LUCAS VALLEY - SAN RAFAEL
In a majestic setting, this Marin community watches
over their Eichler homes, hills, and the good life
From the pages of CA-Modern magazine
By Dave Weinstein
Like any pioneer community, Lucas Valley had to learn to do for itself. It learned quickly, and it's never forgotten.
Today, the neighborhood possesses a serenity and a sense of being truly special, brought on by its setting -- a broad valley surrounded by steep, oak-forested hillsides -- and by its well-preserved, almost pristine modern architecture, low-slung houses comfortably arrayed along lazy, curving streets.
It's easy today to survey Lucas Valley and think, "Yes, it was destined to be this way." But it took more than a wonderful setting to ensure that the neighborhood would become and remain such a treasure.
Residents organized shortly after moving into the 538-home neighborhood, which was built in the mid-1960s next to a dairy farm by Joe Eichler, to ensure that they would receive adequate fire protection. They continued to organize during the next decades to protect their hillsides, battling off developers and city, county, and state officials who dreamed of bringing to the valley new roads and homes.
"We've been fighting these battles for a long time," says Ron Marinoff, who's lived in Lucas Valley for 43 years, raising two boys with his wife Peggy. Marinoff, who lives in a flat-roofed Eichler, helped form the ZAP (Zoning and Planning) Committee, was president of the Lucas Valley Homeowners Association, and served and still serves on many committees, including the Marinwood Fire Commission. And through its still-active architectural review committee Lucas Valley has done a remarkable job of preserving its architectural character.
"It's the people who have made the neighborhood what it is," says Patrick Hunter, a young architect who serves as president of the Lucas valley Homeowners Association, referring to the early residents. "They passed down a lot about what they feel is important about this area to the next generations."
The neighborhood was forced to organize early in its existence, but its pioneer aura remains -- and not just because it's one of the few Eichler neighborhoods anywhere to have its own stables and possess a contingent of horse riders. Residents still watch out for each other, and for the good of their community, Hunter says.
Eichler gave residents much to work with. In one of his most-admired decisions, he ensured that views of the hills would be unimpeded. All utility lines are buried. But the unincorporated neighborhood, near San Rafael, lacked adequate fire protection. And there was no guarantee that the natural hillsides would remain undeveloped.
The neighborhood was forced to organize early in its existence, but its pioneer aura remains -- and not just because it's one of the few Eichler neighborhoods anywhere to have its own stables and possess a contingent of horse riders. Residents still watch out for each other, and for the good of their community, says Patrick Hunter, a young architect who serves as the association's president.
"It's the people who have made the neighborhood what it is," he says, referring to the early residents. "They passed down a lot about what they feel is important about this area to the next generations." The results are immediately evident to the visitor. Crossing Miller Creek, on one of the unusual, Asian-flavored bridges with upturned railings, is like leaving the real world behind. Idylberry Road, which winds through the subdivision, might as well be paved of yellow brick.
"The first time you see it, you pull off Lucas Valley Road, and there's something very appealing about it," says Hunter, who moved here seven years ago. "You come across those bridges, the low design of the houses, the low rooflines -- they really seem to be part of the natural landscape."
Commonly called 'Upper Lucas Valley,' the Lucas Valley subdivision is clearly defined by its physical boundaries -- the creek to the south, the hills to the north. To the east is another Eichler development, Marinwood, which was built in the late 1950s and known today as 'Lower Lucas Valley.' To the north is a small, newer subdivision of stucco ranch-style houses.
"You feel a sense of enclosure," says Catherine Munson, who helped run the original sales office for Eichler, and today runs Lucas Valley Properties. "It gives an intimacy that I think contributes to the quality of life out here, maybe subliminally."
The Eichler homes, designed by Jones & Emmons and Claude Oakland, and built from 1963 through 1967, are typically low-slung and unpretentious, but atypically well-preserved both individually and as a group. Styles are varied, but harmonious. The homes that most stand out, perhaps because their peaks echo the hills beyond, are the dramatic gable models, whose bold designs feature two peaked roofs bracketing an atrium. About 130 homes in the neighborhood are ranch-style homes by another developer.
Houses are arrayed on gently curving streets that make for easy biking by both kids and adults, and are shaded by a forest primarily of live oaks, bays, and buckeyes.
The neighborhood is even more remarkable at night, when it becomes one of the few urban locations in the Bay Area where you can actually see stars. Eichler banned not just utility poles but streetlights, wanting nothing to soar above his rooftops except trees.
Afternoons, however, are the best time to see Lucas Valley in action. You'll see golden retrievers ambling out of driveways, and kids walking or bicycling home from school, the famous kindergarten-through-fifth grade Dixie School. This is one neighborhood where children play freely out of doors, though parents warn them to beware of traffic during "getting-off-work time."
The school, more even than the residential architecture, draws people to the neighborhood. "Dixie School is an extraordinary school and people want to come there," says Hunter.
As in many mid-century modern communities, people here collect George Nelson clocks and restore their homes. But it's family more than '50s fetishism that cements friendships.
Jon Krotinger and Torri Campbell moved to Lucas Valley because they were looking for a nice neighborhood for their daughter Anna. Only then did they fall in love with the architecture. "I'd never seen anything like it," Krotinger says. "We used to joke that we were looking for a house that is both cozy and spacious. We used to joke, that can't be. But that's exactly what this is."
Folks get to know each other through Dixie School and the youth swim team, the Lucas Valley Lightning, the tennis club, and other activities, many centered on the heavily-used community center, also built by Eichler. Hunter's daughter swims for the Lightning, as did his wife a generation ago. Like all parents, the Hunters are deeply involved as volunteers. Their rewards include community barbecues, friendships.
