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Palo Alto Weekly Diverse
environmental groups employ different methods toward the same goal By Don Kazak Thirty years ago, Liz Kniss was a campaign worker hoping to gain voter support for the
formation of the Midpeninsula Regional Open Space District. Kniss, a former Palo Alto mayor and current Santa Clara County supervisor, said environmental advocates were considered kooks at that time.
"My friends thought I was peculiar," she said. A lot has changed. These days, the "kooks" are running the asylum as environmentalism has permeated nearly every aspect of Palo Alto life, from
curbside recycling to the push for green schools. There's even a government entity devoted to environmental issues -- the MROSD, that same group Kniss helped form so many years ago. The wide acceptance of
environmental values has forced the green groups that champion such causes to reevaluate their roles in the community. For some, the extremism that marked the battle over Stanford's General Use Permit (GUP) is
yielding to a more moderate approach. Few groups epitomize this shift better than Acterra, a combination of the venerable Peninsula Conservation Center and the 1990 group, Bay Area Action. The merger, which occurred
nearly two years ago, joined the conservation center's wizened veterans with Bay Area Action's young idealists. Today, Acterra is in the process of redefining itself. A survey of key supporters indicates a
shift away from the confrontational political advocacy that exemplified Bay Area Action's early days. "There's a strong sentiment," he added, "...to step back a little from what I call broad-based advocacy and have
(what) we do be more specifically linked to our programs." On the opposite end of the spectrum, the Committee for Green Foothills has retained its political edge, a characteristic that was readily apparent in
its numerous battle with Stanford University over development issues. In fact, the committee has only one function: watchdog Stanford and all local governments that make decisions with environmental impacts.
The group's two legislative advocates, Denice Dade for Santa Clara County and Lennie Roberts for San Mateo County, pore over government documents day in and out. Dade, in fact, may know more about county laws
governing Stanford than any other living person -- outside of the platoon of lawyers the university pays handsomely to defend and promote its interests. She took a leading role in the huge political battle over
Stanford's efforts to win a new GUP from Santa Clara County. The plan -- passed in December, 2002 after unprecedented scrutiny from the public and government officials -- will regulate the university's development
for the next decade or so. Some of the position papers Dade wrote for the committee were adopted by the Palo Alto City Council. They also served as a guide to Peter Drekmeier, the enfant terrible of the GUP battle.
Drekmeier was one of the young idealists from the original Earth Day in 1990 who stayed on to form Bay Area Action. The son of two Stanford faculty members, he grew up hiking in the Stanford hills and vowed to do
everything he could to preserve them. Now heading his own group, the Stanford Open Space Alliance, Drekmeier -- in the words of another activist -- pushes the envelope. Another said he made Stanford advocates' blood
boil during the GUP controversy. Different groups, different approaches, one cause. Acterra, the most prominent environmental group in a city known for its environmental passion, is rethinking its future. The
organization's recent survey is part of a strategic planning process to define its role in the community. "I think at this point a lot of environmental organizations are looking a little bit at what they do.
Everyone's feeling kind of a cash crunch and (we need to) make sure that we're not duplicating efforts and that we're working really well together," said Hearn. When Acterra was formed in September 2000, it
brought together all the staff and programs of the former Peninsula Conservation Center and Bay Area Action. Perhaps too many programs. "We won't retain such a broad range of programs," said David
Smernoff, Acterra's executive director. "We'd rather be a mile deep than a mile wide." According to Hearn, the organization will now focus its attention on such efforts as the Watershed Council and
Arastradero land stewardship. "...We've focused on a few programs that just overwhelmingly came up as valuable," he said. "If we didn't do them, it would have a significant impact on the local
environmental movement." The streamlining campaign coincides with a desire to approach environmental issues with a softer voice. It's a shift that could have economic, as well as philosophical, impact on
the organization. "We've been talking to some funders," Hearn said. "They're sort of waiting, some of the people with a fair amount of money. They're sort of waiting to see what kind of model comes
out of here. "While they don't wholesale support either Stanford or any kind of development, they also recognize there are some issues concerning private property that can't just be swept aside in favor
of complete community control," Hearn added. By seeking consensus, Hearn and Smernoff believe it may be possible for environmentalists to work more constructively. Both, for instance, felt the GUP debate
grew far too rancorous to be productive. "There was a lot of rhetoric on both sides that doesn't get anything done," Smernoff said. Hearn considered the confrontations signs of a "failed
process." "I would rather see a process where people try and sit down and work together to try to fashion the best of all possible solutions, and then just bring that to the planning commission or
whatever in a more united way," Hearn added. Although it exists under the radar of most residents, the MROSD operates 47,000 acres of open-space preserves in Santa Clara and San Mateo counties. The
district also boasts one of its original seven board members after all these years: Nonette Hanko of Palo Alto. When she began crusading for green causes, environmentalism wasn't even a recognizable word. They were
called "conservationists" back then. Hanko was also a member of the Committee for Green Foothills, but quit that organization when the open space district formed in 1972. "Almost everyone
