San Diego's leaders are often accused of thinking small.
That's never been Richard Chase's problem.
Chase thinks big. He dreams big. Real big.
Manhattan Project big. Let's-put-a-man-on-the-moon big. Napoleon-invading-Russia-in-winter big.
His new big idea would transform our waterfront to a degree that hasn't been imagined since the heyday of the floating-airport proposal.
Scoff at him if you must, but don't fall into the trap of thinking small.
I made that mistake a while ago when I repeated the old chestnut about real estate: “They aren't making any more of it.”
I had forgotten about Chase's proposal to create 96 acres of brand-spanking-new real estate on San Diego Bay.
He wants to build a sprawling, 40-foot-high concrete deck above the warehouses, rail lines and fuel tanks of the Tenth Avenue Marine Terminal. It's the sort of project that strikes a chord with every 10-year-old who owns a Lego set.
Beneath the deck, waterfront business would go on as usual.
Bananas, fertilizer and military equipment still would be unloaded from ships. The 250-foot crane might not work so well lying on its side, and the forklifts may bump a load-bearing column every six feet. But the longshoremen won't worry about sunstroke. Whatever the weather, they would be in the shade.
Up on the roof, meantime, there'd be billions of dollars in real estate for Chase to develop, with sweeping views of Coronado, the bay and downtown.
It's a developer's dream, a blank slate. You could put anything up there on Dick's Deck: a sports arena, an aquarium, a casino. The sky's the limit.
Imagine a decktop hotel taller than the Coronado Bridge. His conceptual plan has one.
Imagine a decktop football stadium with decktop tailgate parties where fans eat double-decker hamburgers on double-decker buses.
Imagine the day the big earthquake comes and the only thing that survives is Dick's Deck, its steel pilings sunk so deep that technically it's not part of California.
Even if you can't comprehend the engineering, you have to admire Chase for seeing the world with double vision.
San Diegans constantly argue about the best uses of our land. But we're small thinkers, so we lock ourselves into either-or choices: It's either open space or it's a condo project. It can't be both.
It takes someone like Chase to ask: Why not?
Take the question of whether the Children's Pool should be used by humans or seals.
Why not build a deck with the seals on top, the children below? The seals could climb up ramps – most of them look a little chubby and in need of exercise – and slip down slides when they're done mating and pupping.
Or take the beach booze ban debate. We could build an upper deck for the boozers – they shouldn't be in the surf anyway – and let the families have sea level.
You say our airport needs a second runway? Double deck it! Balboa Park is running out of space? Double deck it!
No space for you in the La Jolla Beach & Tennis Club? Build a new one on top of the old one. When the folks below hear a cry of “Help!” from on high, they'll know a tennis ball is on the loose.
That's the can-do spirit that Chase brought to the debate over the Tenth Avenue Marine Terminal, prime real estate that many think is underutilized – and many more covet.
Chase looked at the land and wanted to build fun stuff on it. But the Port of San Diego, which controls the property, believes the waterfront has enough fun stuff for now, but not enough maritime operations that boost the economy.
Did Chase give up? No!
He collected signatures and qualified his double-decker measure for the November ballot. If voters in the five port cities approve his plan, Dick's Deck is a done deal and Chase and his partners are soon swimming in money.
Chase is no stranger to the rewards of ballot-box planning.
He's the fellow who identified Gregory Canyon in North County as the ideal spot to build a landfill that will go a long way toward solving the trash needs of Los Angeles.
When the Board of Supervisors balked, Chase and his partners circulated petitions and put it to a public vote. Selling the landfill to county voters turned out to be deceptively easy because, while everyone produces trash, 99 percent of us have no idea where Gregory Canyon is, even to this day.
Selling voters on Dick's Deck could be just as easy for its well-financed proponents.
The clever title of the ballot measure amounts to double-decker double talk. “The Port of San Diego Marine Freight Preservation and Bayfront Redevelopment Initiative” suggests it will promote maritime uses, not hide them from view.
And the port, which is fighting Chase every step of the way, may discover there's no grass-roots constituency for San Diego Bay, which is slowly being walled off for commercial uses. As with Gregory Canyon, few people know what's there.
The initiative is worded so that only Chase and his partners will be prepared to meet a short, 60-day window in which to compete for the development rights. But the port, hardly a champion of competitive bidding, can't complain much about sweetheart deals.
Then again, why should we expect competition?
We're dealing with Dick's Deck, after all. Don't think for a second that it isn't loaded in his favor.
Gerry Braun: (619) 542-4563; gerry.braun@uniontrib.com
