Saluting O.C. Folks Who Made Difference for Others : Heroes: They range from the men who turned in a suspected killer to those who tried to save a baby whale.

The year that ended Friday--a year that brought Orange County devastating wildfires, damaging mudslides and record-breaking crime--surely tested the physical endurance and emotional resilience of county residents.

For some, these 12 months of misfortune, disaster and catastrophe couldn’t end soon enough.

But for at least a few, 1993 provided opportunities to demonstrate courage, compassion and simple human decency in ways that made a major difference in the lives of others.

In one notable case, lives may have been saved by the quick action of two men who thought they had spotted a suspected killer in a Huntington Beach sports bar and then refused to be dissuaded.

The man, fired postal worker Mark Richard Hilbun, allegedly had already killed two people and wounded five others in a two-day spree of violence across Orange County. After the bar patrons called police, Hilbun was arrested without incident.

Less dramatic but no less significant, a Santa Ana police officer worked with infectious enthusiasm throughout the year to ease the lot of needy students and hungry families. And a Laguna Beach couple volunteered long hours in 1993’s final months to organize a coalition aimed at helping those left homeless in the Oct. 27 fire.

In another uplifting effort, more than 100 people, led by the manager of a Costa Mesa radio station, labored tirelessly one July day to lessen the suffering of an emaciated baby minke whale that had become lodged against a jetty off Newport Beach. The whale died the next day, but the man who led the effort was touched by its struggle.

These are their stories, a brief respite from the onslaught of troubling events that marked so much of 1993.

Making the Call

In retrospect, Humberto Ochoa and Demy Mourani are happy they were there, hoisting a few in their neighborhood pub, the Centerfield Sports Bar and Grill on Beach Boulevard in the small hours of Saturday, May 8. And, they add delicately, they are also glad they were not entirely sober.

“You know, we’d had a few beers,” Ochoa, known as “Bear,” said thoughtfully. “I don’t think we could have been so calm if we hadn’t had those.”

Ochoa, 25, and Mourani, 26, had just finished watching the Los Angeles Kings’ playoff victory on television when they noticed a man they hadn’t seen at the bar before.

“This bar is like ‘Cheers’ for us,” Ochoa said, referring to the now-defunct TV series about regulars in a neighborhood bar. “So when this guy comes in--he’s small, he’s wearing this lame Hawaiian shirt and just looks kind of goofy--you kind of notice him.”

Mourani, a mail sorter for United Parcel Service, says Ochoa was the first to spot the man’s resemblance to the fired letter carrier whom police were seeking in connection with a bloody South County rampage that had begun the day before.

Before they went out that night, Mourani and Ochoa had glanced at the news and had seen the computerized images of how the suspect would look if he changed his appearance, they say.

“When Bear said it, I said: ‘That couldn’t be him,’ ” Mourani says. “But then I looked at him again and it was him.”

Ochoa, an out-of-work computer operator, and Mourani went to a bar employee they knew, excitedly telling him the suspected postal killer was there. The bartender “looked at us like we were just two drunk fools” and did nothing, Ochoa says.

So they acted on their own. First, they tried to call police from a noisy pay phone inside the bar. Then they split up, with Mourani heading outside to make the call and Ochoa staying inside to keep an eye on the suspect.

“I forgot all about 911,” Mourani says. “I called the operator, asked for police and just said: ‘I’ve got a positive ID on the postal killer.’ But I’m half-blitzed, stuttering; I thought they wouldn’t believe me.”

They did. The officers arrived within five minutes, quickly talked to the two men near the back door, then approached the suspect, who was arrested without incident.

Hilbun, 39, was charged with two counts of murder and seven counts of attempted murder. He is scheduled to appear in court Jan. 25 for a preliminary hearing.

Mourani and Ochoa were treated like heroes. Everyone wanted to buy them beers. People they did not know stopped to shake hands or slap them on the back. Uncles in Italy and cousins in Mexico saw them on the news.

Best of all, they say, radio personality Howard Stern called and interviewed them on the air for 45 minutes. “That was a trip, man,” Ochoa says.

Someone even offered Ochoa a job after hearing of his role, but it didn’t work out, he says. He is now trying to get work at the Orange County Jail.

If Hilbun is convicted, the two men hope to collect the $25,000 reward the U.S. Post Office offered in the case. They have made a formal application for the money but must wait for the trial’s outcome. “If we get it, we’ll just split it right down the middle,” Ochoa says. “We didn’t even know there was a reward for something like that.

“Hey, all we did was make a phone call.”

‘An Angel in Blue’

Santa Ana Police Officer Peter Jensen would rather not talk about himself and what he does as a long-term community problem-solver at the central district substation on McFadden Avenue.

“I’m just kind of a middle man here,” Jensen says in protest. “I hate the idea of all these other people helping so much and I’m going to get all the credit.”

Others say Jensen, who has worked for the Police Department for six years, the last two as a community liaison officer, does not get credit often enough.

“He’s an angel in blue,” says Helen Brown, who heads the Civic Center Barrio Housing Corp., a nonprofit organization that develops housing for the poor.

“His work is just outstanding,” adds Lt. Jose Garcia, Jensen’s supervisor. “I can’t speak highly enough about him. He’s got that genuine enthusiasm, that very, very positive outlook.”

Two years ago, when Jensen was ready to return to limited duty after being out several months because of a neck injury, it was Garcia who came up with the idea of using the young officer as a problem-solver.

“We wanted to try to bring about solutions to situations that could develop into police problems if they weren’t addressed,” the supervisor says.

Jensen’s first project, to bring an end to the problem of transients congregating near Chestnut Avenue and Center Street, won him a commendation from police and city officials, Garcia says.

