Published in the Charleston City Paper
By Shelia Watson
"It's the worst thing that could happen to
Johns Island since the Civil War." This reaction from Thomas Legare, Jr.,
to the question of I-526 making its way over to "God's Country" shows
how fiercely residents are willing to defend their piece of the earth these
days. Comparing it to the Late Unmentionable? It must be bad.
Legare, president of Legare Farms, a sod wholesaler,
has no room for ambivalence. "Basically I'm against any uncontrolled and
unwanted development," he says, although he admits "uncontrolled and
unwanted" are fairly loose terms.
Because he's in the sod business – providing that
lush green grass you see in new neighborhoods – Legare knows firsthand where
new development is happening. "I see the traffic patterns and I know where
the latest expansion is and what happens when it hits," he says.
"Just look at Mount Pleasant. When the Mark Clark got over there, it
suddenly started booming. We don't want that."
Legare isn't alone in this battle. Resistance to the
type of growth Mount Pleasant has experienced keeps Johns Islanders on the edge
of panic whenever the connector is mentioned.
Richard Kerr, president of the Rural Transportation
Alliance (RTA), says the prevailing attitude is "like that movie [Field of
Dreams] where Kevin Costner plowed under his corn to build a ball field – 'If
you build it, they will come.' " The solution, Kerr says, is simple: Don't
build the connector and they won't come.
Resistance fighters
The fight
against the connector is not the first time Johns Islanders have been in the
ring against progress. The RTA has been kept busy over the years holding back
the tide of development. With a core group of 12 people meeting monthly (and as
needed), the not-for-profit organization has roughly 4,000 supporters, mostly
residents of Johns Island, although some West Ashley residents have offered
support. The group's overall mission is to turn up the volume on the topic of
preserving Johns Island's rural character. Members attend CHATS meetings,
County Council meetings and other gatherings where development on the island
may be discussed.
Six years ago
the RTA was formed as a grass-roots networking effort responding to the
proposed cross-island expressway, which would run from Maybank Highway to the
Betsy Kerrison Parkway near Kiawah. Kerr recalls the impetus for organizing the
group.
"Joe Riley
called a town meeting to talk about how the city was creeping onto the island,
to reassure everyone about that," he says. "I kept looking at this
map on the wall that showed a solid red line running from Maybank down to
Kiawah. I asked what it was and they told me not to worry about it. 'It's just
a line on a piece of paper,' they told me. I didn't like that they weren't even
dealing with the question."
At various
meetings over the course of several years, Kerr continued to fire the question
at Kiawah representatives and at city, county and state officials. The city
hired consultants to study the situation. Not to be outdone, the RTA hired
their own consultants for rebuttal. After months of combat, the RTA won out and
the line on the map was erased. But the line in the sand was drawn.
Defining rural
Recently the county proposed a half-cent sales tax
with part of the proceeds going to help preserve the rural character of several
areas in the county, including Johns Island. However, growth management isn't
as easy as it looks. With the county ducks apparently not quite in a row yet,
the proposal is scheduled to be hammered out in a few more meetings before
deciding whether it can get on the ballot in November.
In the meantime, it would help to have
"rural" defined. Noting the word's negative connotation, Kerr says,
"When you talk about a rural area, you're basically talking about dirt.
And there's a philosophy out there that says the only thing dirt is good for is
to build on it. I don't agree with that. I need to dig in the dirt. I need to
grow things."
John Hendricks, CEO of Carolina Southern Properties,
sees no harm in building on that dirt, but his solution is to place fewer
people onto the land. "We try to work with Johns Island to preserve the
rural character," he says. "What we do to help out is reduce the
density in the areas we develop. For instance, the Grimball Gates community can
allow 180 units, but we're building only 119. And I gave up a piece of property
– 60 acres near Churchill Landing – because it was zoned to be three and a half
units per acres. I'd rather put one unit on three acres."
Hendricks bought 32 acres on River Road a few weeks
ago and will start development by the end of the year. Zoned for 122 homes,
they plan to build 89 homes there. "We're giving up some profit, but we'd
rather do this to help control the density."
A desire to help control the density may seem to be
a kind, humanitarian effort, but it's also good business. Hendricks regularly
seeks the opinion of Johns Island residents when he begins developing a
community. "We don't want to rape the island, and I'm not here to fight
with anybody," he asserts. "Anything [the Johns Island residents]
want us to do, we generally do. They wanted a different fence at Grimball
Gates. It cost $200,000 for that fence, but we think it'll be an
improvement."
Not only will it be an improvement, but it will
probably prove less expensive than a legal fight with a community that is by
and large opposed to what he does for a living.
April Bates, a sales agent for Dunes Properties,
also makes her living dealing with expansion on Johns Island. "Inevitably,
some growth is going to happen, and it's okay as long as it's done
tastefully," she insists. "It can't be just about money. I like to
see progress, but I'd like to see it done the right way, conserving the overall
natural beauty."
Recognizing the inevitability of growth while
struggling against that very growth is the tightrope many islanders are
walking. John Blitch, whose property goes back several generations, would like
to see Johns Island remain rural, "but I know that's an impossibility. I'd
like to see controlled growth, not any kind of fast expansion. Really, we just
want things to remain the same around here. You make a choice on where you live
and the qualify of life you choose."
