anaheim-gazette 1926-06-03

Committee on Rural Electrification Meets The results of two years' investigation of the agricultural uses of electricity will be revealed to the public for the first time at a meeting held at Eich clubhouse, Santa Ana, Monday, June 7. A committee appointed two years ago has been conducting a strenuous investigation of the economic uses of electricity in agriculture and has met with the leading representatives of both agriculture and electricity. In this investigation it has arrived at definite conclusions which it will present at this public meeting. The meeting will be held under the joint auspices of the Southern California Edison Company and the Orange County Farm Bureau. It will be opened by J. J. Deuch, manager of the law and utilities department of the California Farm Bureau Federation, at 10:30 a.m., and will possibly continue in session until 4 p.m., with an hour's rest for lunch. Roy K. Bishop, president of the Orange County Farm Bureau, will deliver the address of welcome and will be followed by such speakers as B. D. Moses and L. J. Fletcher, agricultural engineering division, University of California; N. R. Sutherland, Pacific Gas and Electric Company; W. S. Rosetrans, vice-president California Farm Bureau Federation; A. Emory Wishon, vice-president and general manager, San Joaquin Light and Power Corporation; Ezra W. De Coto, commissioner California railroad commission, and S. S. Knight, legislative representative of the Orange and Farmers' Union. A division of the Ebell Club will serve a cafeteria lunch at noon to those who wish to remain in the club. TO PROMOTE JOHNSON OLEOMARGARINE LAW D. Kyman Huff, prominent grower of El Modena and president of the Calliope Society. By Florence Summers Fullerton, California High on the bluffs of Corona del Mar we looked down upon a panorama which will live forever in my memory. The bay and the towns lay beneath us, a lovely picture. Tiny sail boats, almost like toys viewed from the heights, dotted the scintillant blue waters of the harbor. Far off to the southwest lay the deep purple shadow that was Catalina. The stillness was broken only by the muted crash of the breakers as they surged lazily against the cliffs of Rocky Point and the raucous cries of wheeling gulls. It was a Sunday afternoon; the occasion a quest for an ocean view lot at a price to conform with our purse. Presently we found it. High up it was, overlooking the bay and about six blocks from the water front. It had business possibilities the salesman said, but we knew we would never sell it—our little beach home was to be ours and our children's children's. Scene Changes How happy we were and what plans we made that afternoon, sketching on old envelopes the dear little seaside cottage we would build, while Jackie and Bill explored the hillsides. As the shadows grew longer TO PROMOTE JOHNSON OLEOMARGARINE LAW D. Kyman Huff, prominent grower of El Modena and president of the California Jersey Cattle Club, has called a meeting of 60 leading Orange county agriculturists for the purpose of considering ways and means of promoting the passage of the Johnson oleomargarine law which has been held up by referendum. The meeting will be held at the farm bureau office, Santa Ana, at 7:30 o'clock, Friday evening, June 4, and at that time the committee will decide what future action should be taken. "This is a measure of vital importance to dairymen, orange growers and those interested in children's health," Mr. Huff stated. "I was asked by the California Dairy Council to appoint a committee, and I have given the matter a great deal of thought. I have selected a few of the leading agriculturists in the county to attend this meeting and advise us what to do. We will present to those in attendance the entire situation and ask them to work out a solution to the problem." Persimmon Growers Hold Meeting Friday According to word from the farm advisor's office, the annual spring meeting of the persimmon growers' department of the Southern Counties Farm Bureau will be held on Friday, June 4, at 10 a.m., in the office of the Los Angeles County Farm Bureau, 230 Court street, Los Angeles. The meeting will be taken up largely with committee reports. The standardization committee, headed by E. A. Watson, persimmon grower of Tustin, will present a report embracing the status of standardizing the size, quality and packing of the fruit as carried out in different parts of the state. The research committee, headed by S. Erie Goodall of Owensmouth, will make recommendations concerning the field problems which may require the attention of the experiment station and college of agriculture. The marketing and organization committee, with A. F. Manz, La Habra, as chairman, will bring in a report making recommendations for future procedure in the marketing of persimmons. A. J. McFadden of Santa Ana, chairman of the cold storage and transportation committee, will make a progress report on the committee's findings and recommendations on the transportation problem. Scene Changes How happy we were and what plans we made that afternoon, sketching on old envelopes the dear little seaside cottage we would build, while Jackie and Bill explored the hillsides. As the shadows grew longer and the ocean lost the glitter of its midday brilliance, I turned my back to the harbor and gazed with half-closed eyes toward the purple-misted Santa Ana Hills, visioning them as Balboa might have done from this very spot an acon