Last week, it seemed like a large chunk of Malibu jammed itself into that little room at Bluffs Park, called the Michael Landon Center, to get in its two cents about future of Parks and Recreation in the city of Malibu, at a meeting called by the city and its park planning consultants. The council was there, the planning commission was there, representatives from the state were there and Sen. Tom Hayden, who generally couldn’t care less about Malibu, sent staff. Just about every sport and recreation activity, including AYSO and Little League, showed up to make sure they were in the loop. Normally, planning meetings like this draw a handful of people and profound disinterest, so what gives, I wondered. Why all this activity and intense political interest?

I had been hearing rumbles for a week or two about the meeting and about some very unhappy people who felt calling a meeting in early August, when many people are away on vacation, was an invitation for a bunch of no shows. They needn’t have worried, because it immediately was apparent that if they held this meeting at the top of Himalayas, they still would have filled the room.

The buzz had gotten so intense, I figured maybe it was worth a look. So I went down to sort of sniff the room and see how things were going to play out.

To put this into context, up to now, in the main, the majority of Malibu, or a least the voting majority, which is abut 40 percent of the roughly 9,000 registered voters, generally favored a policy that swung between permitting very little to permitting absolutely nothing. The policy usually worked because most people didn’t need anything from the city. All they wanted was to make sure nothing changed, at least very much.

Then, about eight or nine years ago, something began to happen and has continued to happen to today. What happened was that some of the old timers moved out, and they sold their homes to younger families, families that had young children, and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, they are in the process of making even more babies. There were roughly 1,000 kids in Malibu in 1990, and now there are about 2,000 kids. These families need things like services, good schools, ballfields, teen centers and other recreation facilities. At the same time, all these additional kids have squeezed the seniors out of places like the community center, and now they also need a facility. Some of those seniors would also like to have the choice to go into some residential facility here in Malibu, so that growing older doesn’t have to mean leaving your community of many years, and now we see pressure to build something.

These demographic shifts, plus the fact that the new people are spending $1,000,000-plus for their homes, are what’s driving the changes in our communities. You see it in the people who are participating in the PTSAs. This is not your grandmother’s PTA. The president is likely to have an Ivy League law degree or an MBA, and these are people who are young, energetic and bright, and not likely to respond to the old adage, “Well, that’s not the way we do it in Malibu.” They know what they need from their city and what they don’t want. A parent related a story to me about how hard it is to get baseball field space for teams to practice. Somehow two teams were booked onto the same practice field at the same time. Nothing else was available and two coaches were arguing about which team got to use the field next. It got so heated with neither backing down that someone finally had to call the sheriff to come arbitrate the dispute while the two teams of kids stood by waiting to see who would win.

When that kind of need and confrontation occurs, you can be sure the local politicians are not far behind, which is why they were all at the meeting. They know this bruising battle is going to play out at the polls next year.

The two sides are already lining up. The Malibu Coastal Land Conservancy is on one side. This side is the traditional Malibu, “Nothing, no way, never” side that intends to make its stand in the Civic Center. This side wants a wetland, which equals no ballfields, and, perhaps, as the FEMA representative seemed to say, they even want to tear out of some of the already existing buildings around the area of the swings and beyond because some of that, they claim, is in a flood zone. Its champions are Carolyn Van Horn and Walt Keller, and some others of the Slow Growth Coalition.

Its members also all showed up at the planning meeting, along with some of their outside Ballona Wetlands allies to push the dialogue in the wetlands direction. But this time there were lots of parents pushing back, and it’s clear the battle lines have shifted. It’s no longer a two-sided battle.

The old political question, which they successfully used for the last few elections was, are you an environmentalist or a developer?

The new political question may be, are you for or against the kids?

Have you ever noticed that corporations now put advertisements in with your monthly invoices? As if credit card statements aren’t distasteful enough, these enterprises have to cram junk mail in with your bills. I personally know Malibuites who get back at these companies. They put rubbish in with their checks when they mail them back, i.e., coffee grinds, banana peels, advertisements, city of Malibu proclamations. These Malibuites write, “Could you throw this junk away for me? Thank you.”

Tom Fakehany

Ed. note. Thanks for the headline suggestion, Tom.

It’s dark out, 3 a.m. My family hasn’t slept in a week. The neighbor’s roosters are crowing their roundelay. The peacocks are screaming and thumping across my roof. Although I know they have permits I’ll try one more time to shout them quiet. As I step out onto my new deck, I can’t see a thing. We received no permit for exterior lights. Oh, no! I’m falling off my deck! What’s that stench? Why’s it wet? Oh, just another septic failure, again. But thankfully I won’t drown because the Civic Center is now a floodplain/wetlands and my home (and Malibu) is safe.

