Mobile homes on her mind

LOLITA HARPER

Irene Shannon knows she makes an unforgettable first impression.

She extends a frail left hand that shakes just slightly, cocks her

head and smiles while cupping her left hand over the top of yours.

Her short gray hair bounces slightly as she tries to muster the

strength it she once had to give her usual firm handshake.

Her grip may have weakened, but her will has only gotten stronger

with age.

“People look at me and say, ‘She is skinny as a rail and has no

teeth, but,’” Shannon said.

It’s the “but” that has gotten the city shaken up.

Shannon is one of the foremost experts on the Costa Mesa mobile

home conversion ordinance. The what? Exactly. It didn’t exist until

Shannon got involved.

“I admit it,” she said. “I started this whole thing. It’s all my

fault.”

The 81-year-old woman lives in an 1958 mobile home in El Nido

mobile park. For a couple of years, her neighbors have feared losing

their homes because the owner of the park -- and the park next door,

Snug Harbor -- has been trying to convert his property from

residential to industrial to sell the land for shiny new medical

buildings.

Shannon isn’t worried. She relaxed Saturday in her light blue

home, surrounded by books, papers, newspaper clippings, city staff

reports, boxes of memorabilia, playing cards, letters, fliers, empty

bottles of water and various boxes of cigarettes. She sliced a banana

for a mid-morning snack.

“People always ask, ‘Why do you live here?’” Shannon said. “It is

in the middle of everything. This is the most convenient place to

live in the whole city.”

When she was able to walk, she would head down the road to the

beach. The market is next door, and the park on 16th Street provides

plenty of shady, grass areas to read.

Although others may not see it as such, Shannon is not ready to

give up her slice of heaven.

“I have been an activist since before you were born and then

some,” she said.

The commotion she has caused has made its way into official city

business.

On Monday, the Planning Commission took a look at a draft

ordinance on mobile home conversions. The issue was continued to Nov.

10, but at least it is on the city’s radar.

Various rules apply when trying to convert mobile home parks,

including relocation and displacement costs. The state mandates that

any mobile home park owner apply for a conversion permit and then

supply a report on how they will, um, “make it up” to the folks they

are about to evict.

The city cannot deny a mobile home conversion request, staff

reports say, but city officials can rule on whether the adverse

effects to the residents have been “properly” taken care of.

This means the property owners -- who can clearly make a lot more

money leasing their land to wealthy doctors who need medical office

space to provide Botox injections to the affluent community than they

can from 80-something retirees in 45-foot mobile homes -- could have

to make a lot of concessions to appease the ruling party.

Either that, or they can just shut down the park.

“It’s a dangerous loophole that is affecting a lot of people,”

Shannon said.

The funny thing is, Shannon does not really consider herself one

of them.

“Sure, I have my reservation at Bethel Towers like everyone else,

but,” her sentence trails off. “You know what they say, 90% of the

things we worry about never even happen.”

So why work so hard to get this ordinance through? Simple. Because

it may be too late for Shannon and her neighbors, but there are

hundreds of other residents in the 20 other mobile home parks in

Costa Mesa that could be helped through the ordinance, she said. If

she can help them, then it is all worth it.

Shannon will worry herself with the 10% of things she knows will

happen.

“I am losing my eyesight, and it scares me to death,” Shannon

said. “I read at night until there are tears streaming down my face.

Losing my vision is what scares me more than anything.”

The spirited woman said she has survived “two and a half heart

attacks and a couple of strokes.” A comment that was backed up by the

various bottles of prescription medication at her bedside and strewn

on the floor.

“This is my last hurrah,” she said. “I have been living minute to

minute for the last 10 years with increasing problems. Whatever

happens, happens.”

* LOLITA HARPER writes columns Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and

covers culture and the arts. She may be reached at (949) 574-4275 or

by e-mail at lolita.harper@latimes.com.