Beach Dwellers Face Loss of Their Bit of Paradise

As he looks out from his trailer terrace toward the Pacific Ocean, Joe Bevacqua finds it hard to contemplate losing what he considers his little piece of paradise.

The business executive has been out of work since January. He and his wife, Helen, live in a 1,500-square-foot double-wide trailer with five of their eight children in the El Morro Mobile Home Park along Coast Highway.

He is among the roughly 300 trailer owners who for relatively modest rents live in one of California’s most picturesque and expensive locales: the coastal bluffs between Newport Beach and Laguna Beach. The vast majority of El Morro residents pay between $300 and $700 a month in rent, with a few paying more than $800. “There’s a calm here that’s unbelievable,” Bevacqua said. “I think everyone should be able to see the dolphins, enjoy the sunsets.”

That’s exactly what will happen if the state Department of Parks and Recreation has its way. Under a plan that is the talk of El Morro, the state would force all the residents out by 2004 and transform the 1940s-era trailer park into a recreation area complete with picnic tables and campsites.

To state officials, the plan is an important step in giving the public more access to precious coastal land while getting the parks department out of the business of being a landlord.

But the prospect of losing their beach-side homes doesn’t sit well with Bevacqua and other El Morro residents, some of whom are fighting to stay where they are.

“You gotta pray a lot and ask the Lord for direction and hope they change their mind,” Bevacqua said. “If you want to make it more public, make it more public, but don’t destroy it.”

The looming battle over the future of the 10-acre El Morro property comes as the parks department is fighting a similar battle with residents of some historic cottages at nearby Crystal Cove State Park.

Like El Morro, the cottages were built and rented out when the Irvine family owned the ocean-side land. When the family sold it to the state, officials kept the leases going.

The cottages are on the National Register of Historic Places as the last intact example of a 1920s Southern California beach colony, but are showing their age.

The state originally planned to evict the residents and lease the cottages to a developer who would remake the buildings into a luxury resort. But after a public outcry, the state bought out the development contract and will restore the cottages on its own. The residents, however, must leave by July.

State officials said El Morro residents knew when they signed their leases in 1999 that there was no guarantee they would be allowed to stay past 2004. The leases generate about $1 million a year for the state, but Roy Stearns, a spokesman for the parks department, said the income is not as important as allowing the rest of the public to enjoy the site.

El Morro Village is a collection of 295 mobile homes on the beach and in the bluffs across Coast Highway. It’s a landmark of sorts for people driving along the coast, and inhabitants range from full-time residents like Bevacqua to doctors, lawyers and Central Valley farmers who use El Morro for weekend escapes.

Over the years, the homes have been transformed from tiny “travel trailers” into grand getaways. Most are now double-wide homes, several of them two stories.

Frank Todd’s home on the beach was an 8-by-40-foot pink trailer when he bought it in 1963. Now it’s a brown double-wide about 20 by 45 feet with an indoor Jacuzzi, a peaked hardwood ceiling and guest rooms.

But it’s the view that sets it apart from other mobile homes. The ocean is his backyard. A short distance to the left, waves crash against the base of a cliff that rises several hundred feet. To the right is an uninterrupted view to Reef Point about a mile away.

Todd, 72, rarely stays at El Morro. He keeps it mostly for an annual July 4 party he’s been throwing since he bought the trailer. Friends come in from around the country for the bash. Other than that, “I’m never here,” he said.

“But my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren use it frequently. They’re the ones who [would] lose out” if the state evicts him. “I’ve had mine.”

From his wood deck, Todd looks out at the view, leans back in his chair and smiles.

“Most people drive by and see these ticky-tacky houses and they have no concept of what’s down here,” he said.

“Whales come right up just beyond that wave,” he said, pointing to a spot a couple hundred yards offshore.

The excitement in his voice vanishes as he discusses the possible eviction.

“We’re going to do everything we can to maintain the lease, everything legal and proper to hold on,” he said.

Across the narrow street from Todd, Ed Haaker sips coffee on his porch and asks about the state’s plans. He’s a relative newcomer, buying a share of a home with his father and siblings a year ago.

Like everyone else, he fell in love with the area.

“This is probably the nicest beach in Southern California. . . . When you’re down here, you feel the rest of the world is behind you,” he said.

But at the same time he can’t easily block out the conflict with the state.

“This issue with the state is totally unfair,” he said. “There are some people who live here full time. There’s a human part of the situation” that the state should consider before evicting them.

State officials have been considering removal of the trailers since the early 1980s as part of a master plan for the Crystal Cove area. But the idea has taken on new urgency because parks officials now believe they can raise the $12 million needed to create the recreation area.

By next year, detailed plans for the campsite, parking lot and beach picnic grounds will be completed, officials said. If the plan is approved and the mobile homes are removed, work will begin on returning the area to its natural state, including removing the concrete channels along El Moro Creek to make it a scenic waterway that flows freely to the ocean. The state also intends to remove the paved roads and all septic tanks used by the mobile homes.

State officials said they sympathize with trailer owners, but added that the public would benefit from having more recreational space along the coast.

“This is a state park, and I don’t think state parks should be in the business of being landlords,” Stearns said in an interview last week. “It’s not private lands.”

But to many residents, it feels like home.