Once Burned...

Memories of a wicked Wednesday of fire and wind still burn like an eternal flame among the residents of Laguna Beach, which was forever changed by a consuming firestorm five years ago.

“It was like Vulcan throwing balls of fire up over the hilltop at us,” recalls Jerry Cohen, a Skyline Drive resident who was among the legions of homestead warriors who made desperate rooftop stands armed only with their garden hoses and their grim resolve.

With roaring towers of fire swirling up to 200 feet into the air, the Laguna blaze blackened nearly 17,000 acres--about 26 square miles--damaging or destroying 441 houses at a cost of more than $500 million. It was among the 10 most destructive fires in U.S. history.

“You had a fire that was literally a freight train that nobody was going to stop until Mother Nature turned the winds off,” said Capt. Scott Brown of the Orange County Fire Authority.

Five years later, the burned areas of Laguna Beach are a little more than two-thirds rebuilt. Residents still watch nervously when the fierce Santa Ana winds blow hot, dry breath across the chaparral.

Yet, as a result of the fire, the city also has changed for the better, some residents believe, becoming more safety-conscious, neighborly and level-headed. Now, with its brush-chomping goat herd and drastic fire prevention measures, Laguna Beach has become something it never wanted to be: a model for overcoming a citywide catastrophe.

“The fire engendered a ‘back-to-basics’ attitude toward city government,” Councilman Paul Freeman said. “After the fire, there was a much greater emphasis on infrastructure, flood control, drainage, streets.”

In a town noted for dabbling in a wide spectrum of causes and crusades, from rent control to animal rights to recognition of same-sex marriages, the shift in philosophy, while subtle, was noticeable.

“It’s kind of an attitude change in the city,” said David Horne, a Cal State Long Beach business professor whose Mystic Hills home burned in the 1993 fire. “There’s been a definite, permanent shift in priorities, budget-wise. The emphasis is on brush clearance and fire prevention.

“When your house is burning down, the notion of anything else seems pretty secondary.”

The Oct. 27, 1993 blaze, driven by winds of up to 80 mph and gaining speed as it scoured the steep and overgrown canyons, blistered more than an acre every two seconds when it reached its top speed, engulfing four houses a minute.

Ignited about 11:50 a.m. by an arsonist who has never been caught, the wildfire began near the San Diego Freeway and Laguna Canyon Road. It spread southward in three columns and grew into a firestorm--with twisting, tornadic spears of flame--by the time it reached Emerald Bay, where 63 houses were destroyed, barely two hours later.

The fire feasted on old, dry beds of grass and chaparral. Oily eucalyptus trees exploded on contact with the 2,000-degree juggernaut. County fire officials in previous months had been delayed in setting a “prescription fire,” or controlled blaze, when locals balked out of environmental concerns.

So instead, these 30-year-old “fuel beds,” dried by the Santa Ana winds and preheated by advancing walls of flame, were natural conduits for flames to thunder through Emerald Bay and Moro Canyon, to the El Morro Mobile Home Park, where 44 dwellings were destroyed.

Along with nearly 2,000 other firefighters, Brown had to abandon one position after another, watching helplessly as hoses ran dry and houses burned. “Our focus became: Let’s not lose lives,” Brown said.

The blaze leaped across Laguna Canyon Road into the Canyon Acres neighborhood and then up to the ridgeline, where the houses of Mystic Hills commanded views of both ocean and canyon.

“When it jumped the canyon and came in our direction, I called my wife to come home,” said former Mystic Hills resident Horne. “We packed up a few things--a very few things. We had 25 minutes or so.

“Time sort of stands still,” he said. “We got some records and papers and things. The last thing I remember taking was an extension cord.”

Horne ended up moving to Emerald Bay, selling his lot to a new buyer who rebuilt on it.

From mansions to mobile homes, more than 100 housing units were destroyed in Emerald Bay and El Morro. Within Laguna Beach, 286 houses were destroyed in Canyon Acres and Mystic Hills.

John Fox, an Emerald Bay resident who credits a new fire-resistant roof for his house’s survival, said more than 50 of the 63 burned houses have been rebuilt and are occupied, most by their former owners.

“We have perhaps 5% of the way to go,” said Fox, also president of the board of directors of the community. “It was a very traumatic time. The community was traumatized. The whole of Laguna Beach was.”

People began pulling together, forging bonds that many hope will outlast the ugly scars of the searing fire.

