By Zain Shauk

NORTHEAST GLENDALE — When Escott Norton spotted inspectors examining his home’s water meter, he thought they were as doubtful as he was that he had used 1.5 million gallons in one two-month billing cycle.

That was before he got a bill for $5,474.71 worth of water, far surpassing his previous high of $120.05.

“Everyone thought it was ridiculous except for the people at [Glendale Water & Power],” Norton said.

Although the utility was admittedly puzzled by the reading and lack of leaks or massive amounts of runoff, officials believe the meter was right, said Glenn Steiger, general manager of Glendale Water & Power.

“There’s no question it’s extraordinary, and that’s why we took extraordinary measures to make sure that there wasn’t something else going on,” Steiger said.

Norton, a home designer, recently moved into the Buckingham Road house after building it himself, with help from electricians and other laborers. He closely monitored the property throughout the two-year process, during which he paid water bills and often spent 14 hours a day at the site, he said.

Although he and others initially suspected a leak could have caused the problem, none has been found, and his water bills have since plummeted back to levels that resemble his neighborhood’s usage, according to a graph generated by the utility’s website.

Inspectors appeared at Norton’s two-story, four-bedroom home multiple times after they discovered the high reading in June.

One visit brought eight workers from the utility, some wearing suits and others in hard hats, to examine the meter and property, Norton said.

They decided to remove the meter for further scrutiny, putting it through a series of tests, even resorting to some unconventional approaches involving vibration, to ensure the gauge wouldn’t have malfunctioned with the nearby operation of heavy machinery, Steiger said.

The utility also opted to pass the same amount of water through the device — 1.5 million gallons — and found that it measured the quantity accurately, he said.

“Honestly, after testing it as many ways as we know how, we found nothing wrong,” he said. “Zero.”

But Norton and others have scoffed at the idea that he, along with his wife and son, had actually pulled that much water through the meter.

The sheer quantity is enough to overflow a 3.5-foot-deep pool the size of a football field.

Glendale High School — where 3,000 students flush toilets, play sports on irrigated fields and shower in locker rooms each weekday — uses less water in a month, or about 1.2 million gallons, school district officials said.

Burbank’s 18-hole, 67-acre DeBell Golf Club could be completely irrigated for nearly four days with that total.

“This doesn’t really make sense,” Tom Maddock, a professor of hydrology at University of Arizona’s Department of Hydrology and Water Resources, said of Norton’s water bill.

That quantity of water could have moved through the meter, but an underground leak would have been more probable, and noticeable, Maddock said.

“There should have been a lot of tell-tale signs,” he said. “I mean, like wading in mud.”

Other signs, like puddles, would have also been apparent, and with that much water beneath the home, the concrete structure would have likely sunk into the ground, he said.

Norton argued the geology of his property, which was painstakingly carved into the side of a stone cliff during a process that involved three demolition excavators, would have made a leak noticeable.

“It would be bubbling up to the surface,” he said.

The utility did calculate that a hose on Norton’s property could have used exactly 1.5 million gallons of water if it was left on for 64 days — the period of the billing cycle in question — and that water could have spilled into a storm drain in front of his home, Steiger said.

But there is no storm drain visible in front of Norman’s home. The nearest one is around the corner of Buckingham Road and Chevy Chase Drive, Norman said.

Although there was concern that Norton stole the water, that feat would have required an outflow of 17 gallons per minute, or enough to fill six 4,000-gallon tankers daily, Norton said.

“I think my neighbors would have noticed,” he said.

While Norton’s water bill may seem unique, utilities often receive complaints about high readings that are often correct, said Bill Mace, assistant general manager of water at Burbank Water and Power.

“If the meter tests accurately, then something went through it,” Mace said.

A continuously running toilet, for example, can use about 1,400 gallons of water daily without leaving a trace of evidence, Mace said.

“It just goes right down the sewers,” said Mace, although he acknowledged that the usage rate was unusually high at Norton’s home, about 24,000 gallons daily.

Neither utility has any way of distinguishing how much water is sent to homes, measuring only how much gets pulled through a meter, officials said.

