Annexation, Violation and Vexation

First, the guy with the pet alligators landed in hot water with the city. Now it’s Rebecca Apodaca, who fixes violins.

For almost 20 years, both toiled away unnoticed and undisturbed by government bureaucrats. It was one of the perks of living in the unincorporated Laguna Terrace neighborhood--a little patch of the suburban frontier in South County.

Then the city folks came calling.

When Laguna Hills annexed the neighborhood three years ago, the two longtime homeowners became quasi-outlaws: Nicholas Amodio, for keeping two gators in his backyard; and Apodaca, for running a thriving musical instrument repair business out of her house.

“The city is trying to muscle us,” Apodaca said. “They’re trying to make us conform. But they should look at the area they took in and make provisions for what was here before they annexed us.”

With its manicured lawn and shrubs, and a trio of decorative Mayan figurines at the front door, Apodaca’s house on Colonna looks as homey as any other on the block.

Inside, however, is a bustling repair shop filled with violas, violins, trumpets and trombones. She also rents instruments to schools throughout the county. Her clients, she said, have included Orange County’s Pacific Symphony, George Washington University and the Marine Corps band.

It’s a business Apodaca spent 23 years building. And it’s one she may lose in a battle with city officials, who say her shop, A & D Music, violates the city code.

She is one of three home-business owners in Laguna Terrace whom the city has taken action against this year, said Planning Director Vern Jones, who oversees code enforcement for the city.

The city went after Apodaca and the others after neighbors complained that their operations were becoming an neighborhood disruption or inconvenience, Jones said. The other two owners are working with the city to bring their operations into compliance with city home-business codes, Jones said.

But achieving compliance would be difficult for Apodaca.

She transformed her garage into a workshop, outfitting it with workbenches and ample shelving. Her living room serves as an office, complete with two computers, four phone lines and a display wall stocked with instructional materials, accessories and instruments for sale.

But city and county codes don’t allow retail operations in residential areas or running businesses out of converted garages. The city code also limits allowable home-based businesses to two phone lines.

Unless she can bring her business into compliance or get a variance from the City Council, Apodaca will have to close it, Jones said.

Even the Mayan figurines near her front door must go. The reason: In the arms of each terra cotta statue rests an old, rusty wind instrument--one holds a flute, the other two hold trumpets. Because she repairs instruments, city officials have classified the statues as advertising--another code violation.

“If I can’t do business here at home, I’m going to have to shut down and go on disability,” said Apodaca, who suffers from hip dysplasia and uses a cane.

She says her health prevents her from running a typical music shop. She has had one hip replaced, and her doctor told her that the other will likely have to be replaced within the next few years. By working at home, she can lie down when she gets tired and return to work once she’s rested.

Apodaca has written to City Councilman L. Allan Songstad Jr. to ask for a hearing. She hopes to win a variance allowing her to continue operating her business as she has for two decades.

Songstad said Friday that he hadn’t received the letter but was aware of Apodaca’s plight. “But I don’t want to prejudge what I haven’t seen,” Songstad said.

Apodaca isn’t the first in her neighborhood to go toe to toe with city leaders.

Earlier this summer, Amodio, who lives one street over on Savona, came close to losing his beloved 400-pound alligators Bonnie and Clyde and a collection of 100 exotic birds in a backyard aviary. Amodio had kept his menagerie for some 20 years without so much as a peep from the county. But after the neighborhood was annexed, Amodio learned his pets were not allowed by the city.

Amodio rallied support from friends and neighbors, many of whom begged the City Council to let the eccentric 59-year-old keep his pets. In June, the council gave the nod for Amodio to keep the gators and birds--for now. The council will review his case again at the end of the month.

For almost 30 years, this hilly pocket of modest homes sandwiched between Laguna Hills and Leisure World enjoyed freedom from local control.

It was a good life for some, a daily frustration for others.

“Once we had a fellow up here who used to own a company for [portable toilets],” said Rick Bohay, who has lived in Laguna Terrace since 1971. “He would bring home a flatbed truck with half a dozen of these Sani-Cans and park in front of his house.”

The squabbles over what is and is not acceptable in neighborhoods could affect scores of Orange County residents who operate home businesses as the county continues an effort to annex 50 unincorporated neighborhoods into surrounding cities. The reason: County officials say they are simply unable to provide the same levels of service to those areas that the nearest city could.

As for home-business owners, the county has no method of tracking them, so code enforcement is virtually nonexistent, said Lilo Aldrich, who processes business licenses for the county. Unless a complaint is received, there may be no contact between the business owner and the county at all, she said.

Some cities, such as Costa Mesa, which is preparing to annex seven neighborhoods, are going to significant lengths to work with home-business owners and others on the bureaucratic fringe.

That’s exactly what Apodaca hopes for from Laguna Hills.

“I can’t believe that it’s come to this, though,” Apodaca said. “I’ve tried to run everything on the up and up. I’ve never tried to hide anything. We were here before the annexation, and now I’m having to reshape my entire life.”