Every stuffed animal has a place in 9-year-old Cecily Wallinger’s new bedroom. There are the ones she carried with her when her family evacuated before a wildfire tore through their neighborhood of Altadena, on the outskirts of Los Angeles. Others have been donated since. Foxes outnumber the plush cats and dogs and unicorns, and all are arranged in a neat semicircle. Some have hiding spaces, too.
“If you look at my bed, you can tell what my favorite animal is,” she says, giving a tour of what she describes as her “fun” but “temporary” home.
Her parents, Bridgette Campbell and Christopher Wallinger, moved with her to this Pasadena apartment after they realized their Spanish-style house, nestled on the corner of Olive Avenue and Harriet Street, was among the more than 9,400 structures destroyed in January’s Eaton blaze. They planned to stay here as they rebuilt in their beloved neighborhood.
Why We Wrote This
Nine months after the Eaton Fire, an Altadena family navigates the red tape that is hampering recovery for those who lost it all in the blaze. How much of their daughter’s childhood will be spent in limbo? The third in our series from Olive Avenue showing the long road after a natural disaster. Read Parts 1 and 2.
But these days, Ms. Campbell and Mr. Wallinger wonder what “temporary” really means.
“We’re really in such a holding pattern,” Ms. Campbell says.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
They are among the thousands of fire survivors thrust into a waiting game complicated by institutional hang-ups.
Some are waiting for insurance payouts that seem frustratingly slow to arrive. Others are waiting for design and permit approvals to begin rebuilding. Others are just waiting, not entirely sure what to do nine months after the Eaton Fire scorched their neighborhood.
Since January, the Monitor has been following the residents of one block of Altadena’s Olive Avenue, observing through their eyes a long recovery process usually overshadowed by a relentless news cycle. What does it mean to survive – and even thrive – after a disaster? After the initial shock and heartbreak, after the first phases of cleanup, how does a community move forward in the face of institutional roadblocks?
Cecily recently started another school year. Her parents wonder how old she will be by the time their new house is rebuilt in Altadena. Will she even want to go back after experiencing an urban lifestyle near downtown Pasadena? Will she remember the old neighborhood? And what will they tell her if, even after planning and saving and committing to rebuild, the finances of disaster recovery simply make that path impossible?
Do the numbers add up?
Ms. Campbell is a high school theater teacher. Mr. Wallinger is an actor. Their work is rooted in words, but lately, they have been mired in numbers.
It started with the couple learning they would receive roughly $525,000 from their insurer, USAA, to rebuild their house. That set in motion a series of budget decisions. Could they squeeze in a second bathroom? Yes. Could they afford the hardwood floors and Spanish tile roof that gave their original home its character? No.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
Next came calculations related to the construction process. First, Los Angeles County must sign off on their design plans. Then they can submit building permits for the new house.
As of the end of September, permits for 257 single-family homes in the Eaton fire zone had been issued, according to a Los Angeles County dashboard. It’s averaging 75 business days for the county to issue permits for new residential units.
Given those constraints, the couple estimate it could be February or later before construction can begin on their new house. Their contractor, meanwhile, says it could take 12 to 18 months to complete the project because of inspections needed along the way. And therein lies a financial conundrum.
“We’re being told it could be two years until we’re able to move back into our house, and our [additional living expenses]” – insurance coverage that pays for temporary relocation – “runs out in a year,” Mr. Wallinger said in September. “We don’t know how we’re going to pay our mortgage and our rent.”
The mortgage for their fire-razed home is $4,700 a month. Rent for their two-bedroom Pasadena apartment is $3,700. They are also still shelling out $100 a month for homeowners’ insurance on a house that no longer exists in a bid to maintain coverage going forward. Without mortgage forbearance or some other kind of financial relief, the couple say it will be too much to bear.
When their apartment lease ends in February, it will be decision time. Downsize to a one-bedroom apartment? Temporarily move in with relatives? Live in an RV on their property?
