How Santa Ana's Lyon Street got its name

It seems like Lyon St., being near the Santa Ana Zoo, might have something to do with lions.

Instead, it appears to be named for local pioneer George B. Lyon (1806-1890), who owned most of the land through which the street now runs. His land was east of Santa Ana in an area which was, in the early 1880s, often considered part of Tustin. 

Lyon arrived to make his home "in the Tustin district" around 1871 or 1872, according to pioneer C.E. Utt who spoke about Tustin's history at a 1931 Orange County Historical Society meeting. A mention of Lyon building a two-story home in Tustin appears in the newspapers in 1882. 

Like many landowners, he took it on the chin when the big railroad boom of the 1880s went bust. All his carefully subdivided land went back to farm acreage which is how it remained for many decades.

Today, an impressive monument marks Lyon’s grave at Fairhaven Memorial Park.

By the way, another zoo-adjacent street, Elk Lane, has nothing to do with animals either. It's a reference to the fact that the Santa Ana Elk's Lodge was located there.

Kilson Drive and Kilson Square, Santa Ana

Ad for Kilson Square, Santa Ana Register, June 28, 1923

The Kilson Square subdivision in Santa Ana (Tract 466) is named for its owner/developer, George Elmer Kilson. He came into the world in Iowa in 1857, fifth of the seven children of Lewis Kelson (born Lars Kjellson Bøe) and Caroline “Carrie” Kilson (born Milvey Erickson) who had emigrated to America from Norway in 1838 and eventually homesteaded a farm in Butler County. George was educated in Bristow, Iowa and worked on his father’s farm until the age of 21.

“At that time he came to California to carve his own destiny in the land that offers so many inducements to the worthy citizen, arriving in the Golden State February 7, 1882,” wrote Yda Addis Storke in her 1891 Memorial and Biographical History of the Counties of Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, and Ventura Counties. “He had already obtained some knowledge of telegraphy, and his first move was to finish learning that business, at Pino, Placer County. He was afterward sent to Arizona and at different times had charge of several stations: was three months at Yuma, one year at Dragoon Summit, the highest point on the Southern Pacific Railroad, and was two years at Nelson” in Butte County, California.

The Kilsons’ home in Kilson Square, 1923. 

George married native Californian Laura F. Williams on December 17, 1886. While still in Nelson, their first son, Lewis, was born. The left Nelson for Saticoy, in Ventura County in November 1887. 

George worked for over thirty years as the local ticket agent and operator for the Southern Pacific Railroad in Saticoy. Their second son, Elmer, was also born there. 

Original tract map for Kilson Square.

George retired in 1916. By late 1919 they still had an address in Saticoy, but also had a home at 402 McFadden Ave in Santa Ana and were in the process of building a six-room bungalow at 425 McFadden. They were settled into this second McFadden address by 1920. Orange County’s real estate market was booming and the Kilsons would stay and make the most of it. 

1923: Supposedly a view of both John L. & Ida Rudolph’s home at 921 Hickey St. and Michael P. & Elizabeth Lynch's home at 926 Halladay St. in Kilson Square. Both John and Michael worked for the City Water Dept.

By 1923, George had purchased a walnut grove bounded by McFadden on the south, Halladay St on the east, Oak St on the west, and approximately the line of E. Wisteria Place on the north. They built a home for themselves there and (in conjunction with the Guaranty Finance Co.) they subdivided the land as “Kilson Square.” Sales began in 1924 and went well. The new tract including at least eighteen houses built “on spec,” including ten homes built by local contractor Verne E. Maynard. It was prime real estate, being close Spurgeon Elementary School and the new (still under construction) Lathrop Intermediate School. The sales pitch also promoted the fact that most of the lots included four mature walnut trees, which might produce enough nuts to pay for the interest and taxes on the property.

In 1925 the Kilsons moved to another house they’d built for themselves the year before on the 820 block of S. Broadway. They were still living there as of 1926, but by 1928 they were living at 2438 N. Park Blvd. It was at this address where George E. Kilson died on November 16, 1932.