“You can drive through Mystic Hills and see the empty lots that are reminders of the personal tragedies,” said Steve Dicterow, the seaside city’s mayor. “On the other hand, one of the effects it had was to coalesce people in town. It brought people closer together and made us better as neighbors.”

Horne and other victims became activists. Aided by city officials, he and other victims began a series of meetings aimed at smoothing the rebuilding, erecting bridges to the insurance companies and hastening the return to normal life.

“We wanted to get back in our houses. We didn’t want to blame anybody,” Horne said.

Partly as a result of those meetings, the city contracts with goat herders year-round, maintaining a citywide fire break. Officials have declared the entire town a severe fire hazard, requiring fire-resistant building materials and vegetation clearances around houses. Firefighting equipment is constantly being upgraded, and a new fire engine has been ordered that can scamper through wild lands to confront brush fires.

The fire quelled public debate over a new water reservoir, which was quickly built, and a second new reservoir is being planned.

County officials also have upgraded safety measures, establishing an aviation department with two water-dropping helicopters, hiring an in-house fire weather forecaster and establishing two automated weather stations. They have upgraded residential building codes, strengthening requirements for fire-proof building materials, fire-proof zones around houses and wider streets to accommodate firetrucks. Such measures were credited by fire officials with keeping flames at bay during last month’s fires near the Foothill Ranch community.

But the recovery and resourcefulness don’t erase concerns over the basic cause of houses succumbing to firestorms.

“We have built a tremendous number of communities over the years in fire-prone areas,” Brown said. “That exposes people to harm whenever a firestorm occurs.”

Laguna Beach still grapples with the fire’s aftermath. Of the 286 houses destroyed within city limits, 196 have been rebuilt, City Manager Kenneth C. Frank said. An additional 24 are under construction, and 17 more are going through review processes, Frank said.

That leaves 49 victims who have not rebuilt and not indicated what they will do, Frank said.

Many of those simply settled with insurance carriers, sold their lots and moved elsewhere, said real estate and building experts. And, if anything, the fire has helped property values. Ron Stephens, a First Team Nolan agent, said the empty lots sold for $150,000 or $200,000 immediately after the fire, but are going for $300,000 to $550,000 now. Many residents used the rebuilding opportunity to design houses with more individual style and flair; newly built houses sell for over $1.2 million.

“It’s quite a different neighborhood than it was before,” said Carol Tink, a Tustin architect who has designed houses in Laguna for years and worked on several after the fire. “It was just a 1960s tract neighborhood there before. Now, it’s more eclectic and interesting.”

But it’s still changing. Next month, city officials must decide what to do about several dozen lots in the Mystic Hills community where houses were never rebuilt and only vacant, concrete pads exist today. A year ago, all property owners of record were asked to remove the pads, which serve as eerie, present-day reminders of the inferno. Many have not.

There are other reminders that will always revisit the city. The Santa Ana winds blow their yearly threat across Southern California from October to April.

“The Santa Ana winds are blowing right now, and I’m sure they’re all skittish up there,” said architect Tink. “Five years later, it’s still there--that tension--when the winds kick up.”

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First-Day Inferno

The Laguna Beach fire of 1993 began comparatively modestly. But by the time night fell, the flames had scorched a huge swath of land. Here’s how the fire developed and spread during the first day, Wednesday, Oct. 27:

1. 11:56 a.m.

First firefighters arrive; it has burned two to three acres and is spreading with flames reaching 15-25 feet

2. 12:28 p.m.

Fire has split into multiple fronts; flame heights increase to 40-50 feet, in some places 200 feet

3. 2:23 p.m.

Fire reaches Emerald Bay and 20-30 houses are burning; 3,000 acres have burned

4. 4:03 p.m.

Fire jumps Laguna Canyon Road; El Morro trailer park is engulfed, 44 trailers burn, 49 homes have been lost in Emerald Bay; about 5,000 acres have burned

5. 10 p.m.

Firefighters set up a counter burn and contain northern edge of fire about 11 p.m.; 12,000-13,000 acres have burned

The Cost

* 12,000 acres burned in seven hours, 16,864 total (about 26 square miles)

* 441 structures destroyed

* Estimated cost, $528 million

* 1,000 firefighters, 75 trucks, several helicopters and air tankers employed

* Six firefighters injured

Sources: Orange County Fire Authority, Times reports; Researched by LOIS HOOKER and BOB OURLIAN / Los Angeles Times