Fault Lines in Law Leave Homes on Shaky Ground
Land that has passed inspection can still prove unstable for homeowners.
August
11, 2002, LA Times
When Ron Muranaka paid $564,000 for a stucco Colonial in
Yorba Linda with dramatic views of the Chino Hills, he was vaguely aware that
the area was earthquake-prone. But so was the rest of California, he figured. Seven
years later, his yard cracked apart. Then the driveway split. The living room
walls separated and door frames warped.
But all that paled next to what happened early one summer morning in 1999: With
a roar, much of the backyard slid 40 feet down a cliff. Geologists hired by Muranaka and his wife,
Dawn, reported grim news: The Whittier fault system, which their real estate
agent had told them was miles from their house, actually ran right beneath it.
The land was shifting constantly, trapping water beneath the foundation and
undermining the property.
"The dirt underneath us is totally unstable," said Dawn Muranaka.
"We're terrified."
Owners of at least two dozen other houses in Yorba Linda's Bryant Ranch
development are in the same predicament. Their plight illustrates the
limitations of the Alquist-Priolo Act, the 30-year-old state law intended to
prevent construction atop active earthquake faults. When Bryant Ranch was being
planned in the late 1970s, geologists hired by the developers warned that an
active fault line ran through parts of some neighborhoods. The developers hired
new geologists, who declared the faults inactive. That allowed more homes to be
squeezed onto the hillsides than otherwise would have been permitted. It was
all perfectly legal. Those familiar with the Alquist-Priolo Act say it's a
common pattern: When one geologist says not to build, developers find another
to tell them to go right ahead.
"I don't know why so many developers work so hard to make the faults
disappear, but they do," said J. David Rogers, whose firm, Geolith in
Pleasant Hill, has reviewed hundreds of geological reports for California
cities. One of the most notorious examples occurred in the Bay Area city of
Pleasanton in the late 1980s. Detailed federal and state maps showed that the
Calaveras fault ran through a 258-acre site where 80 homes were proposed. The
presence of the fault was confirmed by the first geologist hired by the
developers.
Then another expert was brought in. He reached a different conclusion: that the
110-mile-long fault hopped over the project site, stopping just south of the
property and picking up again beyond the northern boundary. State officials
expressed concern about the finding, and the U.S. Geological Survey offered to
help locate the fault lines. Pleasanton officials declined the assistance, and
the development was approved. The homes have not suffered fault damage. City
officials say they followed the law to the letter.
Critics say that is the problem: The Alquist-Priolo Act relies on developers
and their hired experts to assess seismic risks, and on local officials to
ensure that everything is aboveboard. Some cities thoroughly review geologists'
reports, but others lack the interest or the expertise. Yorba Linda officials
acknowledge that their review of the Bryant Ranch project was limited.
"That's for the developer to do," said Roy Stephenson, who was city
engineer when the subdivisions were approved. "We assume the developer
wouldn't want to submit false reports. That could just bring them trouble later
on." Earlier this year, 80 Bryant Ranch homeowners collected a $6-million
settlement from the developers and subcontractors after a six-year court
battle. The Muranakas and several others are pursuing a separate lawsuit
against the city of Yorba Linda.
The developers say the damage to the Bryant Ranch homes is unrelated to the
Whittier fault system. They blame bad landscaping, El Nino rains, over-watering
of lawns and ill-advised pool installations. "No one we have consulted has
said this damage is being caused by faults," said Bob Carlson, an attorney
for Brighton Homes of Orange County, one of the companies that developed Bryant
Ranch. The homeowners say doubters are welcome to stop by the next time the
fault shudders.
Steve Patterson lives with his wife in a five-bedroom Bryant Ranch house they
bought in 1990 for $584,500. Patterson woke up one morning in the summer of
1999 to find that a large section of his backyard had disappeared. It is now at
the bottom of a 50-foot cliff, along with a fence he had installed days before.
"The city should have investigated this," Patterson said of the
conflicting geological findings. "There were reports that said not to
build."
* Labeled Quake-Prone
Planning for the Bryant Ranch development--high on jagged ridges above the
Riverside Freeway in north Orange County--began in 1978, when the land was
controlled by the Campeau Corp. of Canada and John Wertin, a local real estate
tycoon.
