Residents Duel Over Proposal for 15 Houses in Rustic Area : Malibou Lake: An unknown letter-writer dubbed ‘Zorro’ sharpens the debate by alleging code violations in homes occupied by critics of the project.

The harmony of Malibou Lake, a motley cluster of 176 houses and cabins deep in the Santa Monica Mountains, has been shattered by a feud over development.

And a mysterious letter-writer nicknamed “Zorro” is partly responsible.

Since 1986, residents of the laid-back hamlet nestled between Agoura Hills and Malibu have tried to forestall construction of a 15-house subdivision called Malibu Ranchos, proposed by Los Angeles developer Don F. Haskin and real estate investor Jack Slome.

The debate over that effort has polarized the community and, thanks to Zorro, even prompted Los Angeles County building inspectors to crack down--not on Haskin and Slome but on the residents fighting to stop Malibu Ranchos.

“It used to be so relaxing and lovely to live out here,” said Barbara Coppos, a 12-year resident and homeowners association member. “It has really gotten nasty.”

The roots of the conflict go back a few years when, in an offensive strike, some residents told county planners that they feared that Malibu Ranchos would increase their community’s vulnerability to wildfires swooping down from surrounding brush-covered hills. Their pleas led county supervisors in February to approve a one-year building moratorium to allow study of the area’s fire hazards.

But the homeowners’ strategy backfired. While building inspectors were looking in the spring for ways to reduce the threat of fire, they spotted numerous building code violations in existing houses and cabins, such as garages that had been converted into apartments without permits.

About that time, the county received an anonymous letter that alleged zoning and building code violations in houses owned by the most outspoken critics of Malibu Ranchos.

As a result, county planners recommended two weeks ago that the supervisors lift the moratorium and impose tougher enforcement of building codes throughout Malibou Lake. An already divided community split even further apart.

It’s hard to imagine a battleground in the serene, winding streets and quiet meadows of Malibou Lake, which began as a group of 1920s vacation cabins on the banks of a man-made lake and evolved into a year-round enclave of people pursuing bohemian lifestyles.

But visible hints of an ongoing struggle can be found: “No Trespassing” signs posted at vacant lots where residents had been free to walk, and thick stacks of legal documents and reports filling tables in homeowners’ living rooms.

“Some people are angry with us. They blame the homeowners association for starting this in the first place,” said Mary Altmann, president of the Malibou Lakeside Homeowners Assn. “I say without us, they’d have a 15-house tract and more of a fire hazard.”

Altmann and her followers blame the letter--dubbed the “Zorro letter” because some copies bore scribbles resembling the autograph of the 1950s’ television hero--for vindictively turning the attention of county inspectors to the community leaders.

The letter, copies of which were stuffed into mailboxes throughout the community, plainly stated that the eight houses criticized were chosen because they are owned by those most deeply involved in the anti-development effort.

“The attached list of people are current and past board of director members of the Malibu Lakeside Homeowners Association,” it read. “Please note the additional growth many of them have contributed to our neighborhood through their rental greed.”

County planning officials confirmed that they have investigated all complaints concerning Malibou Lake--leading inspectors to cite about 10 property owners during the past year--but they declined to comment on any specific letters, saying the enforcement files are confidential.

“Certain individuals may fear retaliation. People are scared of their neighbors,” said Rudy Lackner, assistant administrator in the county Regional Planning Department. “It can be an anonymous complaint, as long as we have something written.”

Members of the homeowners association have long suspected that the letter was the brainchild of prospective developers or of the absentee owners of vacant lots.

But last week, a resident who has lived in Malibou Lake for five years acknowledged that he wrote it because he was “fed up with the holier-than-thou attitudes” of some neighbors and the effect those attitudes might have on his ability to build on another lot he owns.

“I don’t want a house built next to me, either, but by the same token, I don’t have the right to stop somebody if they own the land and are building legally,” he said, insisting on anonymity because he fears ostracism by the community. Some opponents of new development should instead worry about fixing up their own houses because they “live in shacks,” he said.