"There is extraordinary community unity," Munson says. "People support the schools, the little league, the swim team, blood drives. The size of Upper Lucas Valley is the perfect village size."
Besides the community center and its pool, the homeowners association's recreational facilities include tennis courts, hillside trails, other landscaped areas, and the stables. The result, Hunter says, is a fair amount of community feeling -- though nothing like he knew in his hometown of New Orleans. "I'm from the South," he says. "We had front porches that were open to the streets and you saw your neighbors walking by. Here people have to find other ways to get involved."
For Marinoff, in 1963, getting involved was easy. As he tells the story, all the area had for fire protection was "one wildland grass engine with one guy." So, he says of the neighborhood, "We did something."
Marinoff and about 20 neighbors formed a volunteer fire department, raising funds door by door for coats and boots. Marinoff fought fires for 15 years -- including years when "we had an arsonist or two loose so we had a lot of fires in the hills." Neighbors also created County Service Area 13, a special district created by the county to provide fire protection, and established a tax to pay for added fire protection. The agency contracts with the nearby Marinwood Fire Department for fire protection and San Rafael for paramedic service.
Neighbors also created their own cable TV system, thanks in part to Eichler's desire to avoid what Marinoff calls "the god-awful" rooftop antennas that marred most neighborhoods at the time. Eichler laid underground TV lines and set up two community antennas. The homeowners association later replaced them with a satellite dish in the hills. The association runs the cable system, with rates that are far lower than the competition. They also offer bargain rates on fast Internet access.
Protecting the valley took up a lot of people's energies in the early days, and continues to be an issue. Marinoff ticks off the battles. There was the time in the 1970s when the two ranches to the neighborhood's west were slated for 750 houses. "We said, 'Let's do something about that.'" The result was a compromise to allow only 472 houses. One of those ranches has since been developed as Lucas Valley Estates.
In the mid-'70s, to allow easier access to Point Reyes National Seashore, the California Coastal Commission suggested turning two-lane Lucas Valley Road into four lanes. "By a lot of lobbying we got that kicked out," Marinoff says. Then came a proposal to run a four-lane parkway across the largely undeveloped ridge to the south that separates Lucas Valley from San Rafael. "We got that kicked out too."
In the '80s, San Rafael proposed annexing Lucas Valley to a city that, Marinoff argues, "never saw a hill it didn't want to develop." Neighbors applied so much pressure, he says, that the "San Rafael power grab" died stillborn.
But none of these victories was the biggest, neighbors agree. Like many residents, John Trimble, an advertising writer and one of the first people to move to Lucas Valley, was attracted by the empty hills. "We bought the hillsides," he brags. It's a boast you'll hear often, and with reason.
When word got around in the early '70s that about 286 acres in the hills behind their home might be sold for a housing tract, the neighborhood galvanized. The County Service District proposed buying the land for open space, and put it to a vote in 1973. "We set a record with the bond issue to buy it," Marinoff says. More than 93 percent voted yes, and 86 percent of registered voters turned out, he says. "They bought here for a rural lifestyle," he says.
Today the Lucas Valley Open Space Preserve is managed by the Marin Open Space District but owned by the homeowners association, and is open to the public. But saving the hillsides hasn't solved all the neighborhood's problems. Fortunately, newcomers as well as old-timers maintain that do-it-yourself spirit.
Kelby Jones, whose professional background is in insurance and loss prevention, has taken on the difficult task of mobilizing neighbors in case of emergencies, as chair of the association's Emergency Response Committee. He's divided Lucas Valley into 23 smaller neighborhoods and is trying to get neighbors to prepare for wildfires and earthquakes.
Two of the biggest potential disasters facing the neighborhood, Jones says, are wildfires and earthquake. Jones wants residents to consider using safety film to safeguard the large expanses of glass that give Eichlers so much of their character. "The good news," he says, "is this post-and-beam construction has held up pretty well in the earthquake events that have happened."
Other neighbors are working to keep Miller Creek free of debris to avoid floods and earth slides that affect people's yards. And the neighborhood came together last winter, after heavy rains caused a slide in the hills that sent mud flowing through the home of Shelley Munson, Catherine's daughter and a realtor at Lucas Valley Properties. Several other homes were also damaged. Munson's house has since been repaired, and the county is working with the neighborhood to stabilize portions of the hill.
Hunter has made one of his priorities modernizing the community center, improving its bathrooms and perhaps adding exercise equipment and a spa. "You need to progress. It's 2006. This place looks like it did in 1970," he says of the community center.
Preserving the character of the Eichler homes remains a challenge. Terry Bremer, chair of the Architectural Review Committee, runs a tight ship, all agree, and the adoption of written guidelines several years ago has helped a lot. Marin County played its part in preserving what the county zoning code calls the neighborhood's "unique architectural characteristics" in 1998 by making Lucas Valley a special zoning district. The design rules, Hunter says, are reasonable. "If it's visible from the street, it has to be reviewed by the committee."
"People often buy into Upper Lucas Valley for the school district, the sense of community, the safety, and what it can offer to children," Bremer says. "The modern architecture may not be top priority on everyone's list. Thus, balancing the needs of some residents with the equally important need of our architecture to stay true to its aesthetic and integrity is essential. Educating the residents as to the need for there to be a streetscape is one of our goals. Allowing some expansion without detriment to the original footprint of the house is another."
Hunter compares Lucas Valley to his former home of Santa Barbara, which is defined by its Spanish, red-tiled architecture. The result is a charming, small city that is loved by visitors and locals alike. "You create that consistency and it does create a nicer place to live," he says.
"Yes, some people don't like being told what to do," he says. "But if you stop and talk to them and explain, 'It's for the good of everybody, it maintains the integrity of the Eichlers,' they understand. "This is what we're trying to maintain. It's the integrity of a community."
Photos: David Toerge
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