Chapter 4

It required a good deal of nerve for the pioneers of Fresno County to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars in bringing water upon what the old settlers regarded as a desert, fit only to grow wheat in a very wet season. In other parts of the State the Mission Fathers had dug ditches and built aqueducts, so that the settlers who came after them found a well devised water system, which they merely followed. But in Fresno no one had ever tried to grow crops by irrigation. When Fremont came through there from the mountains he found many wild cattle feeding on the rank grass that grew as high as the head of a man on horseback. The herds of the native Californians were almost equally wild. The country was one vast plain which in summer glowed under a sun that was tropical in its intensity. As late as 1860 one could travel for a day without seeing a house or any sign of habitation. The country was owned by great cattle growers, who seldom rode over their immense ranches, except at the time of the annual "round-up" of stock. About thirty years ago a number of large wheat growers secured big tracts of land around Fresno. At their head was Isaac Friedlander, known as the wheat king of the Pacific Coast. Friedlander would have transformed this country had not financial ruin overcome him. His place was taken by others, like Chapman, Easterby, Eisen and Hughes--men who believed in fruit growing and who had the courage to carry on their operations in the face of repeated failures.

The great development of Fresno has been due entirely to the colony system, which has also built up most of the flourishing cities of Southern California. In 1874 the first Fresno colony was started by W.S. Chapman. He cut up six sections of land into 20-acre tracts, and brought water from King's River. The colonists represented all classes of people, and though they made many disastrous experiments, with poor varieties of grapes and fruit, still there is no instance of failure recorded, and all who have held on to their land are now in comfortable circumstances. Some of the settlers in this colony were San Francisco school teachers. They obtained their 20-acre tracts for $400, and many of them retired on their little vineyards at the end of five or six years. One lady, named Miss Austen, had the foresight to plant all her property in the best raisin grapes, and for many years drew a larger annual revenue from the property than the whole place cost her. The central colony now has an old established look. The broad avenues are lined with enormous trees; many of the houses are exceedingly beautiful country villas. What a transformation has been wrought here may be appreciated when it is said that 150 families now produce $400,000 a year on the same land which twenty years ago supported but one family, which had a return of only $35,000 from wheat. The history of this one colony of six sections of old wheat land is the key to Fresno's prosperity. It proves better than columns of argument, or facts or figures, the immense return that careful, patient cultivation may command in this home of the grape. Near this colony are a half-dozen others which were established on the same general plan. The most noteworthy is the Malaga colony, founded by G.G. Briggs, to whom belongs the credit of introducing the raisin grape into Fresno.

Fresno City is the center from which one may drive in three directions and pass through mile after mile of these colonies, all showing signs of the wealth and comfort that raisin making has brought. Only toward the west is the land still undeveloped, but another five years promise to see this great tract, stretching away for twenty miles, also laid out in small vineyards and fruit farms. Fresno is the natural railroad center of the great San Joaquin Valley. It is on the main line of the Southern Pacific and is the most important shipping point between San Francisco and Los Angeles. The new line of the Santa Fe, which has been surveyed from Mojave up through the valley, passes through Fresno. Then there are three local lines that have the place for a terminus, notably the mountain railway, which climbs into the Sierra, and which it is expected will one day connect with the Rio Grande system and give a new transcontinental line. Here are also building round houses and machine shops of the Southern Pacific Company. These, with new factories, packing houses, and other improvements, go far to justify the sanguine expectations of the residents. There has never been a boom in Fresno, but a high railroad official recently, in speaking of the growth of the city, said: "Fresno in five years will be the second city in California." This prediction he based on the wonderful expansion of its resources in the last decade and the substantial character of all the improvements made. It is a pretty town, with wide, well-paved streets, handsome modern business blocks, and residence avenues that would do credit to any old-settled town of the East. The favorite shade tree is the umbrella tree, which has the graceful, rounded form of the horse chestnut, but with so thick a foliage that its shadow is not dappled with sunlight. Above it is an intensely dark green, while viewed from below it is the most delicate shade of pea green. Rivaling this in popularity is the pepper tree, also an evergreen, and the magnolia, fan palm, eucalyptus, or Australian blue gum, and the poplar. All these trees grow luxuriantly. It has also become the custom in planting a vineyard to put a row of the white Adriatic fig trees around the place, and to mark off ten or twenty acre tracts in the same way. The dark green foliage of the fig is a great relief to the eye when the sun beats down on the sandy soil. Leading out of Fresno are five driveways. The soil makes a natural macadam, which dries in a few hours. Throughout the year these roads are in good condition for trotting, and nearly every raisin grower is also an expert in horseflesh, and has a team that will do a mile in less than 2:30. The new race course is one of the finest in the State. Toward the west from Fresno has recently been opened a magnificent driveway, which promises in a few years to rival the Magnolia ave. of Riverside. This is called Chateau Fresno ave. It has two driveways separated by fan palms and magnolias, while along the outer borders are the same trees with other choice tropical growths, that will one day make this avenue well worth traveling many miles to see. This is the private enterprise of Mr. Theodore Kearney, who made a fortune in real estate, and it is noteworthy as an illustration of the large way in which the rich Californian goes about any work in which he takes an interest. Probably the finest avenue in Fresno is the poplar-lined main driveway through the Barton vineyard. It is a mile in length, and the trees, fully fifty feet high, stand so thickly together that when in full leaf they form a solid wall of green. The vineyard, which is a mile square, is also surrounded by a single row of these superb poplars.

