NOVEMBER 17, 2008
As California Neighborhood Burned, Two Little Houses Survived
Conejo Road Homes Cheated Flames Through Flower Power -- and Sheer Luck
By NICHOLAS CASEY and JONATHAN KARP
WSJ
SANTA BARBARA, Calif. -- The homes at 486 and 498 Conejo Road here appear to be nothing special, except for the simple fact that they're still standing. It doesn't seem possible that these homes could have survived the devastating wildfire that raced through this wealthy coastal community late last week. An aerial photo of the area, taken Friday, shows nearly every other house on their street, and nearby, reduced to ashes. Yet 486 Conejo, among the first homes built in the area more than 70 years ago, has survived decades of fires and landslides that wiped out other nearby residences. "It just wants to survive," Susan Macy, the home's owner, exclaims when told of the photo.
Two lots away, separated by an empty parcel where a house once collapsed in a landslide, is 498 Conejo, home of Farrokh "Fred" Ashtiani. An amateur botanist, Mr. Ashtiani knew when he moved into the one-bedroom, aluminum-sided home almost three years ago that fire could be trouble. So he erected defenses, packing the property with dozens of succulent species and a fireproof wall because he was convinced that only a "garden of pleasure" would retard an inevitable blaze.
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The home at 486 Conejo Rd., however, is a survivor. Built in the 1930s, the small two-bedroom dwelling is the antithesis of Santa Barbara opulence. Yet it has outlasted many of its newer, million-dollar-plus neighbors. It survived the Sycamore Canyon Fire of 1977 and a 1984 mudslide that gave birth to a local law, dubbed the Conejo Landslide Ordinance, prohibiting new construction in the area. El Nino rainstorms in 1998 wreaked more havoc, sweeping away more homes -- damaging the off-white plaster-and-lath home, but not destroying it. Perched above street level, the cottage was bought several years ago by a contractor, who retrofitted the abode and built retaining walls on the quarter-acre property. "Somebody has always loved that house," says Debbie Merlo, a real-estate agent in the area. In 2004, she showed the home to Ms. Macy, a San Diego women's clothing importer who longed to return to Santa Barbara, where she had gone to college. One of the selling points for the self-proclaimed city slicker: No one could block her line of sight to the ocean.
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Then last week's fire swept through, destroying or causing structural damage to more houses on Conejo Road -- 33, according to the Santa Barbara County Office of Emergency Services -- than any other street in the area. Ms. Macy lost her free-standing garage that is set well away from the cottage. Ms. Merlo, the real-estate agent, has a theory on why Ms. Macy's cottage has survived: "That darling house is in the hands of angels." One of the angels was Ms. Macy's friend, who headed up to Conejo Road by foot before dawn Friday as blazes raged in homes along the street. The garage at 486 Conejo "was already gone, but I found a hose in the back yard and doused brush fires," says the friend, who lives in neighboring Montecito. Feeling overwhelmed by fumes, he left but advised firefighters on a main canyon road that there was a house still standing, and they should go defend it.
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Just steps away at 498 Conejo, Mr. Ashtiani, 61, relied on nature and a gardening obsession for protection. When Mr. Ashtiani was boy in Iran, his father would "take me to the hills north of Tehran and we would compete naming plants." Years later, he and his partners sold an Internet start-up to pursue a semiretired life. He had come to Santa Barbara because "I could garden all year." In early 2006 a real-estate agent showed him the house, with dying, fire-prone trees. Mr. Ashtiani put in an offer for the house, but he made an unusual request as he waited for word on whether the owners would accept his bid: "Can I start watering the house?" The agent agreed. Mr. Ashtiani and his brother pruned the roses and trimmed the avocado trees, and when the sale went through he bought $4,000 worth of plants along with an auger to begin digging. He knew about the hill's past traumas but believed he could buck its curse with the art of Persian gardening.
"The Persian garden is a place of seclusion," he says. "But it is a place of protection." He packed his yard with watery succulents like echeveria and agave; pruned the 87 avocado trees; added jojoba shrubs; and spread an African groundcover called Aptenia cordifolia that stores water in its leaves. "If a fire comes," Mr. Ashtiani thought, "I'll be protected." His plan was tested on Thursday night, when embers the size of potato chips began to fall on his property. Mr. Ashtiani warmed up his Mercedes, doused the house in water and fled. The day before, he had planted 20 sapling trees. These moist plants would prove a first defense of his home. A day later, the aerial photograph showed not only the house standing, but the garden as well.
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