Who's afraid of the big bad "P"?
Quality of life is a phrase you hear a lot when the
conversation turns to Johns Island, almost as an incantation to ward off
progress – a case of wishful thinking at best.
"Progress is going to happen on Johns
Island," says Hendricks. "You can't stop it."
That may be true, but you can certainly outline it,
study it, refute it and build your defense against it, especially if you can
point to another community whose growth has become a challenge.
"In Mount Pleasant, in their plans, in their
meetings and even in their vocabulary, they're starting to use the phrase
'building moratorium.' Gee, I wonder why," marvels Kerr. "They're
realizing that they've made some mistakes in letting things get built up so
fast. We don't want to be like that."
It would be easy enough to protest the assumption
that Johns Island would ever become Mount Pleasant. On the other hand, Mount
Pleasant was probably never planned to be what it is today either.
John Hempton, an island resident for more than 60
years, also views Mount Pleasant as the model for what not to do. "Look at
the bypass in Mount Pleasant. It's built up so much that it's busier than
Coleman – and it's supposed to be the fast way through that town."
Watching the island's growth from his home on the
Bohicket River, Hempton believes it's a slow-growing cancer. "Twenty years
ago, there were five docks between here and Seabrook. I'll bet there are 200
today."
Hempton also points to one of the most turbulent
issues regarding development on the island. "These developers put in
upscale subdivisions, and they tell us it'll push our property values up,"
he says. "But all that does is make my taxes go up. A higher property
value is good only if I'm selling. And I'm not selling."
In her real estate deals, Bates has witnessed some of
that turbulence firsthand. Having grown up on the island, she says that working
with development in that area is "a tough place to be. To be honest, I've
been in meetings where deep down I've wanted to be on the other side of the
room, supporting those who don't want growth."
The main argument against growth, however, revolves
around the I-526 connector. Kerr is one of the most outspoken on the topic, and
for good reason: His property is on the very spot I-526 would come across.
"I'm not standing in the way. I'm not saying, 'Hey, DOT, you can't build
your connector.' But I don't think anyone realizes the sheer size of this
thing." With a clear view of the marsh and the Stono River, he dreads the
day he'll be faced with a scenic view of gargantuan concrete pillars.
"It's going to be an eyesore," he mourns. "I'm going to hate
looking at that every day."
The trouble with paradise
The residents make a good case for controlled
growth. Still, the question begs to be asked: Is increased property values
(even with accompanying higher taxes), busier waterways, ugly scenery and an
overwhelming desire not to be Mount Pleasant sufficient grounds for protesting
progress that everyone acknowledges will come? How sacred is preservation?
Sacred is an appropriate description. Pick a road,
any road, on Johns Island and see if you can drive more than a mile before
passing trees alongside the highway decorated with crosses and floral
arrangements.
Despite his willingness to bend to the
preservationist mindset, Hendricks points to Johns Island's roadways as the one
area he would change if he could. "I don't agree with how the roads are
built on Johns Island," he says. "I mean, I love trees as much as
anybody. I even bought a tree spade just to relocate trees on the properties
I'm developing. But these trees are killing people out here. You drive down
Bohicket Road and see how narrow it is and think about how many people have
been killed on that road. It just doesn't make sense."
Hempton agrees. "These were originally built to
be farm-to-market roads, and at that time, they were adequate to handle the
traffic," he says. "But there is simply too much traffic on the roads
now. I remember when Bohicket Road was dirt and you didn't see a car all day.
Now it takes me 15 minutes to get out of my driveway in the morning."
Another challenge is how and when to replace the
island's two bridges. Both are draw bridges and both have been determined
inadequate. In fact, the Stono is the only bridge between Hilton Head and
Georgetown that doesn't have a curfew – meaning it can be opened at any time
for boat traffic, causing those long lines going on and off the island. Until
the bridges are replaced, implementing a curfew on the Stono would alleviate
some of the traffic. And, unlike the prospect of the I-526 connector, building
fixed span replacements has been met with general acceptance.
"The fixed span is pretty much a done
deal," says Legare. "And we all know that [the Stono and Limehouse]
bridges need to be replaced. We don't have a problem with that."
Holding back progress that is itching to happen is a
serious challenge for the residents, but an even bigger challenge may be
maintaining its rural charm without insulting people who have chosen to buy
into that charm.
A 10-year resident (and relative newcomer), Dr.
Arnold Hite objects to the RTA's bumper sticker ("Johns Island: Rural
Forever"). "When I see that bumper sticker, I'm personally
offended," he says. "It looks like they're saying they don't want me
here. It's a statement against an individual's choice to move to this
community."
The good news is that even while homebuyers flock to
purchase a piece of paradise, there seems to be ample time to work on a better
public image. Considering the dogged determination of the residents and the
watchdog efforts of the RTA, it's unlikely Johns Island will turn into Mount
Pleasant any time soon. With plans for the I-526 connector currently stalled by
funding shortfalls, residents can breathe a sigh of relief. For a while.
And if the unthinkable happens and progress
accelerates? Well, they made it through the Late Unmentionable and the I-526
scare … so far. And there's always hallowed tradition to fall back on: Do I
hear a motion to secede from the county?