Tomorrow morning my sleepless children won’t complain too much, their soccer games have been canceled — no playing fields. But that’s OK, we can park at the headlands. I’ll tell them Walt, Carolyn, Jo and Gil would say, “Malibu is special. Enjoy it the way it was. Take a hike, kids.”

P.S. Now that I’m awake, nightmares behind me, I thank The Malibu Times and Ms. Kraft for the front page coverage of Juan Cabrillo Elementary’s ’99 Stanford 9 scores. Congratulations, vindication, Cabrillo!

Candy Sindell

I am responding to publisher Arnold York’s July 29 editorial titled “Malibu Yankees in King Rusty’s Court.” While I take some exception to the royal appointment conferred upon me in the title, I do, however, hold the rather unique perspective of having served in the state Legislature as well has having chaired the state Coastal Commission. It is because of my professional experiences that I am offering my time and effort to resolve these issues. These experiences have sensitized me to coastal planning matters and the pressures that communities like Malibu and their representatives face up and down California’s coastline.

Mr. York’s article gave little credit to the earnest efforts that Mayor Keller and Mayor Pro Tem Carolyn Van Horn have made on the city’s behalf. Both have a difference of opinion with my department and they have been persistent and outspoken in representing the city’s interests at several meetings here in Sacramento, as well as on our June tour in Malibu. We have a tough job ahead of us in addressing several long-standing issues that will soon transition into legal actions if we aren’t proactive in trying to resolve them. I am hopeful that we will be able to reach an agreement that will provide ball fields for Little Leaguers and satisfied community neighbors as well as coastal access and resource protection for all Californians.

Balancing the main tenets of the Coastal Act, resource protection and public access, with local community needs is a painstaking, elusive process anywhere on California’s coast, particularly in Malibu. While one may or may not agree with the eventual outcome of these discussions, we should avoid shortchanging the efforts of representatives who, in my judgment, appear to be doing their best to win what’s best for the citizens of Malibu.

Rusty Areias

director

California State Parks

William F. Pollock’s letter to The Malibu Times [Aug. 5, “Bridges to the future”] reflects the frustration many of us feel about PCH. I’m fairly familiar with landslides in Malibu, but I am not sure what he means by the “incredible fiasco at Las Flores” requiring a “third attempt” by Caltrans to fix it. However, in certain other respects, criticism of Caltrans regarding such problems in Malibu is well founded. The recent megarepair of a very minor slide on PCH at the mouth of Las Flores Canyon was unusually elaborate and, in the opinion of at least two property owners, as well as me, an especially dumb idea. Failure to dewater the Las Tunas Beach landslide is another.

Failure to repair the Rambla Pacifico slide is not so much dilatory as a problem of sticker shock. The only reasonable way to repair it is by buttressing which would raise the level of the lower reach of the canyon, and the stream channel incidentally, by about 30 or 40 feet. Meanwhile, the proposed Deerpath extension is highly desirable not only in terms of convenience but also property value appreciation and fire safety, and therefore by no means a “stupid plan.”

Pollock’s concern that unless we do something “really major” about coastal erosion it will “destroy the coast highway and many structures on the beach” is ill founded. Beach erosion in Malibu is a function of sand supply and wave attack, two constants that do not present an accumulating catastrophic risk as Pollock suggests. His example of repairs at Coronado is irrelevant to Malibu. The Coronado strand has an abundant sand supply, and whatever repairs have been made there simply involved a redistribution of that resource. Malibu does not have that luxury. There are, locally, opportunities for beach improvements. The Las Tunas Beach erosion problem, for example, is easily solved with a submarine breakwater which would have the serendipitous advantages of an improved surfing break at Topanga Beach and a marine habitat. The cost of such a structure, probably less than five million, is a tiny fraction of Washington’s pork barrel waste or even one day’s income from one of Hollywood’s culturally insignificant and artistically meaningless motion picture “hits” which do nothing so much as waste the time of the fearfully large twit-component of the public.

I don’t agree with Pollock’s critical assessment of the recent PCH repairs. It was a tough job done expeditiously while keeping the highway open. There are two solutions to normal, as opposed to summer, PCH congestion. One is the backbone route along the crest of the Santa Monica Mountains so strenuously resisted by the knee-jerk environmentalists. Their primary objections are that it would (a) open more land for development and (b) irritate the wildlife. Neither is necessarily true. The other is the causeway Pollock suggests, probably unaware that just such a project, commonly referred to as the Highway 60 Route, was studied by the Corps of Engineers and described in a detailed report dated 1963. Aside from certain rose-colored overtones, that report shows an offshore route between Santa Monica and Malibu to be feasible. Of the two basic alternatives considered, an armored mole causeway that blocks almost all the wave energy, and a causeway on pile-supported bents, which allows the passage of wave energy, the former has the glaring defect of radically altering the inshore waters and for that reason could never be approved. Isolated artificial islands for permanent structures would be possible, but climatically rather questionable, it seems to me, except for very specialized use.