A visit to one of the great raisin vineyards near Fresno is a revelation in regard to the system that is necessary in handling large quantities of grapes. The largest raisin vineyard in the State, if not in the world, is that of A.B. Butler. It comprises 640 acres, of which a trifle over 600 acres is planted to the best raisin grapes. Butler was a Texas cowboy, and came to Fresno with very little capital. He secured possession of a section of land, planted it to grapes; he read everything he could buy on raisin making, but found little in the books that was of any value. So he made a trip to Spain, and inspected all the processes in the Malaga district. He gathered many new ideas. One of the most valuable suggestions was in regard to prunings and keeping the vine free from the suckers that sap its vitality. When he returned from this trip and passed through Los Angeles County he saw that the strange disease which was killing many hundred acres of vines was nothing else than the result of faulty prunings--the retention of suckers until they gained such lusty growth that their removal proved fatal to the vine. His vineyard is as free from weeds and grass as a corner of a well kept kitchen garden. The vine leaves have that deep glossy look which betrays perfect health. When my visit was made the whole crop was on trays spread out in the vineyard. These trays had been piled up in layers of a dozen--what is technically known as boxed--as a shower had fallen the previous night, and Mr. Butler was uncertain whether he would have a crop of the choicest raisins or whether he would have to put his dried grapes in bags, and sell them for one-third of the top price. Fortunately the rain clouds cleared away. The crop was saved and the extreme hot weather that followed made the second crop almost as valuable as the first.

The method of drying and packing the raisin is peculiar and well worth a brief description. When the grape reaches a certain degree of ripeness and develops the requisite amount of saccharine matter a large force is put into the vineyard and the picking begins. The bunches of ripe grapes are placed carefully on wooden trays and are left in the field to cure. The process requires from seven days to three weeks, according to the amount of sunshine. This climate is so entirely free from dew at night that there is no danger of must. The grape cures perfectly in this way and makes a far sweeter raisin than when dried by artificial heat. When the grapes are dried sufficiently the trays are gathered and stacked in piles about as high as a man's waist. Then begins the tedious but necessary process of sorting into the sweat boxes. These boxes are about eight inches deep and hold 125 pounds of grapes. Around the sorter are three sweat boxes for the three grades of grapes. In each box are three layers of manila paper which are used at equal intervals to prevent the stems of the grapes from becoming entangled, thus breaking the fine large bunches when removed. The sorter must be an expert. He takes the bunches by the stem, placing the largest and finest in the first grade box, those which are medium sized in the second grade, and all broken and ragged bunches in the third class. When the boxes are filled they are hauled to the brick building known as the equalizer. This is constructed so as to permit ventilation at the top, but to exclude light and air as much as possible from the grapes. The boxes are piled in tiers in this house and allowed to remain in darkness for from ten to twenty days. Here they undergo a sweating process, which diffuses moisture equally throughout the contents of each box. This prevents some grapes from retaining undue moisture, and it also softens the stems and makes them pliable.

From the equalizing room the sweat boxes are taken to the packing room. Here they are first weighed. The first and second grades are passed to the sorter, while the third grade raisins are placed in a big machine that strips off the stems and grades the loose raisins in three or four sizes. These are placed in sacks and sold as loose raisins. The higher grades are carefully sorted into first and second class clusters. After this sorting the boxes are passed to women and girls, who arrange the clusters neatly in small five pound boxes with movable bottoms. These boxes are placed under slight pressure, and four of them fill one of the regular twenty pound boxes of commerce. The work of placing the raisins in the small boxes requires much practice, but women are found to be much swifter than men at this labor, and, as they are paid by the box, the more skillful earn from $2 to $3 a day. It is light, pleasant work, as the room is large, cool and well ventilated, and there is no mixing of the sexes, such as may be found in many of the San Francisco canneries. For this reason the work attracts nice girls, and one may see many attractive faces in a trip through a large packing house. One heavy shouldered, masculine-looking German woman, who, however, had long, slender fingers, was pointed out as the swiftest sorter in the room. She made regularly $3 a day. The assurance of steady work of this kind for three months draws many people to Fresno, and the regular disbursement of a large sum as wages every week goes far to explain the thrift and comfort seen on every hand.

