Q: Sometime during the 1980s, the historically significant Klauber House near Balboa Park was sold to developers who proceeded to raze it, much to the consternation of preservationists. There was supposed to be a high-rise development... but to my knowledge, after all these years, the land is still vacant. What’s going on?

— Lucia Smalheer, Downtown

A: Maybe preservationists fought so hard to keep the Klauber House from being clobbered because they anticipated that the corner of Redwood and Sixth might look naked without it. It may look vacant because the 10-story condominium building there now has no where near the presence of the original residence. With architecture by Irving Gill and grounds designed by Kate Sessions — both internationally acclaimed San Diego designers — the Klauber House was a significant and wholly original heirloom.

    Between 1971, when the Allan Klauber family sold the house to La Jolla Financial, and 1979 when it was razed, members of the Friends of Gill, the Save Our Heritage Organization, and the San Diego Historical society worked themselves to a frazzle trying to deflect the wrecking ball. They blocked demolition with stays of 60, 90 and 180 days at a time. They attempted to rezone the property. They talked about moving it to Heritage Park or to Camp Fire Girls Headquarters; and even the American Youth Hostels tried to acquire it. Ultimately, each of these plans was just too expensive.

    The lot remained vacant for a long time while the property exchanged hands. The George Wimpey Corp., headquartered in London, bought the property in the late-'80s and put together the current condominium project by 1991. And, for the record, there is a vacant lot across the street.

Q: Because the San Diego River frequently floods in the winter around Mission Valley, are there plans to dredge or build raised bridges over the trouble spots?

— D. Schneider, Clairemont

A: Nope. No plans to dredge or raise roads, says Frank Belock, the city's director of engineering and capital projects. So, though burgeoning in size, Fashion Valley Shopping Center's intermittent problems with accessibility will persist. Pity there is already a Fashion Island. Pity the planners and developers couldn’t capitalize on the aquatic theme and put in river-related slides, chutes and fountains. But we all know the octopus of bureaucracy has its tentacles tightened around fun-doing when it comes to flood plain habitat. And that is one of the reasons there are no dredging plans in the hopper right now.

    During the previous flood plain road fix-up in the late '80s — the First San Diego River Improvement Project (FSDRIP) — the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Department, California Department of Fish and Game, the County Water Quality Control Board and California Department of Transportation among others threw their weight in the way of getting things done expediently and economically. Their intentions were noble, of course; they acted in the interest of river species protection. However, FSDRIP's immense challenges, cost and controversy may impede ambitious undertakings in the future.

    The roads still flood occasionally. Belock explains: "The costs of keeping everything dry were prohibitive. So we made a conscious decision to make it (FSDRIP) more cost-effective and let it flood every once in a while, given that cars could get around the flooding. So we designed Stadium Way and Mission Center to withstand flooding."

    Engineers design some roads, called weirs, to flood intentionally. For example, aptly named Avenida del Rio (the little by-way connecting Camino de la Reina and Fashion Valley) dips down and very often goes under during rains. City engineers built it thus explicitly to minimize flooding elsewhere — and provide spectator sport for nearby Union-Tribune employees during winter torrents. Crowds gather near Avenida del Rio to watch daredevil bikers and motorists shoot the rapids, followed by lifeguard rescues with kayaks. All this will be visible from bird's-eye on the new trolley line come rainy season.

Q: Where do San Diego’s theater people hang out?

— Jules Aylor, Ocean Beach

A: This question is not about looky-looks. This is about late hours, reasonable prices and soul. Theater people are always the shrewdest night folk. They emerge from the stagedoor into a city that took seriously the 'early to bed, early to rise' homily. They have to be resourceful, because for them 11:30 p.m. is happy hour. They can’t have their bartenders and waiters scampering away like Cinderella's mice at the stroke of 11.

    Further, as a caste, casts and production staffs are usually out of pocket. So they will look for good value. After mounting a fantasy all night, theater people want to kick back and take off their pretenses. They don’t gravitate to see-and-be-seen snob-spots where unemployed actors moonlighting as waiters deign to take their order. They want friendly service, cheap drinks and good food.

    So here is where they go: the North County Brigantine, The Road House, Friday's, Nunu's, Fifth and Hawthorne, The Jewel Box, The Alibi, Lancer's, and Rudfords 24-hour diner. Follow their lead, but you won’t know whether other habitués are thespians or not. It may be an act.

   For a quarter of a century, Tershia d'Elgin has written about anything that smacks of remuneration. She is writing a book about trees and a children's book about dreams.