Activist Haunts Council Causes

Within the somber chambers of the Los Angeles City Council, Anson Burlingame wields a power that evokes the envy of his peers, the admiration of politicians and the ire of some fellow homeowners.

Burlingame is not a city official, nor is he a paid consultant. He is a citizen activist from the northeast San Fernando Valley who thrust himself into the public arena partly to overcome personal tragedy, partly because of an overwhelming desire to branch out and learn.

For 13 years, the tall, reserved Shadow Hills resident has haunted the chambers of City Hall, where he testifies as often as four times a week, following various proposals through the maze of government’s proper channels. He is among a cadre of self-appointed crusaders who fight for Valley causes, but his diversity and thoroughness have set him apart from the others, some of whom are regarded as myopic gadflies.

“I’m fascinated by him,” said City Councilman Joel Wachs, in whose district Burlingame lives. “He’s a very bright man, and he does his homework. I wouldn’t call him a gadfly at all. He’s a very responsible, concerned person.”

Burlingame has emerged a staunch advocate for the Valley’s rural neighborhoods, crusading to save oak trees, working to reduce the size of proposed developments and helping to establish scenic corridors through the foothills from Sylmar to Sunland.

A typical week for Burlingame includes about 40 hours of research and many more at the lectern. During one recent week, for example, he made the 28-mile round trip from his home to City Hall three times. He spent nearly 30 hours at City Hall and came home each night to pore over legal documents and municipal ordinances, relaxing with a crossword puzzle before going to sleep and starting the process again.

Point of View Respected

City Councilman Hal Bernson said he so respects Burlingame’s point of view and expertise that he consults the 67-year-old retired builder on development proposals in his northwest Valley district.

“I think he knows a lot more about land-use than some of the members of the council, quite frankly,” Bernson said.

It is that kind of talk that makes some homeowner activists resentful of Burlingame. Some accuse him of being a power monger who seeks to rub elbows with politicos; others wonder how self-serving his motives are.

“I think he’s out for his own gain,” said Sylvia Gross, president of the Sunland-Tujunga Assn. of Residents. “But not for power so much as wanting whoever is in political power to like him and think he’s very smart.”

Burlingame initially threw himself into civic affairs in 1975 as a means of breaking a self-imposed isolation that developed after several family members died. The deaths of his mother, brother, sister and sister-in-law over a span of 18 months in 1972-73 had triggered a period of depression and seclusion.

“It was devastating,” Burlingame said. “I was a real hermit for a while. I just stayed on my property, went to the store and came back. I let my hair grow long.

“This is one reason why I got involved. It’s been really therapeutic for me. Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I could throw myself into this.”

So, when a subdivision was proposed for a parcel of land next door to the Sunland Boulevard home, Burlingame raced to City Hall to fight it.

“This is the way almost any activist starts,” Burlingame said. “And you just get caught up in it.”

Since then, Burlingame clearly has had a voice in some of the Valley’s most heated debates over how land should be used. He spearheaded opposition to the expansion of the Lopez Canyon landfill, a city-owned trash dump in Lake View Terrace; fought the use of the Big Tujunga Wash as an Olympic venue; and assisted in drafting the city’s ordinance to preserve oaks.

He is concerned about a variety of issues across the Valley, not just those affecting his neighborhood. And, unlike many other homeowner activists, he does not categorically oppose development in rural Valley areas. At times, his is often the lone voice in support of a project.

A soft-spoken man with a subtle sense of humor, he calls himself an unpaid lobbyist and said he is driven by a desire to learn.

“I’ve just got this crazy yearning to learn,” he said. “I have a feeling if you don’t keep on learning, you’ll stagnate. I don’t want to be one of those old doddering people whose main concern is whether they’re regular.”

He attributes his credibility to his knowledge of city laws. “Most homeowners have never cracked a code book,” he said. “They go in on emotions.”

Emotions, however, are indisputably what underlie Burlingame’s efforts. Since moving to his Shadow Hills home in July, 1944, he has watched sadly as the Valley changed drastically from a peaceful, bucolic expanse to an overdeveloped mass of congested suburbia.

He fondly remembers Sunland Boulevard 40 years ago, when it was “a meandering road” and not a four-lane highway. He reminisces about the Van Nuys of old, the town of bean fields and orange groves.

