Homeowners Chart Their Angst on Maps of Natural Hazards

In the ranks of those fearing that doom is at hand, homeowners in the San Fernando Valley stand somewhere between Apple stockholders and the Michigan Militia. When government and business try to develop land or alter policy, residents tend to assume it is all an unmitigated assault on their property values.

Often, those on the receiving end of this protective wrath shrink away in defeat. But not Mother Nature.

With that in mind, I headed to a recent meeting of the Sherman Oaks Homeowners Assn., a group that Southern California urban affairs pundit Mike Davis once called “the universal gear of suburban anger.”

In addition to the usual updates on City Charter reform and parking crises, the agenda included the neighborhood unveiling of the state’s new “risk zone maps,” identifying areas where liquefaction and landslides due to earthquakes pose a particular threat. When the maps become official in about five months, state law will require homeowners to disclose the property’s map status before a sale. The risks also will be factored into insurance rates and housing construction codes.

Having chronicled the community angst that often surrounds the rumored construction of even the most modest McDonald’s, I was not surprised by the overflow crowd in the spacious conference room at a meeting and banquet hall on Ventura Boulevard.

The crowd’s intensity, however, exceeded all expectations.

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Neighbors elbowed neighbors out of the way to get a look at a display, roughly 10 feet high by 20 feet wide, that contained the maps, along with enlarged color photos of quake damage with captions such as “Partial collapse of home due to landslide.”

Rows of people surged forward, repeatedly toppling the display. Their rapid exchanges recalled the behavior of anxious honor students receiving final grades.

“I’m not in the [liquefaction] zone, but I am in the landslide zone, so that’s not too cool,” Bill Noack of Sherman Oaks said with tight-lipped resignation.

Others failed the stoic test. (Of course, the rumble of a magnitude 3.2 quake centered north of Encino half an hour before the meeting didn’t help.)

“Oh, my God! What does all this green stuff mean? I think we’re right in the middle of it!” one woman shrieked.

Families worked as teams; one “scout” infiltrated the front, located the family home on the map and communicated amid the din via tense hand signals.

Meanwhile, officials from the state Department of Conservation did their best to quell the gloom.

Chuck Real, who helped oversee production of the maps, reminded people that the maps’ emphasis is on awareness and risk limitation.

“The maps are not intended to produce that kind of reaction, like, ‘Should I sell now and cut my losses?’ ” Real said. “They’re more of a tool for local government than for the homeowners.”

Home foundations damaged by liquefaction required an average of $67,000 for repairs after the Northridge quake. But it might cost a homeowner $3,000 to $4,000 to strengthen a home against it.

The California Assn. of Realtors has said there is little evidence that properties in risk zones sell for any less than those outside them.

After an hour, when I finally gained close-up access and sufficient oxygen, I saw that the maps do not locate the Valley’s northern half in the risk zone.

That means homeowners in Northridge and Sylmar, the epicenters of the devastating 1994 and 1971 quakes, won’t have to comply with the new requirements. That won’t be news to Valley stalwarts, who know that L.A.’s disasters don’t follow the Thomas Guide.

“You don’t need to show us a map to let us know what we’re up against,” said Sherman Oaks resident Steven Sadd, who did not attend the meeting. Homeowners “are a very anxious group to begin with, having gone through what we did.”

John Hagen-Brenner did not appear anxious, but he did come to the meeting thoroughly prepared.

As a camera-wielding woman next to him took dozens of tight shots of the maps, he used a highlighter pen to compare photocopies of a street map to the risk maps, which have very little street detail.

Although he and his wife live in Van Nuys, Hagen-Brenner went to the Sherman Oaks group’s meeting to familiarize himself with danger. Yet somehow he resisted the tide of uneasiness sweeping the room. “We’re basically figuring we’ll roll the dice and see what happens,” he said with a shrug.

“The zone is only a part of the risk you take. You take a lot of risks living in this city. You just hope you can minimize them the best way possible.”