A Quake by Any Other Name

Earthquakes have a dark sense of humor. In Sherman Oaks, a school for prospective building contractors has been severely damaged. Apartment buildings here and there are encircled with yellow tape, but signs that say “Newly Remodeled!” and “$599 Moves You In!” have not been removed. And if you drive north along battered Reseda Boulevard, you may notice a mysterious billboard near Sherman Way. “Confidence Soaring in City,” it declares--above a roof that has collapsed.

Farther up the boulevard are the half-picked-up offices of the Northridge Chamber of Commerce, founded May 29, 1929. For 64 years, this chamber struggled to promote an obscure region of Los Angeles. Now Northridge is famous the world over--maybe infamous.

Chamber manager Teri Canfield offers a business card that bears the group’s slogan.

“NORTHRIDGE,” it declares. “An Address You Want to Have.”

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“It actually should have been called the Reseda Quake, not the Northridge Quake,” Canfield complains. The epicenter “is about a mile due south of here.”

Indeed, questions persist about whether the epicenter was southwest or northwest of the corner of Roscoe and Reseda. Northridge is north of Roscoe; Reseda is south. Amid the death and destruction within and far beyond these two communities, it may seem a petty concern.

But Teri Canfield, whose husband, Bob, is coincidentally the emergency preparedness coordinator for the city of Los Angeles, isn’t too serious about her protest. She knows that Northridge’s problems aren’t a matter of poor PR or media spin. A quake by another name wouldn’t hurt any less.

“When I took this position, I said I wanted to put Northridge on the map,” Canfield says. “But the earthquake wasn’t on my marketing plan.”

Jim Beal, the chamber president, remembers how some people would ask “Where’s that?” if he mentioned Northridge. “Now we’re pretty easy to spot.”

On this day, Beal is wearing a T-shirt and shorts--not the usual attire for an attorney. He estimates that he took $30,000 in damage to equipment and furniture in his law office on the third floor of a bank building. Now he’s trying to find new quarters. His home, in an affluent part of Northridge known as Porter Ranch, probably had $20,000 damage. “My wife wouldn’t go back in the house the first three days,” he says.

There is no woe-is-me in his voice. Some people fared better, some worse.

The phone rings. “Thank you for calling the Northridge Chamber of Commerce!” Canfield says brightly. It’s a member who is wondering about a mixer scheduled for that night at the Northridge Fashion Center, closed since the quake. The mixer’s been canceled. “We’re taking it one day at a time,” Canfield says.

What was once a mission of community promotion has become a monumental job of damage control. Canfield says the chamber, with more than 250 members, is receiving many complaints about unlicensed contractors--”rip-off artists”--offering repairs for homeowners and merchants. Beal is looking ahead to Celebrate Northridge, an annual dinner to honor civic leaders and volunteers.

Celebrate Northridge had been scheduled for Feb. 27. The chamber has rescheduled the event for May 15, assuming people won’t be in a celebratory mood for awhile.

This year, Beal says, it will honor the heroes of the quake. “Hopefully, we’ll be able to work on the theme that Northridge is rebounding,” he says.

Beal let out a sigh of fatigue.

“What day is this?” he asked Canfield. “Friday?”

“No,” she replied. “It’s Tuesday.”

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When there’s so much rubble to be cleaned up and damage to be repaired, it seems odd to worry about community image. But long after Cal State Northridge is repaired and the Northridge Fashion Center reopens for business, people will pause before opening a business or buying a home in a place best known for a quake.

Northridge could borrow a page from the San Fernando Valley playbook and simply change its name. After Sepulveda became known for gangs and graffiti, it was re-christened North Hills, despite the flat terrain. Similarly, west Canoga Park was reborn as West Hills.

Even before the quake, some folks in Porter Ranch wanted to secede from Northridge. Homeowners concerned about property values now may like the Porter Ranch name even more.

But, as Beal points out, Porter Ranch contains the ridge of Northridge. So now what have you got? “‘Northburg?” Beal suggested.

Historians and civic boosters alike might prefer Zelzah. That’s what Northridge was called before 1929, as named by an early settler.

The word comes from the Bible. It means “oasis.”