“There was a real feeling of space then,” he said. “The very worst thing the city has done has been to permit the tremendous growth that has gone on in the Valley.”

As the Valley was undergoing its fundamental change at the hands of developers, Burlingame himself worked as an architect and builder of apartments in the South Bay until he retired in 1965. He insists, however, that he never built anything that neighboring homeowners opposed.

In addition to trying to protect the Valley’s environs, Burlingame also sees himself as a champion of senior citizens, the homeless and the poor.

Burlingame has been the only outspoken advocate of a proposed apartment complex for senior citizens in Sun Valley. “I fully believe that every community should have within it all the elements of life, and seniors should not be warehoused,” he said.

He believes that low-income housing belongs alongside upscale residences and was strongly opposed to a Sun Valley development that would have displaced several poor families living in a ramshackle six-unit apartment that was to be demolished.

He recently favored the relocation of a school for emotionally disturbed teen-agers to a rural residential area in Sunland and incited the ire of the vehemently opposed area residents. That time, he did not win. “It’s a damn shame those kids don’t have a place to go,” he said.

However, he joined his neighbors in opposing construction of a Romanian Orthodox church in Shadow Hills’ horse country, citing the importance of preserving open space for equestrians.

His wide-ranging interests sometimes have gotten him into trouble with homeowners, who resent his involvement with issues outside the community in which he lives.

“I call him the self-appointed constable of the San Fernando Valley,” said Ed Duvall, president of Citizens for K-Districting, a Sylmar citizens’ group dedicated to preserving the rural character of the community.

“Why should he have an input on what’s affecting me in my community when he doesn’t live in my community?” Duvall asked. “It’s a little crummy to have somebody come from another district and tell you where you’re wrong about an issue in your own district.”

Said Gross: “I don’t think he considers the community at all. I feel that Anson is a loner trying to convince the various city entities that he’s right--even on issues that don’t directly affect him.”

Duvall believes that Burlingame is spurred by an eagerness to be accepted. “He likes to rub elbows with the big boys. It kind of makes him feel like he’s got a little bit of power.”

Wachs, on the other hand, maintained that Burlingame’s motives are purer.

‘Altruistic Motives’

“I never felt a sense of power motivated him,” Wachs said. “That’s something you can sense in a lot of people in government, but I never sensed that in Anson. I think it comes from much more altruistic motives: He gets nothing out of it but the sense of being committed and involved.”

Burlingame admits that he is often unpopular with other homeowners, which sometimes hurts his feelings, but inspires him to criticize them for “not concerning themselves with other parts of the city.”

“I’m a real thorn in their sides sometimes,” he said with a good-natured chuckle. “I’m known by some as the prophet of doom.

“But it’s just really sad to end up in conflict with each other. We’re all working for similar things.”

Burlingame does have his fans among fellow activists.

Marjorie Miller, vice president of the Kagel Canyon Civic Assn., said she has worked closely with Burlingame on landfill matters since 1983, when trash from Lopez Canyon spilled onto the streets of her neighborhood.

“Anson is very caring, very thorough in his research,” she said. “I dearly respect and love him, really. I have always found him very receptive and willing to help with community concerns.”

Burlingame, a lifelong bachelor, lives alone in his three-bedroom house with a mongrel “with bushy eyebrows” that he named Sam Ervin.

Burlingame, who was born in Sacramento, was raised on Balboa Island. He said he had a “chaotic childhood” during which his mother married 12 times.

Though affable and witty, Burlingame is intensely private and rarely allows others to visit him at his home.

“I devote a great deal of my time to City Hall and to doing things for the city, and I feel that this is my private little area,” Burlingame said. “If I invite a person or they call ahead, that’s fine. But nobody drops in on me.”

A registered Republican, Burlingame said he has never considered running for public office and has rejected offers of work both from the city and developers.

“I don’t want to be one of the good old boys,” he said. “As I stand right now, I’m a free agent. I can stand up to Joel Wachs and say, ‘I don’t agree with you.’ I can do that because I don’t depend on a salary and can risk being unpopular.

“This way, I can do what I really feel is proper in my own mind.”