Kilson Drive during the development of Kilson Square, 1923.

Downtown Santa Ana's disappearing historic churches

First Methodist Episcopal Church of Santa Ana

The number of old church buildings in Downtown Santa Ana continues to dwindle. Last year, the long-vacant United Presbyterian Church burned (arson). And in recent weeks the (also long-vacant) Santa Ana United Methodist Church was torn down to make way for new development. 

Founded in 1873 as the First Methodist Episcopal (M.E.) Church of Santa Ana, the church’s first location was at the southwest corner of 2nd and Main Streets. In 1902 they built a larger church on the corner of Sixth and Spurgeon Streets which was, in turn, demolished in the mid-1960s and replaced with a more modern church building on the same site. The church’s Education Building (1928), however, continued to stand at French St. and Santa Ana Blvd. for many years. The church’s name eventually was changed to the First United Methodist Church of Santa Ana and then to Santa Ana United Methodist Church, which moved to 2121 N. Grand Ave.

The move was just one piece of the post-World War II trend of churches moving out of downtown and relocating to the edge of the city. Land was less expensive and more readily available than it was downtown, allowing churches with swiftly growing congregations to build larger sanctuaries and campuses and to provide plenty of parking.

At first, some of the vacated downtown church buildings were used as overflow space for the Superior Court. (Jokes were made that some churches ended up the site of more divorces than marriages.) Another example of adaptive reuse was United Presbyterian Church, which (before it fell into disrepair) was used as the practice hall for the Pacific Symphony Orchestra for many years.

But many of the downtown old church buildings disappeared long ago. For instance, the First Christian Church was torn down to make way for the current County Hall of Administration. And the old Spurgeon Methodist was replaced with a segment of Civic Center Drive, but their fellowship hall remains as the headquarters of the nonprofit Taller San Jose.

Despite the losses of recent years, a few historic churches still remain near the heart of old Downtown Santa Ana, including the Episcopal Church of the Messiah at 614 N. Bush St.; First Presbyterian Church of Santa Ana at 600 N. Main St.; and St. Joseph Catholic Church at 727 N Minter St.

(This article first appeared in the Feb. 2021 issue of the Orange County Historical Society's County Courier newsletter.)

The naming of Anaheim

Seal of the Los Angeles Vineyard Society.

How and why did the Los Angeles Vineyard Society name their wine colony Anaheim? “Heim” is the German word for “home.” And “Ana” was a reference to the town’s main water source and the area’s key geographic feature: The Santa Ana River. As historian Don Meadows put it, Anaheim was “a name suggesting a home on the Santa Ana River.” 

The river had been named “Santa Ana” by the Portola Expedition in 1769 because it seemed to emanate from the Santa Ana Mountains. The same expedition had, only days earlier, named those mountains in honor of St. Ann.) Thus, the name Anaheim was a blending of Spanish and German influences, which seems especially appropriate for such a diverse community.

In his book, Campo Aleman, Anaheim historian Leo J. Friis wrote about the meeting of the Los Angeles Vineyard Society at Leutgen’s Hotel on Montgomery St. in San Francisco during which its members – mostly German immigrants – selected the town’s name:

“At a general meeting of members on January 15 [or perhaps 13], 1858, the most important item on the agenda was to give a name to the new town. Three names were suggested: Annaheim, Annagau and Weinheim. On the first ballot Annaheim received 18 votes; Annagau, 17; and Weinheim, one. ‘There being no deciding majority a second ballot was taken, the count showing 20 for Anaheim and 18 for Annagau. [There seems to be an error here as only 36 shares were present.] The name, Annaheim was then declared the name of the colony and to be henceforth always spoken of as Annaheim.’

“…Theodore E Schmidt is generally credited with suggesting Annaheim. A short time [several months] later an “n” was omitted from the name. 

Theodore Edward Schmidt, circa 1900. (Courtesy Anaheim Heritage Center)

The Los Angeles Star reported on the meeting in its January 23, 1858 edition: “They resolved to give the name Annaheim (heim is the German for home) to their vineyard in the Santa Anna Valley..." 

