![]() Port Commissioner Bob Nelson called the plan “breathtaking.” It’s estimated to cost more than $1.2 billion. Gaffen’s vision would replace most of what stands today at the Central Embarcadero with parks, an aquarium, retail space, a charter school, a 480-foot spire, thousands of underground parking spaces, two hotels and a hostel. In a recent dream, the South African expat discovered an earthquake fault running through 40 acres of land in downtown San Diego - the land he and partners Jeff Jacobs and Jeff Essakow hope to transform into “one of the most hotly anticipated destination waterfront sites in the nation.” A game-changing fault could sink Seaport before it even begins.Īt a public meeting one month prior, Gaffen and his partners had leap-frogged over five competitors to steer a future for this section of the waterfront called the Central Embarcadero, long home to a quaint cluster of shops and restaurants and a marina known respectively as Seaport Village and Tuna Harbor. Yehudi Gaffen’s nightmares are different from yours. “It’s a question of whether we’re still going to be here.” ![]() “The fish are there, and the demand is there,” local fisherman John Law added, then paused. You shouldn’t allow old fishermen to say, ‘Ahh the best days are over.’ They’re not over! They’re way ahead of us.” “There’s a fantastic future coming up and it shouldn’t be disregarded. Peter Halmay, a veteran sea urchin diver and president of the San Diego Fishermen’s Working Group, has an optimistic side. But it’s safe to say that today is a critical juncture. History hasn’t always been kind to the men and women whose livelihoods depend on what lies beneath San Diego waters, and what happens next is anyone’s guess. “Most fishermen didn’t go into fishing because they wanted to work with others,” an industry consultant told inewsource. Ironically, one of their biggest hurdles lies in what drove fishermen to the water in the first place - a yearning for solitude and independence, and an aversion to working together. Reality is a complicated web of not just one developer’s vision, but a port’s priorities, state and federal restrictions, generations of family drama, international competition, and a somewhat-sordid history of waterfront development in America’s Finest City. Like every real-life situation, the fishermen’s tale is not black and white. “There’s a 50-50 chance that we could kill it,” Harris said.īut killing it won’t solve their problems. Today, in a turnaround, this aging generation finds itself in a position of power: Able to make or break a billion-dollar development proposal called Seaport that seeks to radically redefine San Diego’s waterfront. In the city once hailed as the Tuna Capital of the World, Harris and roughly 150 other local commercial fishermen have seen their numbers dwindle against ever constricting catch laws and the crush of foreign competition. It’s the tomorrow that holds all the meaning. He’s just a fisherman, having a rough day, and will try again tomorrow. His voice, a blend of sea salt and gargled pebbles, isn’t a reflection on the primal nature of man. There are no metaphors here: The boat isn’t life, the fish aren’t dreams and no deep truths lie hidden among the worn creases and fresh scars on Harris’ hands. “I can’t hit my ass with both hands today,” he said. Then, he noticed he had lost the chain weight - the final straw. “One little dab,” he said, looking at the small, flounder-like fish that was once a staple in San Diego. Harris replaced the lead weight with a scrap-iron chain, drove to a new location, dropped the line again, and pulled it up. The line’s lead weight, lost to the deep, was worth about the same price as the fish would be at Saturday’s market. Ten minutes later, he dislodged the hook and welcomed aboard the Sea Nag one dead rockfish, its eyes and stomach bulging from the decompression accompanying such a rapid ascent. “God dammit.”Īt 75, Harris deftly maneuvered between the throttle and his fishing pole, trying every which way to free up the line. Now his line - wiggling with potential sales - was stuck on the ocean floor, 300 feet straight down. ![]() You can see the changes here.Īfter three hours and three unsuccessful trips to reputable yet barren fishing spots near the mouth of San Diego Bay, Phil Harris had finally nabbed a worthwhile bite. This story has been updated with corrections and clarification. WARNING : This story contains strong language and a description of a suicide. Photo and video by Brad Racino and Megan Wood Fix This: A community reporting project from inewsourceĪrtwork by Alexander Mostov for inewsource.Seaport San Diego: The commercial fishing industry meets a developer Close
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