Glendale Water & Power is holding Norton responsible for the bill and has allowed him to pay it in $950 installments, three of which he has made so far.

Still, he disputes the total.

“It’s a matter of fairness,” he said. “Why should I pay for water I didn’t use?”

Gather around, and I’ll tell you a terrifying Halloween story. Some would call it a classic power struggle.

Once upon a time, in a little hillside village, there lived a humble craftsman named Escott Norton. He was a hard-working man and had earned a reputation as an honest and fair member of the community.

After many years of work, Escott saved up enough money to build a castle where he and his family could enjoy the fruits of his labors.

So Escott set off to work, designing his home to be comfortable and energy efficient. He took great pains to make sure that the house would meet the approval of the local magistrates and overlords, whose approval he needed in order to build his castle to their codes.

For more than two years Escott focused on the construction process. He dedicated himself to the task, making sure to use only minimal amounts of water and power. He knew those resources were guarded by the Grand Wizards of Power, or GWP as everyone in the village called them.

One day, as his castle neared completion, Escott and his family moved in. It was a joyous day, and Escott marveled at his good fortune. He began watering his garden. Life was good. But little did he know dark forces were gathering against him.

Two months after Escott and his family settled in, they were visited by a nobleman who worked for the Grand Wizards of Power. They had dispatched the nobleman to report on the water meter. It seemed Escott was using a lot of water, according to the GWP meter, which was never wrong.

Escott greeted the nobleman, and the two discussed the meter matter.

“Something’s not right here,” said the nobleman. “I’m not sure what the problem is, but our meter says your castle is using more than its fair share of water.”

“That can’t be,” Escott replied. “We use very little water. In fact, we don’t even have gas for heating, so our showers are indeed quite short.”

“Interesting,” said the nobleman. “But our meters are never wrong!”

A few days later, Escott awoke to find eight more GWP noblemen and numerous vehicles gathered near his castle gates. When Escott asked what was happening, they told him they were trying to ascertain why he was using so much water.

The herd of GWP noblemen scratched their heads and surmised that the meter should be removed and tested, even though they were sure it was fine.

Days went by, and Escott heard nothing. Then without any warning, another crew of men was dispatched by the GWP. The meter was scrutinized, photographed, tagged and removed for testing. A new meter was installed, and the crew disappeared.

Not long after that, Escott heard from the Grand Wizards of Power. In their wisdom, they had determined that there was nothing wrong with the meter, and that Escott and his family had used more than 1.5 million gallons of water in one billing period. That averages out to more than 24,000 gallons of water per day!

Escott was also told that he owed the GWP $5,471, and that there was no disputing it. After all, their meters were never wrong.

Being an honorable man, Escott tried reasoning with the GWP. He made phone calls and written pleas explaining how impossible it was for one family to have used millions of gallons of water. He provided explanations of how the house was constructed, how leaks could not have occurred without being noticed and how the bill was insane compared to his regular previous usage.

But the GWP refused to listen. Although they did generously offer to negotiate, telling him he could pay the entire bill in six convenient installments of $950. That was their final offer, not counting a veiled threat to file criminal theft charges.

With nowhere else to turn, Escott asked the mayor for help. He explained to the mayor that 1.5 million gallons of water is the equivalent of filling six 4,000-gallon tanker trucks every day for 60 days. And while the mayor listened with an empathetic ear, he was ultimately unable to offer any immediate relief.

It seemed to Escott that the GWP had complete autonomy to strong-arm customers into paying any fee they saw fit and tell them they must obey the meters as law.

Because after all, their meters are never wrong, and no one has any way to get their power from an alternative source.

So what is to become of Escott, the honorable man?

He’ll continue to pay the cumbersome water bill even though, as anyone can plainly see, it’s virtually impossible for one man’s castle to use 1.5 million gallons of water in a mere two months.

So take warning, fair citizens! This tale of woe should give you reason to ponder which one of us will be bullied next.

Or how many others, like Escott, are currently being subjected to GWP inquisition and forced to pay for resources they never used.

And the most chilling part of this Halloween story? It’s all true.

