Firefighters Keep the Cool Out on Northwest Valley Frontier

It’s a place full of narrow, bone-crunching roads offering just one way in and out. Sometimes the addresses don’t have an expected order; on Rowell Avenue the numbers jump inexplicably from 9400 to 120 to 9500.

But the locals know what’s where, and who’s who.

“People know whose check is good, and whose husband ain’t,” said Aaron J. Shaw, 81, who has lived in this rural northwest corner of the San Fernando Valley since 1957.

Shaw operated the hamlet’s gas station until he closed it in 1965.

“We live in the cleanest part of the Valley. There’s always a little breeze,” Shaw said.

The neighborhood is located north of the Chatsworth Lake Reservoir, hard by the Ventura County border.

In the 1920s, it served as a vacation getaway, where cabins were built on small lots. Now signs warning against trespassing decorate the landscape, along with lounge chairs, refrigerators and old cars in some yards.

There is a mix of old homes and new, many built on former cabin sites and jumbled closely together. There are no street lights, no sidewalks or curbs, no natural gas hookups and no sewer system.

About 3,000 people live in the area, in homes ranging from $150,000 to more than $1 million, said Robert L. Wood, a real estate agent who lives in nearby Box Canyon.

“The common thread is artistic expression, or the fact they march to a different drummer,” said Wood, who has lived in the area for two decades. “They are not bent for political action.”

The town has a market, but the restaurant recently closed. The Hells Angels still have a clubhouse there, though.

There is one vestige of government: Los Angeles County Fire Station 75 at 23310 Lake Manor Drive. An eight-room converted house, the station was almost closed by the county in 1991 but was saved in part because of the efforts of local residents.

“It’s vital that we have a fire department that knows where the houses are,” said Wood, 54.

Indeed, the eight firefighters who serve the area know its mazes well. But even they have trouble responding to calls sometimes.

“Every call tends to be an adventure,” said Capt. Gabriel Etcheverry. “Houses are tucked away in unbelievable areas. Even with our maps it’s the hardest area to find addresses.”

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The firefighters have had to move cars blocking their paths or been forced to leave behind their truck and complete their response on foot to get around vehicles.

Etcheverry previously worked in Huntington Park, but he transferred to this station a year ago to be closer to his home in Moorpark. Compared with Huntington Park, he said, Station 75 has many fewer calls--and much more trouble finding addresses.

But the station is prized by the locals. Major brush fires have blazed through this area on their way to sea. And the station also provides emergency medical aid--and other services.

“We’re all they got--the local fire department--and we almost act like peacekeepers,” said Firefighter Clayton Brown.

Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputies from the Malibu/Lost Hills station respond here, but the firefighters usually show up first during routine incidents like domestic disputes. About 90% of their calls are to provide medical help, Brown said.

“If it’s minor things, we’re the authority. If the abuser has left we go right to the scene,” said Brown, 38. “If we hear he’s got a gun, we’re going to be waiting.”

People seem to like having this symbol of order nearby. To help keep the station open eight years ago, they wrote letters, signed petitions and even made bumper stickers.

“If anything is important in the community, you can count on the people rallying. They’re very defensive of their area,” said Margaret Foreman, who led the effort.

Foreman, whose street has three exits leading nowhere, said the area needs firefighters who can quickly find concealed houses during an emergency.

“Some [firefighters] walk the area. When they clear brush they talk to you and make you aware of what they need and what they want and how to do it,” said Foreman, 77. “There’s a more personal touch.”

For Foreman, the need for a nearby station is also personal. In 1967, her house was damaged by fire and had to be rebuilt. She said that was the area’s last major fire, which damaged more than 50 homes: “We’ve had a lot of scares. I don’t feel anyone has lost anything major since then.”

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The station has a fire engine and a truck and gets extra people and equipment during severe Santa Ana wind conditions. It relies on help from nearby Ventura County and Los Angeles city fire departments because other county units are far away.

“We’re like an outpost out here,” Etcheverry said.

The possibility of brush fires is very real for that outpost. “It’s possibly a catastrophic area when the winds get going,” said Etcheverry, 40.

The fire station has a colorful history. Firefighters have been operating out of the small converted house for about 30 years. Like any place around that long, it has its lore. Here it revolves around Charles Manson--or Charlie Manson, as he’s known in these parts.

A fire captain at the station had told Manson, who lived at nearby Spahn Ranch, to stop breaking the locks of gates around county property in the area, the story goes.

In response, Manson or one of his followers reportedly broke into the station and left behind a set of knives in a mysterious arrangement. An alternate version has the intruder writing something on the blackboard while the firefighters slept.

“It’s always been a story passed down to us,” Brown said.

The county leases the station property on a month-to-month basis, said Chuck West, director of real estate for the county’s chief administrative office. The county would like to buy the site but “the owner is a little reluctant to sell,” West said.

It’s a small staff--three captains, three firefighters and two engineers--who patrol a 25-square-mile area including the communities of Chatsworth Lake, Box Canyon and Santa Susana Knolls and north of the Ronald Reagan Freeway.

They generally work in groups of three during 24-hour shifts and handle about 300 calls a year.

Being a small staff, the men have gotten to know each other. Engineer Rich Ward and Brown have worked together about six years, though both promised themselves they would be there only a year.

“We know what to expect from each other and it works out well,” Ward said.

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The residents also know each other well; many have lived there for decades.

“It’s almost like a small town in the South or Midwest. It’s not like living in the city,” said Foreman, who has lived there 41 years.

“People care about each other. In many places people don’t know their neighbors. You know your neighbors and they care about you.”

People know each other so well that it’s hard to talk to someone without being constantly interrupted by neighbors waving and saying hello.

“You sit here on a summer evening and you’ll wave at 50 people before the night’s over,” said Mary Fletcher, 35.