The historic ranch was carved out of the massive Rancho Canon de Santa Ana by
John Bixby in 1875. His daughter, Susanna Bixby Bryant, took over the cattle
and citrus grove operations in 1911 and later added a large botanical garden in
memory of her father. Her descendants managed the property until they decided
to sell it for development. Campeau and Wertin merged to form CW Associates and
in early 1982 hired a former assistant city manager of Yorba Linda, Brian
Johnson, to oversee development of the land.
A major obstacle loomed. In 1980, about a quarter of the 3,300-acre ranch was
declared an active earthquake zone under the Alquist-Priolo Act. The law had
been passed after the San Fernando Earthquake of Feb. 9, 1971, killed 65 people
and caused more than $500 million in damage. Much of the destruction resulted
from "surface ruptures," which occur when fault movements deep
underground tear gashes in the Earth's surface. This is one of many kinds of
earthquake damage, but geologists say it is the easiest to prevent because
areas prone to surface ruptures are readily identified. The Alquist-Priolo Act
sought to stop construction of houses and offices in such places. State maps
show generally where the main branch of a fault runs. It's up to developers and
their geological consultants to locate the dozens of active, secondary branches
and "threads" that run underground in all directions. The act
prohibits building homes within 50 feet of them.
Early drafts of the law provided for rigorous state oversight of development in
active earthquake zones and strict guidelines for determining whether a site
was safe for building. Real estate interests lobbied hard against those
provisions. Geologists also objected, complaining that the law would leave them
vulnerable to lawsuits. Legislators removed the tough oversight language.
In the case of Bryant Ranch, the state maps show that the Whittier Fault passes
through Yorba Linda as it runs 25 miles from Corona to the Los Angeles Basin.
State studies project that a 7.4-magnitude quake is possible on the fault
within the next few decades. In the mid-1980s, the Bryant Ranch developers
hired Leighton & Associates of Irvine to map the neighborhood where Ron and
Dawn Muranaka's home sits.
The firm determined that an active fault ran through that parcel and at least
four others were in the area. It advised building fewer homes, with
construction kept a safe distance from the fault lines. The discovery affected
a proposed subdivision of 50 homes. The 3,300-acre site has 1,700 homes in several
neighborhoods, each developed separately.
"The fault crossed right along the ridge just south of [the Muranakas']
house," said Eldon Gath, a geologist with Leighton who is regarded as an
expert on the Whittier Fault system. "Then we found another fault there we
were concerned about." Campeau had withdrawn from the project by then,
selling the ranch to a partnership controlled by Wertin and George Argyros, now
the U.S. ambassador to Spain. The new partnership kept Leighton on for a while.
Then the firm was fired.
"That had never happened to me before," Gath said. "To be
involved with a project all of the way up through design and then be told,
'You're out of here'--that's pretty stunning. "Maybe they thought we were
too conservative," he said. "It costs money to be that conservative.
Some people would rather take a risk."
Another group of geologists with a now-defunct firm, Soil and Testing
Engineers, took over from Leighton and concluded, after their own
investigation, that half a dozen more homes could safely be built on the tract.
A similar pattern played out with a different cast of consultants in the other
neighborhoods on the ranch. At least 18 additional homes were built against the
advice of geologists and are now cracking. "Builders can keep buying,
buying, buying reports until they find someone who doesn't see it, or someone
whose ethics are compromised," said Patrick Abbott, a professor of geology
at San Diego State University and author of a widely used textbook on natural
disasters. "I remember a developer telling me he had six studies all
saying don't build. But, he said, 'The seventh one said we can build, and
that's what we are going to use.' "
Argyros and David Ball, the principal developers for Bryant Ranch, declined to
be interviewed. Soil and Testing Engineers has long since gone out of business.
Efforts to reach the geologist who wrote the company's report were
unsuccessful. It was up to the city of Yorba Linda to review the geologist's
findings.
Jim Slosson, who oversaw the Alquist-Priolo program as California's state
geologist in the late 1970s, said many cities don't have the resources to
spot-check the work done on site. A thorough review would involve boring holes
in the ground to test the engineers' findings. That rarely happens."There
are all kinds of tricks being used to get around that law," Slosson said.
"It's easy."