before. Not so great a change, I mused, for there were the same dim hills which caught his eye, the same broad mesa with little of change in its configuration, and the same deep gash that was the upper bay wound its ragged, tortuous way into the distance. Except for the cluster of houses at Coata Mesa and a few scattered derricks and ranch buildings, it might well have been the identical picture that held the explorer's eye. Jack droned about the vessels dotting the horizon, for Jack has been a sailor and loves the sea—and well he might, for an ancestor who perished in the Goodwin Sands on the east coast of England came into his home port towing three French frigates behind him. To this day it is said that the masts of those ships are sometime visible above the sands at low tide. But I let him drone on, while I borrowed the eyes of Cabrillo and Balboa, and the old Spanish navigators who landed on our fair shores, and wondered if the next hundred years would find those broad mesas as bare and barren as they were in those bygone days. That was a long, long time ago. It seems, for last Sunday we took another ride down to our Wonderland, Just Jack and L. Jackie and Bill, with their families, had gone in Bill's new DoeGlass-Argonut for a trial flight to Ensenada for dinner. As we rolled quietly down the broad Imperial-Newport Shortline Boulevard I had Andrew follow the 30 mile traffic, for I have ceased to care for the unlimited speed of the central zones, although they are of course, far safer than the business possibilities she salesman said, but we knew we would never sell it—our little beach home was to be ours and our children's, and our children's children's. Scene Changes How happy we were and what plans we made that afternoon, sketching on old envelopes the dear little seaside cottage we would build, while Jackie and Bill explored the hillsides. As the shadows grew longer and the ocean lost the glitter of its midday brilliance, I turned my back to the harbor and gazed with half-closed eyes toward the purple-misted Santa Ana Hills, visioning them as Balboa might have done from this very spot an acon before. Not so great a change, I mused, for there were the same dim hills which caught his eye, the same broad mesa with little of change in its configuration, and the same deep gash that was the upper bay wound its ragged, tortuous way into the distance. Except for the cluster of houses at Coata Mesa and a few scattered derricks and ranch buildings, it might well have been the identical picture that held the explorer's eye. Jack droned about the vessels dotting the horizon, for Jack has been a sailor and loves the sea—and well he might, for an ancestor who perished in the Goodwin Sands on the east coast of England came into his home port towing three French frigates behind him. To this day it is said that the masts of those ships are sometime visible above the sands at low tide. But I let him drone on, while I borrowed the eyes of Cabrillo and Balboa, and the old Spanish navigators who landed on our fair shores, and wondered if the next hundred years would find those broad mesas as bare and barren as they were in those bygone days. That was a long, long time ago. It seems, for last Sunday we took another ride down to our Wonderland, Just Jack and L. Jackie and Bill, with their families, had gone in Bill's new DoeGlass-Argonut for a trial flight to Ensenada for dinner. As we rolled quietly down the broad Imperial-Newport Shortline Boulevard I had Andrew follow the 30 mile traffic, for I have ceased to care for the unlimited speed of the central zones, although they are of course, far safer than the business possibilities she salesman said, but we knew we would never sell it—our little beach home was to be ours and our children's, and our children's children's. Scene Changes How happy we were and what plans we made that afternoon, sketching on old envelopes the dear little seaside cottage we would build, while Jackie and Bill explored the hillsides. As the shadows grew longer and the ocean lost the glitter of its midday brilliance, I turned my back to the harbor and gazed with half-closed eyes toward the purple-misted Santa Ana Hills, visioning them as Balboa might have done from this very spot an acon before. Not so great a change, I mused, for there were the same dim hills which caught his eye, the same broad mesa with little of change in its configuration, and the same deep gash that was the upper bay wound its ragged, tortuous way into the distance. Except for the cluster of houses at Coata Mesa and a few scattered derricks and ranch buildings, it might well have been the identical picture that held the explorer's eye. Jack droned about the vessels dotting the horizon, for Jack has been a sailor and loves the sea—and well he might, for an ancestor who perished in the Goodwin Sands on the east coast of England came into his home port towing three French frigates behind him. To this day it is said that the masts of those ships are sometime visible above the sands at low tide. But I let him drone on, while I borrowed the eyes of Cabrillo and Balboa, and the old Spanish navigators who landed on our fair shores, and wondered if the next hundred years would find those broad mesas as bare and barren as they were in those bygone days. That was a long, long time ago. It seems, for last Sunday we took another ride down to our Wonderland, Just Jack and L. Jackie and Bill, with their families, had gone in Bill's new