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
Six in 10 people displaced from the Eaton and Palisades fires say they will have no remaining temporary housing coverage within a year, according to a June survey commissioned by the nonprofit Department of Angels, which formed in the aftermath of the wildfires to assist with recovery. That survey also found that the majority of insured survivors of the Eaton and Palisades fires say delays, denials, and underpayments are hampering their ability to recover.
At the end of August, members of a group dubbed the Eaton Fire Survivor Network gathered with state lawmakers to raise awareness about the insurance-related speed bumps hampering recovery.
“Every delayed payment, every denial of what is owed in someone’s policy, is not just paperwork to us – it’s a family forced to wait in limbo,” said Valerie Knapp, chair of the Altadena Town Council, during the press conference. Her family is among those who lost their home in the blaze. “It’s children who cannot go home. It’s elders living in temporary housing month after month with no end in sight and no promise of continued payment.”
State Farm officials said, as of mid-September, the insurer has paid more than $4.6 billion and received over 13,000 claims related to the January wildfires in the LA area.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
“When we do receive a complaint, we take it seriously and our team works to resolve the issue with our customer,” the company said in a statement. “We would ask any customer with a question or concern to reach out to us directly so we can address it.”
“For Sale” signs sprout
Ms. Campbell and Mr. Wallinger consider themselves fortunate to know their expected insurance settlement. But peering into the future is a cautionary exercise.
The “For Sale” signs dotting parcels throughout Altadena foretell at least a degree of change. Two lots being sold border Ms. Campbell and Mr. Wallinger’s property. As they envision their rebuilt home, they are bracing themselves for the surrounding environment to look and feel different, too.
“When we were out there measuring the land before we said yes to the [design] plans, we were like, ‘OK, imagine a McMansion here, a triplex there,” Ms. Campbell says.
It won’t be the same neighborhood where Cecily rode her bike or played on a swing set with friends. The blaze wiped out what her parents describe as a 1980s-esque childhood, where neighborhood friends were just a door knock away. She could be 11 years or older by the time they can move back – and that’s assuming their plans stay relatively on track.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
In the meantime, a puppy named Ruby has helped their fourth-grade daughter cope. But nine months post-fire, Cecily still often falls asleep in her parents’ bed at night.
“I miss the trees,” Cecily says of her former Altadena home. “I miss all the …” Her voice trails off.
“What do I miss about it?” she says before pausing again. Then she sums it up in three words: “I miss everything.”
So do her parents. They have been clinging to an “Altadena strong” mentality, but doubt creeps in as they mull their financial horizon.
“It’s not even a thought of, ‘I would rather not go through this,’” Mr. Wallinger says of rebuilding. “There’s the possibility we will not be able to.”
Back home, at last
Farther south on Olive Avenue, at least one family has returned.
Daniel Quiroz and Joann Flores were among the displaced when the Monitor met them in late May. But by midsummer, the couple moved back into their fire-damaged house with their toddler, Darla.
It’s the same house, except with new floors and furnishings after heavy smoke and ash blanketed the interior. The couple also converted a portion of their garage into living space for Mr. Quiroz’s mother and sister, whose house on a parallel street burned down.
They’re navigating a dual reality – settled back in their own home while interacting with family and friends facing the prospect of rebuilding. Mr. Quiroz has been contacting architects for his mother and measuring her property.
Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff
It’s a quieter Altadena right now. But Mr. Quiroz expects a brighter future.
“This neighborhood is going to boom,” he says. “Ten years.”
They’re grateful to be among the lucky ones already back.
“A lot of people can’t say the same,” Ms. Flores says. “But we’re so glad to be home.”
For those who remain displaced, there is joy in seeing small progress. Ms. Campbell and Mr. Wallinger visit their Altadena property every four to six weeks. On one such recent trip, Ms. Campbell points to a twiggy plant in jubilation. It’s steps away from the stump of what used to be a towering 70-foot pine tree.
Could it be a replacement breaking through the ground? Maybe.
