LAST RITES SOON FOR FAVORITE STUDIO CITY HAUNT.

Byline: Nicole Campbell Local View

I won't challenge any of my non-native Angeleno friends to an angry dance-off to prove who had the best Halloween experience growing up, because I'm afraid they'd win handily.

OK, so I never had to trudge through snow or bone-chilling temperatures to procure bite-size goodies. I just had to submit to the very Los Angeles - and slightly sad - ritual of getting into the car and being driven to other neighborhoods to go trick-or-treating.

You see, I grew up in an area of Studio City that in the late 1970s and early 1980s suffered from the twin dysfunction of being nestled in the foothills and populated by people who were in their late 70s and early 80s.

Hilly terrain and a lack of children did not make for optimal trick-or-treating in my neighborhood. So every year, I'd dress up, get into the car and go down to ``the flats'' of Studio City to take care of business.

When I was little, my mom took me to the area around the Studio City library. I loved the entire scene. Kids were there. Candy was plentiful. Decorations were perfect. The lights and noise and warmth made it hard to believe this was still my little hometown. It felt like I was on another planet.

As I got older, and the race to get bigger, better and more candy became something of social importance, I migrated to the area around Bob Hope's estate in Toluca Lake. Most Halloweens it's a madhouse, with crowds of people clogging the streets. Signing up for candy-distribution duty is a serious financial commitment for residents. Some years ago I housesat for friends and doled out something like $400 worth of yummies in just a few hours.

My friends who didn't grow up in Los Angeles think that spending a Halloween with Drew Barrymore, as I did in seventh grade, is a fantastic only-in-L.A. story. But I'd take a stroll down a small-town street eating candy from the local Wal-Mart over trading Reese's Pieces with Gertie any day.

Though I cherish many things about growing up in this great city, I do wish I'd had a more normal Halloween experience - one in which I could have just walked out my door, joined my friends who lived down the block or around the corner, and trick-or-treated at the homes of people who knew me, thereby making the experience more personal.

It's fitting this year that I'm nostalgic about the Oct. 31sts of my youth because one of the things I loved so much about those streets around the library was the fantastic haunted house at 4343 Babcock Avenue. This year, Gary Corb is putting the final nail in the coffin, as it were, after 32 Halloweens of dead-ication. In this city, traditions and a sense of community are often hard to come by. So on behalf of all of the people young and old whom you have thrilled with your elaborate displays and Halloween humor, I say thank you, Gary.

Driving to my parents' house in Studio City the other day - to the same house in which I grew up - I saw a few homes along busy Laurel Canyon Boulevard festooned with Halloween decorations. A couple of them seemed to be new additions. Although I applaud the residents' efforts, I had to laugh. They won't get many costumed kiddies clamoring for candy. More families have moved into my parents' neighborhood over the years, but it will never be a trick-or-treating destination. And I wonder if the kids traipsing around my old haunts ever think about what a grave misfortune that is.

The Hallowed Haunting Grounds is located at 4343 Babcock Avenue in Studio City, one block west of Whitsett Avenue, just south of Moorpark Street. Hours are from 7 p.m. until midnight through Monday, weather permitting. More information can be found at hauntinggrounds.org.