The five pound boxes of grapes are passed to the pressing machine, where four of them are deftly transferred to a twenty pound box. The two highest grades of raisins are the Dehesa and the London layers. It has always been the ambition of California's raisin makers to produce the Dehesa brand. They know that their best raisins are equal in size and quality to the best Spanish raisins, but heretofore they have found the cost of preparing the top layer in the Spanish style very costly, as the raisins had to be flattened out (or thumbed, as it is technically called) by hand. In Spain, where women work for 20 cents a day, this hand labor cuts no figure in the cost of production, but here, with the cheapest labor at $1.50 a day, it has proved a bar to competition. American ingenuity, however, is likely to overcome this handicap of high wages. T.C. White, an old raisin grower, has invented a packing plate of metal, with depressions at regular intervals just the size of a big raisin. This plate is put at the bottom of the preliminary packing box, and when the work of packing is complete the box is reversed and the top layer, pressed into the depressions of the plate, bears every mark of the most careful hand manipulation. Mr. Butler used this plate for the first time this season, and found it a success, and there is no question of its general adoption. Every year sees more attention paid to the careful grading of raisins, as upon this depends much of their marketable value. The large packing houses have done good work in enforcing this rule, and the chief sinners who still indulge in careless packing are small growers with poor facilities. Probably the next few years will see a great increase in the number and size of the packing houses which will prepare and market most of Fresno's raisin crop. The growers also will avail themselves of the co-operative plan, for which the colony system offers peculiar advantages.

Geometrical progression is the only thing which equals the increase of Fresno's raisin product. Eighteen years ago it was less than 3,000 boxes. Last year it amounted to 1,050,000 boxes, while this year the product cannot fall below 1,250,000 boxes. New vineyards are coming into bearing every year, and this season has seen a larger planting of new vineyards than ever before. This was due mainly to the stimulus and encouragement of the McKinley bill, which was worth an incalculable sum to those who are developing the raisin industry in California. Besides raisins, Fresno produced last year 2,500,000 gallons of wine, a large part of which was shipped to the East. The railroad figures show the wealth that is produced here every year from these old wheat fields. The dried fruit crop last year was valued at $1,123,520; raisins, $1,245,768; and the total exports were $8,957,899.

The largest bearing raisin vineyard in Fresno is that of A.B. Butler, who has over 600 acres in eight year-old vines. The pack this year will be fully 120,000 boxes. As each box sells for an average of $1.75, the revenue from this vineyard will not fall far below a quarter of a million. One of the finest places in the county is Colonel Forsythe's 160-acre vineyard, from which 40,000 boxes are packed. Forsythe has paid so much attention to the packing of his raisins that his output commands a fancy price. This year he wanted to go to Europe, so he sold his crop on the vines to a packing house, receiving a check for $20,000. These, of course, are the great successes, but nearly every small raisin grower has made money, for it costs not over 1½ cents per pound to produce the raisin, and the price seldom falls below 6 cents per pound. Good land can be secured in Fresno at from $50 to $200 per acre. The average is $75 an acre for first-class raisin land that is within ten miles of any large place. It costs $75 an acre to get a raisin vineyard into bearing. In the third year the vines pay for cultivation, and from that time on the ratio of increase is very large. Much of the work of pruning, picking, and curing grapes is light, and may be done by women and children. The only heavy labor about the vineyard is the plowing and cultivating. Fresno is a hot place in the summer, the mercury running up to 110 degrees in the shade, but this is a dry heat, which does not enervate, and, with proper protection for the head, one may work in the sun all day, without any danger of sunstroke.

The colony system, which has been brought to great perfection around Fresno, permits a family of small means to secure a good home without much capital to start with. Where no money is paid for labor, a vineyard may be brought to productiveness with very small outlay. At the same time there is so great a demand for labor in the large vineyards, that the man who has a five or ten acre tract may be sure of work nearly all the year. In some places special inducements have been held out to people of small means to secure a five-acre vineyard while they are at work in other business. One colony of this sort was started eighteen months ago near Madera, in Fresno County. A tract of 3,000 acres was planted to Muscat grapes, and then sold out in five and ten acre vineyards, on five years' time, the purchaser paying only one-fifth cash. The price of the land was $75 an acre, and it was estimated that an equal sum per acre would put the vineyard into full bearing. Thus, for $750, or, with interest, for $1,000, a man working on a small salary in San Francisco will have in five years a vineyard which should yield him a yearly revenue of $500. From the present outlook there can be no danger of over-production of raisins, any more than of California wine or dried fruits. The grower is assured of a good market for every pound of raisins he produces, and the more care he puts into the growing and packing of his crop, the larger his returns will be. For those who love life in the open air, there is nothing in California with greater attractions than raisin growing in Fresno County.--_N.Y. Tribune._

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COLD AND MORTALITY.