The Star covered the same meeting again on January 30, reporting that the Society members "named their estate at Santa Ana... Annaheim. This name is not only euphonious, but expressive. It is suggestive of the most pleasant associations, reminding one of the wide-spreading and highly cultivated vineyards of Fatherland. The termination ‘heim’ means ‘home,’ but in a broad and expressive sense, suggesting rather the comforts of a homestead, with its well-cultivated fields, substantial fences and teeming granaries – rather than a mere domicile. Hence the name, ‘Annaheim,’ is peculiarly fit and appropriate for the extensive vineyard about to be laid out at Santa Ana.”

The modern city of Santa Ana had not yet been founded and the old town of Santa Ana (now the community of Olive in Orange) was farther east. So the Anna/Ana portion of the name Anaheim undoubtedly referred to either the Santa Ana River or to the Santa Ana Valley (which takes its name from the river which runs through it). Aside from the Star’s January 23 article, most contemporary sources point to the river itself as the source of the “Ana” prefix, rather than the valley.

On October 14, 1909, the Anaheim Gazette recalled that Theodore Schmidt “selected the name ‘Anaheim’ as meaning the home of Anna, or the river of the saint of that name, from whose life-giving waters the prosperity of the original colony enterprise was and continues to be due.” There were still founding members of the Vineyard Society in town in 1909 – including Schmidt himself – and none of them refuted this statement.

Notice to shareholders, published in the Los Angeles Star, 11-21-1857.

Numerous false theories (“folk etymology") about the origins of the name Anaheim have surfaced over the decades and are hard to quash. For instance, some claim, without evidence, that the Anna/Ana portion of the name honors the daughter of one of the colonists or, alternately, honors Queen Anna of Bavaria (which is not where Anaheim’s colonists originated). It is curious how certain parts of our history develop folklore around them and that those false narratives seem impervious to the hard light of facts and solid evidence. 

Phil Brigandi often said, “I expect to go to my grave still trying to debunk the myth that Orange got its name in a card game.” And indeed he did. I fear the familiar bunk about the naming of Anaheim won't disappear any time soon, either.

Temple Hills and Mystic Hills, Laguna Beach

Artist's concept of Temple Hills, 1924

Charles Upton asks: "What is the history between 'Mystic Hills' and 'Temple Hills' in Laguna Beach? And might you have any history specifically on the 'Mystic Hills' timeline?”

Well, after a little digging, I do now, Charles! Thanks for asking. Here's what I found out:

TEMPLE HILLS - Laguna Beach pioneer and real estate speculator Joseph S. "Joe" Thurston bought some hilltop land that had belonged to George Rogers. Thurston dubbed it "Temple Hills" and by 1924 was trying to sell parcels there for residential use. But Thurston faced financial problems. In 1927 Clifton J. Platt of Pasadena took over the development process and subdivision maps were filed. Platt made Volney B. Cox (who developed Beverly Hills) manager of the project.

"Temple Hills" sign visible in this view looking inland from Heisler Park, across the Victor Hugo Inn's parking lot and Coast Highway, circa 1940.

In his 1947 book, Laguna Beach of Early Days, Thurston wrote about Temple Hills: "The hills have always had a fascination for me. I enjoy walking over their sloping, graceful contours, the hills that I have been so familiar with ever since I was a small child. Everyone would wander in the hills seeking inspiration, and get acquainted with them, while they are furnishing physical as well as spiritual strength. They are the temples of creation and it would be a drab country if we did not have the hills. Some years later, the question arose as to what we should call them, and in casting around for a name it was finally decided that they should be called TEMPLE HILLS.”

However, the name may actually predate Thurston's real estate aspirations. Historian Don Meadows writes, "During the early days of the art colony the [entire] range of hills behind Laguna Beach was called Temple Hills. Later the name was applied to a subdivision on the same locality."

