Zeke and His Heap Find a Groundswell of Support : Environment: People rally to the cause of his huge compost pile, which is threatened by the health department.

Zeke the Sheik is not a man motivated by the material world, his prize possession being a 30-foot-high compost pile that fuels a jungle of rare cacti next to his run-down Altadena home.

But ever since bureaucratic forces began to threaten that mound more than two months ago, the material world--supercharged with Earth Day fervor, perhaps--has come running to Zeke’s defense.

Two of his new-found supporters--a pair of Ivy League-educated attorneys--this week persuaded the Los Angeles County Department of Health Services to halt legal action aimed at clearing the pile, so that a less drastic solution can be worked out.

County officials, who had declared the heap a health hazard and an illegal dump, said Friday that it was simply the first time anybody had approached them with a reasonable alternative to hauling the whole thing away.

“What seemed like hell has turned out to be heaven,” said Zeke, the alter ego of Timothy Dundon, 47. “It’s all because good people have been coming to the pile and discovering that the power they need is here. The feeling of abundant life inspires them.”

Specifically, it has inspired a Pasadena public relations specialist--whose firm usually represents slightly more mainstream clients, such as the Pasadena Doubletree Hotel and Jurgensen’s Markets--to act as Dundon’s press agent.

It has prompted friends to establish a defense fund, print T-shirts and set up a telephone number, (800) UP2-YOU2, that supporters can call to make contributions and arrange to receive free fertilizer.

And on Friday, it led to an invitation for Dundon to plant a tree at Muir High School in Pasadena and speak to Pasadena High School students on the topic of “Compost and Hope.”

“I think people see that he’s a rare human being and not out to take advantage of anybody,” said Lynne Velling of the Pasadena public relations firm Hintz & Balvin, which is being paid a small fee by Dundon’s supporters. “He’s an example to us all.”

Luckily for Dundon, his troubles have been in the spotlight during a time of intense environmental consciousness. Not long ago, the fate of his heap had looked considerably bleaker.

In February, he incurred the wrath of county fire officials when on two occasions the giant mound of animal droppings, household garbage and lawn clippings spontaneously erupted in flames.

Soon after that, health officials cited him for creating fly-breeding conditions and for allowing about 50 ducks, chickens and turkeys to run freely on his one-acre lot.

As Dundon was preparing to do battle, county officials discovered that the mound actually sat on an adjacent lot owned by Mountain View Cemetery. The cemetery, which years ago had given Dundon permission to build his pile there, agreed to abide with the county and remove it.

In a meeting Thursday, however, Dundon’s lawyers persuaded health officials that the heap presented no imminent danger and that there was no legal basis to order its removal.

“You have to make a distinction between hazardous waste and organic material that can be recycled,” said attorney Geoffrey D. Commons, a former member of the California Energy Commission, who is representing Dundon for a small fee. “They essentially used the power of a bureaucracy to harass him.”

Rudy Bagnera, county health inspector for the area, said he does not mind re-examining the matter as long as the ultimate solution protects the public health.

Over the last few weeks, a stream of Dundon’s supporters and well-wishers--including a member of the Glendale solid waste advisory board, a Glendora robotics technician and an Altadena landscaper whose family owns one of the largest nurseries in the West--have helped maintain a vigil on the mound.

Documentary film crews are recording the episode. A Los Angeles radio station has broadcast its morning show live from the pile. And disc jockeys from cities as far flung as Miami and Memphis have made him an on-air novelty.

So, what will Dundon do with all this new-found attention? Get into politics, of course. Today he is up for a seat on the Altadena Town Council, a 14-member advisory committee that reports to the county Board of Supervisors.

“I’ve got to play this thing to the max,” Dundon said as a turkey named “Tango” gently nudged his leg. “Zeke’s heap is now like the whole world. It’s not about saving this little heap here anymore. It’s about saving the whole heap.”