Between the Lines -- Byron de Arakal

The nightmare on Cecil Place is the tale of Michael Schrock’s private

torment. How a family man and homeowner aspiring to build his American

Dream gets duped by coldblooded bureaucrats and terrorized by a

torch-bearing mob of craven NIMBYs. If you’re prone to squeamishness,

look away. And if you own property in this once amenable town, sell it if

you can. Take a loss if you must. But whatever you do, get out. They may

be coming for you next.

We enter the story some distance into the plot, with Schrock standing

before the Costa Mesa Planning Commission on Monday night begging them to

take him off the rack, to remove the needle from his eye. The NIMBYs were

there, too, moaning and gnashing for the commission to rend Schrock’s

limbs from his torso with one more turn of the wheel.

At issue was Schrock’s 18,000 square feet of Cecil Place real estate,

a mammoth parcel and an imposing reminder that the zoning and subdivision

of Costa Mesa must have been hatched by men shrouded in the acrid smoke

of an opium parlor. For months the enterprising Schrock had sought to

build two additional single-family homes on the ample balance of vacant

land behind the existing home there.

The residence there now is quaint and handsome, more so than it was

before Schrock dished out $100,000 to spruce it up. But since he plans to

move his family there this weekend and live as all free Americans do --

on land he calls his own and shapes with his hands -- it was a worthwhile

investment. As for the two new homes he wanted to build behind his

“castle,” he had planned to sell them to others seeking to stake a claim,

too, in the City of the Arts.

But on Monday, beaten and bloodied by the NIMBYs and the bureaucrats,

Schrock capitulated. He scrapped his original dream and opted for

something quite less, a plan the commission could accept but which still

boiled the blood of the mob. He’d be “permitted” to subdivide his

property to accommodate just two homes; the front residence where

Schrock’s family will live and another single-family home behind it.

In this town, you take what you can get.

Now Schrock’s odyssey began benignly enough. He had huddled with city

planners months ago to reveal his original intentions. And a spirit of

cooperation and encouragement swathed the meetings. The planners were

smiling folks. Kind and informative, and going so far as to counsel

Schrock that it would be better to rezone his property to a planned

residential development. And so he went along to get along.

True, the rezone would give the city a tighter fist over what Schrock

could put on the property. But it would also boost his chances for

approval by the planning commission. And so it was. The planners were

ready to recommend approval to the commission.

But then the NIMBYs of Cecil Place awoke. The scent of Schrock’s plans

and motives brought throngs of them spilling from their low-slung

bungalows howling in protest. At the planning commission meetings and

Council sessions they said his name with scorn. They called him, simply,

“Schrock,” as if he were a soulless evil. Or they labeled him the

“developer,” which these days occupies a station perhaps a notch above

pedophile.

Nevertheless, the drum beating to get Schrock thundered through the

chambers and city hall. Why? Because his dream for his land was not, in

their view, “harmonious and compatible” with the character of their

neighborhood. This seems to be the mantra of the town’s cranks and boobs

and old sentimentalists these days.

Schrock’s plan also deigned to boost the value of his land charged the

NIMBYs. Worse, it sought to do so without deference to the character of

the neighborhood. And they leveled this assault as if they’d never

pondered ways to protect and enhance the equity in their property. Were

that true, I imagine they’d gladly relinquish their equity and donate it

to the preservation of, say, the Huscroft House. Don’t hold your breath.

Now seeing the frothing throng, the blood of the city’s bureaucrats

ran cold, and they turned on Schrock and his dream and told him no. The

planning commission fileted him. The City Council only poured salt in the

wound. And suddenly Michael Schrock’s land was not his land. It was in

the possession of the NIMBYs. Under the lock and key of their militancy,

their ire and the city’s complete capitulation to mob rule. And it

remained in their possession until last Monday night when Schrock threw

in the towel, when he became “harmonious and compatible.”

Costa Mesa has had better days.Costa Mesa has had better days.

* BYRON DE ARAKAL is a freelance writer and communications consultant.

He lives in Costa Mesa. Readers can reach him with news tips and comments

via e-mail at [email protected]. Visit his web site at

www.byronwriter.com.