As for lots in Mystic Hills, Los Angeles Times, 3-20-1960

MYSTIC HILLS - While some homes in the Mystic Hills area – high above Laguna's Main Beach – were built as early as the 1920s, the name Mystic Hills didn’t begin appearing in real estate advertising until June 1959. The development's wide roads and utilities marked the start of Coast Realty Co.'s development of the Mystic Hills Estate subdivision. The building boom at Mystic Hills extended well into the 1960s. Newspaper ads promoted "Ocean view lots. Wide avenues. Model homes open for inspection. Free membership to Laguna Beach Country Club."

I don't know why or specifically by whom the real estate marketing name "Mystic Hills" was selected for this neighborhood. But it does have an artsy ring to it that works well with the "artists' colony" image that Laguna retained long after most artists were priced out of the market. 

Mystic Hills was one of the worst-hit neighborhoods during the big Laguna Beach Fire of 1993. Between 199 and 286 homes (depending on which reports you read) burned down in Mystic Hills, partly due to inadequate water pressure in the area. These suddenly-vacant lots launched a second major building boom there in the months and years that followed.

José Andrés Sepúlveda’s El Refugio

Portrait of Don José Andrés Sepúlveda, circa 1856 by Henri Joseph Penelon (Courtesy Bowers Museum, via Santa Ana Public Library)

A tiny sketch of an adobe ruin in western Santa Ana, labeled “Refugio,” appears on the 1936 pictorial map of "Orange County Adobes, Old Roads, Trails, Ranchos & Springs," created by Gladyce E. Ashby and Fred C.Groos as part of Works Progress Administration (WPA) project 3105. This adobe on the old Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana belonged to Don José Andrés Sepúlveda (1803-1875) for many years and was one of the best known and earliest homes between Los Angeles and San Diego. Despite its significance, this historic site hasn’t garnered much attention in the last few generations and until now its exact location has long been unclear. 

Detail of WPA wall map. El Refugio at upper right.

The initial portion of the adobe was built by José Antonio Yorba II. He had inherited the land from his father, who died in died 1825. It’s likely the house was built sometime after his father's amended will was finalized in 1830.

The Orange County California Genealogical Society’s book, Saddleback Ancestors, describes Jose Antonio Yorba II initially building a home called Santa Ana Abajo near the Santa Ana River. “Its comfortable rooms provided adequate accommodations for Jose and his wife, Josefa Verdugo, all the little Yorbas, and the many cousins and travelers stopping by to visit. Later however, Jose II needed still more space and built another house… at the edge of his property in the southwest part of the future city of Santa Ana.”

This second adobe is what would later become known as El Refugio. Saddleback Ancestors goes on to describe the new house’s accommodations: “The sleeping quarters offered to visitors were always the pride and joy of the señora of this hospitable ranch. Usually the beds had snowy white counterpanes and lace-trimmed pillows, and everything about the bedroom was immaculately clean. The couch beneath this finery was simple, just dried bullock’s hide stretched on a rough frame of wood. It was a characteristic of the Californians that the chief expense of the household of even the poorer families was lavished on the bed though the other furniture may have been meager.”

In 1854, Jose Antonio Yorba II’s son, Domingo de la Resurreccion Yorba, sold 1, 400 acres of the Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana – including the second adobe – to Rancho San Joaquin owner José Antonio Andrés Sepúlveda for the cost of  $6,000 plus a hundred heifers, fifty steers, and fifty fillies.

José Andrés Sepúlveda, circa 1860s (Courtesy Seaver Center via Anaheim Heritage Center)

“Perhaps better than his contemporaries, José Antonio Andrés Sepúlveda, with his vast landholdings, reckless wagers, prodigal hospitality and fancy costumes, epitomized those qualities from which the myth of romantic California was eventually fashioned,“ wrote California historian Sr. Mary Joanne Wittenburg, SND. Sepúlveda had been granted the massive San Joaquin (which later became the main portion of the Irvine Ranch) in 1842. 

