The New Urbanista (photo 1)--
Barbara Mariani''s subsidized downtown apartment puts herwithin walking distance of all the necessities: art movies, good sushi and a job.

Group Hope (photo 2)--
Once dismissed as dreamers, the members of Sustainable Monterey Bay have big high-density eco-friendly plans for Marina. Pictured from left to right are Cicely Ann Hansen, Michael Morrison, Bob Sutherland, Ted Lahti Vicki Sutherland Allen DeGrange and Bob Drake.

In 1990, when the federal government listed the Northern Spotted Owl as a threatened species, thousands of pink-slipped, red-faced loggers in the Pacific Northwest found their livelihoods every bit as endangered as the owls. The subsequent restriction of logging in owl habitat forced the closure of mills and logging-dependent businesses, hurling hard-working, middle-class families into the throes of poverty. Some lost their homes, some moved away from their families and friends, and others suffered along, scraping by on minimum-wage jobs. In places such as Sweet Home, Oregon, placards bearing slogans like "Save a Logger, Eat an Owl" popped up around town, crystallizing the conflict between environmental protection and human survival.

For environmentalists, tired of witnessing the clearcutting of climax forests, the spotted owl listing spelled victory. The protection of owl habitat not only created a safe haven for the owls themselves, but checked the rapacious practices by greedy logging companies that threatened watersheds, drove out wildlife and endangered the sustainability of the logging industry itself.

On a loftier level, the owl-vs.-logger conflict highlighted the mounting struggle between the American credos of opportunity and democracy demonstrated by the power play between the immediate requirements of capitalism and the governmental mandate to protect the welfare of the whole. But to millions of working people, the conflict begged a simple question: Which is more important, people or owls?

In Monterey County, a wealthy and politically powerful slow-growth, pro-environment community has fought hard to protect the sanctity of the area''s fragile watersheds, unique coastline and bountiful agricultural lands. As stewards of such a precious piece of ground, residents possess a daunting responsibility to protect their home from the pressures of progress. A glance to the north offers evidence of what can happen if a community shirks that responsibility in the name of more development. In Santa Clara County, expanses of abundant fruit orchards have fallen prey to a concrete-and-stucco wasteland oozing slowly from the center, consuming everything in its way. With it comes snarled traffic, harrowing daily commutes and suburban isolation, all seen through a haze of noxious auto and truck emissions. Most locals will agree that''s not what they want for Monterey County.

But at what cost comes their protectionism? In recent years, affordable housing projects planned to serve lower-income families in Chualar, Salinas and North County have been challenged in the name of guarding the environment and saving agricultural land. A newer, bigger dam that would provide water for new housing gave way to a more politically palatable "no-growth" dam proposal, and even that faces certain defeat at the hands of environmentalists vying to protect threatened and endangered species dwelling in the Carmel River.

It''s easy to be an environmentalist when you have a secure place to live and money in the bank. But as activists fight to protect the county''s natural and ag resources, housing costs soar to new heights at record speed. Rents and home prices have ascended beyond the reach of middle-class and even upper-middle-class families. According to the county''s 2001 housing report, only 23 percent of the households in Monterey County can afford to buy a median-priced home today. And those who are struggling to keep a roof over their families'' heads and food on their tables are starting to rebel.

"You see all these people saying, ''stop dams, stop growth,'' then you wonder why nobody can find a house they can afford," says Bob Drake, a Marina homeowner and an activist in a growing political movement advocating affordable housing. "All the people that say ''no growth at all costs,'' what are they doing for the people that need affordable housing?"

But some enlightened thinkers (Drake among them) are figuring out that, by thinking outside the box, environmental protection and affordable housing don''t have to be mutually exclusive. By forcing development into already existing urban areas, by utilizing energy-efficient technology, and by clustering housing near job or mass transit centers, nature and humans can co-exist peacefully.

