Wind-Fueled Firestorm Rages From Calabasas to the Coast

Firestorms fueled by furious winds blasted out of control from Calabasas to the canyons of Malibu and the Pacific Ocean on Monday, forcing hundreds of residents and schoolchildren to flee, just hours after another wind-whipped blaze destroyed 10 homes in the hills of Orange County.

The blazes--striking almost three years to the day after the devastating firestorms of 1993--drew hundreds of firefighters, helicopters and water-dropping airplanes to the smoke-shrouded hills above Malibu, as residents fought the flames with hoses, buckets and bare hands.

“We wanted to get it while it was small,” Los Angeles Fire Capt. Steve Valenzuela said about the fire that started in Calabasas. “But Mother Nature is in control of this fire.”

Said Malibu city spokeswoman Sara Maurice: “Malibu has a natural, built-in firebreak. Unfortunately, it’s the Pacific Ocean.”

As a long afternoon of uncertainty gave way to night, the main front of 100-foot-high flames had pushed nearly to the ocean in the relatively unpopulated region between Malibu and Corral canyons. Only a few sheds and trailers were reported lost by early evening, although nearly 9,000 acres had burned.

But 50-mph wind gusts, expected to continue or even increase during the night, left fire officials unable to predict an end to the conflagration. The cause of the Malibu fire had not been determined, but officials believe that the Orange County fire was caused by a downed power line.

The day of anxiety, frantic packing and desperate firefighting began in the unincorporated Orange County community of Lemon Heights, where 10 homes were destroyed and 16 were damaged. Three firefighters suffered minor injuries.

About noon, the blaze was contained when the fire didn’t spread beyond the few dozen homes. Firefighters used helicopters, planes and trucks loaded with water to quell the blaze.

Officials believe that the fire began near Oakridge School on Mardick Road about 9 a.m., when a palm tree snapped a power line. The fire destroyed one house, then jumped downhill several blocks to Stockbridge Road, where it razed another. Driven by the winds, the fire leaped to Afton Lane, where it did its worst damage, destroying four homes.

“I feel like I’m in a movie, a really bad movie,” said Gail Neuman, a 43-year-old mother of four, as she stood outside her smoldering home. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

In the Malibu area, a massive deployment of at least 1,500 firefighters, 13 helicopters and water-dropping airplanes fought a fire that broke out in the early afternoon. Many of the units had already fought the Orange County blaze earlier in the day. The fire crews were helpless against the high winds and 5% humidity, choosing to let brush burn while stacking their defenses around a series of mountain enclaves on Malibu and Corral canyons.

No injuries were reported in Malibu.

School Closures

Hundreds of homeowners in the Monte Nido community and Malibu Bowl, in Corral Canyon, were asked to leave their homes, and 120 teenage inmates at Camp David Gonzales, a county probation camp on Las Virgenes Road, were bused to other probation camps. Three schools were closed--A.E. Wright Middle School, and Calmont and Viewpoint, two private schools. Pepperdine University continued regular day classes, but canceled night sessions and opened its emergency operations center.

The onrushing flames and the television reports that accompanied them fueled memories of the 1993 firestorms. In that series of 26 separate fires from Malibu to Orange County--most of which began Oct. 27--three people died, 159 were injured and more than 1,000 structures were lost across 202,000 devastated acres.

Monday’s blaze prompted feelings of deja vu, as it also started in the Calabasas area before rushing toward Malibu and the coast. Once again, mountain roads like Malibu Canyon and Corral Canyon roads were clogged with fleeing residents, as was the Pacific Coast Highway, which was closed to nonresidents from Topanga Canyon to Ventura County.

“We’re working under very dry brush conditions. The fires are spotting up everywhere,” Los Angeles County Fire Chief Michael Freeman said late Monday afternoon. “We set up a line and the fire jumps it.”

At 3:45 p.m., with the fire a quarter of a mile away, Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputies drove through the Malibu Bowl enclave. “The fire is imminent,” they announced. “Please evacuate.”

Mark Dantoni, 42, his wife Elizabeth, and their 8-year-old son David frantically filled the family Volvo station wagon and a pickup truck.

