2H Construction’s Sean Hitchcock: He reads me! He really reads me!

PHOTO by DANIEL DE BOOM

In an exclusive interview with Sean Hitchcock, the wealthy and well-connected construction company owner who last spring ravaged nine acres of protected wetlands-area habitat near Studebaker Rd. and Loynes Dr. without bothering to get a city permit, The District Weekly has learned . . . well, that Sean Hitchcock reads The District Weekly.

“You’re from The District?” Hitchcock repeated when I introduced myself to him—technically, reintroduced myself, but more on that later—in the foyer of city hall’s council chamber after a zoning hearing on Oct. 12. “Dave, I’ve read your stuff.”

Flattering!

Hitchcock circulates among some of Long Beach’s most influential crowds, from politicians and philanthropists to bureaucrats and soccer brats. It never hurts to have someone like that reading your hometown publication.

Okay, almost never.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” Hitchcock told me, tensely cracking a smile—because apparently he hasn’t enjoyed what he has been reading about himself here since March 19 and 20, when he disregarded city law and endangered species and human life. That’s kind of sad.

Then again, nobody gets love from everybody, and at least Hitchcock has been able to count on the comfort and support of his friends in high places—especially some among Long Beach’s elected officials and senior staffers. They’ve gone out of their way to soften his fall and sometimes even take it for him.

Most recently, Planning Department administrator Derek Burnham decided at that Oct. 12 hearing not to require Hitchcock to restore the habitat he tore apart and flattened—and later covered with imported dirt to seal in the methane he’d released into neighborhoods from the former city dump—in hopes of someday installing soccer fields. The basis for Burnham’s decision? There isn’t much evidence of wetlands habitat on that land . . . anymore.

“Now, whether that’s because they were all taken away or were never there, it’s hard to determine,” said Burnham, “but we’re going to argue to the side that there were never any plants there that were wetlands-dependent.”

Burnham also took issue with the 20 or so residents who showed up for the Monday afternoon meeting to argue that Hitchcock—a successful contractor who has been hired by the city for many big-money jobs—should have known better than to release his mechanical hounds without getting a permit.

“It’s not within the purview of me or anybody to speculate as to intent here, whether it was out of malice or out of him not knowing the rules,” Burnham said. “I’m sure if Mr. Hitchcock had it to do over again he would certainly take a different course of action.”

Burnham may have been sure, but it was worth asking Hitchcock to be certain, which is why I approached him in the foyer to inquire: “Would you do it differently?”

“I’m not commenting,” Hitchcock replied, and he began to move toward the exit flanked by the two men he’d hired to do his talking for him—attorney Charles R. Hokanson and biologist Ty Garrison. “I’ve read your articles.”

Again with the flattery!

But I’d tried to interview Hitchcock many times since March—including the afternoon in June after our vehicles nearly collided in the civic-center parking structure, where he was maybe driving too fast and definitely going the wrong way. We’d never met, but I saw the 2H Construction logo on his pickup and matched him with the way people described Hitchcock: a big guy with a buzz cut. Bingo!

He backed up, then parked. I found a spot, grabbed a notepad and ran toward his truck, arriving as he placed two three-ring binders on the hood. They were titled “Studebaker and Loynes.” It felt like destiny.

“I’m already 10 minutes late for a meeting with Craig Beck in Development Services, so this isn’t a good time,” Hitchcock explained. “Can we do it later?”

He gave me a phone number, and that evening I called it, leaving my cell number, although I knew deep down he’d never call. He didn’t.

“Remember you said you’d call me back?” I asked this month as we walked out of city hall and toward that same parking structure.

“Correct,” Hitchcock replied coldly.

“And didn’t?” I persisted.

“Because I’ve read your articles,” Hitchcock said again.

Hitchcock wouldn’t say what he doesn’t like about my coverage of him—whether he’s pained by something I may have gotten wrong or whether it’s that the truth hurts. Maybe it’s bigger than the two of us—possibly including, for example, the way some of the residents in that Zoning Administration hearing had referred to him as a common criminal with no respect for the rule of law . . . or worse. One speaker said Hitchcock’s destruction of animal and plant life put him in a class with Michael Vick, the pro football player who went to prison for organizing dog fights.

“Obviously, Mr. Hitchcock has a reaction to that,” interjected Hokanson, his attorney. “He’s human. It’s unjustified because they are speculating as to his motivation.”

The speculation will continue. Appeals of Burnham’s decision have been filed, and Hitchcock’s case will next be heard by the Planning Commission. Things look good for him there: the commission is loaded with colleagues who serve with Hitchcock on advisory boards at Memorial Medical Center—including commissioners Alan L. Fox and Charles Durnin and the husband of commissioner Donita Van Horik, John Fielder.

Expect that decision to be appealed, too, which will finally send Hitchcock’s case to a place not so saturated with Hitchcock’s friends: the California Coastal Commission. Although you never really know. This is one popular guy.

Which is why it feels so good for me to be able to say, all Sally Field-like: He reads me! He really reads me!

Tags: 2H Construction, california coastal commission, Long Beach, Los Cerritos Wetlands, Sean Hitchcock