The officer has also played a pivotal role in his district’s Weed and Seed program, meeting frequently with local property owners, teaching them how to organize no-trespassing efforts to help reduce crime, and showing them how to cut through the city’s red tape, Garcia says.

For the past two years, Jensen has also “adopted” at least one class at nearby Pio Pico Elementary School at Christmastime, donating shoes, clothing, art supplies and classroom equipment for the students, the two men say.

Through his involvement with the Royal Vikings of Orange County, a Laguna Beach-based philanthropic group, Jensen this year arranged for the delivery of Christmas baskets to more than 200 needy families associated with two of his favorite projects: Pio Pico Elementary and the Civic Center Barrio Housing Corp.

And, with money left over from his collections from business associations and fellow officers, Jensen started a small fund for families that cannot afford to pay for the medical prescriptions that their children desperately need.

With a recent clearance from his doctor, Jensen will be leaving his special assignment in February to return to full-time patrol, but he is determined to continue his community work.

“Regardless of where I am, I’m going to keep doing it,” he says. “There’s just too much that still needs to be done.”

Catalysts for Fire Aid

It was all a mistake, Ed Sauls says, joking. He and his wife, Lisa, wanted to do something to help Laguna Beach fire victims, but never had any intention of becoming quite so involved.

The day after the fire, Ed Sauls had called the Laguna Presbyterian Church and left a message for its pastor, Dr. Jerry Tankersley. “We said we’d like to help people,” he says. “We didn’t know exactly what we could do, but we’re self-starters and we wanted to do something.”

That same afternoon, at the urging of Tankersley, another church member telephoned the Saulses at home. “We understand you’re in charge of the relief effort,” the church member told Ed Sauls. “What can we do?”

Rather than back away from the challenge, the Saulses by the next morning had gathered a group of about 30 people at the church to start determining the most urgent needs of residents whose homes had been destroyed or damaged. A second meeting later that day drew nearly 60 people, including Laguna Beach’s then-Mayor Lida Lenney, the president of the Chamber of Commerce, representatives of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the Red Cross, churches and community groups.

Since then, the committee has been incorporated as the Laguna Fire Relief Coalition, an umbrella group headed by Ed Sauls and made up of 26 organizations and churches. Its projects have included giving away clothing at the church in the first days after the fire, counseling survivors, filling thousands of sandbags to help prevent further damage from mudslides, helping survivors find rental housing and financial assistance, and establishing a communications network and a supply bank.

“Ed and Lisa have functioned as real catalysts here in pulling a group of people together in our own congregation and the community to form the coalition’s basic organization,” Tankersley says. “And they’ve done it not in an authoritarian style, but in a real participatory, inclusive style that has made everyone feel welcome.”

While Ed Sauls’ role has been leadership and administration--keeping an extremely diverse coalition focused on its task--Lisa Sauls has been in charge of the coalition’s efforts to provide direct assistance to survivors, those involved say.

For instance, she has established the communications network, using volunteers to help provide more than 370 families affected by the fire with the latest information about available financial assistance, counseling and merchant giveaways.

“Through Lisa’s efforts, a lot of rumors were controlled, especially early on,” says Doug Landrum, a Laguna lawyer who is the coalition’s secretary. “She has made sure that the survivors had an even, steady flow of information. She has just spent an unbelievable amount of time dedicating her life since the fire to easing the burden of recovery for the survivors.”

Even now, two months after the fire, both are still spending many hours on the fire relief effort. Ed Sauls, who runs an environmental consulting firm out of the couple’s home, estimates he spends at least 20 hours a week on coalition work. Lisa, who works part time as a certified public accountant, figures her fire-related hours total about 30 a week these days. The couple also have three young children.

“We have some wonderful friends and we have relied very heavily on them, especially for help with the children,” Ed Sauls said. “They’ve been wonderful, helping us help the community right now and that’s something we feel very strongly about.”

Bid to Save Rocky

Just before 7 a.m. July 24, Don Crawford was making his way down the beach near his apartment in West Newport. Crawford, the manager of three Christian radio stations, was planning a leisurely Saturday of watching football and reading the Bible as soon as he finished his daily run.

But near 56th Street, he glanced over at a rock jetty and saw a large fin waving back and forth in the surf.

On closer look, Crawford discovered a 13 1/2-foot baby minke whale, disoriented, hundreds of pounds underweight and unable to keep itself from crashing again and again onto the rocks of the jetty.

Crawford, who would end up spending the next seven hours trying to help the whale survive, says he was motivated by “all the death and violence out there in the world these days. You see something like this trying to live, and you just feel like you have to help.”

Later, after an effort to return the animal to the sea failed, Crawford and as many as 200 others--including lifeguards, beach-goers and city workers--tried to keep the whale’s skin moist, bathing it with water carried up in buckets from the waves. They petted it, tried to soothe it and dubbed it “Rocky” because of its battle against the rocks.

“There was really a pulling together of everyone out there that day,” says Tom Goff, curator of mammals at the Sea World in San Diego, where the whale was eventually taken. “People were really working together to try to help this animal. It was wonderful to see.”

While Goff and other experts on the scene quickly assessed the whale’s chances of survival as minimal, they say they found the all-out effort on its behalf remarkable.

“Everyone out there was just working tremendously together,” says John Heyning, curator of mammals at the Los Angeles County Natural History Museum, who helped direct the rescue effort. “If it had had any chance at all of making it, they were certainly all doing everything they could to help it along.”

The whale, which was found to be suffering from an infection and severe malnutrition, died the next day. But Crawford, among others, says he will not forget having tried to save it.

“I was about to go back and start watching football and then all of a sudden, I’m out there on the beach, trying to save a live being from dying,” he says recently, marveling still. “It was not life-changing exactly, but still it was a very meaningful experience for me.”