Longtime resident Beatrice Read, who opposes rapid development, gasped when she learned that an unnamed neighbor wrote the strongly worded letter. “Well, how’d you like that. A snake in your bosom!” she said.

But the Zorro letter is a telling glimpse of a war incited by a proposed development so small, 15 houses on five acres, that it wouldn’t even have been noticed in most other parts of Los Angeles. In recent years, the battle has spread into a larger, anti-growth movement in which tempers flare every time a vacant lot is graded for construction.

In December, nonresident owners of vacant lots formed their own group, called the Vacant Landowners Assn., and sided with developers. Last week, some residents, who view the homeowners association as radical, formed a yet-unnamed splinter group that has aligned itself with the Vacant Landowners Assn.

The situation has become so confrontational, those involved acknowledge that there is little chance that they will agree on anything, even though both pro- and anti-development factions have proposed similar ideas for preventing fires, such as consolidating lots, widening roads or clearing wide swathes of brush.

County files are filled with charges and countercharges by residents involving such allegations as improper grading by developers and illegal rental units.

Coppos said that earlier this summer, a developer drove to within inches of her legs and then gunned his motor. Phyllis Daugherty, who leads the Vacant Landowners Assn., said a resident sicked a Doberman pinscher on her Aug. 25 as she videotaped children who she believed were on Slome’s land without his permission.

Altmann, who moved to Malibou Lake from Santa Barbara in 1986, has had growing difficulty persuading people to join the homeowner association and assume leadership roles.

“A lot of people are afraid to join because they’re afraid they’ll become targets of this intimidation,” Altmann said. “They’re scared of harassment, of being sued. I mean, my God, this is America; it’s not Nazi Germany.”

Dueling fire hazard reports were presented to county officials by the two sides in the fight, to bolster their respective positions on the proposed development. Predictably, they reached different conclusions.

The homeowners association hired a fire consulting firm run by two former U. S. Forest Service managers, who recommended a building moratorium because: “If the county continues to issue building permits . . . the untenable conditions . . . will be compounded by more men, women, children, domestic animals and improvements that would be at risk to the inevitable wildfire.”

A group of owners of vacant property hired a former Orange County firefighter-turned-private arson investigator, who concluded that a moratorium would not be necessary if roads were widened and construction were regulated to require non-combustible roofs, clearance of vegetation and off-street parking.

County fire officials largely sided with the homeowners report, describing the situation as potentially fatal because of the community’s remote location.

The mere mention of fire danger, which was the issue that moved supervisors to enact the building moratorium in February, provokes angry debate.

No one denies that the community’s remote location and proximity to the brushy terrain of a state park leaves it vulnerable to fire, or that the narrow streets complicate firetruck access and evacuation plans.

But they disagree over whether development would have a measurable effect on the fire danger. Some even doubt the homeowners association’s sincerity in raising the issue before the county supervisors.

“The homeowners group was started to stop” Malibu Ranchos, said Valerie Harris, a 20-year resident who also is a real estate agent with listings in the area. “When it started to get approval, they turned the light on the fire danger.”

Harris pointed out that the two most recent fires in the area--in 1978 and 1982--skirted Malibou Lake.

“Most of us were absolutely aware that that was a danger when we moved out here,” she said. “No matter what is built out here, we’ll still be right next to thousands of acres of parkland.”

But Altmann shivers on days that make most Southern Californians sweat. On hot days, a small spark could turn the bone-dry area into a fireball, she said, and flames could storm through her house “just like an atom bomb.”

“I knew that there was fire danger, but I always assumed the Fire Department had adequate evacuation plans,” she said. “If I’d known I’d be risking my children’s lives, I wouldn’t have moved here.”

And Malibu Ranchos? It has remained in limbo ever since the building moratorium. If the Board of Supervisors decides to lift the building ban--it is scheduled to consider the issue this month--the project’s developers might be able to proceed with an environmental impact report.

But the project would still need many planning approvals, a lengthy process requiring public hearings that would give the people of Malibou Lake--both pro- and anti-development--a chance to air their views again.