COVER STORY : A Building Consensus : Preservationists Succeed in Limiting Development in Whittier

Michael Sullens didn’t rate a call from the mayor of Whittier in 1987 when city leaders frowned on his plans to demonstrate against the demolition of local historic buildings. The carpet store owner got a call, instead, from the sister-in-law of an ex-City Council member, who told him that protests were unacceptable because they made the city look bad.

Helen McKenna-Rahder, a homemaker, was accorded even less respect when she complained to the City Council that officials were approving development projects that were ruining neighborhoods. On at least one occasion, city officials told her to be quiet and sit down.

But neither Sullens nor McKenna-Rahder backed away.

They marched in the streets, studied redevelopment and zoning laws, and poured over meeting agendas. They vowed to preserve Whittier as a village-like town of historic buildings, tree-lined streets, wood-framed bungalows, and stretches of undeveloped ridges and canyons in the hills nearby. They and like-minded residents came to be called preservationists.

At first, they fought City Hall and lost. Ultimately they gained control of the City Council and changed its direction.

McKenna-Rahder and ally Bob Henderson, who runs an insurance company, won election to the five-member City Council in 1990. Two years later they were joined by preservationists Sullens and Allan P. Zolnekoff, a utility company planner. Shortly after, retired school board member Janet Henke--who frequently, though not always, sides with the other council preservationists--replaced Larry Haendiges, who resigned because of personal problems.

In two years the council turned over 100%, shed 20 years from its average age and installed a new philosophy in City Hall. The “good old boys,” as McKenna-Rahder called them, were out. Last week, Sullens, at 39, became the youngest mayor in memory. Henke, at 61, is currently the oldest council member.

The new council members have worked to preserve old buildings and turn away developers seeking to erect apartments in hundred-year-old neighborhoods. They kept new houses off undeveloped hillsides and purchased land to create a wilderness park. Developers who wanted to build strip malls with scant parking and no landscaping were told to go back to the drawing board.

The preservationist-controlled council challenged an established Southern California orthodoxy: that new is good, bigger is better, and development is inevitable, unalterable and right.

If not for this change in perspective, “there wouldn’t be any wildlife habitat up in the hills,” said Zolnekoff, who is 40. “There would be more apartments with transient populations and more crime and gangs, more mini-malls with stop-and-rob stores on every corner.”

Some skeptics, however, aren’t sure the city is particularly better off.

Critics have referred to the preservationists as business haters, tree huggers, and even communists. The council has been accused of chasing away needed business development and infringing upon the rights of property owners. Critics say the council has focused too narrowly on preservation issues such as opposing development in the Whittier Hills, an area that is largely privately owned and outside city limits and jurisdiction.

Some of the criticism has taken root. Although voters returned two incumbents to office earlier this month, McKenna-Rahder, 42, lost her bid for reelection to challenger Greg Nordbak, who had accused the council of being anti-business.

But even without McKenna-Rahder, the preservationists remain firmly in control and dedicated to causes born in the rubble of the devastating earthquake that struck Whittier on the morning of Oct. 1, 1987.

The temblor, measuring at magnitude 5.9 on the Richter scale, destroyed 34 buildings and damaged 23 others, affecting about 140 businesses in the central business district, known as Uptown. In all, more than 5,000 Whittier homes and businesses suffered an estimated $90 million in damage.

Hit especially hard were the neighborhoods on the perimeter of Uptown and neighboring Whittier College. Residents consider these areas some of the most charming in this town of 80,000.

These tree-lined streets were home to the first white settlers of Whittier, a Quaker settlement founded in 1887. A handful of farmhouses date from the late-1800s. The neighborhoods also include Victorian-style homes, houses based on designs by renowned architects Greene and Greene, and rows of Craftsman-style one- and two-story wooden bungalows.

Change swept down upon these quiet streets in the aftermath of the quake.

Many homeowners lacked adequate insurance or savings to pay for repairs, and some ultimately sold their damaged houses to investors who razed the properties to make way for apartments.

Even before the quake, apartment houses were rising in some of these areas because such construction was allowed under city zoning regulations. The earthquake accelerated the process. In 1986, before the quake, developers received city permits to build 33 apartment complexes with a total of 169 rental units. By 1989, those numbers had risen to 45 complexes and 323 units.

Many, though not all, of these units replaced houses. From 1984 to 1986, 99 homes were demolished. Over the next three years, 188 homes were demolished.

Retirees Jack C. and Helen N. Lowe, who live on Dorland Street west of Uptown, watched with alarm as neighbors across the street and behind their house sold their damaged homes to apartment developers. They envisioned their two-bedroom wooden bungalow being gradually hemmed in by apartments and condominiums.

“The quake destroyed so many beautiful homes,” Jack Lowe said. “The developers said, ‘We’ll give you $50,000 for your busted-up house,’ and a lot of people didn’t have the money to fix their homes, so they took it.”

