NorthBay biz explores Jack Krystal’s 30-year-old dream (and the corresponding real-world troubles) of building a hotel and spa on the shores of Richardson Bay.
And he will not get cheated on this April Tuesday. When the clock strikes 2 p.m., the verbal flogging begins with the usual suspects. There are representatives from the environmental community, the Audubon Society, various stripes and regiments of neighborhood coalitions as well as good government types who’re upset that Whaler’s Point Inn and Spa doesn’t meet county or local planning regulations. Their outrage ranges from mild admonishments to fully charged pounding of the table. And, for the record, they’re right. The 71-room project is too tall and too large to fit into the box that county planning comes in—but it wasn’t too big three years ago, when Krystal first introduced this design (the county’s General plan has changed in the meantime). And it’s been that way since Krystal first walked into the county planning office in 1977, plopped down $77 and declared his intention to build a 300-room, 12-story hotel on the shores of Richardson Bay just outside Mill Valley.
To be completely fair, Krystal has more than his share of supporters at the hearing. His architect jumps up and explains the benefits of the design, which incorporates elements of a Swiss lodge as well as American Craftsman style. A landscape designer takes the board through planting plans, and yet another member of the team speaks of cutting-edge environmental features that will include a kiosk in the hotel lobby to demonstrate energy consumption (or, more to the point, the lack thereof).
There’s no shortage of people who want to talk to the Supes, both pro and con, about the hotel. To an outsider, the parade of people lined up waiting for their shot at the podium might be the product of a bum economy—too many people with too much time on their hands. But that only tells half the story. While the environment is king in Marin, process lives in the same castle. Some of the people gathered are veteran critics or backers of the project and fine examples of what the combination of extra time and money can result in.
Out of 21 members of the public who grab the mic and give their testimony, 13 are singing the project’s praises. This is due, in part, to the man himself, who shamelessly recruited a local preacher for his appearance and talked his former attorney into a presentation. He even tried to hard-sell me into pitching on his behalf: “You could exercise your first amendment rights as a private citizen,” he suggests. When I tell him there’s a niggling little problem with journalistic ethics, he reasons, “You aren’t writing about it until after the hearing, why is that a problem?”
Despite the impressive cadre of pro-hotel speakers, when it comes time for a vote, the board sends the project away 5-0, though two of the supervisors say they feel the county has hamstrung the site with regulations.
Supervisor Charles McGlashan carries a heavyweight green profile and represents the area where the hotel would be built. Voting against the project would be a bitter pill for McGlashan to swallow, since the hotel would include 2,400 solar panels as well as a vast array of organic and environmental features. The hotel could be a shining green model in a county where lots of folks worship at the Holy Church of Mother Nature. Nonetheless, McGlashan tells Krystal, “This is a hard one, because there are a lot of things to like. And I like you a lot, Jack. You’re an incredibly popular guy.” You can hear the guilt in McGlashan’s voice as he takes in air and tries to soften the blow. “But my advice is, go back and rework it so it fits.”
A site for sore eyes
A pair of office buildings stand guard to the left of the construction yard, while to the right is a small houseboat neighborhood of 11 homes tethered to a dock jutting out like a manicured hand. A helipad and a pair of water planes keep the houseboats company, while a preschool and a sculpture studio front the property. A teak furniture outlet anchors the frontage road, and beyond is Highway 101 with cars hurtling toward Mill Valley and the rest of Marin.
This is where Krystal wishes to build his lodge. A chain link fence surrounds a ramshackle collection of contractors’ trucks, tractors and trailers bearing labels of Clements Tree Service, Maverick Construction, Dream Greens and DD&L Trucking, among others. Redwood Engineering, Ainsworth Construction and Mill Valley Builders stake claims to the property as well. The storage area is a mishmash of wheelbarrows and outhouses, oil drums and abandoned cars. A flock of duck decoys safeguard a harvest of tree stumps. On a Sunday, the steady din of the freeway is only broken up by the taxiing of a seaplane as it heads east across Richardson Bay, gaining speed before it softly rises up leaving a trail of water splashing the bay below.
