L.A. STORIES : The Silver Lining in a Metropolis Cloaked in Clouds

“Where are we--Idaho?” a visitor from New York wonders. Ducks wade in the lake below. The air smells sweet. The San Bernardinos wear their white winter caps.

The visitor blinks. “It’s so . . . so . . . uncharacteristic of Los Angeles.”

Gazing down on the Silver Lake Reservoir is a transcendent experience for visitors and Angelenos alike. There are few central neighborhoods as bucolic.

Although Silver Lake proper doesn’t get its water from the reservoir (treated water from Sylmar passes through the reservoir on its way--by gravity--to South-Central Los Angeles), residents take pride in the 127-acre site, creating a social ecosystem around the 87-year-old dam.

Thousands more people hike on the asphalt and dirt path that arcs gracefully around the dam’s circumference and up the steep hills and misty side streets.

A recent excursion begins near the southwest corner of the reservoir in Silver Lake Park. It’s a sunny afternoon with dads tossing softballs, same-sex couples pitching woo under weeping willows and a frenzy of toddlers competing for the same empty yogurt container.

Screenwriter Cary Bickley has been bringing her 2-year-old daughter, Abby, here “almost since birth.”

Bickley appreciates this pocket of tranquillity in what can be a rather tough urban area.

“Though I did hear there was a gang shooting here,” she says. “My friend’s little boy was playing on the swings when she heard pop, pop, pop. She’s pregnant, and when she grabbed her son, she fell. This gang member who was being shot at ran over and helped her up, and she hid in the recreation center until the cops came.”

The Silver Lake Recreation Center also provides a haven for Silver Lake’s youth. A yellowed stucco affair inexplicably adorned by a pair of dancing Dutch silhouettes, the rec center sponsors sports year-round: Mighty Mite Basketball all winter, Pee Wee soccer in spring and Little League come summer.

There’s also an outdoor basketball court for pickup games. On this afternoon, nine guys and a girl play shirts-and-skins, 20 sneakers skidding past custodian Carlos Soto, who’s stripping electrical wire to fashion a gopher trap.

Soto, who lives in Montebello, thinks the Silver Lake area is clean--maybe too clean. “I notice the people around here are very picky about garbage, about graffiti. They complain over every little thing,” he says, tromping off in search of hidden rodent hollows.

Heading north on West Silver Lake Boulevard, beneath a stand of eucalyptus, olive, pine and elm trees, walkers are audibly assaulted by a riot of birds, an incongruous sound in the middle of this city.

“I think they stop here on their way south and on their way back,” says retired hearing aid salesman Roy Zumbrunnen, who bought his house abutting the reservoir in 1959 “because it was so beautiful.”

“Still is,” he says. “Sure, we’ve had a lot of changes, just as Los Angeles has, but we’re just five miles from Downtown, and you’d never know it. Feels like you’re in another part of the country.”

Zumbrunnen makes a constitutional of the 2 1/4-mile loop. He’s walked around the reservoir three times a week for more than 30 years--and he still likes what he sees. “Every weekend, people have parties--balloons and pinatas and kids. The only drawback is the heavier traffic.” But the motor traffic is still sparse enough to share the roadway with crowds of runners and cyclists.

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At the Neighborhood Nursery, a 43-year-old cooperative school on the northeast corner of the reservoir, the air is humid, the grounds verdant.

“Most of the children live within walking distance, so they have a real sense of safety here,” says Neighborhood Nursery mother MaryAnne Aronsohn as she surveys the two-acre site. “They have a lot of freedom to play and explore. And the view is magnificent, something I wouldn’t want my child to miss.”

Nor do Silver Lake residents want to live without the view. Sharon Flanagan started the Committee to Save Silver Lake Reservoirs in 1988, in reaction to a city Department of Water and Power plan to cover the small reservoirs with plastic or aluminum, ostensibly to meet upcoming water purity standards.

“We managed to get the Silver Lake and Hollywood reservoirs declared historic and cultural monuments,” Flanagan says.

“I don’t think we would have covered the reservoir in any event,” says Kendrick Okuda of the Water Quality Division at the DWP. “We realized other options were better.”

Okuda says it’s an enormous challenge to maintain the integrity of an open reservoir, with its up-to-795-million gallons of water. Chlorinating is essential, as is the constant monitoring of the reservoir’s two basins, Silver Lake and Fletcher.

The water tastes great, Okuda says. “The bottled water phenomenon in Los Angeles is habit. There’s no need for it.”

A rock-strewn path leads from the nursery school to East Silver Lake Boulevard and the most expansive view of the reservoir, a vista architects have long prized. Clean-lined, multitiered Richard Neutra and Rudolph Schindler homes stand out among stucco, Colonial and Mission styles on the hillside. There’s even a bell tower up Cove Street that’s notorious for its 154 concrete steps, which many runners use to augment their workouts.

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Passing under a procession of pines, walkers approach the southeast corner of the reservoir, where a new dog park (plastic bags provided) serves many of the area’s pet owners.

Adam Chuck and his basenji, Natalie, romp daily. “We’re a very cohesive group,” he says. “Sometimes, on a Friday night, we’ll all just tromp down a block to Nettie’s.”

This outdoor restaurant--dogs allowed--is next door to the equally canine-friendly Back Door Bakery, where dog treats sit next to sticky buns, and a large Bohemian crowd schmoozes at outdoor tables from early until late.

Next door is the Lucky Nun, the art gallery owned by Concrete Blonde’s Johnette Napolitano. AMO Gallery, a new space run by Amanda M. Obering, has recently opened in what was a supermarket. Also new is Rubbish, a retro-furniture store featuring everything from Eames to Deco.

Is it the outcropping of culture or the breathtaking views that bring people to this reservoir community?

“Neither,” says Carlo Angelo, who works the counter at the Back Door. “It’s my cappuccino.”

One more reason to make the trip.