“We got the pictures,” Mark Dantoni said, panting with exertion. “We got the computers. We got the TV. We’ve got art. This is the second time we had to do this. We did it in ’93.”

As the flames erupted on a ridge on the other side of Corral Canyon, David said, “The flames are right there.” The family had located its pet beagle, but couldn’t find the cat when Dantoni decided it was too dangerous to continue the search.

“That’s it,” Dantoni said as the flames leapfrogged down the hills. “That’s it. We’ve got to go now. . . . We’ve got to get out before we get cut off.”

The sun at this point had been reduced to a pink disk, and the blaze roared like rushing water as it tore across the hills.

“It’s like a volcano just blew up behind my house. Now it looks like the back of the moon,” said record producer David Tickle, surveying the charred hillsides around his home off Mulholland Highway.

Valuable Lessons

Like many others who faced the flames, Tickle believed that he had learned valuable lessons from the fires of 1993. He credited brush clearance with stopping the fire at his property.

Proper clearance saved many homes in the area, said Los Angeles County Fire Capt. Jim Gandee, whose company, based in Norwalk, began the day fighting the fire in Orange County until they were summoned to the Calabasas blaze.

In Stokes Canyon, Rick Singer ignored warnings from his wife and 12-year-old daughter to flee and helped fight the fire. He was soon joined by firefighters, whom he praised for their quick work. But it was a rooftop sprinkler system that helped save the bulk of the home, after one corner caught fire, he said.

Visibility was often reduced to 10 feet for firefighters and residents who anxiously tried to monitor the fire’s progress. Embers filled the sky.

As with the 1993 fires, Monday’s blazes did some of the most serious damage in an upscale area--the community of Lemon Heights near Tustin, where some homes sell for as much as $1 million and more.

“It’s a slow burn,” said Sherman Fairbairn, as he watched his house go up in smoke. “I wish it would go quick. It’s just punishing.”

Residents used everything at their disposal--from garden hoses, buckets, shovels, trash cans and ice chests to their hands in desperately flinging water on their homes and the flames. Many seemed to have learned from the region’s last bout with wildfire--rigging swimming pool pumps to be prepared to apply even more water to hot spots. But in a cruel irony, the pumps were rendered useless by the power outage that blanketed the area.

Other precautions were more successful, though.

Kathy Klitzner, 34, and her husband Erik installed a new fire retardant roof three weeks ago because of fire concerns.

A medical supply worker in Temecula in Riverside County, Klitzner rushed home from work when she got an emergency call from her son’s school. When her husband arrived with two friends, they got on the roof and began hosing down the house. The roof held, as did the rest of the house.

“I’m going to call my roofer,” Klitzner said. “And go kiss him.”

The fire that rushed into the neighborhood caught many residents by surprise. Some were at work, others were in bed. By the time many residents recognized the danger, it was too late.

“I didn’t try to save my furs or my jewelry or any of my husband’s things,” said Maryam Boyce, whose house was leveled on Stockbridge Road. “All I had time to do was get my photo albums, my pictures, that’s it.”

Neuman, a nurse, had just put the cats out when she smelled smoke. She rousted her children from bed, dialed 911 and took her 8-year-old to a neighbor’s house two streets away.

“By the time I got back, my house was on fire,” Neuman said. “I started grabbing baby pictures.”

She had planned for just such a day. With two parents who were heavy smokers, Neuman had learned to store her coveted baby pictures and children’s report cards in paper sacks in the closet, ready to go. Still, she barely made it out in time. The only thing left standing was a pine tree.

Afterward, with her house reduced to embers, Neuman said she couldn’t believe what she was living through.

“This isn’t supposed to happen to you,” she said. “It’s supposed to happen to your neighbors.”

In fact, it did. The house just across from Neuman’s was gutted, its interior walls black and peeling away. Yet just inside, a floor-to-ceiling grandfather clock still stood, seemingly unscathed.

Lemon Heights was last hit by a major fire in 1967, losing 21 houses, said Tustin Mayor Tracy Worley. “You never forget that feeling,” Worley said. “It’s a feeling of being out of control. Like it’s happening so fast. It’s very scary.”