At the time of the fire, Christie Carr and Erik Stabenau had lived in their Malibu home for four years, along with son Spencer and daughter Lauren (who both attend Malibu schools and founded the band “Violet Saturn,” which recently released an EP and a music video). Stepdad Erik is a stunt double and driver who had performed in over 200 films and TV series.
The morning of the fire, the family and their dogs evacuated in three cars – only to find traffic completely jammed on the only route out of town. “We were barely moving on Pacific Coast Highway,” Erik said. “What was scary was this giant mushroom cloud of disaster heading right towards us. We thought we were going to have to get out of the cars [and run to escape the fire, like they did in the Camp Fire, which destroyed so many homes in the town of Paradise].” Because of the traffic, it took the family seven hours to reach their friends’ house in Beverly Hills (which is normally just an hour away).
Just after the fire, Sheriff’s deputies blockaded all main roads into Malibu and weren’t allowing anyone to bring in supplies to those who had stayed behind to defend their homes. Residents who had defied the evacuation orders were quickly running low on essentials – and anyone who left to get them wouldn’t be allowed to come back.
That’s when Erik heard that Killer Shrimp Restaurant & Bar had a boat in Marina del Rey (several miles down the coast) that was planning to ferry supplies up to Malibu. Anyone who could make it to the boat was welcome to make the trip to deliver food, water and gasoline (needed to keep generators running after power had gone out). Erik was all in to help.
“Carloads of people came to donate supplies,” Erik said. The boat then made its journey up the coast and anchored near the beach in Malibu’s Paradise Cove. “We spent hours paddle boarding through the surf to deliver everything onto the beach. The supplies were then being picked up and distributed to various neighborhoods by a network of local people with cars. It was all being done undercover; because if the cops saw you, you’d be busted.”
Erik’s stepson, Spencer, later wrote an essay about his fire experience: “It was a rushed day. My mom and stepdad had been up most of night listening and watching the news about the fire. They recall one of the fire chiefs in Ventura saying the fire will likely not jump the freeway. ‘Highly doubtful,’ the fire chief said. After hearing that, they went to sleep. That was the last moment of peace any of us have had since that fateful day.
“I woke my mom up at 7:00 am after our neighbors were evacuating and knocking on our door. There were chunks of ash flying all through the air as the fire closed in on our community. We all rushed around and closed up the house like we would if we were leaving on a vacation. We took a few outfit changes, dog food, and our beloved dogs. We were confident that we and all of our neighbors that had carefully cleared the brush and bushes around our homes per previous fire safety orders would be coming home.
“Off we went down Trancas Canyon. None of us thought this would be the last time we’d ever see our home or our belongings. Traffic on PCH was at a complete standstill. We were out of our cars watching the giant smoke clouds billow over top of our neighborhood. Several firetrucks raced by – 10, then 20 - they kept coming by the dozens. Hundreds of firetrucks and police cars were racing down Pacific Coast Highway while all of us sat watching in our cars.
“Like all teenagers, my sister and I looked at our Instagram accounts, which were blowing up (no pun intended). The posts read ‘Vintage Grocers is gone,’ ‘The school is on fire,’ ‘Malibu Park is gone,’ – some of which turned out to be wrong.
“The next few weeks are still a blur. The news of the many homes lost started to trickle in. We couldn’t get any definite answers on ours. We were told by one neighbor that our street had survived, and we were so relieved, thankful and thrilled. Then it happened: we got a call from another neighbor with the terrible news. Our entire street was gone- all seven homes – nothing was there! Everything is gone!
“This was the most confusing and devastating time for us all. It was madness and confusion and worry. We literally have no baby photos because we don’t have grandparents or any living relatives to help us duplicate what was lost in the fire.
“I was upset that all of my guitars, amps, music equipment, and all my dirt bikes were gone, all of my gear, my ‘Day in the Dirt’ trophy, my bicycle, dirt bike jumps, etc. The two things I love most, music and dirt bikes, gone in a flash. Maybe that’s selfish, but that’s what was upsetting to me at that moment.
“We were happy to not have school. However, it was always ‘Check the school’s website, maybe we go back to school tomorrow.’ We could never fully relax. Does school start tomorrow? Check email, repeat.
“Worse than losing everything in the fire was shopping. Unlike my sister, I hate shopping. It was the best of times for my sister, the worst of times for me. For Lauren, the gates of heaven opened when my mom gave her an empty shopping cart at Target and said, ‘You need everything, start shopping.’ My sister’s cart was full in minutes with a new colorful wardrobe; complete with multiple fuzzy jackets. My cart had jars of peanut butter and a few random sugar-filled food items that were normally forbidden.”
“I started to think about what I wanted from Target, and that’s when it started to sink in: the loss of all our school yearbooks, photos and irreplaceable items. My late grandfather’s Order of Canada medal and all of his awards and accolades were gone, thousands of records from his radio station in Canada, the newspaper articles about his life and career.
“My grandparents died before I was born, so this was all I had. I hope those school “Family Tree” days are over, because my family tree just became a stick. My mom was really proud of our band newspaper articles and photos, and all of our music awards and trophies – and those are gone. My stepdad is a stuntman and all of the gifts he had received over the past 30 years – all gone. The movie memorabilia, the many director’s chairs, cool photo books with photos from over 200 movies he worked on – gone and not replaceable. It’s all surreal.”
