THE COASTAL BEND MAGAZINE • Fall 2018 37 TheCoastalBend.com ues in 2008, the developer of Sandestin Resort in Florida was ready to invest over $1 billion in the Lake Padre site, but a certain physician and surfer felt as though his access to the newly built Packery Channel south jetty might be inhibited by the new resort. So, he organized a small group of opponents who printed up bumper stickers that said, “Don’t steal Texas beaches,” and the effort was killed at the ballot box. Then-Mayor Henry Garrett, who favored the project, along with his crack staff, failed to find a previously-passed ordinance that gave the City the power to allow the pedestrian beach that the developer required, without a public referendum. But all was not lost! The surfing doctor can still access his fave spot on the beach, unim- paired! He would love it if he still lived here. Maybe it’s a sign of the times, but the Ocean Drive Conspirators seem not to be the clan of smooth operators that they once were—they’ve gotten a bit sloppy, and their identities and motives are less well-concealed than ever—at least in their op- position to Barisi Village. To be sure, the Pharaoh Valley conspirators are not the A- Team of local naysayers. Their ranks are small. They hold no elected office or official position in government. While they are practicing attorneys, one is employed as an in-house lawyer at the family business, and the other operates a small, solo practice. Both earned their law degrees from an “unranked” law school, that is, outside the top 150 in the U.S. These two are not the pointy end of the spear when it comes to old money opposition, but they are well funded and so far, have accomplished their goal of perpetual delay, with a still-blurry end ahead. The “war of attrition” strategy usually succeeds in frustrating prospective de- velopers to the point of throwing their hands up and moving on. Successful creators of wealth do not scramble for the next chance to make a quick buck—offers flow in their direction on an endless basis—and when they feel unwelcome or unwanted in a community, they will take their millions elsewhere. Most developers are not interested in taking on a well-funded, small band of opposition who will drag them through local courts while smearing their reputations endlessly, even if the majority of a community wants him there. Jeff Blackard is not most developers. He seems to be a man who empathizes with the plight of the common man, and who also understands the plight of the un- common man. Even in the land of prosperity that is the United States of America, it is uncommon to be born into lifelong financial and social (small “s”) security—the kind of real wealth, earned by one’s parents and/or ancestors, which is a guarantee that comes with a prison of a dilemma: What to do? What a privilege it must be to need a cause. While most of the world is as- signed the causes attached to their hearts and moral compasses—parents, children, animals, religious faith, helping the less fortunate, a profession—those whose needs are guaranteed for life, as payment for their first, and in many cases only personal accomplishment, the successful exit from their mother’s womb, often live in search of…what to do. They need a cause. Gloria Vanderbilt’s son is a news anchor who found joy in adventure and learn- ing. Walt Disney’s daughter is a respected philanthropist and is known to live serv- ing people and animals in need. Sadly, though, it seems like they are both the excep- tion to the rule among the truly privileged class. What strikes this writer, and what seems to have struck Jeff Blackard and his partners, is the genuine, sincere hope that homeowners who live along the former Pharaoh Valley golf course enjoyed at the idea that Barisi Village could become a reality. Equally, their collective frustration, anger and disappointment over six years of delays to the project they see as the savior of their homes, is raw and real—and justified in the minds of almost any person you ask, at least those who know what year it is. Many of us remember how beautiful Pharaoh Valley used to be. The golf course was immaculate, one of the best on the Gulf Coast. The Country Club was vibrant and alive with activity. The tennis courts were full, two pro shops were making money, the swimming pool was wonderful, and the food at the club restaurant was even— decent. Pharaoh Valley used to be one of the city’s most desired and prestigious neighborhoods. It was limited in size, and what few homes became available were snatched up quickly and typically with a nice profit for the seller. The once prestigious PharaohValley subdivision, in decline following closing of golf course. Croatian-inspired architecture at the upscale AdriaticaVillage by the same developer.