Published: Wednesday, October 21, 2009

I’m not real enthusiastic about dressing up for Halloween. For some reason, I just can’t seem to muster the energy required to get it together, even though there’s still more than a week to prepare. About the best I can do this year is wear a terry cloth robe and scraggly beard like my favorite Coen Brothers underachiever, Jeffrey Lebowski.

I must point out that I wasn’t always this way. There was a time when I enjoyed Halloween. I was brought up with a much higher respect for the day than I now display. My parents were legendary costumer makers in their own right, and that tradition was impressed upon me from an early age.

I remember my mom making an elaborate Martian costume for me in first grade. It had a bizarre head piece using a hard plastic lampshade and sequined fabric — my clothes a long, flowing green gown. I vividly recall the hard plastic lampshade digging into my forehead and wandering blindly around the playground, bumping into other kids like some visually impaired ET. Good times.

In fourth grade, I was a clown. Not a scary monster clown, but rather a festive, jovial Bozo. I remember when my mom went to the fabric store to buy the pattern, I begged her to put the torturous lampshade back on my head so the older kids wouldn’t kill me.

Note to parents: Your fourth-grade son does not want to be a festive, jovial clown. He wants to be a deadly ninja. Listen to him. If nothing else it will keep him from having his clown feet stomped on by the sixth-grade boys. Trust me on this one.

In sixth grade, I was a pirate. Another homemade costume complete with balsa wood sabre and silk eye patch. I don’t know what it was with my mom trying to cover my eyes during Halloween. Were I less secure, I’d think she was trying to do me in. But those were different times. We didn’t have glow sticks and flame-proof costumes. You got too close to a flame and you went up like a Roman candle. We were a tougher breed than today’s youth.

The Long John Silver get-up was fun until it came time to walk around in the dark.

Second note to parents: Covering a child’s eye with a patch seriously reduces their depth perception and makes it really easy for them to run into lamp posts. On the upside, the kids they trick-or-treat with will think it’s h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s.

Childhood aside, I do have some fond memories. Like the time in college when I went to a party in Long Beach and ended up having so much fun I had to spend the night. Of course the light of day was a little more sobering. I had to drive back to Glendale and needed to stop for gas in a less than friendly looking section of South Gate. Oh. I forgot to mention that I had dressed up that year as a ballerina. I also forgot to bring a change of clothes.

A brief recap of Halloween 1986: South Gate. Daylight. Gas station. Ballerina costume. Bikers. Awkward.

More recently, there was the time six years ago when I went to a party in Glendale dressed as a very well-known local Realtor — a woman. My rationale? I wanted to dress as the scariest thing I could think of.

And because she sold me a defective house that year, it seemed frightening and funny at the time.

My not-so-subtle irony was well-received among friends who knew the back story. Among one particular stranger it was even more popular, and I spent the majority of the night being pursued by a rather obnoxious Zorro, who thought I looked quite fetching.

Note to men: If you’re going to dress as a woman, try very, very hard to look unattractive, unless your intent is to woo Zorro.

So I guess it’s settled. I either go as a complete slacker or stay home and hand out candy.

Note to self: I shouldn’t have any problem fending off the women in my unkempt beard and bath robe.I’m not real enthusiastic about dressing up for Halloween. For some reason, I just can’t seem to muster the energy required to get it together, even though there’s still more than a week to prepare. About the best I can do this year is wear a terry cloth robe and scraggly beard like my favorite Coen Brothers underachiever, Jeffrey Lebowski.

I must point out that I wasn’t always this way. There was a time when I enjoyed Halloween. I was brought up with a much higher respect for the day than I now display. My parents were legendary costume makers in their own right, and that tradition was impressed upon me from an early age.

I remember my mom making an elaborate Martian costume for me in first grade. It had a bizarre head piece using a hard plastic lampshade and sequined fabric — my clothes a long, flowing green gown. I vividly recall the hard plastic lampshade digging into my forehead and wandering blindly around the playground, bumping into other kids like some visually impaired ET. Good times.