There can be little argument the yard is an eyesore. The project’s detractors have argued that the constant jumble of machinery has been part of Krystal’s grand plan—that, by keeping the place looking like hell, sooner or later the project would win acceptance because anything would be better than the disarray currently being featured on Bolinas Avenue. But Krystal denies the accusation. “The construction yard has been here more than 50 years, well before I owned the property. I’ve rented the place month-to-month for years to plenty of construction companies; they all keep saying, ‘Someday, we’ll build your hotel for you,’” he says with a shake of the head. “Of course, a lot of those guys don’t have much work right now.”
One needs to look just beyond the fence line to understand why Krystal won’t let go of the site—or his dream of placing a hotel on it. The bay ripples toward Strawberry as a group of seagulls bob in the water. To the West, Mount Tamalpais stoically lounges as coastal clouds pour into the valley. “And there’s that ugly bridge,” is the way Krystal describes the section of 101 that spans the water. The idea of a bayside hotel is hardly unique in the area. On the west side of Highway 101, both the Aqua Hotel and Holiday Inn Express border the bay. In Sausalito, the Casa Madrona, the Inn Above Tide and newcomer Cavallo Point Lodge offer accommodations overlooking the bay named for William Richardson, a sea captain who at one time owned the 19,000-acre spread known as Rancho del Sausalito.
But Krystal believes his hotel could be better than the others, including the Holiday Inn Express, which he developed years ago ( back then, it was a Howard Johnson). “I want my hotel to bring the surrounding area into the hotel, make the environment part of the lobby, the café and the rooms.”
A son of Polish and Russian parents who carries an accent by way of his own birthplace in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Krystal has called Marin his home for better than 40 years. His office on the second floor of a six-story office building in downtown San Rafael is a study in piles. His desk as well as a neighboring credenza is an homage to paperwork; heaps of varying elevations are laid out in a pattern only he can discern. Diversified Equity Holdings, a company led by Krystal, owns the building. The upscale property is filled with a mix of lawyers, real estate companies, financial and investor outfits along with medical practitioners and nonprofits.
Hotel history
In 1972, Krystal bought the parcel adjacent to 101 with a hotel in mind, but it would be years before he’d file any plans with the county. At the time, the Sausalito waterfront was undergoing a revolution of sorts. While the houseboat community was still a place populated by artists and writers, there was a daily struggle between developers wanting to build on the waterfront and residents living on makeshift boats on the mudflats or anchored out on the bay. Marin County Sheriff deputies could be seen on the 6 o’clock news doing physical battle with residents in what became known as the “Houseboat Wars.” Though the majority of the skirmishes took place further south, Krystal also had trouble clearing his property. “There were a lot of people hanging out, living down there,” he says. “It was just the time—lots of VW busses, motorcycles, peace and love and stuff like that.”
In the late 1970s, the county actually sent him a notice to clean up the property, according to Don Dickenson, a staff planner in the Marin County Planning Department at the time, who now chairs the county planning commission. “After he received the notice, Jack came in with the plans to build a 12-story hotel. I think he paid $77.”
Krystal’s version of events is slightly different. He claims he removed several dilapidated buildings (which had been used as local garbage and recycling structures) from the property after he was promised Board of Supervisors support for a hotel on the site as part of upgrading the entire area.
Indeed, in 1977, the first version of the hotel was a dozen stories tall. Though a hotel on the property was allowed by county planning and zoning standards, the project was deemed too large and Krystal was sent back to the drawing board to reduce the size and height of the hotel. Over the years, the project shrank incrementally from its original concept. The hotel first dipped to eight stories, but once again the county said no. It continued to evolve, next dropping down to just six stories, but still found no love from the county. In all, at least 14 different versions of the project have been presented to the county for review, and each time, fault was found and the design was rejected.
