Kensington’s Coventry Road is a shaded, twisty lane that winds its way along the Contra Costa side of the canyon formed by Cerrito Creek. It’s a quiet neighborhood where custom-built houses from fifty years ago stand guard over multi-lot parcels; a place where deer graze in well-tended gardens and where the narrow asphalt road can often only allow one car to pass at a time. There are no sidewalks here; there are no block parties. Residents value their privacy, their views of the bay, the woodsy setting. For years, the affluent families in these houses have hosted dinner parties and political fund-raisers attended by the hoi polloi — and there were few complaints, even though the natural acoustics of the canyon mean you can often hear your neighbor sneeze. But now there’s a noise battle brewing here — and the only thing both sides can agree upon is that this isn’t your average NIMBY spat.
Other neighborhoods may fight about tree maintenance, undergrounding of wires, and monstrous new homes — but what the members of the newly formed Coventry Road Neighbors Association found in their backyards is a 250-seat amphitheater. Neighbors say that the owner’s plan — to sell tickets for fund-raiser concerts in the amphitheater that could include food and alcohol sales — amounts to a commercial activity that is inappropriate for their quiet neighborhood and would bring a host of noise, parking, lighting, and other problems. But the amphitheater’s owner, Danny Scher, counters that the county cannot outlaw his proposed use of his own property without threatening the legality of every Tupperware party, benefit ball, and political fund-raiser on the block.
How did there ever get to be an amphitheater in this secluded enclave in the first place? The history of the spot is of more than casual interest; Scher argues that since an amphitheater on this spot has been used continuously since before local zoning laws were written, it should be granted “legal nonconforming use” status — in other words, it should be grandfathered in. The property was owned by the Hildebrand family for over sixty years before Scher bought it in 1988. The multi-lot site he purchased already included a natural bowl — a hillside curved in the shape of an amphitheater in which the Hildebrands had built a stage (the daughter of the family reportedly held dance performances there). The site was also used for weddings and anniversaries. Scher, a former concert producer for Bill Graham Presents, says the existence of the amphitheater was one of the reasons he chose to buy the house in the first place. Moreover, in the thirteen years he’s lived there, he’s held many events, including fund-raisers and concerts, and says he’s never had a complaint from neighbors or law enforcement. He claims that the changes he’s brought to the site are only improvements to an existing open-air venue. “All I did was clean up the yard,” he says, “and in the process planted a lot of shrubs and trees.”
Neighbors see it differently. Where once there was a rickety, rough-hewn stage and a grassy, overgrown hillside, they say, there are now seven rows of stone-paved seating, stairs and pathways, extensive lighting, and electrical outlets on a new wooden stage to allow amplified music. “I live on the uphill side, on a lot that was once adjacent to that property,” explains neighbor Toni Folger-Brown. “My home was built by my parents in 1937 and I was born here in 1942. Joel Hildebrand built that stage for his daughter to do modern dance in the 1920s, and then there wasn’t anything there for a long time after that. There was a fireplace, a stage, a volleyball court — it was a family recreation area. I don’t know for a fact that the Hildebrands never held a fundraiser there, but there were no events that anyone ever noticed.”
In fact, Scher himself has held events that nobody seemed to notice at the time (although now some residents claim his parties have always been a thorn in their side: “A couple of years ago, he had a concert of zydeco music, and I happen to like zydeco,” says Folger-Brown. “But you could hear it, and you could hear the announcer shouting joyfully, and the audience responding. If this goes on a long time, and you want to watch a baseball game or whatever, it’s annoying.”). But what really got neighbors’ attention was the extensive improvements Scher made to the site in preparation for a concert he hoped to hold in May to benefit the Parkinson’s Foundation. “[Scher] had told us he just wanted to build a small amphitheater, maybe two or three rows of seats, and have some small performances, and we were generally supportive of that, because we thought people should be able to do what they want to do, and he has a big yard,” says George Kwei, whose long driveway brushes right up against the back of the stage. “But in the last three weeks of construction, he removed all the bushes between our yard and his, and that’s when it really struck us — this has gotten large. There were workmen up in trees putting wires in. It’s something that might be a lot nicer downtown, not in a residential area.”