The Lowes already were living next to an apartment house that had been erected before the earthquake but years after the Lowes bought their 68-year-old home in the mid-1960s. The apartment house, a rectangular, two-story stucco box with bare aluminum window frames, runs from one side of its lot to the other, towers over the Lowes’ back yard and blocks the sunlight that used to stream through their large kitchen window.

“Now I have to turn on the light in the kitchen if I want to see anything,” Helen Lowe said.

The Lowes also were troubled by changes beyond their street, such as the demolition of the historic Whittier Theater. A former dancer, Helen had performed on the stage of the once-grand movie house, which was built in 1929 and featured live acts between the silent films. She felt that city officials, overzealous to rebuild, were scrapping the city’s heritage, erasing the charm and history that set Whittier apart from newer, blander communities nearby.

By chance, the Lowes met McKenna-Rahder, and found that she shared their concerns. McKenna-Rahder said she learned that investors had bought or planned to buy many of the single-family homes on Dorland Street.

“They were going to put 56 rental units on that small street,” McKenna-Rahder said. “Two cars can’t even fit by each other on that street. I couldn’t stand the injustice.”

McKenna-Rahder joined with Sullens, who had recently co-founded the Whittier Conservancy, a group dedicated to saving historic buildings.

They took their complaints directly to City Hall--and were pretty much ignored at first.

“I really think (the city staff and council) treated that whole conservancy group as though they were a lunatic fringe,” said Bea Comini, a community volunteer.

The City Council at that time consisted of older, accomplished, well-connected local businessmen. For them, serving on the council was an ultimate form of community service, achieved after years of belonging to the Chamber of Commerce and the boards of local charities and service organizations. They interfered little in day-to-day city business, which they left in the hands of no-nonsense City Manager Tom Mauk.

“I remember going to the podium and saying, ‘Excuse me, I think we have a little problem with the zoning,’ ” McKenna-Rahder said in her farewell remarks before leaving the council this month. “I think Tom said something like, ‘It’s OK, she’ll go away.’

“I came back the next week with 200 people and Tom said, ‘I don’t think she’s going away.’ ”

The group gained a significant ally in Bob Henderson. He has most of the traditional credentials for leadership in Whittier, a town that boasts of being the boyhood home of Richard Nixon. Five generations of Hendersons have lived or worked in Whittier. His insurance agency is based in town. Henderson, who just turned 54, had served two council terms previously before temporarily retiring from local government.

But there he was, agreeing with McKenna-Rahder. In 1990, both ran successfully for the City Council and began to set the city’s agenda.

The holdover council members were open to compromise. And many preservationist initiatives, including stricter development standards, won council approval before the preservationist majority took over.

At new strip malls, for example, compact parking spaces became illegal. Developers were directed to install a tree for every six parking spaces, and the trees had to be large enough to offer shade. The council also required at least 20 feet of landscaping between the street and the development.

The council limited apartment complexes on the typical city lot to a maximum of three rental units. In the early 1970s, by contrast, the city allowed 11 apartments on the same 50-by-140-foot lots.

In 1992, with the arrival of a preservationist majority, the council took on the blueprint of the city’s future, called the General Plan. The old plan represented the best thinking of the early 1960s. It called for a city center surrounded and patronized by apartment dwellers. Under this vision, prosperous homeowners would move to the planned neighborhoods and wealthy enclaves in east Whittier.

The preservationists said the old approach was flawed. They noted that longtime residents who lived near the city center liked their neighborhoods and enjoyed living within walking distance of a village-like downtown. These residents did not want to make way for apartments, and many could not afford to.

The council directed city staff to redraw city zoning maps, blocking construction of large apartment complexes in neighborhoods of single-family homes.

“We put a halt to cramming five families where there used to be one, placing a large shoe-box apartment where there used to be a house, squeezing in 10 cars where there used to be two and 10 toilets where there used to be one,” McKenna-Rahder said. “When you take an existing area, bulldoze it and put in five times as much development, you’ve impacted your sewer, your water supply, your streets, your schools and the police department.”

Said Henderson: “The highest density areas, the ones where the city allowed the worst of the apartments, are exactly our highest crime areas.”

Under the preservationist majority, development standards have become even more strict and more subjective--affecting remodeled dwellings as well as new construction and governing the treatment of windows, driveways, outdoor stairwells and outer walls.

“If somebody comes in and wants to redo their windows, we require them to show us a photograph of the existing windows,” said Michael Burnham, Whittier’s assistant planning director. “If the old windows have individual panes, we require that the window that goes in has to be divided in some way too.”

And an owner who wants to stucco his wood-frame bungalow had better think twice.

Property manager Jerry Morgan had already surrounded his apartment building with wire--the first step in a stucco job--when he learned that the council would not go along. The council ordered Morgan to revert to wood siding, even though the two adjacent apartments had been covered with stucco long ago. He estimated that problems with the city cost him about $15,000 and delayed his project four to five months.

