DEAR LAGUNA / REFLECTIONS ON A CITY BURNING BRIGHT : Fire Was Far Too Harsh for Sweet Little Village of Laguna Beach

Dear God, not Laguna.

Not sweet, cheeky Laguna.

Please, not this little village that is at once so vain and yet so vulnerable. Not this pastel and fragile corner of the county that once gave us an all-night diner named Bennie the Bum’s and still gives us a woman who calls herself the Truth Fairy.

How could anyone send something as awful and violent as fire into a place so delicate and tranquil? This isn’t a place that should ever have soot and ashes strewn upon it.

Watching Laguna Beach burn was like watching a museum burn. Every time a flame jumped from one house to another, it was as if another painting had been torched. This never has been just a town full of houses; it’s always been a pastiche, a work in progress, a human gallery of kooks and artists, of professionals and wayfarers. You walk the streets of this town and everyone looks cast for their part. The bum on the Main Street corner looks every bit in his proper place as the restaurateur down the block.

Sure, its neighbors sometimes sniffed at Laguna’s insolence and insularity, but they also knew this is a city with pizazz, a city with a sense of itself. Laguna is smug and self-satisfied, and why not? If you’ve got it, flaunt it.

And yet, we all know that the air of insouciance hides the vulnerability that’s never far from the surface. Laguna’s large gay population has forced it to hunker down from time to time, fighting lonely battles against put-downs and gibes from outsiders. Likewise, it turned inward when its battles to preserve Laguna Canyon forced it into a huge local expenditure to buy land and, after that, into additional protracted legal arguments to stop the San Joaquin Hills tollway from coming through.

Say what you will, this city fights. Always the underdog, the feisty little pug always held its ground.

And so, it made for wretched viewing Wednesday to watch Laguna Beach get overwhelmed by an opponent so brutish. Fire is much too ugly, too savage, too vengeful for this soft little village.

“There’s no end in sight,” a TV anchorman said around 6 Wednesday night. The images were practically biblical--relentless fire with the mental and sometimes actual pictures of people fleeing to the water’s edge.

Into the early evening, a sense of cataclysm seemed to hang in the air. Much of the word from the front was bad. At one point, a fire official pointed to the ocean when asked what might stop the onrushing fires.

It sounded almost preposterous, but the thought began crossing people’s minds: Was it really possible that much of Laguna could be destroyed? Were we watching a city disappear, block by block? “Nothing is secure, nothing is safe,” another TV anchorman said.

Subsequent reports offered more hope. The main downtown shopping area still seemed intact, according to a report around 6:30. But then in what seemed like the next minute, another report mentioned that even the Fire Department was getting the hell out. Reporters from the scene saw wildlife scurrying out of the canyon to the safety of down below.

Talk of Armageddon suddenly didn’t sound so melodramatic, after all.

As I write, Laguna Beach is still under siege. Moments ago, our editor sent out an office-wide electronic message saying that a staffer “lost his house in Laguna.”

On TV, they’re reporting that fire officials say their resources are stretched to the limit. And yet, the fire still rages. No one is taking any bets on what will be standing in the morning.

It’ll be strange going to bed tonight knowing that a city is fighting for its life. Coincidentally, I had driven through the Main Beach area Wednesday morning, taking the right on Broadway and heading up Laguna Canyon Road onto the San Diego Freeway. I never take that canyon’s beauty for granted, and just two weekends before had taken an out-of-town visitor along the same route.

Earlier, we walked the beach, sat on the rocks and just looked into the ocean. Less than 200 yards away, a bride and groom in wedding gown and tux were posing for pictures.

I told my friend that Laguna is one of Orange County’s real jewels.

All that can be seen in the darkness tonight are the flames that, from afar, make pretty little Laguna look like a refinery town after a gas fire.

God, what a comedown.

God, what a pity.

Day in and day out, Laguna Beach in the morning is one of Orange County’s most precious sights. No bad views, no sense that Mother Nature ever cheats you.

But come Thursday, there likely will be another truth.

For the first time, none of us will want to wake to see how Laguna looks in the morning light.

*

“I couldn’t go to sleep. The fire was so bright, it lit up the whole kitchen. My mom said you could read a book in there. One of my sisters was scared for the animals, my other sister was scared for the houses, and I was scared about everything.” --Jessica Lattos, 10

“This is the mouth of the dragon right here, man.” --Firefighter attacking the flames inthe Mystic Hills neighborhood