* Officials Accused
Bryant Ranch homeowners contend that Yorba Linda's government, at best, had
been lax in its oversight and, at worst, had engaged in self-dealing. They point out that Johnson, the former
assistant city manager, went to work for the developer less than a year after
leaving his city position--a violation of state lobbying laws. Johnson, now
based in Dana Point, refused to comment. "We had former employees of the
city acting as representatives for developers," said Barbara Kiley, a
former Yorba Linda councilwoman. "There were no checks and balances."
In addition, City Atty. Leonard Hampel oversaw the approval process for Bryant
Ranch while working for Argyros at another real estate company in Orange
County.
Hampel disclosed his connection to Argyros in a letter he sent to then-City
Manager Arthur Simonian, who ruled that Hampel need not recuse himself.
Simonian later left the city's employ after an outside auditor found that he
had awarded unauthorized raises to himself and colleagues on the city payroll. Kiley
and other council members said they learned only years later that Hampel had
been working for Argyros. "I had no idea," said former Mayor Gene
Wisner. "He never recused himself."
City meeting minutes also show that Yorba Linda officials accommodated the
developers' wish to downplay the seismic hazards at Bryant Ranch. Johnson asked
the Planning Commission in 1982 for permission to delete the term "active
earthquake zone" from disclosure documents to be given to prospective home
buyers in the neighborhood where the Muranakas now live. He expressed concern
that such a designation would be too "stark" and might frighten off
buyers.
The commission obliged, and said home buyers could be told that they were
moving into a "potentially active" earthquake zone--a description
that applies to nearly all of California. When the City Council approved the
project in 1987, it sanctioned the "potentially active" language. Disclosure
has consistently been a problem with the earthquake law. State studies show
that many homeowners living in Alquist-Priolo zones have no idea what that
means.
In some cases, the homeowners have been told that the so-called earthquake
special study zones are the safest places to be, because scientists have
studied the areas and certified them as safe. A 1991 State Department of
Conservation report on the law said that the risk of buying a house in an
earthquake zone is "typically understated and not even known about"
by purchasers. That conclusion remains valid today, said the report's author,
Robert Reitherman. "Some people think being in the zone means there is no
earthquake hazard," he said.
* Financial Effects
For Hans Spitz, who lives across the valley from the Muranakas in a
neighborhood called Brighton Ridge, the "potentially active"
disclosure simply stated the obvious for any California real estate purchase.
He didn't realize, he says, that he was actually in an area of elevated risk
when he bought his luxury six-bedroom house in December 1989.
Today, a giant crack runs down the wall in the master bedroom of the Spitz home
on La Fiesta. One side of the living room is four inches lower than the other.
The floor between the kitchen and dining room has a deep gap an inch wide, and
the cabinets have become detached from the wall. The foundation has been warped
by shifts and tremors. Spitz paid $609,000 for the house. City officials valued
it at $160,000 in their most recent assessment. "We have to suffer,"
Spitz said, whose mortgage payment is $3,400 a month. "We cannot refinance
or anything with the house in this condition."
A few blocks away, on Avenida de Marcia, Tim and Lucy Pham can't open most of
the doors and windows in their home because the frames are warped. Large cracks
are visible everywhere: through a marble mantel, across the ceiling, in some
Roman columns installed along the walls. The wallpaper is torn in spots. "I
called them many times," Lucy Pham said of developer Brighton Homes.
"They said I would have to sign a paper saying I wouldn't sue them if I
wanted to get the house fixed."
The Phams refused to sign and instead joined Spitz and 79 other property owners
in a lawsuit that was settled several months ago. The Spitzes and Phams have
been offered $60,000 each out of the $6-million settlement pool. The families
rejected the money and have hired a new lawyer in an attempt to get a larger
piece of the settlement. The Muranakas say they have spent $260,000 on lawyers,
engineers and other consultants in their quest to get out and get compensated.
The bills ate up all but $12,000 of a separate settlement they reached with the
developers and subcontractors last month. The Muranakas and their neighbors
still have a suit pending against the city.
Real estate agents have told the couple that the house is close to worthless.
Dawn Muranaka says she lives in fear that the entire hillside will collapse
before this is all settled. "They need to buy our house back and pay the
attorneys fees," she said. "They can't just fix a few things and walk
away. No one will buy this house after the problems we discovered. The city
should condemn it and not let anyone live here again."
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