In fourth grade, I was a clown. Not a scary monster clown, but rather a festive, jovial Bozo. I remember when my mom went to the fabric store to buy the pattern, I begged her to put the torturous lampshade back on my head so the older kids wouldn’t kill me.

<!–

–> Note to parents: Your fourth-grade son does not want to be a festive, jovial clown. He wants to be a deadly ninja. Listen to him. If nothing else it will keep him from having his clown feet stomped on by the sixth-grade boys. Trust me on this one.

In sixth grade, I was a pirate. Another homemade costume complete with balsa wood sabre and silk eye patch. I don’t know what it was with my mom trying to cover my eyes during Halloween. Were I less secure, I’d think she was trying to do me in. But those were different times. We didn’t have glow sticks and flame-proof costumes. You got too close to a flame and you went up like a Roman candle. We were a tougher breed than today’s youth.

The Long John Silver get-up was fun until it came time to walk around in the dark.

Second note to parents: Covering a child’s eye with a patch seriously reduces their depth perception and makes it really easy for them to run into lamp posts. On the upside, the kids they trick-or-treat with will think it’s h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s.

Childhood aside, I do have some fond memories. Like the time in college when I went to a party in Long Beach and ended up having so much fun I had to spend the night. Of course the light of day was a little more sobering. I had to drive back to Glendale and needed to stop for gas in a less than friendly looking section of South Gate. Oh. I forgot to mention that I had dressed up that year as a ballerina. I also forgot to bring a change of clothes.

A brief recap of Halloween 1986: South Gate. Daylight. Gas station. Ballerina costume. Bikers. Awkward.

More recently, there was the time six years ago when I went to a party in Glendale dressed as a very well-known local Realtor — a woman. My rationale? I wanted to dress as the scariest thing I could think of.

And because she sold me a defective house that year, it seemed frightening and funny at the time.

My not-so-subtle irony was well-received among friends who knew the back story. Among one particular stranger it was even more popular, and I spent the majority of the night being pursued by a rather obnoxious Zorro, who thought I looked quite fetching.

Note to men: If you’re going to dress as a woman, try very, very hard to look unattractive, unless your intent is to woo Zorro.

So I guess it’s settled. I either go as a complete slacker or stay home and hand out candy.

Note to self: I shouldn’t have any problem fending off the women in my unkempt beard and bath robe.

The Crescenta Valley Town Council will be hosting candidate forums for the CV Water District and CV Town Council candidates:

Thursday, October 15, 2009, 6:30 p.m.
Rosemont Middle School Cafeteria
4725 Rosemont Ave.

Please come hear the candidates and have the opportunity to ask them questions before the elections!

· November 3rd for the Crescenta Valley Water District Board
· November 7th for the Crescenta Valley Town Council (8 am – 5 pm at Rosemont)

Contact Cheryl Davis (818) 970-0976 for additional information

Sand will be available at the upper end of the Two Strike Park parking lot (5107 Rosemont Ave, La Crescenta) starting Monday afternoon (October 12th).

People should bring their own sandbags, ties to tie off the top of the bag, and a shovel to load sand. Sand will be available at this site throughout the next 5-6 months.

We are also working on a schedule for volunteers to help load sand into bags. Once the schedule is arranged it will be made public (i.e. websites, newspapers, and community bulletin boards).

The bin is courtesy of Allied Waste Management and the sand is courtesy of L.A. County Public Works.

We all need to be prepared and informed about the potential flooding to our neighborhoods.

When: Tuesday, Oct. 6th 6:30pm

Where: Rosemont Middle School Cafeteria
4725 Rosemont Ave., La Crescenta 91214

What: After brief presentations residents are encouraged to ask as many questions as necessary of all attendees.

Who: LA County Public Works, AQMD, LA County Fire, LA County Sheriff, Edison, Glendale Chapter Red Cross, LA County Animal Control, Insurance Representatives, LA County Flood Control, Highway Patrol, Representatives for LA County Supervisors office and State Legislature as well as others.

Please attend, we want you safe and prepared.

Complete Details: www.thecvcouncil.com

Last Sunday, I rode my motorcycle into Big Tujunga Canyon for the first time since the Station fire. I knew going in that it would be a gut-wrenching experience.