Residents have a host of worries about concerts in the amphitheater, and the noise from amplified music is not the least of them. Residents say informal talks with real estate agents indicate that their property values will be hurt by the amphitheater; residents who value the neighborhood’s secluded, rural feel are also bothered by the idea of having 250 strangers in close proximity. Parking and traffic on these narrow streets is also a big concern; Scher promises to provide shuttle service from a BART station where attendees could leave their cars, but neighbors argue that a significant number would shun that transit option in favor of driving to the site. Increased parking — as well as the catering trucks, porta-potties, and equipment vans that could accompany a large concert — could clog access for residents and emergency vehicles alike, neighbors worry. “[Scher] had paths put in that empty out into our driveway, but that’s our only access to the outside world,” worries Kwei. “If there was an emergency, we’d be trapped at our house.” Residents from Berkeley’s Thousand Oaks neighborhood — just across the canyon — have also gotten involved, not just because sound can easily travel from one side of the canyon to another, but because fire can also: “We’re in one of the top fire hazard areas,” says Thousand Oaks resident Patti Gildersleeve, “and the equipment — vendors, caterers, roadies — could cause a fire. That’s a real scare for me, because if something starts as a result of this, not only would people who live on the other side, as well as the attendees, have difficulty evacuating down the narrow road, but the fire trucks wouldn’t be able to come up the hill — and then it’s going to come across the canyon.”
In point of fact, however, these worries are not enough to outlaw Scher’s plans — after all, residents can lodge similar nuisance complaints against any party that gets too loud or attracts vehicular traffic. So the neighbors are now focusing on proving that since Scher intends to sell tickets and refreshments, his fund-raiser is a commercial activity which should be out of place in a residential area. Since Kensington is unincorporated, Contra Costa County must decide the issue, and Scher has appealed an initial rejection by the county’s Kensington Municipal Advisory Committee to the county’s Board of Supervisors. “Whether this is a nuisance or not is a separate issue,” says Supervisor John Gioia, whose district includes Kensington. “The question here is, what is a commercial activity and what is a personal activity?”
Original reports from county staff argued that fund-raisers, no matter how worthy the cause, are indeed commercial, and found no evidence to suggest the site had been used for similar commercial activities in the past. But in his appeal, Scher’s attorney cited First Amendment rights that designate soliciting funds for charity or political purposes as protected free speech. “This event was for a specific disease, which affects someone close to me,” says Scher. “I’m not making a penny — I’m giving it all away. Selling tickets — how different is that from a donation? The bigger issue here is, can a person use their house for a nonprofit charitable fund-raiser event? We all know everyone has been done it for years — so why is it different in my case?”
Raising the issue of political fund-raisers, one suspects, hits close to home for the elected board members. Gioia tabled the entire question at a board meeting last month, asking county counsel to review the issues again. “I support the whole idea of your right to exercise your freedom of speech,” says Gioia. “I’ve held political events in my home myself. So yes, there is an issue there. Our decision has to be, what does the law decide? That’s why I want this dealt with very completely, because it could be an issue that carries ramifications.”
The board will rule on the issue in September, but meanwhile it looks like things are going to stay pretty tense in the little hillside neighborhood of Coventry Road. Before the May 20th event, there seems to have still been hope that the neighborhood could work things out; Scher wrote a chatty letter to neighbors, explaining his intentions and inviting other residents to call for a personal tour of his grounds. But since then, another neighbor distributed copies of an article critiquing Scher’s role as vice president of Bill Graham Presents at a time when the concert-venue and -production company built the 15,000-seat, $15 million Shoreline Amphitheater in Mountain View over the strenuous objections of residents in the South Bay city. Although nearly sixty neighbors signed a letter to the county arguing against Scher, the character-smearing tactics used by some have certainly alienated others. “There are apparently people who are saying, ‘We know he’s a big-time operator; there’s no way he’s going to give all the money to charity, there’s got to be something in it for him,'” says neighbor Wendy Bergman. “But I don’t have any evidence of that, and I don’t like that way of treating other people. I just don’t see the point in getting all agitated in advance,” she says. “If we can hear the music and it’s good music, we’ll just sit out on our patio and have a free concert — it’s only going to last a couple of hours, and it’s only going to be a few times a year. Or we’ll just take a bike ride. If there’s a problem, I’ll tell him about it, but I think a lot of the furor is over the fact that people know he used to organize rock concerts.”
Ultimately, neighbors say, the debate comes down to a differing vision for the neighborhood. “We’re talking scale here,” says Gildersleeve. “If I have a Tupperware party, nobody knows, but if I have 250 people over, everybody knows. People here don’t have fences — it’s just one big oak forest. I’ve always valued this neighborhood because it is so peaceful and quiet. I’m not trying to deny him the same privileges on his property that I have on mine, but it comes down to an interpretation of what is a neighborly use of the property.” For Scher, it’s an even bigger question: “Can neighbors control what you do?”