No one said things would be easy.

E. D. Michael

It seems the best way to make art is to know life.

Pianist Natalia Troull, well known among Russian musicians, graced the Pepperdine University campus last week, one of a handful of master teachers at the International Piano Symposium presented by Master Classes International.

She seems to live simply and for her art, with frequent breaks for cigarettes and an occasional foray into the pleasures of Malibu beaches.

Troull won the silver medal at the 1986 Tchaikovsky International Competition and has since performed worldwide with orchestras and in solo recitals. She is also a professor at the Moscow (Tchaikovsky) Conservatory, and, last summer, she made her Hollywood Bowl debut.

But her very unglamorous days at the symposium consisted of teaching master classes (to preselected students, in front of an audience) and private lessons (to younger students of the teachers in attendance there). She also performed, listened to lectures by other professors and took a quick look around Malibu.

n

Student Mikhail Korzhev, born and trained in Russia, and now living in Los Angeles, takes Troull’s 2:30 Thursday master class in Raitt Recital Hall. He plays Ravel’s “Gaspard de la Nuit” while Troull sits in the audience reading the musical score. He finishes to polite applause from the audience.

Troull steps onstage and sits at the second piano. She has a deep voice and speaks English remarkably well, tinged somehow with a French accent. She tells him he has “exceptional technique” but that he must tell a story. “What do you see? An animal? What happens to our hero?” she asks him. “Complete the end of our story.”

But, she also warns, “It is possible to tell many things but not leave an impression.” She plays the hero’s walk, and we can visualize him bouncing jauntily.

Next, she suggests, the hero sees a big house, “but a house from a horrible dream.” She directs Korzhev to follow Ravel’s markings. “It says pianissimo [very soft]” she insists. “And without stopping.” She begins playing the passage, and to no one in particular apologizes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t practice today.”

She tells Korzhev to read about Ravel. “He drank a lot,” she says. “He was very sick. He died alone. These are dreams of a very drunken man. Even in his dreams, he heard this terrible noise. Do you know anything about dreams of drunkards?”

Korzhev hesitates. “Not really.”

“Try to find out,” Troull suggests, and the audience laughs warmly.

n

Troull says she will be satisfied grabbing a quick lunch at the dining hall. The finer restaurants of Malibu don’t seem to interest her. She would love, however, to go to the beach, she says.

But first, she teaches a master class to Niguar Akhmedova, a student at the Moscow Conservatory. There, Akhmedova studies with Mikhail Voskressenksy, another of the master teachers at the symposium.

Akhmedova soulfully plays the piano part of Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto. “We have small hands,” Troull shares with her. “Rachmaninoff had very big hands. Try to hide,” she says, indicating physical effort in playing. “It must be free.” She listens while Akhmedova tries the passage again.

“In Russia,” says Troull, “we have two opinions. One, Rachmaninoff wrote better than he performed. Two, he was such an excellent pianist, it is more useful to listen to his recordings.” She says she prefers the latter view, cautioning not to copy the playing but to use it as a basis.

n

The Friday afternoon swim at the beach is a simple affair. What does she need a towel for, she asks? The sand is very clean, and she can dry herself off in the sun before returning to campus for her 4:00 private lessons.

She says she first learned piano from her mother. “Hated it,” she says. She wanted to be a tennis player. But at age 14, her tennis teacher told her to forget tennis.

She has two sons, 18 and 10. Pianists? “Noooo,” she replies. She owns a home on the outskirts of Moscow, near a lake. Her ideal vacation would be to stay home. She also bought a car, and now, she says, she has weight problems.

Enough small talk. The conversation turns to the Doctrine of Separation of Church and State.

After the beach, there’s time for a quick coffee. She suggests drinking it with lemon, no sugar, which proves very different and very refreshing.

Out come the cigarettes. The pack is printed with Cyrillic lettering. She says she prefers cigarettes made in Bulgaria, which she finds in a special store at home.

n

She teaches a one-hour private lesson to Katherine Chen, 15, of Los Angeles, a student of Roza Kostrzewska Yoder, who is sitting in on the lesson. Chen plays Rachmaninoff’s “Variations on a Theme by Paganini.”