The ride from Big Tujunga Canyon up into the Angeles National Forest is a ride coveted by motorcyclists all over Southern California. Even before the fire, I knew how lucky I was to have something so precious in my own backyard. I’ve been riding for only a couple of years, but it was long enough to relish Newcomb’s Ranch as a place to bond with other riders who shared my love of the twisting, turning Angeles Crest Highway.

I know that not everyone shares my love of motorcycles, but it’s safe to say that nearly all of us have a personal relationship with the mountains bordering us. Diesel-powered ski lifts. Hiking trails. Cool streams. Weekend camping at Charlton Flats and Chilao. I always thought they’d be there. Last week, as I looked into the canyon, reality glared back at me. Those things were gone.

I thought I could stomach it. I took my girlfriend on the back of my bike and packed a camera, hoping to document what I saw, but it was impossible for me. The nothingness and emptiness of the canyon is not something I desired to capture for posterity.

We got about a mile in. The road was closed and, frankly, I had no morbid curiosity to see what was around the corner. What I could already see broke my heart.

I’ve always had a disdain for people who, when asked by the press to describe a disaster, look into the camera and say, “It looked like a movie, man.” Seeing the canyon this way, I wished that it was a movie and that somehow, someway the prop guys and set designers would put it all back the way it was. But that’s not the way reality works.

Just beyond the roadblock, we could see helicopters loading their buckets and heading up over the ridge to continue working on the fire. Somewhere out there hot spots remained. Work continued. Hell was still expanding.

It was about seven weeks ago that I had pitched a story idea to the Glendale News-Press about the California Highway Patrol motorcycle officers who regularly patrolled the area. I had received permission from their press liaison to interview and observe the officers. Unlike many riders, I had an admiration for those who were charged with keeping one of the most dangerous highways in the country safe and us bikers alive. In anticipation, I had gone up in the middle of the week to ride a stretch of Angeles Crest Highway reopened in May after having been closed for more than three years. It was a glorious ride.

I breathed in every moment of that new stretch of highway up and beyond Dawson’s Saddle, stopping briefly to enjoy a sandwich. In that quiet moment, I felt so fortunate — the only audible sound was the wind rustling the trees. Pearblossom Highway and the desert were at my feet.

I had taken a camera, but never took it out of the case.

“I’ll come back. Next time,” I thought.

Now jarred back to reality by the throbbing sound of another helicopter, I realized that I didn’t know when that next time would be. I got off my bike and took out my cell phone. Last spring I had been in Big Tujunga Canyon, the yellow and purple wildflowers were blooming all along the sides of the road. In narrower portions of the canyon, it smelled as if Mother Nature herself had sprayed the entire mountainside with a perfume made in heaven.

I scanned the photos in my phone and found them. A few beautiful pictures of the wildflowers were in stark contrast to the charred hillsides surrounding me.

Another helicopter. And then the worst thought of all: Someone did this on purpose.

Dr. Terry Paulson, a popular conservative columnist for Scripps Howard and Townhall.com and author of “The Dinner: The Political Conversation Your Mother Told You Never To Have” is looking forward to meeting all of the Republican Clubs of the Foothills!

The La Crescenta Valley Republican Women, Federated has the honor of presenting Dr. Terry Paulson at a special evening meeting on October 8, 2009 at 7PM – 9PM, at the La Crescenta Woman’s Club at 4004 La Crescenta Ave., La Crescenta $10 Hors-d’oeuvres & dessert. For reservations please contact annieplanas@yahoo.com or Ellen Hedrick 818.248.0924.

Dr. Paulson’s new book, The Optimism Advantage,” will be released in March.

It will help individuals take responsibility for their own attitudes and actions. Check out his FREE VIDEO SERIES ON OPTIMISM available at http://www.terrypaulson.com/optimism

“The principles presidents hold translate into policies and tough choices. Those tough choices have consequences.”

In the picture – California Republican Women, Federated then president, Martha House, who wrote the Foreword for the book “The Dinner” – with Terry Paulson.

