Share The Sand

Battles are often fought on beachfronts. In most places, that’s because they’re the first bit of land to come under siege from invaders. That narrative is turned on its head on the East End, where the sandy shore is the setting for the culmination of a generations-long cultural fight, with echoes of all that came before.

The symbiosis of year-round local residents and part-time visitors fueled the South Fork’s explosive growth and its emergence as an international destination with few equals. But growth brings friction, and a flashpoint is access to the idyllic stretch of shoreline encompassing the region. It’s not a new fight — it began in the 1800s — but recent court decisions give it a new relevance.

English settlers established from the start that the waterfront is special, and it should be accessible to all. Long before oceanfront mansions were in vogue, it was an economic engine that provided a way of life for many. Maintaining access to that resource was a founding principle.

Recent court decisions have begun to chip away at that principle, and it warrants a timeout to consider the stakes, not just for the two sides but for the modern settlement they built together, side by side.

An Express Sessions event last week explored this theme, and though the debate exudes an “us-and-them” cast, that’s an oversimplification. In truth, there are a spectrum of points of view; throw out the farthest extremes, and you have two sets of people who enjoy the slim stretch of sand in different ways that sometimes clash. Is there room for both?

On one side are waterfront property owners on the oceans and bays. The vast majority are not opposed to public access of the near-water parts of the beaches near their homes — the biggest objections are limited to a few spots where vehicles are allowed to park on the sand, an intense and annoying use at peak summer. On the other side are the beach visitors in those vehicles, who can point to an enduring tradition among working-class families who have done it for more than a generation.

The legal fight, however, ropes in the remaining recreational and commercial fishermen for whom the earliest rules were written, and who are now caught up in a winner-take-all court fight. State courts looking specifically at so-called “Truck Beach” in Amagansett have started to erode the colonial foundations of beach access.

Is compromise such a fantastical notion? Without question, the stakes are as high as possible. If, to reinforce the public’s rights to access Truck Beach, East Hampton Town moves forward with condemnation of the beachfront, it’s a breathtaking gamble, considering the final cost of reimbursing property owners will be decided by a court — with the town risking a price tag that would bankrupt some small nations.

On the flipside, it’s a long way from the current court rulings to a complete privatization of the beachfront on the East End, but the specter looms large. Any loss of public beach access would be catastrophic — the exodus of year-round residents would hasten, and the labor infrastructure, already tottering, would collapse — and so it remains a principle that must be reinforced in whatever way necessary.

So what if — what if — this wasn’t a tug-of-war? What if there was a way to encourage both sides to pull in one direction instead? This is an existential crisis, and if only one side wins, it will be a Pyrrhic victory. There is room enough for compromise.

Are there solutions that give every side everything they want? Unlikely. But that’s the nature of compromise. King Solomon isn’t available, but it’s likely there are men and women who can take his place and try to find a sensible middle ground. It’s time to work it out, as neighbors do.

Compromise comes in many colors. Perhaps there’s an acknowledgment that access doesn’t mean unfettered access — and parking vehicles on the sand in the summer is an unreasonable expansion. Or maybe it’s worth protecting as a family tradition, in which case the towns and villages should aim to provide more locations for it, and limit the number of vehicles in any one spot. When the issue is a beach blocked from the public by private houses, more municipal parking lots and access points might be necessary.

Maybe, at Truck Beach, it’s time for a new pact: If the town agrees to drop talk of condemnation, the homeowners there agree to clear up the matter by granting an easement permitting full public access to “pass and repass” — but not to park and set up camp. Who knows? In the spirit of cooperation, the homeowners might even be convinced to grant “Summer Sundays,” some nod to the tradition allowing limited beach parking one day a week in the summer, if they can enjoy an untainted view the other six. And it’s up to the town to address the absence of a beach lot to keep that stretch accessible to the public on those other days.

Bottom line, the beachfront belongs to everyone — it’s a core concept of why the region is special — and there are many solutions beyond those that come when a gavel falls.