Marilyn Mullins relaxes in the backyard of her home in the Cameron Woods… (Gary Friedman, Los Angeles…)
It is, quietly, the talk of the street. And in the San Fernando Valley, this is not just any street.
It's a quarter-mile stretch of Orion Avenue in Van Nuys known as Cameron Woods. But location scouts, and just about everyone else, call it the "Leave It to Beaver" block, an anomaly of spacious New Englands and Cape Cods nestled inside a grittier suburb.
Homes here used to be snapped up before listings ever went public, often by the children of other Orion Avenue residents. For decades its white picket fences and rolling emerald lawns have made it one of the most filmed streets in Los Angeles, standing in as a vision of Anywhere, U.S.A., in movies, television shows and commercials.
But time, and the biggest economic tumble since the Depression, has caught up with Cameron Woods.
In a sign as good as any of how tough the real estate market remains, one of the street's oldest homes sports peeling paint and thigh-high weeds, along with a "For Sale" sign. It's been empty for two years and on the market for nearly a year.
Neighbors gathering in knots on the street whisper about the possibility that the home, which hasn't been updated since it was built in 1949, could signal the beginning of real change on a street that has changed little in 60 years.
"We're concerned that if someone doesn't rescue it soon, it could become a tear-down,'' said Susan Amedeo, who for 35 years has lived in a white and red-brick cottage across the street. "This is a glorious place to live, and the film companies still come calling every week. But we've had a different economy."
Cameron Woods is a place of multi-generational families and people looking out for each other. If an elderly resident is in need, help is only a neighbor away, whether it is paying a bill or doing maintenance.
Every fall, the folks hold a potluck block party and bring in a bounce house for the street's youngest generation. They trade gardening tips (white iceberg roses are most reliable) and strategies for capturing the film industry's sometimes fickle attention ("Got a palm tree? Cut it down"). After all, some location shoots can bring upward of $4,000.
"It's like being the prettiest girl in the class. How are they going to vote?'' Amedeo said.
The street's back lot ready appeal keeps Orion in demand, said Todd Lindgren of FilmLA, which handles permits for the city. In 2009, 48 production permits were issued; last year, 36.
Other popular residential streets include Stansbury Avenue in Sherman Oaks, Windsor Square in Mid-City and, for that quintessential L.A. look, the boho chic of Venice. Orion fills the bill for the "I Like Ike" period of Americana, he said.
It helps that traffic is prevented from accessing the street from heavily traveled Victory Boulevard, creating a kind of gated community — without the gate.
For all the street's visual charm, though, squabbles still occasionally pit neighbor against neighbor.
Bill Dennis, 65, who grew up in the house he now owns, recalls one family that tried to woo filmmakers by installing movable walls and countertops, the better to accommodate large cameras.
The cameras came. Neighbors got so upset by the frequent shoots, and lack of parking, that they formed a neighborhood association and wrote rules limiting filming to 14 days a year per house, he said. That family eventually moved out.
Now neighbors are fretting about the high weeds and disrepair of the house at 6216. For decades it was Maury and Arlene King's place. The couple raised their children in the four-bedroom home. Maury died in 1994, and when Arlene passed away two years ago, the children decided to put the house on the market, said Realtor Julie Bate of Coldwell Banker, who has the listing.
For a while, the block was cheered by news that a young couple was buying the home. But in mid-May, their deal fell out of escrow.
"Unfortunately, there's not a happy ending yet,'' Bate said.
Bordered by Victory to the north and Erwin Street to the south, the 6200 block of Orion Avenue was the dream of developer William Bucher. He built most of the homes between 1946 and 1952 and, according to lore, had a Connecticut street in mind, leaving some of the walnut trees that had been there to spread their stout limbs along the street's curving lines.
Until Bucher, few builders in the San Fernando Valley had tried putting big houses on even bigger lots. The 30 homes in Cameron Woods are built on lots roughly 100 feet wide by 300 feet deep, leaving plenty of room for grand manicured lawns and park-like gardens in the back.
Bucher's plan to build a whole subdivision of estate homes evaporated when he and his partners had a falling out and the city changed the zoning, said Dennis, whose father, Robert, bought the family home in 1952 and designed it with Bucher's help. On adjacent streets, much smaller tract homes, snapped up for a $1 down by WWII vets, were squeezed onto much smaller lots.