Once also in possession of the Yorba adobes, Sepúlveda expanded the larger one significantly, named it El Refugio (The Refuge), and moved in. At the time, he was at the apex of his life. The Gold Rush (bringing countless hungry mouths to feed) had driven beef prices into the stratosphere and money flowed like water for cattlemen. Sepulveda owned about 102,000 acres, about 12,000 head of cattle and about 3,000 horses.  

Namesake of El Refugio. (Courtesy Bowers Museum)

El Refugio took its name from a black and white lithograph of Nuestra Senora del Refugio or ‘Our Lady of Refuge,’ which hung in a gilt frame inside the family’s home chapel. Along with other artifacts from El Refugio, this lithograph was later on display at Bowers Museum. Georgie van der Leck, Sepulveda’s granddaughter loaned a large number of artifacts to Bowers in 1936, 1946 and 1952. Many of these items were returned to the family (specifically to Viola van der Leck Lantz) in 1968, but some items, including the lithograph, still remain with the museum.

Pitcher with inner chamber for ice. From El Refugio. (Courtesy Bowers Museum)

The “Adobes of Orange County” survey by C.E. Roberts (part of the same WPA project as the aforementioned map) calls El Refugio the best known of the five adobes in the "Santa Ana Group," which also included the A.T. Bates and Julian Chaves adobes. Roberts writes,…

"Old timers recall that the adobe buildings were quite extensive and in the shape of an L; that there were great corrals to the southeast and that there was a famous spring to the west. Tony Yorba, son of Domingo, says that his father built the row of rooms running east to west and that Sepúlveda added the long L running to the south. …This adobe has achieved fame partly by its unusual dimensions and mostly from its association with the hospitable and wealthy Don José Sepúlveda. Here [Los Angeles] Sheriff [James R.] Barton and his men [stopped and] breakfasted before they were killed by the bandit [Juan] Flores, and here were celebrated many a christening, wedding and rodeo feast with a gathering of the powerful Sepúlveda clan.”

Martina Espinosa, a.k.a. La Chola Martina, in later years (Courtesy Huntington Library)

Indeed, early folklore (by which we mean bunk) also holds that Juan Flores’ supposed San Juan Capistrano sweetheart, Martina Espinoza Burruel, (who in wackier versions of the tale is also a brujah/witch) tampered with the guns of Barton and his men at El Refugio that morning in 1857, thus helping seal their fate when ambushed later that day. (More likely true is the tale that Sepulveda warned Barton not to continue on with such a small posse.)

And while El Refugio often served as a country manor in which to entertain guests, historian Jim Sleeper points out that it was not likely a spot for roundups being so far from Sepúlveda’s main cattle operations. 

In an article for the May 28, 1936 Santa Ana Journal, historian Terry E. Stephenson wrote, “A favorite sport at El Refugio was the bear and bull fight. There was nothing tame about these fights, as described by J. E. 'Judge' Pleasants, who while living in the Santiago Canyon in the ‘60s was often a guest at the Sepúlveda home. He often aided the Sepúlveda young men and their vaqueros in roping a grizzly in the Santiago hills, to be carted to El Refugio and there to be held for the fight with a wild bull.”

Like most Rancho adobe homes, El Refugio had a cluster of other adobes around it which housed ranch hands and served various industrial purposes. It has been suggested that a number of these smaller buildings (not just the first Yorba adobe here) may have predated El Refugio.

In a document provided to the Bowers Museum, Georgie van der Leck stated that the main El Refugio adobe had twenty-two rooms.

Pioneer Edgar P. Stafford shared his own boyhood memories of El Refugio in the Orange County Historical Society’s third History Series volume: “The main living room was on the north. There was an annex extending to the south which was used first for help and then as a storeroom and a harness and saddle room, and last a room for horses.”

Stafford also recalled using an adjacent spring as a swimming hole. He describes the spring as seemingly bottomless and located “one hundred yards or so south of West First Street, near Daisy Street. Mexicans in earlier days had put up a dirt wall around the spring . It was surrounded by creek willows.”

