A History Wilts : Efforts to Save Orange County’s Namesake Groves Prove Fruitless

ORANGE —  With the golden fruit that gave Orange County its name rapidly disappearing from the landscape, historians and government leaders have time and again suggested saving some of the remaining groves for future generations.

But that effort largely has failed, the victim of limited public money, a seemingly boundless demand for housing and the dicey nature of orange farming.

Meanwhile, scattered remnants of the area’s once-mighty citrus industry continue to dwindle. Just last week, the county decided to raze the historic Olive Heights Citrus Assn. packinghouse in Orange, once one of the largest and busiest orange distribution centers in the state.

Only two packing plants now operate in the county, down from more than 50 in the 1950s. The region’s trademark Valencia orange was grown on just 1,013 acres last year, compared to 3,283 acres in 1990, 5,489 in 1980 and 62,000 in 1940.

Because the end of the citrus era has been forecast for so long, many history buffs and longtime residents have become resigned to it.

“It’s sort of sad, but it’s progress.” said Mel Hamilton, an Orange resident who worked at the Olive Heights packinghouse before it closed in 1984. “At least they call it progress.”

With the county’s dramatic transformation over the last 40 years from a farming center to suburbia, officials periodically have grappled with the idea of retaining a bit of rural heritage. While a few projects in cities such as San Juan Capistrano and Orange have flourished, they’ve done little to slow the overall disappearance of the groves.

One of the first major attempts to bolster farmland came in 1965 with passage of the Williamson Act, a state law that offered reduced tax rates to property owners who kept their land in agriculture.

The act is credited with temporarily preserving some farmland, especially in south Orange County. Eventually, however, many landowners found the financial benefits of development outweighed the tax savings provided by the law.

Another preservation flurry occurred in 1977, when a panel appointed by the Board of Supervisors said that for $145 million, the county could retain about 10,000 acres of farmland for 20 years. The passage a year later of Proposition 13, which severely limited the ability of local governments to raise taxes, killed the idea.

More recently, Irvine officials talked about acquiring orange groves on Jeffrey Road as part of an open-space preservation project. But the idea was abandoned a few years ago when officials learned that the $4-million state grant they planned to use for the purchase could only be applied to property in a natural state, not farmland, said Sheri Vander Dussen, the manager of development services.

One of Irvine’s most prominent orange groves, located in front of Irvine Valley College, also is disappearing. The college gradually has been removing trees to make way for new buildings and eventually plans to use the entire 25-acre grove for campus development, said spokesman George McCrory.

Smaller groves haven’t fared much better. A pioneer family donated its home and a two-acre citrus grove to the Garden Grove Historical Society in 1970. But the trees were removed to make room for other historical structures owned by the society.

One reason more groves have not been saved is that cities and nonprofit groups are reluctant to get into the farming business. Orange trees are sensitive to Santa Ana winds and require frequent watering and pesticide spraying. Some of the older trees don’t produce the high-quality fruit demanded in the world market, making orange farming a potentially money-losing proposition.

Rather than spending limited public resources on acres of farmland, some city officials said the money should be used to acquire open-space that residents can for use for recreation.

Another explanation may lie in the county’s rapid growth with a population of newcomers.

“The population here is very transient and doesn’t remember much of the good old days,” said Irvine historian and author Judy Liebeck.

Still, some cities have made preservation a priority. San Juan Capistrano voters in 1990 approved a bond issue to acquire open space. The city spent $9.5 million on a 56-acre farm in the center of town and later bought about 90 acres of orange groves and other farmland elsewhere.

Some of the land will be used for athletic fields and a community center. But some will be reserved for agricultural use, and officials hope to keep at least some orange trees.

“What we’re trying to do is have a fair mix,” said Councilman Gil Jones. “I contend we have to make available the land to the public, because they paid for it.”

One goal of the bond issue was to retain the community’s rural flavor.

“It’s been quite an experience to see how much people don’t know about the heritage,” Jones said. “There is a lot that can be taught about the history. You don’t need 500 acres of orange trees to show what a grove looks like. You can do it with much less.”

Creating a link to the agrarian past also was the idea behind a one-acre orange grove planted in the 1970s at W. O. Hart Park in Orange. The grove was the pet project of longtime mayor Bob Hoyt, who grew up amid the orange blossoms and packinghouses of the city and wanted a way to memorialize the passing era.

“It adds a little nostalgia to the park,” said Paul Lobato, an Orange parks supervisor. “When the trees are blossoming, the scent goes for miles. It’s a sweet smell.”

At George Key Ranch Historic Park in Placentia, some trees and a restored citrus-grower’s home are used by schools for history lessons.

Many former citrus workers said they are heartened by attempts to teach young people about the industry with preserved groves.

“Any effort that is made seems like a good idea,” said Gordon McClelland, who worked in a local packinghouse as a teen-ager and recently wrote the book “California Orange Box Labels.” “But I don’t think they can re-create the feeling of being in a large orange grove in a miniature setting.”