Lower Topanga Tenants Facing Eviction by State

For 30 years, Ginger Kershner has reveled in a beach lover’s dream pad: an affordable five-bedroom rental on two acres in lower Topanga Canyon, with room for kids, horse, dogs and cats, a quick skip across Pacific Coast Highway from sand and surf.

She is heartbroken--not to mention hopping mad--at the prospect of having to leave.

But vacate she must, or so says the California Department of Parks and Recreation. On April 1, the agency plans to send eviction notices to Kershner and about 70 other tenants in lower Topanga Canyon, with the expectation that they will be gone by July 1.

Park officials say they need the tenants out so they can begin restoring lower Topanga Creek to its free-flowing self and removing invasive plants that have crowded out native sycamores and willows.

When the state parks department completed its $43-million purchase of 1,659 acres in the lower canyon last summer, a key goal was to extend the reach of the 11,000-acre Topanga State Park. Park officials say that, after the tenants are out, they intend to begin reviving coastal wetlands and carving out the first uninterrupted hiking trail from the San Fernando Valley to the sea.

But the lower Topanga residents--a hardy colony of artists, actors, filmmakers and retirees--are in no hurry to relinquish their funky, secluded enclave, where “newcomers” have spent a mere 20 years in perhaps the region’s last affordable coastal pocket that isn’t a mobile home park.

Even the prospect of what by most accounts is a generous relocation package is not enough for these longtime month-to-month renters to embrace the idea.

“It’s a travesty,” said Scott Dittrich, a lower Topanga resident and maker of surf films. “They’re destroying a vibrant community.”

Residents Hope Lawyer Can Gain Some Time

Led by Dittrich, residents have hired Craig Dummit, an attorney who helped win a 20-year reprieve for residents of Crystal Cove in Orange County when the state wanted to use their properties for a historic park. Those residents moved out only recently.

Dummit also has some history with Topangans. Back in 1970, he helped Topanga Beach residents who were threatened with eviction after the state bought a stretch of coastline. Through legal wrangling and a settlement, some residents managed to delay moving for several years.

Similarly, Dummit said, many lower Topanga Canyon residents know they will have to leave eventually. They just want more time, and he said many are inclined to go to court to get it.

Dittrich and others were especially distressed to learn recently that the state parks department plans to maintain some of the existing structures as homes for park security officers.

“The residents aren’t saying they should stay there forever or that they should have priority in the use of the property over the public,” Dummit said. “But they don’t want to have to move from their homes before it’s absolutely necessary.”

Living in lower Topanga Canyon has involved trade-offs, residents say. In exchange for paying below-market rents ranging from $400 to about $1,300 (for a six-bedroom home), residents have done all their own maintenance, including the building of crude roads and bridges.

Dittrich estimated that he has invested $200,000 in his compound, which has a main residence and three other buildings. He spent $5,000 for a new roof, among other repairs, he said. And he helped build a diversion channel to tame the creek, which rises in heavy rain to within feet of where he keeps his horse.

Residents Are Called Good Stewards of Land

He considers himself and most other residents to be good stewards of the land.

A state parks scientist sees it differently. Human habitation, says Suzanne Goode, a senior resource ecologist, has threatened the fragile ecosystem of Topanga Creek, home to the endangered southern steelhead trout and the tidewater goby, another rare fish.

Dikes erected by residents have thwarted the creek’s meanderings, she says. When the creek is low enough, residents drive across it many times daily, depositing grease and brake-lining fluid and stirring up sand.

“Every time a car drives through the water, it disturbs the sediment, sending it downstream,” Goode said. “[The traffic is] a source of sedimentation and pollution.”

Meanwhile, analyses show that the water upstream from the residences is relatively clean. Downstream, particularly near an area that once housed a rodeo and is still called Rodeo Grounds, a recent test revealed much higher concentrations of fecal matter, park officials say. They suspect that the problem is caused by leaking septic tanks and free-roaming pets.

Also troubling to Goode is the presence of nonnative plants, including eucalyptus trees, nasturtiums, oleanders and morning glories.

On a tour of the canyon, she pointed to clump after giant clump of a bamboo-like plant called arundo, the worst offender. Arundo grows so thickly that it diverts the creek and crowds out trees that would serve as shade for the stream and habitat for birds and other animals.

Vegetation Is Prolific, Highly Flammable

It is also highly flammable. Whenever residents clear away the arundo to reduce the danger of fire, they inadvertently propagate the plant, and it soon roars back in even more locations.

Arundo is one of many reasons that biologists have applauded the state’s takeover of the property, which the Los Angeles Athletic Club bought in the 1920s in hopes of building a marina, before the Great Depression quashed the plan.

“Topanga represents a very unique opportunity,” said Rosi Dagit, senior conservation biologist with the resource conservation district of the Santa Monica Mountains. “The whole park was bought because it’s such an exceptional biological treasure in urbanized Los Angeles.”

Topanga is the third-largest watershed draining into Santa Monica Bay and has the most biological diversity because it is large and relatively well protected, Dagit added.

To ease the relocation process, the state has earmarked more than $5 million to be divided among the tenants.

“Quite frankly, some of these people are going to get very large relocation payments,” said Barry McDaniel, senior vice president of Pacific Relocation Consultants, hired by the state to help tenants find other housing. The average payout per household is expected to be about $80,000, with some much higher.

Area Businesses Get a Reprieve

In August, when the state parks department announced its purchase of the land from LAACO Ltd., which owns the Los Angeles Athletic Club, three-fourths of the residents wouldn’t even talk to relocation officials. Most have since begun cooperating, McDaniel said.

Recently, the few businesses in the area got a reprieve. The beauty salon owned by Kershner--Ginger Snips--can stay open at least two years, along with others, such as the Topanga Ranch Motel and Reel Inn Fresh Fish Restaurant.

Residents will be eligible for reimbursement of moving expenses and help finding comparable housing. And if they move into a more expensive place, they could receive 42 months of payments to help defray the costs.

The payments afford little solace to Coliene Rentmeester, 71, who has lived next to the Dittrich family for 21 years. Rentmeester has lately pored over rental ads. Malibu houses comparable to her three-bedroom, $1,200 lower Topanga rental would easily fetch $3,000 a month or more, she said. She does not yet know how much supplemental aid she will receive.

“What freaks me out is [I] can only stay there for three years, and then I’m on the streets,” Rentmeester said.

She acknowledged that she has known since she signed her month-to-month lease 21 years ago that this day would come.

Still, Rentmeester said, “I don’t want to go. If you saw this place where I live, it’s gorgeous. I worked on it so long. It is very personal and very dear to my heart.”