IN MALIBU, REHAB IS AN UNWELCOME NEIGHBOR

Ah, Malibu. Sun, sand, rehab.

For years, "Malibu" and "rehabilitation clinic" have been codependent,
you might say, in many a celebrity news snippet. Ben Affleck, Charlie
Sheen, Robert Downey Jr., Diana Ross, Paula Poundstone - the list
reels on of stars clearing up "some personal issues" at chic spots
charging $30,000 or so per month.

Enough with the detox already, a few Malibuites are
pleading.

With the city's blessing, a committee is lobbying the state to change
a law that residents say has encouraged such centers, most of them
licensed for six beds, to proliferate in their coastal town's wealthy
neighborhoods.

The panel's name? Residential Integrity and Peace, or RIP.

"Rehabs are high-traffic businesses," said Beth Dorn, who heads the
group. "These places should be in commercial areas."

Malibu residents aren't imagining things when they say that rehab is a
growth industry. In the last three years alone, 12 new rehab
facilities have opened in the community. And, although three others
have closed in that time, the city's total number of rehab centers
stands at 16. Three applications are pending.

Home to 13,000 people, Malibu thus has one licensed residential
program for every 810 or so residents. For Los Angeles County overall,
the ratio is one center for every 58,100 people.

So what's bringing rehab centers to Malibu? Although the number of
such facilities statewide has grown consistently for many years, the
industry got a boost in 2000 with the passage of Proposition 36, which
allows nonviolent drug offenders to choose treatment rather than jail.

And don't forget the seaside charms and rustic affluence that soothe
the battered soul. Indeed, many of the rehab centers in Malibu could
pass for lavish resort hotels, with massage and workout rooms.
Passages, a facility with marble floors and crystal chandeliers,
opened in 2001 with a fancy reception - after a Los Angeles County
Superior Court judge denied neighbors' request for a temporary
restraining order against the facility.

Rehab can be a lucrative business, said Richard A. Rawson, associate
director of the UCLA Integrated Substance Abuse Programs. Some
high-end centers in Malibu, he said, "are virtually all cash," with
clients paying $30,000 to $50,000 for a standard 28-day stay.

The facilities appeal not just to movie stars but also to lawyers,
surgeons and other wealthy professionals who count on rehab
administrators' legendary professional discretion.

The patients participate in individual and group counseling and
educational sessions. "Social detox" - a method of getting drugs or
alcohol out of the system without using medication - is also a part of
the regimen at many centers.

All of this transpires in a setting designed to feel like home - or
even better than home - with gourmet chefs, kayak rides and private
therapy sessions in the sand, as the Passages website advertises.

For Dorn and her husband, Ryan, the proliferation of these centers has
started to disrupt the tranquillity they have cherished in their gated
community of Trancas Highlands, dotted with 30 or so houses. From her
hillside perch, Dorn peers down on Zuma Beach and neighbors'
$2-million homes, most of which sit on at least two sage-covered acres.

But not far down winding Trancas Canyon Road, and outside the gated
community, are three houses that have been converted into rehab
clinics, all operating under the name Creative Care and each approved
for six beds.

A fourth facility, next door to the other three, is on the verge of
receiving its state license, according to Mary Rauso, a Creative Care
consultant. Many days, dozens of vehicles - belonging to Creative
Care's 40 or so therapists, social workers, cooks and other employees
- - sit in the compound's two parking lots.

A few hairpin turns uphill from Dorn, within Trancas Highlands, sits
another such facility, and an application has been filed for yet
another nearby. Just below Dorn's residence, another house recently
changed hands, and the California Department of Alcohol and Drug
Programs said that in late January it received an application for a
rehab facility there.

Malibu rehab centers such as Passages and Promises, whose clients also
make the tabloids now and then, contrast with the far-from-plush
clinics typically found in downtown Los Angeles and other parts of the
county. As of Jan. 1, Los Angeles County had 172 licensed residential
programs, more than one-fifth of the state's total of 811.

Although many rehab centers accept public funds, "the Malibu programs
have been set up to serve a privately funded, affluent part of
society," said David Feinberg, who supervises licensing for the state
Department of Alcohol and Drug Programs.

As more rehab facilities crop up, neighbors worry that the extra
people will overtax septic systems or overwhelm narrow, treacherous
hillside roads. Dorn, who has a son and two stepdaughters, said she
and her husband had been "run off the road" several times by drivers
they did not recognize.

One recent morning, they were startled to come upon a man wearing
headphones lying on Trancas Canyon Road.

Dorn can't definitively tie those incidents to rehab centers. In
addition, rumors about used condoms in the streets and restless
rehabbers wandering the hills are tough to verify with more than one
source. But that hasn't kept the centers from becoming the talk of the
town. Also driving some of the opposition, Dorn acknowledged, is the
fear that home prices will plummet if would-be buyers get turned off
by the prospect of living amid so many 12-step adherents.

Eric Myer, a photographer in Trancas Highlands, said he doubted that
the state law encouraging such facilities ever intended for them to be
clustered so closely.

"You're basically creating a medical subdivision," Myer said.

Myer acknowledged that it could be tough to elicit sympathy among
state lawmakers for the residents of "Beverly Hills by the sea" - and
that Malibu dwellers are opening themselves to charges of NIMBYism.

Many residents say they understand and embrace the philosophy behind
residential rehab, which aims to provide patients a serene place to
recover and to help them ease back into society.

"I actually am for the program," said Malibu Mayor Ken Kearsley. "But
they wear out the neighborhood when they have four or five in the same
immediate geographic vicinity."

The 1940s saw the advent of small residential rehabilitation
facilities in California. Such centers began to flourish in 1979, when
a new state law prohibited cities from imposing zoning restrictions
that discriminated against facilities with six beds or fewer. The idea
was to help rehab facilities get off the ground, given the growing
need for recovery treatment and detoxification.

On any given day, according to the state Department of Alcohol and
Drug Programs, more than 100,000 individuals receive treatment
services statewide. Each month, more than 13,000 Californians are on
waiting lists.

And although rehab centers are in demand everywhere, one rehab
specialist suggested that Malibu has a particular need.

"The local Alcoholics Anonymous meetings are so full and so rich and
there are so many of them," said Jerry Schoenkopf, who went through
rehab 20 years ago and now is program administrator for Malibu Ranch
Residential Treatment Center. "For a little town S there's a
burgeoning community of recovery."

Although Rawson of UCLA said it was "not typical to have bunches" of
centers together, he defended many of the industry's practitioners. "I
have to say some of these people are very well intended," he said.
"Many have children or family members who had addiction problems."

That might be, but some Malibu residents wish state law wouldn't allow
so many in their small town.

"As it is now," said Kent Krings, Dorn's neighbor, "you could fill an
entire city with rehabs. There's really nothing anyone can do."