Developer Tries to Build Support for Housing Plan : Newbury Park: Firm’s representative conducts door-to-door canvassing. But foes of 94-unit project say outreach won’t work.

As she knocks on doors in Newbury Park, seeking support for a residential project, Ellen Michiel keeps returning to a 20-year-old memory.

In the neighbors’ angry resistance to her project, Michiel sees echoes of her own fight against a cluster of townhouses that was slated to be built across the street from her home in the San Fernando Valley.

She won that battle in the early 1970s, forcing the developer to back down from the townhouse concept and build only detached, cookie-cutter homes on large lots.

But now she’s on the other side, representing a developer.

And while she fully understands the grass-roots opposition to her project, Michiel is frustrated by the steady stream of nay-saying that has greeted her outreach efforts.

Despite her attempts to persuade Newbury Park neighbors to accept her 94-unit development, Michiel will most likely face a room crammed with opponents when the Thousand Oaks City Council considers the development at a hearing scheduled for July 27.

The project, which would be built by Raznick & Sons Inc. on a 44-acre parcel just west of the intersection of Lynn and Reino roads, won approval from the Planning Commission in late May. But almost 600 Newbury Park residents signed a petition asking the City Council to reconsider the development, which would generate heavy truck traffic and could affect nearby wetlands.

Of most concern are the project’s lot sizes, which neighbors say are too small for the community. While they appreciate the developer’s efforts to hear their gripes, they remain adamantly opposed to the project.

And no amount of door-to-door canvassing will change their minds.

“Ellen has been wonderful in trying to reach out to the community,” said Richard Heitmann, who lives about two blocks from the proposed development. “But just because the developers are actually letting us speak doesn’t mean they’re listening.

“They hear us and then they go build their own project. If they’re not going to listen to what we suggest, why do they bother to come meet with us?” Heitmann said.

Michiel, an assistant vice president for planning at Raznick & Sons, insists that in the 100-plus hours she’s spent with community leaders, she has genuinely listened--and responded.

Prompted by residents’ suggestions, she’s eliminated four homes from the project. She’s redesigned a street to be built through the development. And she’s expanded lot sizes to about 6,000 square feet, so the dwellings will better match the 7,000-square-foot lots across the street.

Mostly, though, she’s tried to explain the project. So far, Raznick & Sons has spent at least $25,000 on brochures, advertisements, public meetings and other outreach efforts, Michiel said.

“What scares me most is the thought of getting to the public hearing and watching speaker after speaker make misstatements about my project,” Michiel said. “I don’t want a bunch of people to be wildly throwing accusations at me.

“Whether I change their minds or not, I hope at least to raise the level of dialogue . . . so I won’t have to deal with accusations that we’ll destroy the wetlands, tear down the hills and devour the oak trees,” she said.

Thousand Oaks business leaders laud her outreach campaign as a model. They urge other would-be builders to undertake similar efforts, both to win backers at public hearings and to change the image of developers as money-grubbers intent on paving over parkland with no concern for the neighborhood.

“Going eyeball to eyeball with people is hard to do,” said Steve Rubenstein, president of the Conejo Valley Chamber of Commerce.

Instead of pounding the pavement, Rubenstein said, many developers prefer more impersonal forums such as addressing local civic organizations. But often, these group meetings cannot break down the instinctive animosity between homeowners and builders.

That’s why Michiel has gone with the personal approach, not only in Newbury Park, but also in Oxnard, Ventura and other cities where she has promoted hotly disputed projects for Raznick & Sons.

“As a developer, you have to be prepared to work closely with the neighborhood,” Michiel said. “You can’t just say, ‘Here’s my beautiful project, city council members, don’t you like it?’ You have to get a lot of community involvement from the get-go.”

But Ricki Mikkelsen, an opposition leader who has organized several meetings with Michiel, said it’s clear to her that the outreach has been futile.

“Ellen feels that people still don’t know enough about the project, but I believe people do know a lot about it--and they don’t like it because of what they know,” Mikkelsen said.

Still, Michiel keeps trying. Her zeal stems in part from her experience as an anti-development activist back in the 1970s, before she returned to school to study urban planning.

Outspoken and aggressive, Michiel forced developers in her neighborhood to build only detached homes on large lots. As a result, she said, the houses and their back yards covered every inch of the neighborhood, replacing the rolling hills and grassy open space she had loved.

“We won, and I’ll regret it till the day I die,” Michiel said.

Because of that experience, Michiel now cringes when she hears Newbury Park residents lobby for bigger lot sizes.

She has tried to sell them on an alternative: instead of spacious private back yards, her project contains a 17-acre public park, which meanders along a creek and through riparian habitat.

To preserve these wetlands, Michiel believes she must squeeze a few more homes into the rest of the project--”the economic reality is, there are trade-offs to save open space,” she said.

But neighbors remain unconvinced.

“Developers always get so money hungry that they want to cram in as many homes as possible to get a few extra dollars,” said Peggy Stromsoe, who lives near the project and says she’s never been approached by Michiel.

“They think, ‘Let’s get all we can from every inch of space, without giving the people room to breathe.’ I hate to see Newbury Park going along that route.”

Those who have participated in meetings with Michiel describe the outreach as little more than a slick--and largely unsuccessful--public relations campaign.

“It’s their job to present the project in a way that’s to their advantage, and that’s exactly what they’re doing,” Mikkelsen said. “Well, it’s my job to make sure the project is compatible with the rest of the neighborhood. We have different agendas.”

Michiel’s last chance to sway doubters may be at an open house at 9 a.m. July 17. She plans to lead tours of the project site, pointing out just where the $250,000 homes will be located.

But even if she persuades a few residents that her development will be attractive, Michiel doesn’t necessarily expect public declarations of support at the coming hearing.

“It’s a great deal easier for people to organize in opposition to a project,” she said with a sigh, “than for people to say why they like it.”