Additionally, Krystal has locked horns with the Bay Conservation and Development Commission, the state agency charged with overseeing the health and development of property that borders the San Francisco Bay. The BCDC declared it had supervisory dominion over Krystal’s project, and for a number of years, the project was tied up as the issue that navigated the legal system, eventually landing in the State Supreme Court. Reversing his string of defeats, Krystal emerged with a victory from the Supremes and went back to the drawing board to find a design the county would sign off on.
He’s still looking. To some, Krystal may seem like Captain Ahab, unwilling to sail away from his Moby Dick. But he doesn’t see it that way. “In this life, you should strive to put your fingerprints on something, and to do that thing the best you can,” he says. “I know there are specific things the county wants to see in a project—I’m not a stupid person. But I have a vision. When I look at the property, I think I have to do it justice.”
County Senior Planner Christine Gimmler is among the county staffers who, over the years, have sat down with Krystal and tried to reason with him regarding the kind of project that would find favor at the county. “Jack’s charming, polite and smart. He understands that what he’s brought us doesn’t fit our requirements, but he has his own ideas about what the project should be.”
If he’s unwilling to compromise, you’d think he might be willing to sell the land. But when the National Parks Service came to him about six years ago wanting to build a parking structure so a shuttle could run visitors from there out to Muir Woods, Krystal proposed an alternative project in a different location. “Can you imagine putting a four- or six-story parking structure on that property, next to the bay?” he asks. “It would have been built by the Feds, and there would no longer be any say by the county—nor any tax and other revenue for the local economy.”
Another project Krystal listened to was a private surgical facility proposed by a group of local doctors. The “Cirrus Group Hospital” was rejected by the county, so Krystal never had to say no.
As to the latest version of the hotel that the county rejected, Krystal is convinced Marin is missing the boat. “Between the property tax, sales tax and hotel tax, the hotel would generate $1 million a year. You can’t tell me the county couldn’t use that revenue,” he says.
More than the dollars and sense, however, Krystal is convinced the project would be a plus for some of its very critics. “There’s so much about the hotel that’s good for the environment, which would show people how you can build something that respects the land and the Bay.”
Bound and determined
The project is full of nods to Mom Earth. Chemical-free landscaping, a sod roof over the spa and the entry lobby, and 100 percent recycled tiles and rain collection systems are only some of the green features. Rooms would be painted with no VOCs, energy-efficient windows would be used throughout the property, and an alternative fuel van would be available for guest use.
On the other hand, critics of the project point out that what would truly be best for the planet would be to restore the land and let it be reclaimed as marsh. Krystal has been accused by his opponents of offering the county “green bribes.”
In the end, the hotel in its latest version—four stories and 59,572 square feet plus a 5,000-square-foot spa—is 38,000 square feet too big according to the newest General Plan requirements. Krystal argues that to go smaller would make the project a money loser, and he has plans to hold onto the hotel rather than sell it off to a chain. “This is the best project for the property,” he says in an even voice.
On the other hand, he’s thought the very same thing each time he redesigned the hotel. He’s frequently said that to make the project smaller would be to rob it of the ability to make money. Since the project was proposed in 1977, the Aqua Hotel and Cavallo Point Lodge have been built, but Krystal still maintains there’s enough room demand to make the hotel work.
Many years ago, after the Board of Supervisors had rejected yet another version of the hotel, Krystal calmly went into his pocket, took out a book of matches and set his scale model on fire, shocking the room and scaring the supervisors. At the time, he commented, “You will never see that design again.”
Prior to the hearing this past April, Krystal walked past Marin Independent Journal reporter Nels Johnson. Johnson had covered the meeting where Krystal had become a fire bug. With a knowing smile on his face, he asked Johnson if he had any matches on him.
The design of the hotel has changed, and Krystal has gotten older. But some things remain immutable. Krystal still refuses to bow before the Supes or give in on what he feels the project needs to be. He still expects the county to give in…and he still has his sense of humor.