El Refugio was also where Sepulveda’s fabled race horse, Black Swan, went to retire. However, the horse only lived for about a year after that, dying of tetanus.

Detail from Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana 1868 partition map. El Refugio in upper left.(Courtesy Orange County Archives)

Sepúlveda continued to make El Refugio his residence as late as March 1871, when part of the house was destroyed by fire. By that point, he had sold the Rancho San Joaquin and put ownership of his Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana holdings into the hands of his daughter, Ascension Sepuveda de Mott. She, in turn, sold the property to Captain John West in December 1874. The part of the house that survived the fire was leveled around 1876, but the site was still easily identifiable well into the 1880s.

Sepulveda Tract map, 1874 (Los Angeles County)

So where in western Santa Ana was El Refugio located? Most attempts at identifying the exact spot have come in the form of vague maps or interviews with (or articles by) early residents that are subject to the haziness of their distant memory. Almost all evidence points to it having been somewhere along a quarter-mile stretch of what’s now S. Raitt St. Pinpointing exactly where is trickier.

Some recent sources indicate the adobe was roughly 1/2 to 3/4 of a mile south of First St, and about the same distance west of Bristol Ave. Similarly, Stafford recalled it being “about a quarter of a mile east of Bristol Street and about the same distance south of First Street.”

1947 aerial view of Artesia St. (Courtesty Orange County Archives)

In a July 1969 article for the Pacific Coast Archeaologial Society's PCAS Quarterly, historian Jim Sleeper placed the site of El Refugio at another nearby location: the southeast corner of today’s First Street and Sullivan St. Among his sources, Sleeper cites the 1868 partition map of the Rancho Santiago de Santa Ana, which shows Sepúlveda’s house and corrals. On the 1868 map, he makes particular note of a “belt of sycamores” extending across the rancho and ending at El Refugio. Also, “immediately east of Sepúlveda’s place was a road which passed northward to Los Angeles and southward to the house of Cogate (?) Sepúlveda (near Bristol and Edinger). Henceforth meandering southeast, the path was labeled ‘Road to San Joaquin.’ A second trail intersected a quarter mile below Refugio, its northeasterly extension being the ‘Road to Santa Ana’ (Abajo), near the present West Chapman Bridge in Orange. … The southwesterly leg ran to the estancia in Costa Mesa, by now called the Diego Sepúlveda house.”

Sleeper is known for his meticulous research, so it’s surprising to find that a close comparison of the 1868 partition map and a modern USGS topographical map actually (mis)places El Refugio right around 120 S. Raitt St., near the intersection of W. Walnut St. 

West Santa Ana map from 1936 WPA report on Orange County adobes.

C. E. Roberts’ 1936 WPA adobe report offers a third possibility, less than a quarter mile away, that seems the most promising of all. Roberts refers to a map of the Sepulveda Tract filed with the County of Los Angeles in 1874 (which was likely copied from an even earlier map), which shows that El Refugio “was situated at the southern end of Artesia Street.” Today, Artesia is Raitt Street and has been extended significantly. 

Judge Pleasants second wife, historian Adelina Pleasants, echoed Roberts’ assessment when she recalled El Refugio in the March 11, 1937 edition of the Santa Ana Register as being “a short distance east of the south end of Artesia Street. …Mortimer Hubbard of Tustin assisted in levelling the old adobe wall and is [the] authority on the exact location.” 

1938 aerial view of Artesia St. (Courtesty Orange County Archives)

Likewise, in an article about ranchos in the Nov 22, 1939 Santa Ana Register, Stephenson wrote, "Don José Sepúlveda… eventually built his adobe ranch house at a point near the south end of South Artesia street in Santa Ana today." 

In a September 25,1928 Santa Ana Register article, pioneer dairyman J. T. Raitt described details of the land west of Santa Ana as it appeared upon his arrival in the late 1880s: "One fourth mile south of First Street and just west of Artesia street there was an old spring known as the Sepulveda spring. In the early days this was the source of the water supply for large herds of cattle, especially in the dry season, and as late as 1905 this spring was still running. Before that time in an endeavor to stop the flow of the spring a dyke six feet high was built up around it but proved unsuccessful in stopping this flow." That spring is shown of the 1874 Sepulveda Tract map, with a large adobe immediately to the east of it. Combined with J. T. Raitt's description, this would again put the adobe approximately at the northeast corner of Raitt St. and Myrtle St.

