Owens 



continued 



established oceanfront setbacks 

 and banned seawalls. 



"They (the CRC) decided not to 

 sacrifice public beaches for upland 

 development," Owens says. 



And because of CRC's stand, 

 North Carolina doesn't have to con- 

 tend with vanishing beaches as in 

 New Jersey or with the enormous 

 beach renourishment bills of 

 Florida. 



Instead, North Carolina's ocean- 

 front management program has 

 been a model for coastal develop- 

 ment in other states. 



Although Owens doesn't cast a 

 vote on the CRC, he and his staff 

 provide the commission with the in- 

 formation they need to make their 

 decisions and take their stands. 



"When the CRC is confronted 

 with a problem, they ask them- 



selves what do we want the coast 

 to be like in the future in respect to 

 that problem," Owens says. 



"To provide them with answers, 

 we put together an analysis: What 

 are the choices? What are the im- 

 pacts of those choices," he says. "We 

 tie the pieces together and provide 

 the framework so the citizens' com- 

 mission and legislators can do their 

 work." 



It's that ability to look to the 

 future and to know what should be 

 done that many say makes Owens 

 so effective. 



"Take the oceanfront manage- 

 ment program, for example," says 

 Kathy Henderson, the division's 

 public information officer. "It 

 started as something simple, but 

 Dave followed it, pushed it when 

 necessary and watched it evolve. 



"It takes that kind of vision to see 

 into the future and to know what it 

 takes to get there," she says. 



Sea Grant Director B.J. Copeland 

 agrees. 



"He's an effective leader," 

 Copeland says. "In fact, I'd say he's 

 the most progressive and capable 

 coastal manager in the United 

 States. And it's been his leadership 

 as assistant director and director 

 that has made the North Carolina 

 coastal management program a 

 model nationwide." 



But what Henderson and Cope- 

 land see as foresight, Owens calls 

 persistence and stubbornness. 



"There are very few short-term 

 problems in this business," he says. 

 "Most of the problems we face take 

 a long time to solve. You have to 

 have continuity and tenacity to 

 resolve them and make progress. 

 And you have to be willing to take 

 the short-term less glamorous steps 

 to get there." 



But Owens' reward is seeing re- 

 sults—watching the state acquire 

 Carrot, Masonboro and Permuda 

 islands as natural sites for preser- 

 vation and "knowing that 20 years 

 from now they'll look the same ex- 

 cept for natural changes." 



Although seeing a project come 

 to fruition is rewarding, Owens 

 knows that other problems loom 

 ahead. 



"There are very few permanent 

 victories," Owens says. "There are 

 always new developers standing at 

 the door who don't understand the 

 regulations or a new conservation 

 group who doesn't know how to 

 translate their ambitions into good 

 works. 



"Yesterday it was Masonboro 

 Island; today, Buxton Woods; to- 

 morrow, something else," he says. 



For now, the controversy over 

 Buxton Woods, the state's largest 

 remaining maritime forest, is filling 

 Owens' agenda. He's negotiating 

 between landowners, conservation- 

 ists and county government officials 

 to determine the forest's fate. 



"Sometimes I feel like Henry 

 Kissinger with his shuttle diplo- 

 macy," Owens says. "Last week I 

 was in Washington, DC, to talk to 

 federal officials. Then it was back to 

 Manteo to talk to the county com- 

 missioners. And I ended the day on 

 the phone with the lawyer for the 

 landowners." 



