In Texas: Building Castles on the Sand

By WALTER ISAACSON

Gently but relentlessly, the waves of the Gulf of Mexico pound the powdery white sand of the barrier reef off Texas' coast. The clear green water, and the silt and sand it has deposited over the centuries, created Padre Island, and have made it an increasingly popular vacation paradise. Yet what the waves have given, they are now taking away. Gently but relentlessly, Padre Island seems to be falling into the sea.

Most of the bow-shaped island, stretching 100 miles from the Mexican border to Corpus Christi, is either undeveloped dunes or federally protected national seashore. But at the island's southern tip is South Padre Island, a town of 700 permanent residents and, on weekends, as many as 50,000 sun seekers. Only 20 miles from Mexico via the causeway to Brownsville, South Padre has a comparable latitude--and, partisans assert, a more congenial climate--than Miami. Says former Mayor John Austin, a retired Marine Corps major and avid fisherman: "I really think the possibilities here are unlimited." Not surprisingly, the town is alive with the sound of bulldozers, and spanking new condominiums are sprouting like dune grass. Eight buildings with 306 condominium units are under construction, and 116 more units are on the way. "We're on the grow," boasts City Manager Kirby Lilljedahl. "We had $8 million in new construction last year, and 1979 could well double that."

Of all South Padre's assets, the greatest is its beach, wide and powdery, running from the sprouting condominiums to the sea. In Texas, unlike many resort areas, the beaches belong to the people. A person may own land to the water's edge but may not fence offer build on the beach itself. Virtually everybody in South Padre supports that concept. Says Lilljedahl: "Without these fine beaches for people to use, we're nothing but a pile of sand."

Along these fine beaches, on a glorious spring weekend with the temperature well over the April average of 74DEG, there was the usual invasion of fraternity T shirts, beer chests and Frisbees, along with the reddening student bodies that came with them. There were young families from Texas and Oklahoma, and from as far away as Colorado. There was the weekly jetload of Canadians brought by Suntours of Toronto. And there was room enough in the sun for them all.

But coastal erosion is a national problem; one-quarter of the nation's shores are suffering serious erosion, and a number of resort areas, such as Miami Beach, have been ravaged. Padre is no exception. "The shoreline of South Padre Island has been retreating at least since the late 1800s," wrote University of Texas Geologist Robert Morton in a 1975 report. "At many points, rates of erosion increased between 1960 and 1969, with parts of the island experiencing extreme erosion." Separate studies last year by the state's general land office and researchers at Texas A & M University confirmed the problem.

The construction in 1935 of jetties at the mouth of the Rio Grande, at the very southern tip of the island, has paid off with some local accumulation of sand. The southern half of the town's developed area, which includes a large Hilton hotel and condominiums, currently has no problems with erosion. But just a mile up the road, where much of the new development is taking place, the island is getting smaller and smaller. In the past century, according to the Texas bureau of economic geology, the land disappeared at an average rate of 12 ft. a year.

If nothing can be done to stop the erosion, the wide swath of beach that makes Padre a paradise will be the first victim. Then the sprouting condominiums, sold to sun-loving families from across the country, could themselves be endangered.

So last May the state attorney general's office "descended" on the town, as some locals put it, and began forcing developers to build farther back from the sea. Previously, buildings had been allowed as close as 200 ft. from the water. Now construction can take place only up to the line where natural vegetation meets the beach. This strict enforcement of the state's open beaches law has led to heated disputes over where the nebulous vegetation line actually lies. Says Lilljedahl: "It's been a state of chaos."

Former Mayor Austin, who is now a local real estate broker, describes what happened when he went with an assistant state attorney general to a site bought by a Canadian developer. "I was standing more than 200 ft. from the water. I thought this was the point we could start building. But this young fuzzy-cheeked assistant A.G. was way up in the dunes, maybe 30 ft. behind me. 'What the hell you doing up there?' I asked. He says, 'I'm looking for the vegetation line.' "

The developer was not allowed to build as close to the sea as he had planned. Most developers wish the state would simply decree a building line. But the attorney general's office insists that because the shoreline is eroding, it is impossible to establish a permanent line, and developers should be kept as far back from the water as the law dictates.

James Marston, 26, a lanky, soft-spoken Texas native who graduated from New York University Law School, is the "fuzzy-cheeked" nemesis assigned by the attorney general's office to South Padre Island. Says he: "The people who come here and buy land or condominium units don't really know what the apparent dangers are from erosion or hurricanes. Some developers are farsighted enough to protect both the general public and their buyers, but others seem only concerned with making a fast buck and getting out."

As Marston walks along the beach, he points out a sea wall, once well back from the water, now torn apart by the waves. His office tries to work out accommodations with builders who have encroached on the beach or who find the receding beach threatening their structures. "We're not into tearing down expensive buildings," says Marston. "We try to negotiate equitable arrangements. In two instances where we felt developers were building too close to the sea and encroaching on public beach, we had them buy adjoining lots and donate them for public use, rather than forcing them to demolish their investments."

One adversary of the state's protective urge does not find these accommodations reasonable. "It's amazing people developed this great fear for our beaches only last year, when for 20 years no one has been denied the use of a beach or had his condominium washed away," says Paul Cunningham, 36, a nattily dressed lawyer for the town's biggest developments. He is also South Padre city attorney and a part owner of the luxurious Hilton condominiums, which have sold out even before completion of construction. "There's not a lot of proof about erosion. Some say it's 20 ft. a year, but I have not seen 20 ft. disappear since 1955, when I started coming here. It's a problem no one can forecast. If I hire competent engineers and architects for a condominium, I don't think I owe any responsibility to a buyer 20 years later as long as I've disclosed to him the possible problems."

Robert Hanmore moved his development firm to South Padre from Florida a few years ago when he became convinced that the island was another Gold Coast waiting to be built. He seems right at home among his construction workers, personally smoothing the concrete foundation of his newest condominium project. This development is out of the area of current beach erosion, but another one he built, a mile farther north, is in an area where there have been indications of erosion. Hanmore does not believe it: "Those condominiums have been up for two years, and I haven't seen any sign of the beach disappearing."

Rick Labunski, a young and creative South Padre architect, and Mary Lou Campbell, leader of what Cunningham calls the island's "shell and bird" environmentalists, disagree over how much should be built on the barrier reef. Says Labunski: "Believe it or not, there are some people who do not want any development." Says Campbell: "In Texas, we have always thought there was plenty of everything, that nothing needed to be conserved. But is it really progress to destroy those natural things people have come to enjoy?" But they agree on one thing: in light of the erosion and devel opment problems, there must be more careful planning and zoning.

City Manager Lilljedahl says the only long-range hope for his island is to find a way to reverse the erosion. "Otherwise," he says, "we will disappear." Cunningham insists that with all of the resources avail able, a way will be found to conquer the sea's appetite. The town is about to hire an engineering firm to study solutions, such as extending the existing jetty or building groins off the shore to reduce the impact of the waves. But Geologist Morton is skeptical. "Any attempt to trap sediment on the island only works when you have a good sediment supply," he warns.

"You now have a sand-starved sea be cause of natural forces and man-made dams on the Rio Grande. Eventually, nature will have its way." Unless, perhaps, some way can be found to control the appetite of the beautiful, pounding waves that made Padre in the first place and now attract sun-loving buyers from thou sands of miles away.

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