James William Rose never thought he'd have to leave the 20-foot recreational vehicle he's called home for 13 years.
"I moved in with the understanding that this would be an RV park for the rest of my life," said Rose, 66, who has serious health problems and survives on a fixed income that leaves him $30 a week for food. "Now I don't know what I'll do. I haven't a clue."
A recent eviction order gives him until March 31 to decide.
Rose isn't alone. He lives at Anaheim Vacation Park, a Beach Boulevard icon that, until recently, was one of Orange County's oldest and last remaining RV parks allowing residents to stay as long as they liked.
New owners, however, began discouraging the "permanents" in favor of more transient weekend and vacation guests. Now, Rose said, they've inflicted the final insult: announcing closure of the 7.95-acre park to make way for 102 condominiums.
"If it comes right down to it," he vowed, "I'll sleep in the street."
No one can remember exactly when the park began. The city's records on the facility date back to 1987, a spokeswoman said. But in 1993, when 75% of its 222 spaces were occupied by permanent residents (defined as those staying at least six months), some claimed to have been living there for at least 20 years.
Even in 1993 that was an extraordinarily high percentage of long-term tenants, RV industry experts said at the time. But it wasn't surprising, they added, given the park's prime Southern California location just up the street from Knott's Berry Farm and within a few miles of Disneyland. To make them feel at home, Anaheim Vacation Park managers organized barbecues, dances and potlucks on weekends and holidays. They provided free coffee and doughnuts every Sunday morning. And residents routinely hung out at the recreation room availing themselves of the pool table, dart boards, puzzles and library.
"It was a family," recalled Phyllis Lewis, 57, who has lived here since 1996. "Everybody knew everybody and everybody looked out for everybody. There was the rest of the world outside -- then there was us, in here safe and sound."
The situation began changing about six years ago, she said, when the park came under new ownership that discouraged permanent residency and, ultimately, banned it. Most of the permanents moved out, Lewis said, making way for their shorter-term counterparts. A handful, however -- including her -- chose to remain under an arrangement by which, she claims, they were "grandfathered in" at a rate that's now $650 a month.
