Carmel, Calif. Bans Walking Tours

By Mark Evans Associated Press Writer Tuesday, September 2, 1997; 3:16 a.m. EDT

CARMEL, Calif. (AP) -- There's a new set of villains in the town once ruled by Clint Eastwood.

They're harmless alone. But banded together, they clog the pine-shaded sidewalks. They traipse through elegant courtyards and leer over fences into manicured backyards.

They're tourists, the kind who pay for group walking tours. The same tours that Carmel has outlawed.

``We'd rather have a quiet town, and there's a quiet way to discover Carmel -- on your own,'' said Mayor Ken White, defending the City Council's recent 3-2 decision to ban guided walks.

The ban isn't the first or most unusual regulation in the town 100 miles south of San Francisco famed for its tiny English-style inns, pricey boutiques, ocean views and Eastwood, the tough-guy actor who served as mayor a decade ago.

For years, Carmel has been a place where you can't buy a beer and listen to a band at the same time and where you won't find a neon light or a street address. One rarely enforced ordinance requires women wearing high-heel shoes to get a permit because their heels crush or pit walkways and shop floors. And White, among others, once sought to ban ice cream cones for fear of messy sidewalks.

``There are principles at stake here, and many of us are aware of the need to stay true to them,'' the mayor said.

But some cry overkill, including Councilman Marshall Hydorn, who called the walking ban ``almost un-American.''

Gale Wrausmann is perhaps the most livid. Her guided ``Carmel Walks'' is the only licensed walking tour in town and the target of the ban.

``They've gone way overboard,'' she said following a recent stroll with a dozen $15-a-head tourists in tow.

``(The City Council) is trying to say it's based on principle. What it really is is back-room politics -- a small group of people who want to keep Carmel available only to a select few. That's wrong.''

Wrausmann has no plans to stop walking and hopes the American Civil Liberties Union can help battle what she calls an illicit trampling of her free-speech rights.

``They can't exactly pull me off the sidewalks at their whim,'' she said.

Even in a town used to such oddities, the dispute seems to have opened a wider-than-usual chasm among some of the town's 4,700 residents. Some say it signals that Carmel's long love-hate relationship with tourists has swung toward the latter emotion.

Many blame sheer numbers. In recent summers, the town's population has jumped dramatically as 20,000 tourists pour in each day.

But tourist dollars account for more than half of the city's $9 million budget, making it increasingly difficult for city leaders to abide by a 1929 credo, etched in City Hall, which declares ``business and commerce ... (are) subordinated to (Carmel's) residential character.''

Dick Hardin, whose Carmel Pipe Shop opened in the 1950s, says he's heard the debate many times and finds the current version disturbing.

``I have a deep passion for Carmel, but frankly I think we're losing it,'' Hardin said as tourists crammed inside his tiny shop. ``When someone comes to town, you'd better treat them as your guest. You treat them very, very nice.''

For her part, Wrausmann has lined up several business owners and residents who have sent letters of support. And she's found a subtle way to let city leaders know her feelings every day.

After winding through a courtyard and stopping briefly at Carmel's historic theater, she recently instructed her tour group to stop in front of City Hall. After a few historical anecdotes -- and an obligatory snippet about Eastwood's two-year reign that ended in 1988 -- she urged her guests not to be shy.

``So, now, before we move on,'' she told the tourists, ``please feel free to give that building whatever gesture you want.''

© Copyright 1997 The Associated Press