By Dr. B.W. RICHARDSON.

During the seven weeks of extreme atmospheric cold in which the last year ended and with which the present year opened, every one has been startled by the mortality that has prevailed among the enfeebled and aged population. Friends have been swept away in a manner most painful to recall, under the influence of an external agency, as natural as it is fatal in its course, and over which science, as yet, holds the most limited control.

In the presence of these facts questions occur to the mind which have the most practical bearing. Why should a community wake up one day with catarrh or with the back of the throat unduly red and the tonsils large? Why, in a particular village or town, shall the medical men be summoned on some particular day to a number of places to visit children with croup? What is the reason that cases of sudden death, by so-called "apoplexy," crowd together into a few hours? Why, in a given day or week, are shoals of the aged swept away, while the young live as before? These are questions which curative and preventive medicine have not yet mastered as might be desired. Curative medicine, at the name of them, too often stands abashed, if her interpreter be honest; and preventive medicine says, if her interpreter be honest, "The questions wait as yet for full interpretation."

Still, we are not altogether ignorant; some circumstances appear to be followed by effects so definite, that we may almost consider we have before us, in true position, cause and effect. Let us look at this position in reference to _the simple influence of temperature on the value of life_.

If we observe the fluctuation of the thermometer by the side of the mortality of the nation at large, no calculable relationship seems, at first sight, to be traceable between the one and the other. But if, in connection with the mortality, care be taken to isolate cases, and to divide them into groups according to the ages of those who die, a singular and significant series of facts follow, which show that after a given age a sudden decline of the temperature influences mortality by what may be considered a definite law. The law is, that variations of temperature exert no marked influence on the mortality of the population under the age of thirty years; but after the age of thirty is reached, a fall of temperature, sufficient to cause an increased number of deaths, acts in a regular manner, as it may be said, in waves or lines of intensity, according to the ages of the people. If we make these lines nine years long, we discover that they double in effect at each successive point. Thus, if the, fall in the temperature be sufficient to increase the mortality at the rate of one person of the age of thirty, the increase will run as follows: 1 death at 30 years of age will become 2 deaths at 39 years of age, 4 at 48 years, 8 at 57 years, 16 at 66 years, 33 at 75 years, and 64 at 84 years.

In these calculations nothing seems to be wanting that should render them trustworthy; they resulted from inquiries conducted on the largest scale; they were computed by one of our greatest authorities in vital statistics, the late Dr. William Farr, and they accord with what we gather from common daily observation. They supply, in a word, the scientific details and refinements of a rough estimate founded on universal experience, and they lead us to think very gravely on many subjects which may not have occurred to us before, and which are as curious as they are important.

We often hear persons who know little about vital phenomena, by which term I mean nothing mysterious, but simply the physics embraced in those phenomena which we connect with form and motion under the term life, harping on the one string, that man knows nothing of the laws of life and death. But what an answer to such presumption do the facts rendered above supply. Life and death are here reduced, on given conditions, to reasonings as clear and positive as are the reasonings on the development of heat by the combustion of fuel. It is not necessary for the vital philosopher to go out into the towns and villages to take a new census of deaths to enable him to give us his readings of the general mortality under the conditions specified. He may sit in his cabinet, and, as he reads his thermometer day by day, predict results. There is a fall of temperature that shall be known by experience to be sufficiently deep and prolonged to cause an increase of one death among those members of the community who have reached thirty years. Then, rising by a definite rule, there have died sixty-four, in proportion to that one, of those who have reached eighty-four years. This is sound calculation, and it leads to reflection. It leads one to ask, what, if the law be so definite, are curative and preventive medicine doing meanwhile, that they shall not disturb it? I fear that they hardly produce perturbations, and I do not see why they should; because, as the truth opens itself to the mind, the tremendous external change in the forces of the universe that leads to the result, is not to be grappled with nor interfered with by any specific method of human invention. The cause is too general, too overwhelming, too grasping. It is like the lightning stroke in its distance from our command; but it is widely spread, not pointed and concentrate; prolonged, not instantaneous; and, by virtue of these properties, is so much the more subtile and devastating.