DoeGlass-Argonut for a trial flight to Ensenada for dinner. As we rolled quietly down the broad Imperial-Newport Shortline Boulevard I had Andrew follow the 30 mile traffic, for I have ceased to care for the unlimited speed of the central zones, although they are of course, far safer than the business possibilities she salesman said, but we knew we would never sell it—our little beach home was to be ours and our children's，and our children's children's. Scene Changes How happy we were and what plans we made that afternoon, sketching on old envelopes the dear little seaside cottage we would build, while Jackie and Bill explored the hillsides. As the shadows grew longer and the ocean lost the glitter of its midday brilliance, I turned my back to the harbor and gazed with half-closed eyes toward the purple-misted Santa Ana Hills, visioning them as Balboa might have done from this very spot an acon before. Not so great a change, I mused, for there were the same dim hills which caught his eye，the same broad mesa with little of change in its configuration，and the same deep gash that was the upper bay wound its ragged，tortuous way into the distance. Except for the cluster of houses at Coata Mesa和a few scattered derricks和 ranch buildings，它 might well have beenthe identical picture that heldthe explorer's eye.Jack droned aboutthe vessels dottingthe horizon，forJackhasbeena sailorandlovesthesea—andwellhemight，foranancestorwhoperishedintheGoodwinSandsontheeastcoastofEnglandcameintohishomeporttowingthreeFrenchfrigatesbehindhim.Tothisdayitissaidthatthemastsofthoseshipsare sometimevisibleabovethesandsatlowtide.Botlledfortheriverareallyconstructedpreventoftheoldfloodwaters.Aoneoftheproblemshavebeenbuiltfishingandpleasure.Thewomsupervisethepriortoadavequipfortheyoungstcampinggroundveniencesadjolakes.TheRivera two-waythattheImperialValeloadofcotton Alkali and Drainage Meetings June 8-9 During the past six months the Agricultural Extension Service of Orange county has been working on the reclamation of alkali lands, through the flooding and leaching methods. This work has been carried out in the Newport and Newhope drainage districts with two different co-operators. The two plots represented two different sets of conditions, both from the standpoint of soil conditions, but also from the kind of salts present. Some good figures have been obtained, both on the reduction of the alkali content, as well as the cost per acre. In order to give all the farmers in the county who are interested in this kind of work some of the information which has been gathered, two field meetings will be held during the first part of June. The first one will be held at the W. O. Eades ranch, three and one-half miles west of Santa Ana, on Fifth street, at 2 p.m., Tuesday, June 8. This ranch is just north of Fifth street, on Newhope road. The second meeting will be held Wednesday morning, June 9, at 10 o'clock, at the Segerstrom ranch, Greenville. This place is one mile southwest of the Greenville bean warehouse. Besides giving the results obtained in alkali reclamation, Prof. Walter W. Weir, division of soils, University of California, will talk on drainage, with special reference to its benefits and costs. Professor Weir is recognized as one of the foremost drainage engineers of the country and his observations are always well worth hearing. He has acted in an advisory capacity for some of the most outstanding drainage projects in the United States, consequently his knowledge of the various types and systems of drainage is unquestioned. Vista Beautiful "Thought so," he remarked, "that man was hitting about 60 in a 50-mile zone. Wonderful invention that new Uni-Vision-Tele-photo camera the cop has—presses a button and gets a photo of the rear-view speedometer and license. Exposure to the air fixes the picture, and the cop keeps a duplicate for evidence. Beats the old game of 'tag,' doesn't it?" At the top of a high hill Jack another ride down to our Wonderland, Just Jack and I. Jackie and Bill, with their families, had gone in Bill's new Doeglass Argonaut for a trial flight to Ensenada for dinner. As we rolled quietly down the broad Imperial-Newport Shortline Boulevard I had Andrew follow the 30 mile traffic, for I have ceased to care for the unlimited speed of the central zones, although they are of course, far safer than the old method of slow speed and unprotected intersections. The seemingly endless ribbon stretched away across the beautiful panorama—on one side the terraced hills green with avocado orchards, on the other a vista of squared groves, intensive truck patches, marvelous Mission type country homes—all blending into the glorious California God intended it to be. The artistic spans of the intersecting boulevard viaducts appeared before us, loomed high overhead and were gone, each in its turn. A natty traffic officer zoomed past, a pasteboard card in his hand. Jack glanced over his shoulder. Southland "Why, those things of the U.S., Southern repiled." "You panded so rapidly nia's tremendousulation that they seek larger quiescence of S were glad to help for it is now..." Harbor, Dream of Future F ORANGE COUNTY'S PROPOSED WATERFRONT PARK A Park like this worth $400,000.00 covering forty acres and with about a mile or frontage can be had under the Harbor Commission when the $550,000.00 for "inside" work is voted on June 10th. The Harbor Commission will fine with material from shallow dredging. Think of it, a Water-front Park of 40 acres only 10 miles