As do the master-class students, Chen plays from memory. Troull sits at a second piano next to her and follows along with the score, occasionally playing the orchestral accompaniment.

Troull plays a passage for Chen, accenting the main, melodic notes. “Pronounce, please, every letter,” Troull insists. Chen plays swiftly. “Porridge,” Troull calls it, playing each note cleanly and separately.

“I think the problem is where to look. It’s a very common problem,” she says to Yoder. “When they have time, they look everywhere. When they don’t have time, they panic.” Troull suggests focusing on the left hand during this particular passage.

Troull and Chen play the left hand only, repeating the passage. “Fantastic,” Troull enthuses. “Play 20 times, then play something else for 10 minutes. Then again. After a week …” she smiles. “And try to count only the clean times.”

They work on hand motions, using the whole hand in a rolling motion rather than working only the fingers. Troull shows her how to play certain chords, “like a dog or a big cat,” as if the arms were lumbering forepaws.

The lesson ends, and, for a last bit of advice, Troull tells Chen, “Read a lot of books. It is impossible to be a good pianist and not know about life, about art, about literature.”

n

Her next student is Tenoch Esparza, 17, a senior at L.A. County High School for the Arts and a private student of Yoder’s. He begins a Chopin Scherzo, and within a few moments she calls him lazy. His eyes twinkle.

She shows him how and when to move from chord to chord. She tells him to play a passage faster, to take a chance. “It’s a lesson. Try.”

She suggests he play Chopin with straighter fingers. “Like spaghetti,” she says. She plays a few notes with her fingertips, showing that this makes the music sound clipped, “like Scarlatti.”

Yoder later teases Esparza about the label “lazy,” calling Troull’s assessment accurate.

But Esparza’s musical interest is very apparent. Catch a ride with him to Starbucks during a break and hear Chopin bursting from his tapedeck. “It’s Rubenstein,” he says reverentially of the pianist.

Troull apparently saw something she liked in him, also. She offers him an additional class in two days if he practices what they worked on.

How many of Troull’s suggestions are a matter of taste and how many are objectively a matter of technique? Yoder and Esparza discuss Troull over coffee. He agrees her suggestions were mostly objective. Says Yoder, “She’s got enough class to say when she’s being subjective.”

n

At Friday night’s master class, Troull works with Peter Wittenberg, an American who has studied in Russia. He plays the Chopin Barcarolle. “In my opinion, it’s a little too sweet, like a cake with a lot of cream,” Troull critiques.

“For the first subject, try to imagine water. Water can’t move with stops.” She emphasizes naturalness. “Don’t pause before an expected harmony. ‘L.A. is a big [pause] city,’ she says. ‘L.A. is a big [pause] horse.'” The audience laughs. “See, it is unexpected, so you can pause.”

He plays a passage that she says represents a heartbeat. “It must be ostinato [a steady tempo], because if it is rubato [varying tempo], you should go to the doctor.”

Then, she delivers a compliment. “Here, I’ve never heard it this way, but you’ve convinced me.”

n

Walking down the halls of Smothers’ basement, morning, afternoon and evening, one can hear snippets of various Chopin pieces seeping out of the practice rooms. These students don’t seem interested in the beach.

But in a few years, they will be the teachers, passing on the advice, and the beauty, of the music. Perhaps then, there will be time to better know life — and the score.

Let’s clean out the Cross Creek area,

Of all those business places!

Never mind the jobs and income,

That the wetlands interfaces.

FEMA promises great huge sums,

To bribe our politicians —

Influencing what and where to build,

And what they term conditions.

Perhaps the roads will be removed,

Into our shopping places —

So that water fowls and sea gulls,

Can fill the empty spaces.

But best of all, I do recall,

FEMA promises more!

Money for our projects —

Instead of taxes we deplore.

We have sold the Soul of Malibu,

For FEMA’s feast of gold —

On the excuse of wetlands protection,

Prostituting, as of old.

P. F. Fogbottom

I look forward to reading your columns each week — thanks for being the voice of reason in Malibu. I recently married and moved here from Washington, D.C., where I was involved in national politics — Malibu politics makes Washington look reasonable!

I read in your column in the July 29 issue that the “No Parking” signs on Point Dume near the headlands are “unpermitted.” Does that mean that the public can park there and their cars can’t be ticketed? The beach in that area is lovely, but practically impossible to reach by the time you park miles away and walk down. It seems to me that if we are talking about public land, the public should be able to enjoy the land and the sand and the sea.

Gail M. Wilburn

Editor’s note: Do not park there. You will be ticketed.