It wasn’t until several months after the club was gone that Bellevue discovered the Minnesota investors had no interest in funding a modern high-rise built at the expense of history, the developer said.

All plans stood still while Bellevue searched for new backers. He said he has been negotiating for several months with a Japanese corporation he will not identify and a sale is about 60 days from closing.

If all goes well, Bellevue said, construction is set to begin within six months on a 16-story, Spanish-style condominium with a tile roof. The new investors are talking about marketing the units in Japan.

Tougher Law Discussed

In the days since the club was razed, the city has taken up the cause of historic preservation. Ruthann Lehrer was named Neighborhood and Historic Preservation Officer. City officials and preservationists are discussing a tougher law requiring developers to demonstrate that they have the financing and permits before a historic building can be demolished.

“We’ve learned to preserve a landmark while it’s hot, to work together or lose it. We must be careful never to let this happen again,” Lehrer said.

Meanwhile, the scarred land glares from Ocean Boulevard, a grim reminder of what might have been avoided. City leaders can only wonder whether a solution would have presented itself had the club been left standing these past 18 months.

“Any development project exists in a moment in time. Markets change, public perceptions change,” preservationist Otto said. “Who is to say if the Pacific Coast Club were still there in a more mature market that someone couldn’t find a way to save it? But it’s not there anymore. In the moment in time that existed, we did the best we could.”