Bambi and the Meanies

I knew the battle against a proposed country club in Topanga Canyon was getting serious when a friend telephoned to say that if the project was approved, he would hurl himself from his balcony.

Since his balcony is only a foot off the ground, I feared for neither his life nor his general well-being, but realized by his call I had better take a look at the motivation behind what he calls his symbolic suicide.

The man doesn’t scream and throw himself into the dirt for nothing. The reason this time is an abomination called Canyon Oaks Estates, a gated community of 97 luxury homes and a private golf course planned for the upper end of Topanga Canyon.

It is about as welcomed in the canyon as genital herpes, but the possibility exists that it could be approved next week by the Board of Supervisors, into whose swampy jurisdiction the project falls.

Since at least three of the five board members have accepted thousands of dollars in campaign contributions from the proposed builders, it bodes ill for those who favor trees over concrete.

Politicians will tell you that their decisions are based strictly on merit, but experience teaches that nothing sings of merit more sweetly than money.

The campaign contributions come from the Walt Disney Co. and Sharon Disney Lund, the daughter of Walt Disney. They are the builders who, as one critic puts it, want to kill Bambi and build the 19th hole over his grave.

But I want to be at a safe distance if they try. This could get ugly.

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I live in the canyon and I know how tough its inhabitants can be. This is not a community of sloganeering suburbanites, but of people who march, write letters, go to court and jam board rooms in order to make their point.

Forget that old image of airy Topangans dancing naked in the moonlight to have their wishes granted. Some may still dance naked in the moonlight, but they are also knowledgeable environmentalists with law degrees who, fully clothed, will fight to the death for a tree frog.

They have been toughened by 16 years of battling two separate building consortiums who have wanted to bulldoze 257 acres of rolling hills and gentle slopes into a compound for the privileged.

The first builder was Christopher Wojciechowski, whom everyone called Wojo, after the amiable bewilderment of the character in the old “Barney Miller” television series.

He wanted to construct 224 homes, a hotel, condos, a heliport, a country club, a shopping center, a gas station, tennis courts and horse stables on the land. Everything but missile silos and an NFL stadium.

This, of course, did not make the people of Topanga happy, and they fought the development, then known as Montevideo, to a standstill. Wojo went bankrupt in 1991, and the project was taken over by Sharon Disney Lund.

Lund died last year, after which the directors of her estate nonetheless went forward with plans for the project, proving that neither death nor financial ruin can stay the power of profit.

The Disney people hired public relations firms, renamed the development Canyon Oaks in order to evoke images of serenity and greenery, put out brochures condemning us Topangans as “elitists in environmental clothing” and opened their checkbooks for campaign contributions.

So much for the loving spirit of the Magic Kingdom.

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I’ve never seen a community fight so hard to keep what it calls “the forces of darkness” at bay. They know they’re not dealing with Tinkerbell.

They attend public meetings by the busload, fill the Topanga newspaper with messages of condemnation, write hundreds of letters, gather petitions and hone each other to an incredible edge.

The most visible elements of their army are handmade signs along Topanga Canyon Boulevard that urge passersby to “Save Bambi.” One sign says “Real Oaks not Canyon Oaks” and another “Flood, Fires, Quakes and Now Disney.”

Some plead gently to leave Summit Valley, the site of the proposed development, intact. One is more abrupt: “Screw U Canyon Oaks.” Another speaks in imagery: Mickey Mouse giving Disney the finger.

It is inevitable that individual homes will be built in the canyon, and some will be in the million-dollar class. Most Topangans, however grudgingly, accept that.

What they won’t accept is the kind of massive development Disney plans for a sunlit valley created long before Donald Duck ever quacked his first quack.

I’m a Topangan when it comes to that. Save the hillsides for our children and their children’s children. They’re one hell of a lot more important than a country club for the rich or profits for a company that claims to believe in the lofty welfare of the young.