The Natives Are Restless -- Anderson Island

ANDERSON ISLAND isn't exactly an island paradise - ask anyone who bought property there but couldn't afford to develop it, or retire to it. Still, for its inhabitants, it was a bastion of small town life amid a sprawling metropolis. They hoped to keep it that way, but rapid development drawing hundreds of new residents threatens to forever change the island's personality.

Betty Mae Anderson pulled her car onto the shoulder of the Eckentstam-Johnson Road and surveyed the damage.

"Gosh, Bernice, this makes me sick," she said to her companion, Bernice Hundis, as the two stared at newly cleared land - roughly a half-acre filled with jagged stumps, torn-up ground and broken brush.

"The chanterelles that were in there," said Anderson, shaking her head. "This used to be the best place for mushrooms."

Patches of cleared land and new construction are becoming common on this small island south of Tacoma named after Hudson Bay trader Alexander Caulfield Anderson.

For longtime residents like Betty Mae Anderson - who married into an old island family unrelated to the namesake - getting used to the sight is an unwelcome adjustment.

For years, a few hundred year-round residents have taken care of each other with a blend of intense privacy combined with familiarity unique to island life.

They take note of each other's coming and going, but they don't butt in unless there is a threat to person or property. Anderson tells a story about a man related by marriage to an islander. While visiting he noticed the number of antiques stashed away in old barns, disregarded on porches, stowed in garages. One day he returned with two pickups and began to help himself, piling the trucks high with things that could bring a good price in Tacoma or Seattle.

He hadn't counted on the island network. Peering out of windows and doors, islanders saw what he was doing at the closed-up homes of their neighbors. They got on their phones and word spread.

By the time the man got to the ferry landing, a group had assembled to ensure that no piece of Anderson Island treasure, however unwanted it might have appeared, made it off the island.

The threat this time is not to furniture but to a valued lifestyle. The drive down Larson Road is no exception - wood frames of houses under construction seem to be everywhere.

At the center of this activity is a couple from California. The transplants, both realtors, say they love Anderson Island as much as anyone.

"The island soothes," says Century 21 realtor Denis Johnson. "You could have the worst day, but you get on the ferry - and it's just over."

The island not only soothes, it has provided ample business opportunities. The walls of the couple's A-frame office are covered with sales awards, including a 1992 "Centurion" award to Joni Johnson for having had the fifth-highest number of sales and listings in the country last year.

Nationwide, the average realtor can expect to make about 35 such transactions in a year; Joni Johnson made 174 last year - exclusively on Anderson Island.

The Johnsons found a realtor's dream when they discovered Anderson Island four years ago. In the late 1960s, developers had subdivided the land around the island's two fresh-water lakes, laying out roads and 3,000 parcels, many only one-third of an acre, in the thick woods around Lake Josephine. They called their vision of a model community "Lake Josephine Riveria." Islanders just call it the Riveria.

The developers, who no longer are on the island, ran free trips out to Anderson, complete with offers of pots and pans. The land went quickly, at prices of $4,000 to $12,000 per lot, mostly to older people with dreams of retiring.

The developers promised a country club and a golf course. Both were built, although some islanders still question whether Anderson Island needed such a luxury. Developers reportedly implied there would be constant ferry service and that project permits would be easy to come by.

"We would call that puffing today," says Joni Johnson. "They were being sold a bill of goods that was not realistic."

Some Riveria buyers did build. But for the most part, the perfectly paved cul de sacs lay eerily empty the next two decades, leading only into the woods. Many elderly buyers simply held onto the land, making occasional failed attempts to sell and rarely setting foot on the island.

The Johnsons set to work contacting the Riveria purchasers and found many desperate to sell, often for little more than what they'd paid for the property two decades before.

One owner wrote, "Have been trying for several years to sell my lot. Had given up, but your letter influenced me to give it one more try. I am 80 years old and my dream vanished 20 years ago. I always had hope that could sell, but after trying listings with other agents I gave up."

Another letter read, "We are losing money continually paying the taxes and the community club, and we need to sell but not give it away. We should get at least $5,000 out of it."

With a little encouragement from the Johnsons, and some coordination with local builders, buyers quickly got interested in what Anderson Island had to offer.

"It was kind of like Lotto," admits Denis Johnson.

Initially, the couple got the cold shoulder from other residents. They set up shop next to the general store, in a 10-acre plot next to the Riveria that had been zoned commercial by Pierce County in the 1970s.

"We didn't show up in gold coats or slap magnets on the sides of our car, but the islanders approached us with every complaint they had had about realtors in the past 10 years," says Joni Johnson.

The Johnsons say the hostility faded and good spirit prevailed, with neighbors bringing over chicken soup and pie for Joni when she fell ill.

But some islanders, although resigned to the presence of the Century 21 office, still aren't happy about it. There seems to be a lingering feeling of resentment toward the Johnsons, often referred to as "that couple from California." Many feel the couple cashed in on the island.

"They really found a gold mine here," says Anderson.

Denis Johnson says if he and his wife hadn't found Anderson Island, someone else would have.

"We're concerned about the growth just as much as anybody else," he says.

The slow pace of change on the island is finally speeding up. A new ferry is being built with a 54-car and 250-passenger capacity - almost twice as big as the current ferry, the Steilacoom. The general store has run out of shelf space and owner Jeff Gillette is planning to expand.

"The island is growing faster than many of us are ready for," said Gillette.

The Johnsons predict more businesses will open. "It's going to happen," says Joni Johnson. "The island has an opportunity to plan the growth, and I hope they do. I would just hate to see something so precious get ruined."

"The island is changing fast," agrees Tom Palmer, captain of the Steilacoom. "But even though there's getting to be a lot of people, they just seem to disappear once they get over there. I think we all just want to have been the last person to move over."