Southern California is the landscape of dreams, or so the mythology goes. Newcomers arrive. They raise the roof beam high over the simplest foundations and pass on to a new generation the hope that they too might believe in this sun-drenched paradise.
Time, however, has cast a shadow on this pact, and it sometimes feels like a distant romance. Yet glimpses of it can still be seen, as the fires of this last week have shown.
Beginning Monday night, the conflagration has been indiscriminately cruel, incinerating homes, killing horses and upending lives. It has touched mogul and farmer, homeowner and renter, young and old alike.
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Flaring up almost at random, it has linked disparate cities and neighborhoods — Ventura and Sylmar, Santa Paula and Bel-Air, Malibu and Bonsall — and forged a common experience among dusty inland horse ranches, coastal mansions, oak-hidden enclaves and ocean-view apartments.
In this climate and on this landscape, fire is the great equalizer.
But all natural disasters are. They provide a glimpse into the vulnerability of others no matter their place in life. Houston. Florida. Puerto Rico.
Only it wasn’t supposed to be this way, not here at least. Palm trees aren’t supposed to ignite like matchsticks.
“No place on earth offers greater security to life and greater freedom from natural disasters than Southern California,” The Times wrote in 1934.
We’re learning otherwise.
“It’s never been easy to make a home in America,” said D.J. Waldie, author of “Holy Land,” a memoir of growing up in a Southern California neighborhood. “We are not unique, except we have a burden of a mythology that presents California — especially Southern California — as somehow exempt from the difficulties, I would even say cruelties, of making a home in America.”
But fire is the cruel joke of Southern California, and the irony is rich: Everything that makes this place special — the mountains, this salubrious climate between desert and sea — is the reason for the wind-driven destruction.
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We have a burden of a mythology that presents California — especially Southern California — as somehow exempt from the difficulties.
— D.J. Waldie, author of “Holy Land,” a Southern California memoir
Our naiveté is to blame as well, a willingness to forget that these fires are nothing new. “Disaster amnesia,” as Mike Davis called it in “Ecology of Fear.”
Yet abandoning illusions is never easy, no matter the reality at hand.
Unlike New York or Chicago — cities of concrete and steel — Southern California is a landscape of chaparral amid stretches of undeveloped and undevelopable land, the ruffles in the Transverse Ranges: the Puente Hills, the Santa Ynez Mountains, the Verdugos, the San Gabriels, the San Bernardinos, the Santa Monicas.
So when Santa Ana winds blow, lips chap, eyes sting, there is little doubt of what lies ahead when a fire starts. Skies turn a burnt orange; cars are dusted with ash.
Last week, the escalation was especially fast.
In the flood of media reports, firefighting became spectator sport, driven by statistics: more than 175,000 acres burned, more than 790 structures destroyed or damaged, 5% containment.
Small talk was quickly informed by the language of the fight: “cat’s eyes” for the embers that glow at night, “skunk” for the fire’s sneaky incursions beyond the front line.
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Soon the region was collateral damage: schools closed, freeways shut down, air unbreathable.
We took stock, going through that terrible drill: 10 minutes to evacuate, what would you take?
For those who fled the fires, it was a violin, a photo album, a neighbor’s collection of running medals. It’s only stuff, but it’s stuff that makes them who they are — not all that different from us.
One man had just returned home in the hills above Ventura to watch the final licks of fire consume a cherished piano.
A couple loaded trailers with wild-eyed horses outside Ojai as the smoke of the approaching blaze blotted out the sun.
An elderly woman was afraid she would lose the home in Bel-Air that her husband built for her 30 years ago.
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They are strangers, but it is as if they lived next door. Given the capricious nature of these wind-whipped infernos — leap-frogging block to block, covering 15 miles in a few hours — they might as well.
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John Bain and Brandon Baker try to stop a fire from burning a stranger’s home in Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A brush fire moving with the wind sends embers all over residential neighborhoods north of Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A family packs up and evacuates as a brush fire gets closer to their home in Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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John Bain and his friends, all from Camarillo, came to help as brush fires move quickly through residential neighborhoods in Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Strangers band together to help put out a palm tree on fire and stop it from burning homes.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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The Hawaiian Gardens apartments burn in Ventura.
(Michael Owen Baker / For the Times)
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Residents help with the fire attack on Buena Vista Street in Ventura.
(Michael Owen Baker / For the Times)
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Residents watch the Thomas fire on Prospect Street in Ventura.