Pre-1889 map showing adobes and the confluence of the Santa Ana River and Santiago Creek. (Filed with County of Los Angeles. Copy from Orange County Archives.)

There’s also an undated map (recorded prior to 1889 in Los Angeles County's Deeds, Book A, pages 1105 and 1106) that looks like it might have been traced from an earlier Mexican-Era map but with markings added in English. It shows the corrals north (not southeast) of the adobe and refers to the complex as “Indian Ranchero,” but it seems to basically match Roberts’, Pleasants’ and Raitt’s observations. These sources, taken in combination, put the main adobe’s location about ¼ mile south of 1st St. and ¼ mile west of Bristol at what’s now the northeast corner of Raitt and Myrtle St. The two adjoining lots at this location today are 415 and 423 S. Raitt St. They are both currently vacant and owned by the City of Santa Ana. 

Intersection of Raitt and Myrtle Streets, Santa Ana, 2018. Note vacant lots. (Photo by author)

In February 2020, the City was awarded a $1.6 million state grant to develop a 1.9-acre park on these lots over the next two years. Initial park plans called for a "a skate area, exercise area, tot lot, butterfly interpretive garden, walking loop, open space and restroom. The project additionally include[d] drought tolerant landscaping, a river-rock bio swale and a picnic area."

Initial plan for park at El Refugio site. (Courtesy City of Santa Ana)

In May 2020, Manny Escamilla, a local historian and former planner with the City of Santa Ana, wrote to the mayor and city council about the naming of this park: “I've attached the relevant research and background provided by Chris [Jepsen] to be included in the public record… If at all possible, I believe that the park should be named in honor of the El Refugio adobe, ...[and] that the final design incorporate a historical marker if possible within the existing funding level, or provide a space in which a future marker may be placed pending additional funding."

The City agreed, and plans moved forward for a new “El Refugio Park” at the site. Considering the importance of the site, one would assume that appropriate archeological oversight will be provided during the grading process. One can only imagine what remnants of the Rancho Era that may be uncovered in the process.

The closest thing to a historical as of late 2020: This was located up Raitt St. from El Refugio at Walnut St. (Photo by author)

Update: Despite the City Council initially approving the name El Refugio Park, by the time the park opened on October 17, 2023, it had been renamed Ed Caruthers Park. It's named in honor of Edward Julius Caruthers, Jr., who is, according to the City of Santa Ana's website, "a long-time Santa Ana athlete and community leader who won the silver medal for the men’s high jump in the 1968 Summer Olympics." Caruthers is also a longtime volunteer coach for Special Olympics.

It's unknown whether any archeological monitoring was done during grading and construction of the park. One desperately hopes that there was. A historical plaque for El Refugio was placed on the site, fulfilling at least one of Escamilla's requests.

[For more about Sepulveda, see Jim Sleeper’s, “The Many Mansions of Jose Sepulveda,” in Pacific Coast Archeological Society Quarterly, Vol. 5, No. 3, July 1969. For more about the practice of fiestas and bear/bull fights at El Refugio, see Terry E. Stephenson’s classic, Shadows of Old Saddleback. Thanks to historian Eric Plunkett and to Katie Hess of the Bowers Museum for their contributions to this article and to Joel Robinson for catching an error (now corrected). Several pertinent research institutions were closed to the public for COVID-19 lockdowns while I was working on this article. If more information becomes available to me after things reopen, I will update this post with whatever else I've learned on the subject.]

Truer words,...

 "You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them." -Ray Bradbury

Citrus in Orange County

This citrus crate label from Tustin depicts orange groves and the Santa Ana Mountains.