"We either get creative or we pave over the valley," says Gary Patton, executive director of LandWatch Monterey County, a local land-use watchdog that battles urban sprawl. "It''s just a matter of will."

Achieving Urbana

The color purple pervades Barbara Mariani''s chic downtown Monterey pad perched two stories above Alvarado over the Osio Theater. A vase full of freshly cut, violet-hued irises purchased at the Monterey farmers'' market points upwards toward a colossal canvas streaked with strokes of purple paint, a work of modern art crafted by Mariani''s four-year-old nephew. Across the room, another vase holds a dozen roses faintly tinted a pale shade of amethyst. The cheerful decor interwoven with a smattering of smiling family photos testifies to the fact that Mariani feels at home here.

Her efficiency unit is small, encompassing just 492 square feet, but the space is well utilized. The bathroom is surprisingly large, and two roomy closets offer a generous amount of storage space. A tiny but well organized kitchen opens to the cozy living area. Down the hall, next to her floor''s laundry room, she has her own storage unit.

Since moving here, Mariani has discovered the advantages of living downtown. She got rid of her car because she doesn''t really need it. She can walk almost anywhere she needs to go--to work, to the supermarket, to the myriad of stores, restaurants and coffeehouses downtown. When she has a hankering for California rolls, she walks the half block to her favorite sushi bar. When her kitchen cabinets needs restocking, she strolls to the neighborhood market around the corner. If she needs to travel further, she hops on a bus at the transit center just two blocks away.

Best of all, she pays $550 a month for her very own brand-spanking new apartment, an unheard-of deal on the Monterey Peninsula. And because her rent is controlled by the city of Monterey, she lives without the fear of a drastic rental increase.

What''s the catch? As long as she stays at her current income level, there is none.

Having done the roommate thing long enough, Mariani decided three years ago she was ready for her own place. She heard that some affordable apartment units were being built downtown, so she marched to city hall and put herself on the waiting list. As a food service worker making a modest income, she qualified for a spot in the rent-controlled complex. Because there were more applicants than units, the city held a lottery to determine the tenants. The day the lottery was held, Mariani was the only applicant to show up for the ceremonial drawing. She sat alone with bated breath as a city official, increasingly nervous as her only audience member''s name was passed over again and again, drew one name after another out of the jar. Among the applicants competing for the 42 units, Mariani''s name was picked on the 41st draw.

The Osio project was built thanks to a unique partnership between a private developer and the city of Monterey. In return for rent-controlled apartments to house moderate and low-income residents and workers, the city of Monterey pitched in the land and a low-interest loan. When all was said and done, the developer gained a movie theater and retail space to rent at market rate, 42 tenants got some cheap digs and, because the complex was incorporated into an already urbanized area--it''s built on a former parking lot--the countryside was spared any more scars.

The project reflects a growing movement among developers returning to an old-fashioned sort of urban planning, when the shopkeeper lived above the store and the commute consisted of a short walk down the street or a bus ride. After decades of constructing far-flung suburbs that irreversibly paved over farmland and made families dependent on the automobile, planners realized that suburban sprawl breeds traffic jams, air pollution, and high fossil fuel consumption. Parents are hard pressed to spend time with the kids, and neighbors are divided by wide streets and vast expanses of lawn. By returning to the days when housing was mixed into or built close to town centers, planners foster shorter commutes and healthier communities.

"When you separate where you live and work, that generates lots and lots of traffic just to do daily things," says R. John Anderson of Anderson Lamb and Associates, an architectural firm based in Chico. Besides, "If you take the whole of humanity and throw them into isolation, people are a lot less happy."

A Kinder Gentler Developer

Not far from downtown Monterey on Cannery Row, another urban infill project will build 21 affordable apartments for the city''s workers. But developer Carl Outzen brags that, unlike the Osio project, his complex at 541 Wave requires no government funding.