(Michael Owen Baker / For the Times)
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Firefighters are deployed to battle the fire in a Ventura neighborhood.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A chimney is all that stands of a home as a brush fire continues to threaten other homes in Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Remnants of a home as a brush fire continues to threaten other homes in Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A home burns on a hillside overlooking Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Palms are consumed in the Thomas fire.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times )
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Emma Jacobson, 19, center, gets a hug from a neighbor after her family home was destroyed by fire in Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Olivia Jacobson, 16, wipes tears as she looks at her family’s home, destroyed by the brush fire on Island View Drive in Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Aerial view of the Thomas fire in Ventura County.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
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Noah Alarcon carries a cage with the family cat while evacuating from Casitas Springs.
(Michael Owen Baker / For the Times)
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Smoke from the Thomas fire crosses over Lake Casitas near Ojai.
(Michael Owen Baker / For the Times)
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A Ventura County firefighter battles a blaze on Cobblestone Drive near Foothill Road in Ventura.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Ventura County Firefighter Aaron Cohen catches his breath after fighting to save homes along Cobblestone Drive near Foothill Road in Ventura.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Aerial view of homes burned to the ground in the Thomas fire in Ventura County.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times )
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A home between Via Baja and Foothill Road burns in Ventura.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Amanda Leon and husband Johnny Leon watch as firefighters fight to save homes along Cobblestone Drive near Foothill Road in Ventura.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Chino Valley firefighters fight to save a home along Cobblestone Drive near Foothill Road in Ventura.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Embers continue to burn at sunset Tuesday in a home on Ridgecrest Court at Scenic Way in the Clearpoint neighborhood of Ventura.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles TImes)
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A firefighter battles the Thomas fire along Highway 33 in Casitas Springs.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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Firefighters try to protect homes from the Thomas fire along Highway 33 in Casitas Springs.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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A firefighter battles the Thomas fire along Highway 33 in Casitas Springs.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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Edward Aguilar runs through the flames of the Thomas Fire to save his cats at his mobile home along Highway 33 in Casitas Springs in Ventura County.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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Jeff Lipscomb, left, Gabriel Lipscomb, 17, center, and Rachel Lipscomb, 11, look for items to recover from their burned home in Ventura.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A traffic collision temporarily clogged lanes on the northbound 101 Freeway between Solimar and Faria Beaches as the Thomas fire burned in the hills.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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The Thomas fire burns towards the 101 Freeway and homes between Solimar and Faria Beaches.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Fire personnel keep an eye on the Thomas fire on Toland Road near Santa Paula.
(Michael Owen Baker / For the Times)
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A train on the Rincon coast passes a burning hillside from the Thomas fire.
(Michael Owen Baker / For the Times)
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The Thomas fire burns along the 101 Freeway north of Ventura on Wednesday evening.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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A firefighter battles the Thomas fire in the town of La Conchita early Thursday.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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A resident cries as the Thomas fire approaches the town of La Conchita early Thursday.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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Burned palm trees are left standing between the 101 Freeway and Faria Beach as the Thomas fire reaches the Pacific Ocean.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Firefighters battle Thursday to protect the resort city of Ojai from encroaching flames.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Casey Rodriquez helps a friend move belongings after the Thomas Fire destroyed most of an apartment building on North Kalarama in Ventura.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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A burnt-out bus near Maripoca Highway.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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The Thomas fire burns in the Los Padres National Forest, near Ojai.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A huge plume of smoke rises north of Ventura as seen Sunday afternoon from the Ventura pier, as the Thomas fire threatens parts of Carpenteria and Montecito.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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The Thomas Fire burns in the Los Padres National Forest, near Ojai, Calif. on Friday.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Residents react as they watch the Thomas Fire burn in the hills above La Conchita at 5 am Thursday moning.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
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Mary McEwen and husband Dan Bellaart prepare to evacuate their home on Toro Canyon Road in Montecito as the Thomas fire burns.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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Carpenteria resident Chris Gayner, right, photographs a plane in the hills of Carpenteria.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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From left, residents Michael Desjardins, his neighbor Patty Rodriguez, daughter Mikayla, wife Veronica, mother in law Amanda Buzin, and son Mikey keep an eye on the Thomas fire in Carpenteria.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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Mary McEwen cheers as she sees fire crews make their way up a hill past her home on Toro Canyon Rd. in Montecito.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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Dan Bellaart and wife Mary McEwen comfort each other in the backyard of their home that includes an avocado ranch on 9 acres of land on Toro Canyon Road in Montecito, as the Thomas fire burns in the background.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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Carpinteria resident Jay Molnar, 55, mouth and nose protected against the smoke, views flames glowing in the hills above the city on Dec. 11, 2017.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
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Sacramento firefighters battle a blaze in Toro Canyon in Carpenteria at dusk Tuesday.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Josh Acosta, superintendent with Fulton Hotshots looks for ways to fight fire consuming a structure threatening two homes high up Toro Canyon in Carpenteria at dusk Tuesday.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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A motorcade passes on tHighway 126 carrying the body of a Cal Fire engineer Cory Iverson, who died Thursday morning while battling the Thomas Fire.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Santa Paula City officials, Police and Firefighters salute from a bridge as a motorcade passes on the Santa Paula Freeway 126 carrying the body of a Cal Fire engineer Cory Iverson.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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Forest Service crews cut and clear dense brush for contingency lines off of East Camino Cielo in the Santa Ynez Mountains above Montecito and Santa Barbara to help stop the Thomas fire from advancing.
