The Rise and Decline of the Redneck Riviera: An Insider's History of the Florida-Alabama Coast

10. Trouble in Paradise

162 he florida panhandle moved quickly to repair what Opal had done and in the spring of 1996, word went out that even though some places, such as Holiday Isle and Okaloosa Island, were still recovering, on the mainland there were rooms aplenty for those who wanted to visit the coast, and even some beachfront locations were accepting reservations. Popular Destin Harbor restaurants were open again, the docks had been rebuilt, the fleet was back on line, and the fish were biting. However, tdc officials issued “a word of warning for beach lovers. Come prepared for a visual shock.” All along the shore of Okaloosa and Walton County “Opal devastated the beach and dune system,” and the sugar-white sand that had once moved Dr. Stephen Leatherman, the famous “Dr. Beach,” to rank the beaches from Panama City to Pensacola among “America’s best,” were gray and, to some folks, ugly. But just as the manmade environment was being repaired, the beach was getting its share of restorative care. In some places, the Florida Department of Environmental Protection issued emergency permits to allow sand to be brought in to rebuild the dunes. Some property owners planted sea oats and other natural vegetation to hold the sand in place. Others just tossed treetops and broken bushes where the sand had been washed away, figuring that in time new sand would blow in and cover the trash. In the wake of the storm an issue arose that put a new wrinkle in the old debate over who owns the beach. On one hand ten Trouble in Paradise T trouble in paradise 163 the people who made their living off the tourist trade understood that no matter what other amusements a resort might offer, the beach was what attracted most visitors to visit and most residents to reside. Therefore, it made good economic sense for local and state governments to help rebuild the beach if for no other reason than the economy depended on it. But where would government get the money? From taxes levied on citizens of community and county and state? And if a particular stretch of the beach were restored—“renourished” came to be the preferred word—with public money, the public should have access to it. Right? But on the other hand, if a person owned beachfront property and did not want the “public” making themselves at home in what the landowner considered his back yard, could the landowner opt out, refuse the renourishment , and keep their property eroded and “private”? Geologists who studied beach movement pointed out that even if property owners refused new sand, the renourished beach next door would likely wash over to them anyway. Scientists also pointed out that if the beach were not rebuilt evenly, a gap in the shoreline would open the beach to more erosion and endanger adjacent property when another storm hit. Then someone pointed out that without the beach to slow or stop the storm surge, property along the coast Panama City Beach after Hurricane Opal. Courtesy of Bay County Public Library, Panama City, Fla. 164 chapter ten was more likely to be damaged, and to cover their losses private insurance companies would raise rates on everyone, even those who did not live in harm’s way. Or beachfront owners would turn to the recently created state insurance agency, which would take more from the public pot to cover people who refused to renourish their beaches. Ultimately the taxpayer would get the bill. It was a quandary. And as in any quandary, people addressed the matter as best suited them, if they could. Where beach towns were incorporated, local governments sought state and federal help and beaches were renourished, though some beachfront owners grumbled at the possibility that the built-up beach might not belong to them. Where there were no towns, counties stepped in to apply for grants and make repairs. Seaside, as one might expect, turned restoration into a community project. Since Seaside’s beach belonged to the town, nearly one hundred homeowners got out and planted more than five thousand sea oat plugs along “their” rebuilt bluff and “their” dune line. But Seaside, as everyone knew, was not like the rest of the coast. In 1997, after the storm damage was repaired, Seaside’s uniqueness was recognized once again when award-winning Hollywood film director Peter Weir announced that he wanted to use...