Part of Brighton Pier collapsed last month, emphasizing the need to restore the British landmark. But does rescuing the old resort justify compromising a seaside view?

Story from the magazine by Alita Byrd / Jan. 10, 2003

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A section of Brighton Pier, pictured here in 1997, fell into the sea on Dec. 27, 2002. (© Bob Smith)

BRIGHTON, ENGLAND—Londoners have toted beach bags to this resort town on the southern coast ever since a local doctor recommended the medicinal properties of seawater in the 1750s. Although the weather here may not be much better than in London, George IV, who reigned from 1820 to 1830, came and went for 50 years, leaving behind his fantasy palace of cast-iron onion domes and minarets named the Royal Pavilion. Day-trippers still crowd the resort, as families clamoring for fish and chips and fun fairs bump up against vegetarian anarchists knocking back organic smoothies. And they all stroll the English Channel overlook called King's Road, from the Palace Pier on the east end all the way to the West Pier.

Or they did until the West Pier, failing physically and financially, closed in 1975, 109 years after it rose from the ocean floor on hundreds of cast-iron columns. Today, barbed wire and "Keep Out" signs intercept visitors, save for the starlings that swarm in and out of holes in the roof of the 1916 concert hall, an octagonal oval supported by cast-iron arches. A large theater finished in 1903 crumbles in full exposure to the elements at the head of the 1,115-foot-long wood pier. The pier structure itself is so rotted that experts worry a winter storm will mangle it beyond repair. Indeed, on Dec. 27, the pier partially collapsed, sending chunks of the pavilion into the sea.

Now the group that owns the pier says it's prepared to restore the property, buildings and all. But there's a catch: The Brighton West Pier Trust, which bought the property in 1978, insists that restoration be financed by a commercial enterprise—three new buildings that would stand three stories tall and flank the pier along the shore, the first construction on the seafront in half a century.

The plan goes too far, say its opponents, because the new construction would rise from the beach as much as 28 feet above King's Road, obstructing views of the channel and destroying the pier's setting. "We don't think the ruination of the seafront should go ahead just to save the pier," says Clive Buxton, the man behind Save Our Seafront, a coalition opposing the development. "The seafront is a heritage asset in itself. The vista is tremendous. We don't want a rather tacky complex on the seafront."

S.O.S. allies include actress Joan Plowright, widow of Sir Laurence Olivier and a longtime Brighton resident; if you must build, they say, limit the height to street level. The conglomerate that owns the Palace Pier isn't pleased that its rival will function as a modern commercial enterprise instead of as a historic site.

In 1998, the West Pier Trust secured a grant of nearly £15 million ($23 million) toward restoring the pier. The source was the Heritage Lottery Fund, an organization that distributes National Lottery income to historic landmarks. But the award is only half the estimated cost of restoring the West Pier, and the money will not be released until the trust can prove that enough income will flow from private enterprise to pay the other half. The new buildings' shops and restaurants will generate that income, the trust says.

"The buildings would have to be twice as big to attract the same amount of rent per square foot if they were built below the King's Road," according to Nick Doyle, a director at St Modwen Properties Plc., the trust's developer. Besides, the trust argues, they will be largely glass, almost transparent construction. Tall buildings are crucial to reaping high rents, says Rachel Clark, general manager of the trust. "We must offer light, clear space so we can earn more from high-class tenants," she says. "It's no good creating subterranean rental space."

West Pier's restoration would involve raising the whole structure several feet to compensate for higher ocean levels; how much of the old buildings' materials must be replaced remains unknown. Although the facades, which picked up the Royal Pavilion's oriental theme, would be restored to their 1920s appearance, the interiors would be converted into attractions for contemporary seaside visitors. "It doesn't matter, so long as it's something popular that everyone can enjoy," says Fred Gray, the West Pier Trust archivist. "Themed restaurants, upmarket shops, a casino, conference space—whatever is popular. If piers and seaside towns don't change and continually reinvest and reinvent themselves to meet new trends in tourism, they'll decline."

Indeed, since the advent of the package holiday in far-off places with guaranteed sand and sun, Brighton's popularity has declined. But Buxton of S.O.S. counters, "we don't want to go to the seafront to go shopping."

The West Pier Trust has worked closely with Brighton & Hove Council, the local government authority, as the development and restoration plans progressed. In November, the council reviewed independent recommendations in preparation for a decision on whether to approve the project.

Gray is philosophical about the arguments against the development. "People say the new buildings will destroy the views," he says. "What they don't understand is that the buildings will bring new views. If the West Pier goes, we will lose all the views of the pier as well as the views from the pier. One way or another, someone's going to lose a view."

Alita Byrd is a free-lance writer living in London.

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