Outzen is out to prove that developing affordable housing can be profitable as well as altruistic. With some non-monetary concessions from the city, such as a break on parking requirements and a water allocation out of the city''s reserve, Outzen will dedicate all 21 of his planned one-bedroom units to low- and moderate-income tenants, with preference given to employees working within a half mile of the complex. As currently proposed, the apartments should rent for $600-700, and for the next 30 years, future rent increases would be controlled by city and state guidelines for affordable housing.

"What I wanted to prove is that, with a little bending by the city, a private developer can do it," Outzen says. "I just want to prove that it can be done and not ask for hand-outs."

Outzen, who spent many years in public service as a Monterey planning commissioner and city councilmember, says he''s wanted to build affordable housing in Monterey for years, but the spot had to be just right. Outzen wasn''t interested in paving over a pasture on the outskirts of town. He looked for a plot near a concentrated commercial zone so his tenants could walk to work, minimizing traffic impacts. The complex had to be near an existing parking structure, as well, so valuable land wouldn''t be eaten up by driveways and parking spaces. He also searched for a site where a dense, three-story apartment building wouldn''t mar views of the bay.

"It''s not only beneficial for the tenants, but also for the city," Outzen says. "The need is tremendous, the location is perfect."

Outzen would like to stand as a role model for other benevolent developers. However, having spent years in public life regulating developers, he''s wise enough not to hold his breath for profit-minded builders to start crawling out of the woodwork and follow his lead. In Outzen''s mind, in a housing market spun out of control, it''s time the city started requiring private-sector employers to furnish roofs over their employees'' heads. He points in particular to hotels that rake in profits while employing low-wage workers, folks who struggle the hardest to secure habitable, modestly-priced quarters.

"Whenever a project comes in to any city, wherever it might be, that developer must have a requirement that they should be looking into affordable housing for their employees," he says. "They should help provide it, one way or another. I don''t think the city should provide the affordable housing, it''s not the city who puts the burden on its residents."

LandWatch''s Gary Patton echoes Outzen''s sentiments. "It''s like health insurance. It got to be so expensive you couldn''t afford it," he says. "The community at large says to the employers, ''you''ve got the money, you''ve got to start providing health care.'' Right now, housing doesn''t go along with the job, but communities could make it go along with the job."

But to achieve this, Patton says, community leaders need to make a complete about-face in the way business is conducted in Monterey County. City and county governments must muster the nerve to flex their political muscles in the face of moneyed business interests and affluent voters who are either apathetic or antagonistic toward subsidized housing.

"The people who are usually the ones that vote, most of them have stable housing already," he says. "The people who suffer are the workers, they are the ones being displaced. At what point does the community act like a community and not a bunch of individuals?"

A Home of Their Own

The Osio and Outzen projects provide much-needed relief for lower income workers. But a growing group of moderate and even high-income families are finding themselves shut out of the housing market, too--only their plight is less visible than that of the working poor, and perhaps harder to address.

Victoria Sutherland and her husband grossed more than $100,000 last year, a tidy income that would rank them upper-middle class in a tamer housing market. But the couple can''t even afford the mortgage on a modest home in Marina. After taxes and running a household of four, they could never stash away enough money for a big down payment that would bring mortgage payments down to earth.

"We looked several years ago," Sutherland says. "Even then a house we could afford would have required so much work it was not worth getting it. We got pretty discouraged."

Now, with the median Marina home prices rising several times faster than wages, the Sutherlands are farther away than ever from their dream home--or even just their own home. "When housing goes up 30 percent a year, you can never get ahead," says Sutherland.

Yet they make too much money to qualify for any government-assisted down-payment programs or for inclusionary housing. Like many other working class families in Monterey County, the Sutherlands have realized they can have a better quality of life elsewhere, so they''re moving out of state. "You''re going to have an incredible gap," Sutherland says. "You''re not going to have a middle class anymore."

