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Ryan doesn't dispute Blakely's claim, but maintains that the myriad developers contributing to his campaign had legitimate business interests in the county and were perfectly entitled to give him money. Among the contributors were Phoebe Hearst Cooke of San Francisco -- a granddaughter whose inheritance from the Hearst fortune has been estimated at $700 million -- and her husband, Amory Cooke. The couple gave Ryan $2,099.
After Ryan won the election, but before he was sworn into office, the Board of Supervisors adopted a coastal plan that would have placed severe restrictions on the Hearst Resorts development. Hearst sued the county, claiming it was being unfairly treated by the board.
As soon as Ryan took office, he asked the board to reconsider the plan; Ryan provided the swing vote that gave Hearst back most of what it wanted, and the corporation dropped its legal challenge. The post-Ryan plan is the one now before the Coastal Commission.
The machinations left both sides crying foul. Ryan claims the old board tried to pre-empt voters by passing a more restrictive plan before he could be sworn in. Resort foes claim Ryan had no right to go back and revise the plan that had already been approved by the old board.
Resort opponents found themselves on the losing end of hardball politics, and they didn't like the experience.
"The process by which the Hearst Corporation has pushed this plan through has alienated an enormous number of people in the county," says environmentalist Land. "It has really undermined the integrity of the county's planning process and raised serious doubts about the viability of the county's political system."
Hearst attorney Rockey, however, says the resort opponents are sore losers. "[They] lost at the Board of Supervisors level," Rockey says. "They're not willing to accept a loss, and they're unwilling to compromise."
Resort challengers also blame Hearst for trying to silence one of the most qualified and credible critics of its plan. The county's own senior planner, John Hofschroer, has talked freely with newspaper reporters and citizens in the past, questioning aspects of the resort and its impact on the county.
But lately, Hofschroer has ceased to publicly comment on the proposal. Contacted by SF Weekly, Hofschroer said he cannot speak for the county on issues concerning the resort, and has been told to refer all questions to his boss.
Rockey says Hearst did not ask that Hofschroer be gagged, although it did make its displeasure known. "We commented that we thought it was very strange -- after the Board of Supervisors acted -- for a county employee to come out and second-guess the Board of Supervisors," Rockey says.
Given Hearst's persistence and bank book, resort foes concede there is little chance they will be able to stop the resort plan completely. All they are hoping is that they can convince the Coastal Commission to scale it down.
"All we're asking is that the Coastal Commission and our county look more closely at the true impacts of the proposed Hearst development before granting any entitlements," says Land. "We're potentially approaching massive development without knowing what its impacts are."
At the end of Citizen Kane, smoke wafts from Xanadu as workers feed a raging fire with the relics of Kane's life. Onto the pyre they nonchalantly toss Rosebud, the sled from Kane's boyhood, never realizing they are destroying the answer to the mystery of Kane's dying word. In the movie, at least, Kane's obsessive lust to shape the world to his liking dissipates after his death.
But at the real Xanadu, William Randolph Hearst's legacy of power and influence appears destined to live on. What the Hearst Corp. wants, it will most likely get, in some form. Those on both sides of the battle agree that Hearst's name alone is enough to vault their fight to national prominence. "I believe if you didn't have the name Hearst in it, it wouldn't be nearly a fight," says county Supervisor Mike Ryan.
It shouldn't be surprising that the company Hearst created is intent on bending the state's coastal preservation laws to its own ends. If he were still alive, Hearst might have done the bending himself. But would Hearst have gone to so much trouble, exercised so much influence, just to be able to stare down from his hilltop Xanadu at a bunch of golfers?