I was going to sugar-coat my opening stanza of this week’s column. But I realized over sweetening things is a colossal problem today so I’ll just say it: Americans are pretty fat compared to the rest of the world.

If that seems too harsh, I offer this consolation: Californians seem slightly healthier than the rest of the country. Anyone who’s traveled east of Riverside knows what I’m talking about.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. There he goes again, ignoring local events. Not so. I noticed the sprinklers watering the sidewalk on Honolulu Avenue this week. But for now, obesity is something that needs addressing — if not for our own personal well-being, than for the general welfare of our country.

Last year, I went to Cape Coral, Fla., only to discover that KFC actually has all-you-can-eat versions of their restaurants — as if America really needs a no-limits fried chicken and mashed potato buffet.

<!–

–>It’s exactly this kind of gluttony that has Senate leaders considering imposing taxes on soda and other sugary drinks to help pay for an overhaul of our health-care system.

According to the New England Journal of Medicine, the medical costs for obesity alone are estimated to be $147 billion. That’s 9.1% of U.S. health-care expenditures, with half these costs paid for publicly through Medicare and Medicaid.

President Obama was recently quoted as saying, “When it comes to health-care spending, we are on an unsustainable course that threatens the financial stability of families, businesses and government itself.”

With that much money being spent on a line item so preventable, it makes one wonder why we’re debating health-care reform in Congress and not dietary reform at our dinner tables.

The report in the medical journal also states that revenue generated from a tax on sugar-sweetened beverages would be considerable and could be used to help support childhood nutrition programs, obesity-prevention programs, health care for the uninsured or to help meet general revenue needs. A national tax of 1-cent per ounce on sugar-sweetened beverages would raise $14.9 billion in the first year alone, according to the report.

Of course, the mere notion of profits getting thinner certainly got the attention of Coke and Pepsi. Their beverage lobby, the American Beverage Assn., said such a tax would unfairly hit lower-income Americans and wouldn’t deter consumption. Funny, that is similar to what the tobacco industry said about the tax on cigarettes. But contrary to their complaining, higher cigarette costs have altered spending habits.

The lobbyists also formed a coalition to oppose taxes called, Americans Against Food Taxes. The group is running an ad that shows a family enjoying soda on a camping trip. “This is no time for Congress to be adding taxes on the simple pleasures we all enjoy,” the ad says.

I guess they’re right. Just because we’re paying billions to fight obesity doesn’t mean it’s time to panic. That time will come when our bloated bodies will literally explode when we hug one another. And the simple pleasures they refer to? Probably diabetes and heart disease. If we don’t want to pay a small tax on the junk we consume, maybe we should invest a few minutes in front of a full-length mirror. That way we can look at ourselves honestly and ask if Congress should step in or step back.

Don’t misunderstand me. I’m all for personal freedom. You want to drink 64 ounces of soda per day? Go for it. Just don’t expect me to absorb the costs of your quadruple bypass surgery in my health insurance premium.

Personally, I think we need government protection from companies that know they can reap huge profits from our weakness for sugary beverages. Because they’re using those profits and hiring lobbyists like the American Beverage Assn. to convince us that consuming mass quantities of soda is as satisfying as a family outing.

Then again, after looking around, it’s easy to see why they’d think that.

GARY HUERTA is a Crescenta Valley resident and author. He is Senior Manager of Communications for DIRECTV and a copywriting professor at Pasadena Art Center College of Design. Gary may be reached at garyrhuerta@gmail.com.

The 2009 Crescenta Valley Town Council Election will be Saturday, November 7, 2009, from 8:00 AM to 5:00 PM at Rosemont Middle School, 4725 Rosemont Ave., La Crescenta, CA 91214

• Candidate Applications must be received by midnight, October 18, 2009, with the $40 application fee.  (Deadline to participate in the Town Council Candidate Forum is October 15, 2009, with the $40 application fee.)  Applications should be submitted to the Election Committee Chair, Cheryl Davis, in person or mailed to:

Crescenta Valley Town Council
P.O. Box 8676
La Crescenta, CA  91224-0676

Download Candidate Application
Download Absentee Ballot Request

For more information, click here.