“I told them I would never try to rehabilitate another complex in Whittier again. The council has not been business-friendly,” said Morgan, who appeared in the council chambers last week to cheer the swearing in of council critic Nordbak.

Nordbak, 42, owner of a trophy manufacturing company, has chastised the council for, among other things, postponing action on an apartment owner’s request to erect a six-foot chain-link fence around his property.

The owner said the fence would help protect his tenants from burglars, gang members and drug addicts. But city regulations allow no fences higher than 3-feet, 6-inches in front yards, and chain-link is prohibited. Council members resisted making an exception because they said the fence would make the apartment look like a jail. A better solution would be to find ways to solve the crime problem, the council said.

Nordbak supporters such as Selma Minerd said the city is turning away from the preservationists. “They’ve put all kinds of restrictions on the business community,” she said. “Without a healthy business climate, the town is going to deteriorate.”

Nothing draws more steam from the preservationist council members than this sort of criticism. They point out that Uptown, the city center, has more thriving businesses now than before the earthquake. Of the 23 Uptown commercial buildings that were badly damaged, 22 have been repaired. Buildings now sit on 19 of the 34 lots left vacant by the quake. And retail sales exceed pre-earthquake levels. New businesses have moved in, including farmers markets, sidewalk cafes, coffee shops, bookstores, art galleries, upscale pool-table parlors and restaurants.

Apartment construction, however, has declined dramatically, partly because of the recession. Last year, the city issued permits for six apartment buildings with 33 units. A handful of commercial lots also sit vacant, including the site of the Whittier Theater, where the owner had once intended to build a strip mall.

“Everybody’s in favor of quality development,” said former mayor Lee Strong, a critic of the council preservationists. “But there has to be a little flexibility. Some of the new standards leave some corner lots practically undevelopable.”

Additionally, the council is working to create a 4,000-acre wilderness park in the undeveloped hills that stretch to the north and east of town.

Councilman Henderson was the driving force behind an agreement that will accrue funds to purchase parkland in the Whittier-Puente Hills system. Trash haulers must pay $1 into the fund for every ton of trash dumped into the nearby Puente Hills Landfill. The arrangement, which took effect earlier this year, is expected to generate about $3.75 million a year.

In addition, the council, with the assistance of state Sen. Frank Hill (R-Whittier), successfully applied for $17.3 million in park bond money. The council recently purchased 76 acres for $600,000. Other purchases are being negotiated. Critics said they would prefer to see some of the money used to improve existing city parks.

For Jack and Helen Lowe, however, the preservationists arrived just in time. Near their home along narrow Dorland Street are three apartment or condominium complexes. Although one development blocks their view of the Whittier Hills, quaint Craftsman-style bungalows still stretch along most of their street. And the new zoning laws are designed to keep it that way.

Jack Lowe scoffed at critics of the preservationists. “I can’t see where they’ve taken away property rights at all,” he said. “What about my property rights? This street would have been a disaster if they hadn’t stopped the apartments.

“We’re going to stay here till we get carried out in a box. We see no reason to go anyplace else.”

Major Whittier City Council Initiatives, 1990 to 1994:

1990

* Approved stricter development standards for strip malls.

* Reduced the number of apartments allowed per lot and required more parking and other amenities.

* Established a program to guarantee repayment of low-interest construction loans made to local businesses.

1991

* Rejected a proposal to build homes in undeveloped Worsham Canyon on the northeastern edge of Whittier.

* Authorized a crackdown on illegal apartments that led to the dismantling of 234 converted garages and other units. Required landlords to pay for tenants’ relocation costs.

* Added seven police officers, increasing the size of the Police Department to 93 officers.

* Began an ongoing effort to add pedestrian seating areas and improve parking in the Uptown shopping area.

1992

* Negotiated for more than $17 million in park bond funds.

1993

* Passed anti-graffiti ordinances establishing sterner punishments, a reward fund for tipsters and mandatory participation by business owners in anti-graffiti efforts.

* Approved a new development blueprint designed to preserve neighborhoods of single-family homes.

1994

* Spent $600,000 of park bond money to purchase 76 acres of undeveloped land in the Whittier Hills.

* Negotiated a plan that allots $1 for parkland purchase for every ton of waste dumped at the Puente Hills Landfill. Fee is expected to raise $3.75 million a year.

Source: Whittier city officials and city documents.

Whittier

Population: 80,000

Founded: 1887 by Quakers

Location: about 20 miles east of Downtown Los Angeles; south of the 60 Freeway, east of the 605 Freeway.

Geography: The city is nestled against a branch of the Whittier-Puente Hills.

Commerce: The main commercial districts are along Whittier Boulevard and in the historic city center, which is called Uptown.

Education: Whittier College, adjacent to Uptown.

Major Issue: What kind of limits to place on commercial development, the construction of apartments and the building of homes in undeveloped portions of the Whittier Hills.