The best $163 million Hilton Head ever spent, and how it can help the new highway fight
It’s the best $163 million ever spent on Hilton Head Island.
Or not.
It depends on what you think of the Cross Island Parkway.
The six-mile strip of pavement and tall bridge over Broad Creek was designed to connect the island’s north and south ends, but it darn near split the community instead.
It should have been called the Piñata Parkway because everyone took a whack at it in more than a decade of planning. It became a political litmus test, an ironic growth-control device, and the source of disputes that went all the way to the state Supreme Court.
And finally, just this month, its $1.25 toll has been lifted — 23 1/2 years after the parkway opened, and about 65 years after the concept was first aired.
The S.C. Department of Transportation says $163 million is about how much was collected at the toll booths now vacant, and about how much it doled out in expenses.
At this milestone, we can see the Cross Island as the quintessential Hilton Head saga of paradise vs. parking lot, growth vs. no-growth, retiree vs. business, resident vs. tourist, native vs. newcomer, and the people vs. town hall.
And if we’re smart, we can see how it will help guide the pending gargantuan gateway to the island, and the unrest that has a familiar echo.
VOICE OF THE PEOPLE
The people — and the Town Council — had a strong influence on how the divisive Cross Island turned out.
Not all of the decisions came from Columbia.
Native islanders were listened to when they objected to the state’s plan to plow through Gullah communities along Spanish Wells Road.
Sea Pines residents were listened to when they objected to the state plan for a seven-lane Palmetto Bay Road — talking them down to four lanes. In return, the town extended Archer Road to provide another option to get from Sea Pines Circle to the new bridge.
Environmentalists were listened to regarding runoff from the bridge, and the impact on wetlands.
Bicycling advocates were listened to, and the parkway became a popular trek for elite cyclists. And the Charles E. Fraser Bridge is now a workout center for walkers.
A Town Council member was listened to when he argued the road plan must spare the then-new post office on the north end.
Town Council also insisted it be called a “parkway” rather than “expressway” to address a widespread belief that it was too much like Los Angeles, and exactly what people come here to get away from.
A great concession came near the end of all the arguing, when the town negotiated for landscaping.
The state agreed to almost $1 million for plantings, an unheard-of sum that would keep it from looking like a “concrete jungle.” In exchange, the town took on maintenance of its median, plus the William Hilton Parkway median across the island and out to Moss Creek, keeping it at a level the state could never provide.
In the end, nobody got everything they wanted. But productive compromises were made.
SILVER LININGS
The Cross Island taught us that timelines and budgets are educated guesses at best.
It was dedicated a decade after initial projections.
And its total cost was vastly higher than the $56 million in debt the state incurred for the original project. The cost of collecting tolls played a big role in that, but the cost of the project rose during planning.
You can also blame delays on people who fought it tooth and nail.
It’s hard to grasp today just how much angst was afoot then in “paradise.” The island had just incorporated, and many islanders expected that to halt growth immediately.
The Cross Island was the elephant in the room because the town pinned its growth control on traffic counts, and felt it could not legally stop development based on traffic impact unless it had a remedy in place.
And it was projected that without the remedy of the Cross Island, it would take 43 minutes to drive from Sea Pines Circle to Folly Field Road.
Organizations doing battle in that era included the Coalition of Expressway Opponents, the Resident Homeowners Coalition, the Home Builders Association, the Chamber of Commerce, the Community Association, property owners associations and more than 20 professional organizations.
The state nearly walked away from it altogether, sending the town a bill for the millions it had already invested.
Then-state Sen. Holly Cork and state Rep. Scott Richardson were among those who helped keep that from happening.
The Cross Island produced a spinoff benefit by helping the Honey Horn tract become available for public purchase. It could have been the site of dense development, but when the Cross Island split it, the Hack family that owned it opted to sell it to the town. From that came the Jarvis Creek Park and the Honey Horn site, now Hilton Head’s “Central Park.”
Today’s activists need to concentrate on finding silver linings rather than stopping the new U.S. 278 project. They must learn to compromise.
The main point is that the Cross Island Parkway works — something that opponents doubt can happen under current plans for the new U.S. 278 gateway because it does not link to the Cross Island Parkway.
The Cross Island has no curb cuts, red lights or hot dog stands. It quickly gets you from Point A to Point B. It is not ugly. It keeps traffic off William Hilton Parkway. It aids hurricane evacuation.
And, believe it or not, it is paid for.
David Lauderdale may be reached at LauderdaleColumn@gmail.com.