Highlights, Lowlights of a Wacky Year : Review: The Valley area had its share of offbeat events in 1992. Here is an opportunity to raise your eyebrows one more time.

This year was marked by the power of nature and the frailty of man.

But remember 1992 not only as a year of floods and flames and famine, but as the year a sex priestess sought redemption as a nature guide, a man held up a bank in Burbank with a bag of bananas and some Lancaster officials said no thanks to sex toys.

These are the tidbits that rarely made the evening news but generally popped up a few hours later in Johnny’s, then Jay’s, monologue--the tiny portraits of life that may say more about the human condition than we care to admit.

They are the disconnected morsels whose only claim to news value was that they were, well, weird. Of course, they usually had something to do with sex, crime, politics or religion--and sometimes, on lucky days, all four.

Some events defied classification. Consider the three anxious Kern County residents who heard that the mayhem of the spring riots was heading north. Taking no chances, they called ahead to see if it was safe to venture down . . . to Lancaster.

So as 1992 fades into history, recall once more the stories either destined to become urban legends or doomed to be forgotten:

No Sex, Please--We’re From Lancaster

Up in the Antelope Valley, the Lancaster City Council outlawed the sale--but not the use--of dildos and other sexual aids. The lone purveyor of such articles in town responded with a petition drive to keep the items on the shelves of his store.

Weeks later, the council rescinded the order but kept other portions of a new law aimed at controlling sexually oriented businesses. A tabloid television show rewarded Lancaster for its effort, dubbing it “The City That Banned Sex.”

And then there was Eleanor (Lorraine) Oliver, one of millionaire Henry Mudd’s multiple mistresses who sued his estate with the help of famed palimony lawyer Marvin Mitchelson. After a trial filled with tales of sex and gifts and sex and lunch and sex, Oliver lost her suit in July. She now is considering selling her story to Hollywood--”as long as it’s not sleazy,” she said.

In Santa Clarita, the local cable television company dropped the Playboy Channel in July due to lack of interest. And in October, a drive-up Safe Sex Shop in the city opened in an old Fotomat kiosk to dispense condoms. Business has been slow and the operation has its critics, including a councilwoman who suggested that residents record the customers on videotape.

“They told us what we were doing is evil,” co-owner Richard Kotler said.

Birds and the Bees

One man’s evil is another’s redemption. Just ask Mary Ellen Tracy, the convicted prostitute whose Church of the Most High Goddess purports to offer salvation through sex. The Canyon Country woman, who says she has been intimate with more than 2,000 men, in November began leading children’s nature hikes at the Placerita Canyon State Park.

While we’re on the subject of religion, members of a county task force raised a few eyebrows in December when they claimed they were being poisoned by satanists who slipped pesticides into the air-conditioning vents of their homes, offices and cars. A county health official called the claims of the Ritual Abuse Task Force “outrageous.”

At the other end of the holy spectrum, hundreds of people gathered in a North Hollywood back yard in March to view what they claimed was an image of the Virgin Mary on the side of a diseased elm. An arborist said the image was created by oozing sap. Still, the faithful came to pray and give thanks.

No Entry, No Kidding

And then there were some folks who gave new meaning to the words “Keep Out.”

Residents of the gated Santa Clarita community of Hidden Valley wanted to become even more hidden, so they installed a $50,000 traffic-control device to fend off uninvited guests. The device, normally used to protect embassies and nuclear facilities, shoots a steel shaft into the underbelly of a car that does not have proper identification.

In Hidden Hills--bucolic home to rock stars, movie stars and bankers--civic leaders complained that anyone claiming to have business at City Hall could enter the gated enclave and, along the way, stop to play tennis, gawk at opulent homes or go on a burglary spree. One possible solution: Build a new City Hall outside the gates.

Cats, Cats and More Cats

A Northridge woman was arrested in February on suspicion of peddling street cats she claimed were pedigreed. Jaie Brasher was caught in a videotaped sting after she tried selling common cats for as much as $230. Investigators found 34 felines in her Devonshire Street apartment.

That’s 14 more than Francine Katzenbogen, the New York woman who flew her pampered pussycats across the country to their new home in Studio City--deluxe digs next door to her million-dollar mansion. Katzenbogen won a zoning fight in March allowing her feline friends to move in. The 1,200-square-foot cathouse has six rooms, French windows, skylights, lounging platforms and scratching posts.

Not that Katzenbogen’s cats would be interested, but local animal workers tried unsuccessfully to rescue a red-tailed hawk that was on two transients’ dinner menu. The sick hawk was saved from the dinner table, but died a few days later of a respiratory infection.

Robbers and Bunglers

In February, someone tried to make an unusual withdrawal from a Littlerock bank using a backhoe to rip the automated teller machine from the wall. But the thieves could not open the machine’s money vault and fled--leaving the tractor behind. “It’s unique,” mused one Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputy.

A day later, a robber slid a bag onto the counter of a Burbank bank and handed the clerk a note: “I have a bomb in the bag. Give me your money.” The clerk complied, the bandit fled and the bomb squad was summoned. It was then discovered that the bandit had truly given authorities the slip. The bag contained three bananas.

Also in Burbank, a band of crooks tried to cash a check belonging to a woman they had robbed the night before. Problem was, the bank teller on duty was the victim’s mother. She called police and stalled the three check cheats until the cops arrived.

And Los Angeles police got a chuckle out of the Reseda man who wriggled down a liquor store air-conditioning vent to swipe some beer but got stuck inside and had to call the cops for help. Vodka-sloshed Robert Laughton said he didn’t want to make a mess smashing out of the store so he dialed 911 and asked a disbelieving dispatcher if the police could come get him, please. Obliging officers arrived to find Laughton sipping a warm beer.

Yes, Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus

The year ended with a shopping-mall Santa Claus coming to the rescue of a lady in distress. Seems Daniel Hobbit was minding his business at the Granada Village Shopping Center when he saw a man demand Gloria Margolis’ car keys. Santa was praised as a hero until it turned out that Hobbit and Margolis knew each other beforehand. Now police are investigating whether the whole thing was a publicity stunt.

And a few Antelope Valley towing companies came up with a unique way to make sure that folks who enjoyed 1992 made it into 1993. They offered to not only drive holiday revelers home, but tow their cars as well.

What a year.