As we turn again towards town, we pass the well-kept Goodman vineyard, after which we enter the large Barton vineyard, now partly owned by an English syndicate. The old 640 acres are nearly all in wine grapes, while several hundred acres of young raisin grapes have lately been added. One of the most extensive wine cellars in the State is found here, all kept in splendid shape,—hardly a speck of dirt, not a foot of waste land seen anywhere. The mansion is stately, situated on a small hill surrounded by fine groves of gum-trees, evergreen hedges and ornamental grounds. Should we care to go farther east, we might visit the Eisen vineyard, where the first Muscats were planted in the county. The famous avenue is half a mile long, and one of the most beautiful in the State, lined on both sides with blooming and beautiful oleanders alternating with poplars over a hundred feet high. We might also visit the Locan vineyard and orchard, and admire the orange-trees, which speak of what the country can produce in this line. But the time is too short; we might travel a week over this level but beautiful country, and every day, every minute, see something new and interesting among all these vineyards, with their packing-houses, and raisins exposed on trays to dry.
When we return to town, a visit to the packing-houses is one of the most interesting that can be made. Of these packing establishments Fresno has four or five, besides several in the colonies or in the larger vineyards. Three of these packing-houses are the largest in the State. The building of each one of them, though large, is full and overcrowded. Women at long tables pack the raisins in boxes, at other tables men weigh and assort raisins and take them out of the large sweatboxes in which they left the field. At some tables fancy packing is done, and women “face” the boxes by placing large selected raisins in rows on the top layers. At another table the raisin-boxes are covered with fine colored labels, then nailed and made ready for shipment. Some four hundred men and women are busy with this work under one roof, all earning wages of from one to two dollars a day each. We catch a glimpse of the equalizing room, where fifty tons of raisins are stored at one time for a week or more in order to become of even moisture, the floor being sometimes sprinkled with water to make the air sufficiently moist. As we go out we see the raisin-boxes already packed being loaded on cars and shipped east by the train-load, from four to six such raisin trains leaving every week, each train of from ten to twenty cars. On the other side of the packing-house is a continuous row of teams from the country, all loaded with raisins, brought by the country growers to the packers in town. It takes a gang of men to receive, weigh and unload them. In another department we see the large stemmer and grader, which runs by steam, and stems and assorts from thirty to forty tons per day, the clean and uniform raisins running out in a continuous stream, each grade in separate boxes. There is a restless activity on every side. The large raisin crop this year is very large; it must be handled in a few months, and every grower and packer is pushing the work to his utmost ability.
When we consider that most of the crop, which this year will reach five hundred thousand boxes, comes from the country immediately surrounding Fresno City, and that the San Joaquin valley is 250 miles long by 75 miles wide, almost all the land capable of being highly cultivated and of producing abundant crops of one thing or another, then alone can we realize what the future has in store for this wonderful valley, an agricultural empire in the very center of California.
FROM LOS ANGELES TO SANTA ANA.
We are fairly out of Los Angeles when the character of the scenery changes. The railroad here runs through one of the most fertile counties in the State,—the rich bottom lands being formed by the deposits of ages from the overflow of rivers and creeks from the Sierra Madre range. Not an acre of waste land is to be seen anywhere. Everything is clothed in the softest green, and only in the far distance are seen the hills and higher mountains of a brownish violet color, with the boldest outlines against the sky. A more diversified farming district is seldom seen. Orchards of prunes, walnuts, apples and figs are met with on either side of the track, here and there expansive vineyards with their characteristic green, or groves of straight and stately gums, like immense square blocks of verdure, planted all along from the nearest fields to the far distant hills. We pass in succession Ballona, Florence, Downey and Norwalk. The country around the two latter places seems especially attractive,—orchards as far as we can see, vineyards and native pastures. We pass villages and farmhouses, here and there a more pretentious villa, and, in some spots more lovely than the surrounding, many a mansion has been erected with luxury and taste.
We are soon in Orange county, and the scene changes some, the soil being, if possible, more fertile. We pass large orange groves of the deepest green, and immense fields of corn, squashes, pumpkins, peanuts, beans, and here and there walnut groves and plantations of young fig trees. Anaheim, Orange and Santa Ana come in quick succession; we are in the center of a raisin district of the very greatest interest. We can hardly realize the change. Not having been here since the boom, everything seems almost new. Santa Ana has grown to be the queen of the valley, and is undoubtedly, together with its two sister cities, Orange and Tustin, one of the most prosperous as well as lovely places to be found in the beautiful South. As we board the street car and ride up town from the depot, we realize the change even more. On every side are signs of wealth and refinement, of new ideas and new capital, both mostly imported from the East. Broad avenues one hundred feet wide, on either side, lined with trees of various kinds, cultivated fields immediately beyond, which, with cottages, villas and churches, all speak of a prosperous and intelligent population.
Santa Ana has her share of these stately structures. The Brunswick is as fine and substantial a building as any one could wish,—lofty and airy and of imposing architecture, large rooms and spacious halls. The boom that has been so much misjudged has done much more than settle up the country and bring capital. It has left behind substantial improvements and a taste for architecture, the arts and sciences, which can but be of permanent value to the country. It brought the country at one bound from its former frontier life and characteristics to a high degree of civilization and refinement. It brought capital, soil, climate and energy together in a way that is hardly found anywhere else out of our State. The boom is over, but the benefits of the boom are yet here, and are permanent.
Santa Ana, Orange and Tustin are like three precious stones in a ring of verdure. Only a few miles apart, they are like the villas on the outskirts of a central imaginary city, from which the wealthy and poor likewise fled to a more retired country life, to enjoy both seclusion and society, both the pleasures of country life and the advantages of an active city, where every luxury and necessity can be found at the door of every home.
Santa Ana has a fine, large, central business street, with new and costly brick blocks containing stores of every description. In this climate, however, we can see no necessity for ice, and the manufacturer and mixer of cool drinks can but find his business unprofitable. Up and down this street a line of cars runs all day long at fixed hours, connecting with other lines in Tustin and Orange. A trip or two on any of the lines is one of real pleasure.
Tustin is only two or three miles away, nearer the hills. The car, an open one with many seats, winds its way under shady lanes on either side, bordered by large and graceful pepper trees covered with spicy and fragrant blossoms. Here and there we see alongside the pavement an enormous sycamore tree, a monument of olden days and the native vegetation of the country. On both sides of the avenue are sidewalks of cement, and they who prefer walking can do so for miles under the shady trees without getting dusty or becoming heated by the sun. These sidewalks are marvels of beauty and comfort. On one side are old and graceful trees with drooping limbs, on the other are well-kept cypress hedges trimmed square and even, or long natural barriers of ever-blooming geraniums in numerous varieties, of every favorite shade of color from crimson to palest pink. Over the hedges we look into blue-grass lawns, green and well kept and exceedingly attractive. Suddenly we are in the middle of Tustin City. A beautiful, even magnificent bank building on one corner, a store on the opposite, two or three smaller shops and the inevitable splendid and elaborate hotel, and the town is fully described. Immediately adjoining are the beautiful and evergreen lawns and trees,—the city and country actually combined.