from the Heart of Orange Only 2 miles more than from the Ferry Building, San Francisco, to the Cliff House. signaled for Andrew to work over to a parking turnout. "I always stop here," he said, "to marvel over the changes the last few than it could ever have been in its old home, and it has, still room for expansion." "And Westwood?" I queried. tin, of course, is merely the name of a residential section of Santa Ana to a large majority of its population, having been absorbed by the great city years a height of twenty Jack pointed to wi story building had to make room for safety-limit height. A Park like this worth $400,000.00 covering forty acres and the Harbor Commission when the $550,000.00 for "inside" work is voted on June 10th. The Harbor Commission will file a material from shallow dredging. Think of it, a Water-front Park of 40 acres only 10 miles from the Heart of Orange Only 2 miles more than from the Ferry Building, San Francisco, to the Cliff House. signaled for Andrew to work over to a parking turnout. "I always stop here," he said, "to marvel over the changes the last few years have wrought in Orange County. Look around you. Those tall buildings you can just see over the hill-tops to the right are in Brea, and—but you should know the other cities as well as I. Remember how it used to look?" I did; and like Jack sat and marveled. Placentia and Yorba Linda had grown almost beyond identification. Brea and La Habra were now one town, both having made tremendous progress. Their oilfields were now recognized as the backbone of the petroleum supply in California. They were still producing and showed no signs of reduction in flow. The Richfield district was also a big industrial field, operated in connection with the vast manufacturing center at the Harbor, the oil companies realizing that to manufacture their products where one of the largest fields was located meant a great saving. From several monster refineries the varied petroleum products were shipped direct to foreign countries through the big world port of Orange County. Sees Great Dams Behind us lay the Santa Ana Canyon, its deep purple chasm softening with the afternoon glow. Here is located one of the loveliest playground resorts in the entire Souland. During the winter months the surplus waters of the river are stored in specially constructed dams which prevent the oldtime waste of flood waters. Around these dams one of the prettiest of resorts has been built, with boating, fishing and picnic grounds available. The women of the county supervise the public playground and have equipped it beautifully for the youngsters, while a fine camping ground with all conveniences adjoins these inland lakes. The Riverside Boulevard, a two-way thoroughfare from the Imperial Valley, with truck loads of cotton and dates and other Valley products follows the than it could ever have been in its old home, and it has, still room for expansion." And Westwood?" I queried. Oh, that is now the Department of Research only. The old site proved so inadequate to the needs of the agricultural department that the regents purchased the Bastanchury Estate long ago. Shall we go on? Nearing Anaheim we left the suburban residential district for the industrial. Factories and warehouses lined the way. I noticed that the Orange County Paint company was now occupying its new premises, covering an entire block. The little soap factory which I remembered as housed in a tiny shack now owned and had its offices in one of the most imposing structures in the city. From Anaheim to Santa Ana proper the Boulevard bisected a phalanx of mills, factories and other industrial plants, the two cities almost merged into one. The only residences we saw were off toward the hills. Jack, who has kept pace with Orange County's tremendous development, told me that other sections have built as rapidly. Dream Cities Grow Garden Grove, he says, is now a city of twenty thousand; Buena Park with its famed Boulevard is still Buena Park, but it is impossible to tell where Fullerton stops and Buena Park begins. Along the railroad, factories and mills have begun to flourish, but they have so zoned the business sections that the beautiful residences are no longer threatened with industrial encroachment. El Toro is having a boom, an Eastern pottery concern discovered that a certain deposit found below the subsoll presents possibilities for marvelous creations in engrained wares hitherto unattainable with American clays. On the smooth surface of the former Irvine Ranch the Federal Airports have been quadrupled in the last four years. California now leads the nation in the science of aviation and aircraft manufacture. tin, of course, is merely the name of a residential section of Santa Ana to a large majority of its population, having been absorbed by the great city years ago. Laguna, the art center, is famous throughout the world. I did not realize we had left Santa Ana until we rolled out to the brow of the bluffs at Costa Mesa and felt the breath of old Pacific upon our faces. The Boulevards between were solid masses of industrial plants—factories, warehouses which extended for endless blocks in a row; the giant Ford-Aslatic establishment extending westward two miles to the deep-water canal; the American-Siberian Harvest Corporation's immense South-Pacific headquarters — 40 acres under one combined roof. Factories and more factories, steel mills, woolen mills, fabric and silk mills and cotton textile mills, and still