"A larval city," a Times columnist called it, after a visit in 1989. " . . . no formal city hall, no courthouses have been built here, no covered malls. . . . Like a warm sea, the subdivisions seem to be waiting for the bones of their community to be built."
But there were churches, tiny churches, tucked into strip malls and abandoned taco stands and tract homes. The precursor to Palm Canyon church, where Chiordi worships, was located in a strip mall just north of Highway 60. The storefront currently houses a discount auto insurance office, with a sign beckoning the auto world's disenfranchised: "Multi-tickets/DUI's/Accidents/Young Drivers/Suspended License. No problem."
The church pastor, Tom De Vries, described back then the strains that long commutes and "frontier nothingness" were placing on Moreno Valley residents. There were problems with latchkey children, with spouses who rarely saw one another during the week.
Chiordi himself did not last long as a rush hour commuter. After two months he switched to swing and night shifts, which allowed him to make the 65-mile drive at less crowded times: "The last day I worked the first shift, a plane landed on the 91 Freeway," he said. "It took me 4 1/2 hours to get home. I said, 'That's it.' "
By the early '90s, he and his family had settled in. He started a cleaning business on the side, and it grew to the point where he could quit McDonnell Douglas and the commute for good. And then, with recession and base closures, California fell into hard times. Moreno Valley, and Bob Chiordi, fell harder.
Real estate values plunged, and houses by the thousands were repossessed, boarded up, abandoned. Gangs grabbed a foothold. March Air Force Base -- aside from housing construction, the city's lone economic stalwart -- was downsized. Moreno Valley's fledgling city government was overwhelmed.
"We had a city council at the time," recalled council member Bonnie Flickinger, "which had very little experience or history on which to base some decisions. And mistakes were made."
The biggest was to bank on the notion that the boom would never end. Fees charged to developers were used to underwrite the city's operating expenses. When construction stalled, so did the city.
Chiordi soon discovered he owed far more on his house than what it was worth, and so, he said, "I just walked away." He moved his family and his steam-cleaning business into a rental, and began the long climb back up. It was at this point he discovered the Palm Canyon church.
