One man's persistence helped save Sandy Beach

By Suzanne Roig
Advertiser East Honolulu Writer

HAWAI'I KAI — Working was all David Matthews knew how to do, even after retirement.

Dave Matthews walks at Sandy Beach, part of the coastline that has been preserved from development through the work of his Save Sandy Beach Coalition. Richard Ambo • The Honolulu Advertiser

As a newcomer to the Islands 17 years ago, Matthews began attending City Council and neighborhood meetings. It wasn't long until he learned about plans to develop 30 acres along the untamed coastline near his Kalama Valley home.

Working out of the admittedly selfish motivation of keeping the vistas unspoiled — and having heard about others' efforts to block development by Makapu'u on the land then called Queen's Beach — Matthews jumped in to stop 170 homes from being built.

That effort was to guide his life in the years to come as he co-founded the Save Sandy Beach Coalition, which became one of the most notable conservation efforts in modern Hawai'i history, bringing together housewives and politicians, attorneys and environmental groups such as Life of the Land and Hawai'i Thousand Friends.

"The broad-based coalition defeated the largest and most politically connected landowner in Hawai'i — Kamehameha Schools," said co-founder Phil Estermann. "We have preserved and put into the public domain land that this landowner wanted to develop. It was a huge battle. It was practically the biggest political issue for years against the biggest landowner."

Matthews, now 77, and the dozen people at the core of the coalition, worked tirelessly to block Kamehameha Schools from building hotels, golf courses and homes on the only accessible open coastline in East Honolulu.

"David Matthews was always there, always keeping track of things and informing us on what was going on with each issue," said Anna Hoover, of the activist Ka Iwi Action Council. "That kind of tenacity makes everyone else work harder."

Today Matthews and all the others who fought for the coastline are breathing easier after the conclusion of the effort to save nearly 350 acres from development, from Sandy Beach to Makapu'u.

"There was no one person in charge," said Matthews, who is nonetheless acknowledged as the one who sustained the effort.

Two weeks ago, the final chapter closed when the City Council voted unanimously for a land swap with Kamehameha Schools to acquire 32 acres across from Sandy Beach by Kealahou Street. That provided the last remaining piece of the preservation puzzle; last year the state agreed to buy 316 acres from Kamehameha Schools for $12.8 million.

It took the effort by Matthews and others to bring development issues to the forefront of public awareness. A core group meeting from the early days turned to such time-honored, low-tech methods as T-shirt sales, bumper sticker campaigns and sign-waving to get their message across.

Their goal was a legal challenge to the City Council's decision to give the developer a permit to build on the shoreline. They wanted to bring the initiative before the public, and work with politicians to develop a plan protecting the entire coastline, from Hanauma Bay to Makapu'u, Estermann said.

At each turn, Matthews was there, in dogged pursuit of that goal.

"David Matthews plays a unique role in the preservation movement," said City Councilman John Henry Felix. "He rallies others very well. He's the catalyst, yet he stays in the fray."

The fight reached a key juncture in 1988, when the group gathered enough signatures to put a question on the November ballot: Should the zoning be changed to preservation to keep homes from being built?

Voters said yes by a 2-to-1 margin. The Supreme Court overturned the decision, ruling that land use issues could not be settled by ballot.

Still, the vote let officials know what the public wanted, and the City Council changed the zoning. The land remained tied up in litigation between the city and landowner until the City Council vote to approve the land swap and settle the lawsuit.

Through it all, from the critical years 1986 to 1993 to last month's vote, Matthews remained vigilant.

"He definitely stayed with it after all of us went on our way," said Shirley Lum, founder of Save Queen's Beach and a mainstay at the Save Sandy Beach Coalition. "I'm thrilled every time I drive out there. I get so much pleasure by seeing nothing there, because there could have been so much out there."

Matthews lists the hard work of many: Lum, Estermann, Mike Wilson (former head of the state Department of Land and Natural Resources and now a judge), Gary Gill (former City Councilman who now works at the state Department of Health), Ursula and Bob Retherford, Rusty Weaver, Brad Shields, Jocelyn Fujii, Maivan Lam and Kurt Sanburn.

"We had some great people," he said. "They are a bunch of bright, hard-working people. We worked our buns off. ... It was meetings every week for eight years."

This had not been what he came to do. Matthews and his wife of 31 years, Liz, were looking for a relaxed lifestyle when they retired on O'ahu in 1985.

"It had everything I wanted: fresh air, clean water and Sears," he said.

Before the move, Matthews had owned and operated Jade Sterling Steel in Cleveland for 20 years. The brokerage steel company was started with $21,000, he said, and when Matthews sold it the business was doing $18 million in annual sales.

He said the business taught him how to get things done, how to organize and lead people.

Because of emphysema and heart surgery five years ago, Matthews feared he would not live to see the vision fulfilled. He still feels he must keep watch, to ensure the rugged area does not become a manicured park, a soccer field with a comfort station or a parking lot.

"I want open space out there, and that means nothing — not a toilet, not a parking lot, not a driveway," Matthews said. "Open space means open space."

That means more phone calls, more trips to City Hall in his 1985 Buick, more testimony and more mustering of souls.

"Whatever I did, I did for my son and grandsons," Matthews said, meaning psychologist Daryl of Honolulu and his two sons.

"But who will care for my coastline when I'm gone?" he worried. "Maybe my grandsons."