considers themselves environmentalists now," Hanko said. Board members are no stranger to controversy. In 2000, the district banned biking on certain preserve trails because of clashes with hikers and
horseback riders. Public hearings on the issue were filled to capacity, with emotions often spilling into anger. The board also took some heat from Stanford officials when it publicly supported permanent open space
dedication of the hills, the main sticking point of the GUP battle. A 25-year protection measure was ultimately approved by Santa Clara County. Larry Horton, the university's director of government and
community relations, was the MROSD took a position without first soliciting Stanford's input. Mary Davey of the MROSD, however, dismissed those ruffled feelings, saying the county made it clear the university
should have sought the views of all neighboring government jurisdictions. "The burden was on Stanford," Davey said. "There wasn't anybody on the board who wasn't skeptical about what Stanford was
up to." Local environmentalists consider the GUP battle a defining moment for green groups, and for Stanford itself. The university received its previous GUP from the county back in 1988, an event that passed
almost without notice. The 1988 GUP was four pages long, said Denice Dade of the Committee for Green Foothills. The new one is more than 50 pages long. "We didn't get everything we wanted, but we got a lot
of what we didn't have before," Dade said. "For the first time, Stanford has really come under a regulatory process and didn't just get carte blanche," said Lennie Roberts of the Committee for Green
Foothills. The GUP battle was bruising for both the green groups and Stanford. Some say too bruising. Former Palo Alto Mayor Larry Klein, whose law firm was retained by Stanford during the GUP, thinks the
confrontations went too far. "The low-key approach worked better in 1988," Klein said. At that time, the county quietly negotiated two key concessions: a policy of no new net automobile trips for
people commuting onto the campus -- which is why Stanford is so zealous in its bicycle and car-pool programs -- and no development in the Dish Area. "That was accomplished without confrontations,"
Klein said. "When you push someone hard, you push them into a corner. It sours the atmosphere for other things." Klein, however, conceded that Stanford itself contributed to the ill will. "It was a
50-50 thing," he said. Jerry Hearn of Acterra feels that Stanford President John Hennessey and Provost John Etchemendy have done a good job reaching out to the community, a task the university didn't always give
much priority. "I think we're seeing a sea change at Stanford," he said. Acterra is hoping to take advantage of that openness by taking a different tack with the university. "We're starting a
dialogue in private with Stanford, trying to build up a little bit of a relationship," Smernoff said. However, Acterra is not abandoning the good, green fight at Stanford. The organization has helped form a new
entity known as the Conservation Council, which meets quarterly. Other member groups are the Committee for Green Foothills, the Sierra Club, the Audubon Society and the South Bay-based Greenbelt Alliance. The
Conservation Council divvies up political responsibilities. For instance, while the Committee for Green Foothills keeps an eye on Stanford, the Sierra Club leads political action over the proposed new runway at
San Francisco Airport and the Greenbelt Alliance plunges into the continuing fight over development in Coyote Valley, in south San Jose. And although Acterra may be backing away political confrontations with
Stanford, other green groups have no such intention. As part of the GUP process, the university must present a sustainability study to county officials. "The idea is to define the maximum sustainable
development, the build-out," said Denice Dade of the Committee for Green Foothills. Just about everyone expects a fight over that issue. One person almost certain to be at the forefront is Peter Drekmeier.
Although his "take-no-prisoners" style has its critics, many in the green movement support his actions. "Peter is essential in my view," said Mary Davey. "He is fearless." Drekmeier
formed the Stanford Open Space Alliance during the GUP to mobilize people on campus, including students and faculty who joined the group. "(Then-President) Gerhard Casper and the trustees heard a lot from
the Stanford community," Drekmeier said. "(The GUP) wasn't a town-gown issue. It was an internal issue, too." One of the things Drekmeier helped organize during the GUP process was a night hike to the
Dish Area. Some 200 Stanford students took part in what was a trespass action, since the Dish Area closes at dusk. "Stanford wisely pulled their guards out," Drekmeier said. For Drekmeier, the key
point is simple. "At some point, we have to realize we can't grow forever," he said. Such limitations, however, may not apply to environmentalism itself. This is a milestone for several local groups. The
Committee for Green Foothills, stronger than ever, is celebrating its 40th anniversary. The Midpeninsula Regional Open Space District was formed by voters 30 years ago. The Menlo Park-based Environmental
Volunteers is also celebrating its 30th anniversary. "The convergence of local politics, quality of life issues and environmental issues is something we've never seen in the past," said state
Assemblyman Joe Simitian. "Environmental issues were more separate before. There's a much more dynamic mix now, all stirred together in the same cauldron." The biggest challenge facing green groups is
ensuring their values are integrated into local governments' public policies. Lennie Roberts of the Committee for Green Foothills, who has been doing such work for more than 30 years, allows conditions are better
these days. "But it's no slam dunk," she added. Still, environmental groups aren't just on the map politically. They help define what the map is. "Not one elected official I know would dismiss
the environmental movement," said Liz Kniss. "Not one." Weekly editor Jay Thorwaldson contributed to this story. E-mail Don Kazak at dkazak@paweekly.com. |
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