For the developers Sal Gonzales and George Mitsanas, a long day’s journey — plus 2½ years — into an uncharted ebony night, pockmarked with nightmarish interludes, ended happily at last night’s City Council meeting, but only after another generous helping of charged drama.
This marathon skirmish project inspired a new style of war in the community in which newly muscular residents battled City Hall and the developers to a standstill, until last night..
With this long-running dispute — how and what to build at 4043 Irving Pl., presently a parking lot across the street from the Lin Howe School playground — residents became a virtual equal player. No more lopsided David and Goliath matchups.
Early in the fight, activists and their elected allies drove through new regulations that added layers of rights to residents. No longer would they be dwarfed by city government.
Residents Were Well Briefed
Impressively alert and grittily determined to shape the building as they wanted it, neighbors exercised their freshly injected empowerment at every meeting.
What turned out to be the final round of the war was contested over the dedication of 12 of the 28 units to low- and moderate-income housing, and the monthly rates of $770 for the low-income, one-bedroom, and $1,400 for moderate-income two-bedroom.
For the relieved developers, gaining approval was nearly the Culver City equivalent of scaling Everest.
The Mitsanas-Gonzales team has been trying to win approval for a satisfactory configuration of condos at 4043 Irving Pl., just off the heart of Downtown, for so long that bald men had their own thatch of hair and Angelina had buck teeth, it seems.
“4043” became a mantra around town. No one had to inquire further, and everyone knew the implied street name.
Knowing Outcome in Advance
The likely ultimate result repeatedly was delayed by the imaginative tactics of strongly unhappy residents. They kept unearthing sometimes new, sometimes already visited reasons for demanding a fresh round of research, occasionally delving into vital areas, other times into arcane corners.
As late last night as 10 minutes before last night’s vote, Mayor Chris Armenta’s eyes scanned the room as he pressed to find harder evidence than was seemingly available to determine whether Mr. Gonzales was authentically qualified to co-captain this long lingering project.
But all of the angels were not on the side of protesting neighbors on Closing Night.
Was every objector sincere in his question for independent, objecvtive truth?
Vice Mayor Mehaul O’Leary appeared to challenge that proposition by calling out one resident for rebuke by name.
Identifying him as Mr. Martin, Mr. O’Leary said he had posed a penetrating question about Mr. Gonzales, only to promptly stroll out of Council Chambers even as Mr. Gonzales was approaching the podium to answer the question.
The Redevelopment Agency spent 2½ hours heatedly thrashing through a dense jungle of details, delays and detrimental remarks as 19 speakers came to the podium to declare their insights and misgivings, many of their feelings being electrified.
Neighbors alternately questioned the funding sources (significantly with government-mandated monies), Mr. Gonzales’ professional legitimacy, Mr. Gonzales’ history, Mr. Mitsanas’s history, inspection of past projects, fears about the various rent levels, and worst of all, a fear that the project will turn into a fiscal disaster that will redound on City Hall.
With member Andy Weisman recusing himself because his office is around the corner, the Redevelopment Agency, relying on slow-motion enthusiasm, voted 4 to 0, to close out this bitter war at 11:30.
One of the mysteries of the evening was the intriguingly dramatic curvature of events. Why the intrigue when the outcome seemed to have been foretold two weeks before.
On July 26, three of the four sitting members of the Redevelopment Agency had indicated they would support the City Hall/developers plan before Mayor Armenta succeeded in postponing a final vote to allow residents to huddle with the city’s financial experts regarding the streams of funding.
After the denouement, Mr. Mitsanas and Mr. Gonzales were, of course, beaming. How did the developers digest the zagging and zigging of events?
Mr. Gonzales, who grew up in the building business and was a fulltime general contractor his first decade out of college before acquiring Culver City Volvo, said he remained hopeful around the rhetorical hairpin curves. He chose “hopeful” over “optimistic.”
Without overtly displaying his feelings, Mr. Mitsanas heaved a silent sigh, obviously glad hostilities were over. “If this was easy, everybody would be doing it,” he said.
He expects ground to be broken within 12 months at one of the best-known shorthand addresses in town, 4043.