I recently ran across a CD full of short historical items written by my late friend and mentor, historian Phil Brigandi. Since I don't see this content elsewhere online or in print, I'm going to start posting a few of these pieces (credited, of course) on my blog from time to time. I'm glad to get a bit more of Phil's work out in the world. And it comes at an especially good time, since assorted projects and challenges have kept me from writing as many blog posts as I'd like lately. With that said,... Here's a brief introduction to Orange County's citrus roots by the man who could have (and should have) written a whole book on the subject:

The Citrus Industry in Orange County

by Phil Brigandi

For many years, oranges and Orange County were synonymous. While never our only crop, oranges dominated local agriculture from the 1890s to the 1950s.

Dr. W.N. Hardin of Anaheim is usually credited with planting the first local orange trees in 1870. A number of different varieties were tried in the 19th Century, and while Navel Oranges were popular in the early days, the Valencia Orange eventually came to dominate the area. Navels ripen in the winter, while Valencias are harvested from May to November. The first commercial Valencia grove here was planted in 1875 on what is now the site of California State University Fullerton. 

The market for local citrus crops was limited until good railroad connections and refrigerated cars became available. A blight that swept the local vineyards in the late 1880s prompted other ranchers to switch from grapes to citrus. By 1915, there were already over 20,000 acres of orange groves here, and by 1936 Orange County was producing one-sixth of the nation’s Valencia crop, which generated two-thirds of the county’s agricultural income. 

Citrus pickers on the Hewes Ranch, in the El Modena area of Orange.

Lemons, limes, grapefruit, and other varieties of citrus fruit were also grown here. Grapefruit and limes were never very successful, but lemons did well in some areas. During the 1930s and ‘40s, there were about 8,000 acres of lemon groves in the county, and a few packing houses were devoted entirely to lemons, including the Central Lemon Association in Villa Park.

Originally, each individual grower had to pick, pack, ship, and market their own crop, or sell it at reduced rates through commission agents representing large wholesalers. In the 1880s and ‘90s, growers began joining together to form cooperative packing and marketing associations to better control the industry. By the 1930s, there were more than 40 local packing houses stretching from one end of the county to the other. In just the area in and around Orange, there were eleven packing houses, including the Santiago Orange Growers Association, one of the busiest orange packing houses in the state.

Most of the local packing houses were members of the Southern California Fruit Exchange (better known by their trademark, Sunkist). Others belonged to the Mutual Orange Distributors (MOD) or other smaller organizations. Sunkist, and the other regional organizations, sponsored major advertising campaigns across the United States in the early 20th Century that helped to transform oranges and orange juice from a holiday treat to an everyday item.

Brightly colored citrus labels were part of the promotional campaign. Each packing house used several different labels to indicate the various grades of fruit. Their bright colors, distinctive designs, and large lettering made it easy for wholesale buyers to spot them at auction sales. 

Packing oranges in the Yorba Linda Citrus Packing House, circa 1949.

Oranges are susceptible to a number of insect pests and diseases, which growers had to fight in a variety of ways, including fumigation with hydrocyanic acid. Freezing temperature is another danger. On cold nights, oil was burned in “smudge pots” to keep the fruit from freezing. In later years, some growers used large fans to circulate the air and protect their groves.

But the worst citrus disease was the Quick Decline, a virus that began to infect local groves in the 1940s and killed off trees by the thousands. Orange County’s rapid growth in the 1950s and ‘60s added other challenges for local growers, including the rising costs of land, water, and taxes. More and more groves were pulled out to make way for subdivisions. 

Citrus acreage in Orange County reached its peak in 1948, with 67,263 acres in Valencias alone – more than five million trees. As of 2004, less than 100 acres of citrus were still being harvested here. Villa Park Orchards Association, the last remaining packing house in Orange County, is slated to move their operations to Ventura County in the near future. Orange County’s citrus industry will soon be just a memory.

[The Villa Park Orchards packing house, located in the Cypress Barrio of Orange, has indeed closed down since this article was written. But the building is being preserved and adapted for other uses by Chapman University. - Ed]