CALIFORNIA ALBUM : Snowbirds Find Roost in Land of the Free : There are no rent and no restrictions in this gravelly Imperial County spot, a place ‘with real freedom,’ says one resident. Trouble is, the days of liberty may be ending soon at the Slabs.

Jack Kirk, shirtless and sitting under camouflage netting to block the 106-degree heat, swats at a horsefly and explains that he is living the American dream.

“Nobody here is God or the law,” said Kirk, 67, a retired building contractor from San Bernardino. “It’s one of the last places left in America with real freedom, without some squirrel telling you how to live. That’s what sold me on the Slabs.”

There is a lot of talk about freedom these days at Slab City, a gravelly, dusty, weedy spot in the desert owned by the state government that is three miles east of the Imperial County hamlet of Niland (population 1,023).

For three decades, Slab City has been an unsanctioned but increasingly popular roosting spot for “snowbirds,” mostly the tight-budget elderly fleeing winter weather in their recreational vehicles. Some winters the population tops 5,000.

To its devoted denizens, Slab City is a hardscrabble Walden, where they pay no rent and can reduce life to its basics: buying and preparing groceries, securing water, refilling the propane tank and finding ways to dispose of trash and human waste.

There is no government, no homeowners association, no covenants, no codes, no restrictions--none of the fetters of organized living. If you don’t like your neighbor, just move your RV, tent, motor home, bus, van or camper over the next hill or behind the next clump of sagebrush or creosote--just be careful of scorpions and rattlesnakes.

“Slab City attracts people who like the romance of being in the desert,” said Dick March, 71, a retired Air Force pilot from Missouri and president of Loners on Wheels, a singles group.

“There are no rules, no facilities, no orders,” March said. “That’s something very appealing to the freedom-spirited American.”

Some of the campsites--those of the Slab City Singles, for example--are tidy and orderly. Others look like junkyards, with broken and rusted automotive carcasses, along with other housekeeping detritus, like a yard sale gone berserk.

But the freedom-soaked days of Slab City, and particularly the days of no rent and no rules, may soon be over for the snowbirds and the few hundred intrepid souls who brave the blistering summer heat.

The State Lands Commission will meet Thursday in Sacramento to consider selling the 640-acre Slab City--every slab, rutted road and trash mound--to Escondido building contractor Don Campbell. To the dismay of its residents, civilization is slouching toward Slab City.

“The rest of the world is closing down to us freeloading snowbirds,” said Gerald Wagy, 66, a retired carpenter who lives in a tiny trailer and believes that the hot, dry air helps his emphysema. “Slab City is the last frontier.”

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The slabs that are Slab City’s defining feature are the last remnants of Camp Dunlop, a World War II military base where Gen. George Patton’s troops learned desert warfare.

After the war, the military tore down the buildings and later quit-claimed the property to the state, which had no use for it. The state provides no services, but makes no attempts to evict the Slab City residents.

“You have to be self-reliant to stay at Slab City winter or summer, that’s for damn sure,” said Georgia Thill, 78, a resident for 17 years. “If you don’t know how to make for yourself, stay away.”

Signs tell residents not to fish or swim in the catfish-rich Coachella Canal, which borders Slap City on the east, but the signs are ignored. “We don’t swim,” Kirk said. “We just fall in and save ourselves.”

To the east is the Chocolate Mountain Aerial Gunnery Range used by Navy pilots for bombing practice. Scavengers sneak onto the range to carry off metal and the camouflage netting that adorns many a Slab City campsite.

State officials, worried about liability lawsuits if someone gets killed at Slab City, have made several attempts to sell it.

There were talks with the Imperial County government about leasing the land for a bare-bones county park. The impoverished county had to back out.

A developer from Brawley in the 1980s had visions of a recreational vehicle resort with 3,500 spaces, a swimming pool, golf course, shops and entertainment. His imagination exceeded his financing and the ambitious plan died aborning.

Two years ago, the state opened up for bids for Slab City, asking a $225,000 minimum. There were no takers.

This time, the state tried again with a lower minimum. Campbell’s bid of $164,000 was $711 above the minimum. It was the only bid received.

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Slab City residents are edgy. Their citizens band radios crackle with uncertainty.

“If the new owner tears this place up, he’s going to disrupt a lot of lives,” Thill said. “A lot of us are just one step ahead of being homeless.”

Campbell, 64, will not be specific about his plans until the sale is final. “I hope to be able to accomplish something and let people continue to camp, but I just don’t know,” he said.

What happens at Slab City could depend on what the Imperial County government demands of Campbell. There is talk of requiring trash removal, a waste dump station, water supply, liability insurance and maybe street lights, all costs that would doubtless be passed on to residents.

“The Slabs are a blight on Imperial County,” Supervisor Dean Shores said. “We want the place cleaned up and those people moved out. If the new owner wants to run a primitive campground, he will have to start over, not just keep the same mess out there.”

Ken Riggs, 39, a disabled automobile mechanic from Washington who spends eight months a year at Slab City with his wife, mother and four children, said some consideration should be given to the economic boon that Slab City provides for Niland, Calipatria (population 3,500) and Brawley (21,000), 25 miles away.

“They’re going to mess around and lose all the money us snowbirds spend,” Riggs said. “You start charging us and making us obey rules, we’ll just pick up and go to Blythe (in Riverside County) or Quartzite or Yuma (in Arizona).”

Slab City residents seem resigned to paying a little rent, but they are banking on Campbell’s goodwill to leave things as untouched as possible.

“We hear the new owner is a recreational vehicle person himself,” said Irv Himelberger, 84, a retired carpenter from Washington. “We hope he understands why this place means so much to us.

“We hope he understands freedom.”