Sunken City’s dire coastal warning

What one tiny San Pedro neighborhood that slid into the sea can teach us about about the future

By Kim McGill

Nearly 100 years ago, there was a neighborhood here.

Built by developer George Huntington Peck, 39 luxury homes were built on local cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The final development of the elite San Pedro Hills.

But within a few years of opening, the land beneath the cliffs shifted, a water and gas line broke, the street cracked and dropped several feet.

By June 1929, the community had slumped over 7.5 feet. An earthquake in July hastened the movement further.

The community was evacuated. The area was renamed the Point Fermin Landslide.

In May of 1931, William Miller, professor and chairperson of the Department of Geology at the University of California, Los Angeles, published a study of the landslide in Scientific Monthly. “A considerable body of bedrock is slowly moving into the sea,” he wrote.

Miller described the cause of the drop.

“Five acres of bedrock on land, as well as a larger portion of bedrock under the ocean, is breaking away from the mainland,” he wrote.

He added that the fissuring and cracking of the ground caused a number of buildings to be damaged.

“Where the ever-widening main fissure crosses the street, an attempt is being made to keep it filled with dirt,” he said.

But by the 1940s, all that was left was the crumbling foundations of the remaining two homes, now sitting more than fifty feet below from where they originated.

Miller’s report read that “the fundamental cause of the landslide lies in the character and structure of the rocks. It’s an anticline in a strong seaward dip likely to continue for years.”

A very dangerous area

26.3 million Californians live along the coast. Increasingly for these residents, the devastation of coastal erosion is becoming more evident.

From the rocky Bluff Cove beach on the Palos Verdes Peninsula, El Camino earth sciences professor Sara Di Fiori instructed her students to observe how erosion impacts the coastline. Close by the green and brown vegetation engulfing the cliff side was interrupted by a large section of slate grey sediment. That demonstrates where a recent landslide occurred, she explained.

Di Fiori said slippery layers of clay are not the only factor that encourages houses to slide off into the ocean. She says owners and developers also make poor landscaping decisions.

“If you add water to clay, it swells up and if the layers are tilted toward the ocean, you slide right in,” Di Fiori adds.

Geo-engineering—such as water pipes installed into the cliffs to remove excess water— can’t hold back the erosion, Di Fiori explained.

“It’s a very dangerous area,” Di Fiori added.

In addition to the erosion waves below also carve away the cliffs bottom. Climate change is causing more powerful storms and a dramatic rise in sea level is hastening coastal erosion.

Indigenous leaders urge change

A 30-minute drive north of Sunken City, the luxury development of Playa Vista threatens the Ballona Wetlands Ecological Reserve, home to over 1,700 wildlife species.

Ironically, the wetlands are the most important protector against the dangers of both coastal erosion and flooding due to sea level rise. Wetlands are essential to the survival of the human developments that seek to overtake them.

Gina De Baca grew up in Santa Monica and teaches indigenous and folkloric dancing.

She remembers the fight against building Playa Vista.

The indigenous people of the region—the Tongva—lived with coastal erosion and respected nature’s process. “They have a lot to teach us about how to live in harmony with the natural environment,” De Baca said.

But developers’ quest to build on every inch of the coast threatens the future of the land De Baca said.

For that reason, she says, the Tongva should be involved in every decision about development in LA County.

“Our indigenous elders remind us that the earth serves us, and we’re expected to serve the earth,” De Baca said.

Mother nature has a bigger budget

Today, Sunken City is known worldwide as an essential destination for graffiti writers. It’s a favorite spot for couples, people looking to get high and meditate on life, and teenagers too cool for school.

It endures as a warning to would-be developers who prioritize quick profits over long-term community.

On the inside of the barrier wall that people jump to enter Sunken City—between communities still intact and the desolation of a neighborhood that slid into the sea—a graffiti artist created a chubby blue water drop with mournful eyes.

As if warning us.

There are humans sounding warnings also.

“The cliffs have more time and more natural impetus to move,” DiFiori said.

She stands by beneath a sign at Bluff Cove that warns of falling rocks

“They’re not going to care how much money you spend to preserve structures,” she added. Mother nature has a bigger budget.”