(Al Seib / Los Angeles Times)
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A hotshot crew from Ojai marches towards their assignment to protect structures on East Mountain Drive in Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Firefighters monitor the flames Saturday from a staging area near Parma Park in Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Flames slowly make their way down a valley behind a home in Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Flames whip around power lines as they move through Sycamore Canyon on Saturday, threatening structures in Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Smoke billows over Santa Barbara as the Thomas Fire continues to threaten the area on Saturday.
(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)
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Bill Shubin, deputy fire chief of the Santa Rosa Fire Department checks on flames burning near homes north of East Mountain Drive in Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A fire truck pulls responds to fires burning near homes on East Mountain Drive in Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times )
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Brian Good, from US Forest Service, leans forward against the wind, and holds up a Kestrel to measure wind speeds up to 50 mph on Gibraltar Road in Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A plume of smoke moves south as winds as high as 50 mph blow down Gibraltar Road on the west fork of Cold Spring Trail in Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Flames and a big plume of smoke threaten homes on Gibraltar Road near Gibraltar Rock, outside Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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The sun rises as fire crews prepare for another day of fighting the Thomas Fire, in Montecito, Calif., on Sunday.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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An aircraft makes a water drop over a hot spot up in the mountain range at Gibraltar Rock near Montecito, Calif. on Sunday.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Humboldt County firefighters Bobby Gray, left, hoses down smoldering flames inside a destroyed home, as Kellee Stoehr, right looks on, after the Thomas Fire burned in Montecito, Calif. on Sunday.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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A home on Park Hill Lane was destroyed by the Thomas fire in Montecito, Calif.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times )
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Humboldt County firefighters Lonnie Risling, left, and Jimmy McHaffie, right, spray down smoldering fire underneath the rubble of a home that was destroyed by the Thomas Fire, in Montecito, Calif., Sunday.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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Fire crews help the Behrman family retrieve their family’s personal belongings out of their burned home, in Montecito, Calif., on Sunday.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
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In the foreground of the ridges that were burned by the Thomas Fire, Rusty Smith stands outside his home that survived the flames that were kicked up by Saturday’s wind event and threatened his home in Flores Flats on Gibraltar Road, near Montecito.
(Marcus Yam / Los Angeles Times)
Others stood ankle deep in ashes, the open sky above them where once there was a roof. Shovels in gloved hands, they searched for old spoons, pieces of jewelry, fireplace tools — talismans of their past.
Like the Avon Mother’s Day plate from 1982, glazed with a cartoon of a little boy holding a bouquet of wildflowers. “Little Things Mean Alot,” reads the scripted legend.
It doesn’t matter if it was Rupert Murdoch with his Bel-Air estate — mostly unscathed — built in 1940, with its memories of past owners, the titans of Hollywood. Or if it was a family with their Craftsman-style home — destroyed — in the Santa Ynez Mountains, where there were weddings in the backyard.
Their dreams are the dreams of this landscape, separated only by matters of degree.
“I very quickly fell in love,” Murdoch once said when describing his $30-million property, words most everyone has spoken before.
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Fires are luridly dramatic.
— D.J. Waldie
An affinity for place — be it a horse ranch in Little Tujunga Canyon or a mobile home in northern San Diego County — cuts across all divides, and when it burns, it burns down the illusions of the past, so tenderly clung to, so quickly lost and so eagerly reclaimed.
But for now, the battle is all there is, with the reassurance that soon the burning will stop. And it will.
“Fires are luridly dramatic,” Waldie said. “They have a narrative arc with a beginning, a middle and an end. They feature battles with a monster as the action rises and falls.”
This story too has its heroes: the firefighters, of course, and their support crews, and a few strangers along the way.
They were five friends, high school buddies who, upon seeing a palm tree ablaze above an empty home in Ventura, grabbed garden hoses and went to work as embers rained upon them in the gusting wind. They had driven from Camarillo, drawn to the flames and to a neighborhood 15 miles away.
Thomas Curwen is staff writer for the Los Angeles Times, specializing in long-form narratives, and was a Pulitzer Prize finalist in 2008 for feature writing.