Just a few weeks ago, the home they rent for $800 a month went on the market for $316,000. That was the last straw. Two months from now, Sutherland and her family will move to a suburb outside Dallas, Tex., where her husband, a satellite systems installer, already has a job. In the Lone Star state, where the Great American Suburb is alive and well, the couple can buy a brand new four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath home with a yard and a two-car garage for $127,000. "We''ll make the same or more money and raise our standard of living--dramatically," Sutherland says.

But up until the time the Sutherlands'' moving van rolls east and south, Victoria will work toward building affordable homes that other families may some day be able to purchase. In January, Sutherland spearheaded the first meeting of the group Marina Citizens for Affordable Housing. In February, the group--about 50 members strong--merged with the Marina chapter of Sustainable Monterey Bay, a nonprofit outfit from Santa Cruz that promotes ecologically friendly, affordable housing. Sutherland serves as president of the Marina chapter.

Sustainable Monterey Bay''s executive director Ted Lahti is the man with a plan that John Muir himself couldn''t fault, and he hopes to see it come to fruition in Marina. Lahti has dreamed up the "eco-village," a futuristic mixed-use, high-density complex incorporating ecologically friendly technology. In his concept, solar panels power the structure while gray water sprinkles the edible landscaping. A solar-powered train transports commuters to their jobs around the bay, while other workers walk from their condos to offices within the village itself.

Not only does the innovative concept call for minimized environmental impacts, it offers affordable homes for people to buy. "We want to take care of the people as well as the flora and the fauna," says Bob Drake, vice president of the group''s Marina chapter.

Decades ago, Drake, then 23, bought his first home. Today, he hopes the eco-village will afford young people the same opportunity he had as a young man. The land beneath the eco-village would be bought by the nonprofit group, placed in a land trust and then leased at a low rate to homeowners. By taking the land price out of the equation, the eco-village could theoretically provide condominiums selling for half the current market rate.

And there are other ways to lower costs, Lahti says, such as buyers building sweat equity through labor or installing pre-fabricated plumbing units to bring down construction costs.

The group has identified a number of Marina properties for their project, including a lot for sale on the corner of Del Monte and Reservation, a 70-acre plot of Armstrong Ranch and a site on the former Fort Ord.

Realistically, the group may face an uphill battle with their plans for Armstrong Ranch and Fort Ord. For instance, the site they want lies outside of the urban growth boundary that Marina voters passed last November, which does allow affordable housing to be built outside the boundary, but only at a rate of 10 acres per year. The group''s 70-acre plot obviously exceeds that limit. Moreover, San Jose developer Gibson Speno currently holds a purchase option for the land. And the city already has plans for the Fort Ord plot they seek.

Nevertheless, Sustainable Monterey Bay members are determined to make it happen, starting with the Del Monte site, where they hope to build 30 to 40 units with the financial backing of Southern California developer Bob O''Leary.

"I think we''re going to be one of the only citizens'' groups to do anything around here," says Michael Morrison, a Marina councilmember and Sustainable Monterey Bay member, with a less-than-subtle jab at the mayors'' ad hoc committee on affordable housing. "In six to eight months, we''ll be breaking ground. In six to eight years, the mayors will still be talking."

Morrison experienced an epiphany of sorts last month when 500 people crowded into an Embassy Suites conference room and read area mayors the riot act about the need for affordable housing. "When I heard the stories and saw the people, they weren''t asking for a lot," he recalls. "It''s not asking much to have a decent place to live."

It occurred to him that not just low-income workers but moderate income families that form the backbone of the community can''t afford to buy even the cheapest homes in Marina. "If we don''t bring housing prices down, who''s going to protect us?" Morrison ponders. "Who''s going to teach our children? Who''s going to bag the groceries or come to your house when your plumbing needs to be fixed?

"We need to start taking care of the $30,000 to $100,000 households," he says. "They''re not making a living, they''re surviving."

Through the eco-village concept, Morrison sees a way to provide housing for local workers while appeasing the environmentalists and protecting the Peninsula''s natural beauty.

The bottom line, he says: "We need to create balance."