Looking for ‘Our Town’ : Lifestyles: When a San Diego man ‘advertises’ for a safer, friendlier, less hectic place to live, small-town America responds.

Steve Vaus wants to trade this city for Shangri-La. He just needs help finding it.

He’s tired of gangs and drive-by shootings, of ocean pollution, of overcrowded schools, highways and neighborhoods. He’s a San Diego booster-turned-basher.

And now he’s asking the question nationwide: Where exactly is paradise?

Recently, Vaus sent letters to the editors of about half a dozen newspapers, including nationally circulated USA Today, asking readers where he can recapture a small slice of Americana, some Utopia that’s not quite as hokey as, say, Mayberry, but with similar small-town values.

“For the past 15 years I’ve lived in San Diego, California. It’s nicknamed ‘America’s Finest City.’ God help us all if it is,” his letter opened boldly.

His approach might stun those who know Vaus. The record producer has been a San Diego booster, a charity fund-raiser whose songs and jingles about the city air on local radio and who has been decorated by civic organizations for his local contributions.

But Vaus has changed his tune.

His letter was a litany of San Diego’s liabilities that went on to describe the life he covets: “We want to live somewhere where people care about their community, about their families, about each other and about their country. Somewhere where there’s space for kids to run, to play, to grow. Somewhere where people greet one another on the street. Somewhere where we can get to know the local policeman, the grocer, the postman, the minister, the doctor, the vet and the mayor.”

Vaus wrote that he wants a place “with stately old homes and buildings; it should have a tree-lined main street of shops and businesses that the locals still support; there should be a park for summer concerts where senior citizens can gather on the benches to pass the time and the local gossip; four seasons (without too much of any one); and, hopefully, all this will be within an hour or two of big-city transportation and entertainment.”

Vaus said he’s seen the town he wants in many movies--only to learn when the credits roll that they are composites of various communities. Initially, he wrote to USA Today and newspapers in areas he previously had traveled through and been smitten by--Colorado, Oregon, Wisconsin and Idaho.

“Have you seen ‘our town’? If so, please let me know,” he pleaded in his letter.

“Where has the old American dream gone to live these days? Can anyone tell me?”

Now they are telling him. Since his letter was published, Vaus has received more than 100 responses from throughout the country.

“Stop your search,” a USA Today reader responded after Vaus’ letter appeared. “Your dream just came true. Pack your bags and head for ‘Our Town’--Plymouth, Mich.”

A Cazenovia, N.Y., woman wrote about the hills and valleys situated around a small lake, of the village park where concerts are held and of how Syracuse is just 45 minutes away: “To me, this is Shangri-La.”

Another reader wrote, “While Alpine, Tex., may not be exactly what you are looking for, I can assure you that Alpine meets all the qualifications you mentioned. This is a great town and area in which to live, work and play.”

A New York City reader asked Vaus to let him know where he ends up, so he can move there too.

And a Colorado man would only tease Vaus: “Unfortunately, San Diego has been ruined over the past two decades by the huge influx of people searching for their place in the sun. For that reason, even though we live in exactly the location Steve describes, it would be unwise to advertise ‘Our Town.’

“Steve, ‘Your Town” does exist, but you’ll have to search for it, as we did.”

The man said only that he lived in “Our Town,” Colo.

Still another writer raved about vacationing in San Diego but said his favorite place is Grinnell, Iowa, 50 miles or so from Des Moines and Cedar Rapids.

In fact, it seemed that half of Grinnell joined in a letter-writing campaign to convince Vaus that their town should be his.

Wrote the local police chief, who simply signed his name with a friendly “Dan”:

“Our major concern at this point in the year is what kind of new street lights should we put in the downtown area. It is a pretty darned important decision, and we’ll give it some good clean controversy for a while, at least until spring, when we have to decide whether we want a water-slide at the swimming pool.”

Dan said Tom is relocating his sign company, Steve’s new building was just completed, Ted expanded the retirement center, Wes moved his car dealership into a brand-new building, Bob the mayor owns the bookstore and Raymond the minister runs a great bed and breakfast.

Vaus can only smile.

“I’ve learned a lot about America,” he said. “No. 1, that when you live in the same place for 15 years, you tend to become nearsighted. You project that a lot of the nation looks like San Diego.

“But it turns out there are towns out there where you know the mayor, the doc, the vet and the butcher by their first names. Old-fashioned America still exists. It’s not just the creation of a warm-fuzzy Walt Disney movie.

“And people are damn proud of it. They want to show off their towns.”

No one more, perhaps, than the folks in Plymouth, Mich., midway between Detroit and Ann Arbor.

They’ve offered to fly Vaus and his girlfriend to Plymouth, take them on a tour in a limousine and wine and dine them. If they decide to adopt Plymouth as their new town, they’ll get a key to the city.

“So say goodby to teen-age gang slayings, drive-by shootings, illegal immigrants and ocean-filled sewage and say hello to Plymouth, Mich.,” wrote Creon Smith. “You may have never heard of Plymouth, Mich., but you’ve been here many times. You’ve seen us in your dreams.”

People from other towns have telephoned.

“One lady said that, where she lives, her daughter fell off her bike after school and a stranger helped her up and took her home and took care of her until the mother got home,” said Vaus, a divorced father of two whose children live with his ex-wife. “And to think I worry about my kids going a quarter-mile to school--and that’s a nice neighborhood.”

Vaus, 39, was born in Los Angeles but remembers most fondly living as a child in Oregon, where his parents owned a 100-acre ranch.

Later the family moved to the New York City suburb of Tarrytown, and ultimately he followed his parents to San Diego.

He’s a reserve San Diego police officer, has volunteered in softball leagues and helped raise money for local charities.

“But I experienced a growing sense of frustration that no matter how much time and effort I was putting into the community, things weren’t getting any better,” Vaus said. “It’s not just true in San Diego, but in all big cities.

“I don’t want to be characterized as a traitor or a whiner, but I’m frustrated that nothing I can do will turn the tide. San Diego’s just too big.”

He admits to second-guessing the decision to write his letter, especially on gloriously sunny mornings when he looks out from his Tierrasanta home onto a 6,000-acre regional park.

But then came the sewage spill and the 180 million gallons of partly treated effluent that dumped daily into the Pacific for several weeks until the problem was repaired earlier this month.

“So this was what was happening in America’s Finest City, and I had to vent my frustration,” Vaus said of his decision to write the letter.

Based on the response he received--from people expressing similar frustrations and hopes--Vaus recently composed and recorded a new song, “We Must Take America Back.” The song has received some airplay as well as interest from some prominent country-Western artists, he said.

Vaus said he’s in no hurry to leave San Diego, partly because of his business commitments there. “And I want to savor the search,” he said. “This has been a lot of fun.”

Will he visit Plymouth? “Oh yeah, you betcha.”

And although he’s not sure where he’ll end up, “I’ll come back to San Diego,” he said.

“For vacation.”