more factories. And then old Neptane chuckled at us and we laughed aloud at him. Shipping Fills Harbor Swimming left along the State Highway near the old turning basin the wondrous beauty of Orange County Harbor spread before our eyes. Where once Balboa Island floated calmly upon the broad bosom of the harbor, proudly bearing its burden of humanity and homes, a fleet of "Mother Ships" drowsed in the sun, each tugging gently at her restraining hawser and each with her brood of "stormy petrels of the air" hovered upon her level back. Aligned at their moorings near the outer edge of the harbor a full five hundred palatial pleasure yachts all but Josied each other as the tide swung them to and fro, while scores of others swam noiselessly in or out of the entrance channel between the long letties. Old Newport and Balboa presented a serrated skyline of giant skyscrapers reminiscent of Manhattan Island. Here are located the head offices of hundreds of the great industrial plants that dot Orange County: globe enclosing steamship lines are diagonal. a height of twenty Jack pointed to what story building had to make room for safety-limit height. Beach that marked peninsula has long over by the governral Headquarters apartments for off-the-Aerial and the search Departments. Sees Crowd The car rolled wideening approachnel bridge. The of the busy Upper scores of cargo wert berthed at the squared wharfs along the bluff, slanting loading south downward like tool or being pulled and by bristly, bulldog growl viciously and charges into submit Lower Bay a few forlorn sailing ship chor near the west an almost forgotten gation. Jack said belong to one of "Oral-Movie"s a dozen of which are the huge arch of th All of the old r disappeared; only Park remains of all marks, and that, they remain forever. Now from above—a derland of beauty heritage to those grown-ups Of that progress and cannot absorb. For Thee and those men of action who day and age. "Just think oak and millions that I dredging and harbor," I mused as though Orange has gone bankrupt How did we stand. Richest in U Bankrupt!" "Don't you know County is the richer one of the prettiest of resorts has been built, with boating, fishing and picnic grounds available. The women of the county supervise the public playground and have equipped it beautifully for the youngsters, while a fine camping ground with all conveniences adjoins these inland lakes. The Riverside Boulevard, a two-way thoroughfare from the Imperial Valley, with truckloads of cotton and dates and other Valley products follows the canyon's contours. Spread out below the hills is Olive, a section of gentlemen farmers; Orange, also one of the industrial centers, whose streets and boundaries are but an extension of Greater Santa Ana, although under its own government, lies on our left. And Fullerton, lovely Fullerton, the residential section supreme, with its big white homes crowning the hills north and west of the town, lies off to the righ. Jack says Fullerton's only rival in residential fame is Hollywood. "What are those large white buildings off toward Los Angeles?" I asked, "They are too large for homes." Southland Expands "Why, those are the new buildings of the University of California, Southern Branch," Jack replied. "You know they expanded so rapidly with California's tremendous increase in population that they were forced to seek larger quarters. I think all the cities of Southern California were glad to have it located here. For it is now five times larger." "That racy looking vessel unloading at that dock is another one of their fleet of nine," he said, "You can always distinguish them by their color scheme; it is copyrighted by International Commerce ruling. That big drab tramp just coming up the bay is. I think, an Australian laden with wool for the Santa Ana Woolen Mills. I read that one was due today. It will be taken up the Deep Canal to unload right at the plant in the northwest part of the city, near the old bridge. The boat will ship farm machinery for the return cargo almost next door." Magnificent Estates But I was gazing at the Palisades and the beautiful San Joaquin Hills beyond, with the looping roads and magnificent estates dotting the crests of the highlands. Something was missing from the picture, yet the vista was beautified by the lack of it—something I had missed all day. Then suddenly I knew—the poles! those unsightly scarecrows that debased the scenery like so many gibbets, each waiting for its ghastly fruit. Jack grinned when I asked about them. "Your long illness has put you out of touch with events, my dear. The last of them was sawed into firelogs a month ago. All wires under-ground, now and forever can be used under the program of harbor Commission will fill in the arches from the Heart of Orange County." a height of twenty stories, and Jack pointed to where a twelve story building had been razed to make room for one of the safety-limit height. The spit of beach that marked the end of the peninsula has long been taken over by the government for Federal Headquarters and barrack apartments for officers of both the Aerial and the Scientific Research Departments. Sees Crowded Port The car rolled slowly up the widening approach to the channel bridge. The broad reaches of the busy Upper Bay with its scores of cargo vessels snugly berthed at the squat, gear-mesh-ed wharves that line the shores along the bluff, each with its slanting loading shutes jutting downward like toboggan slides, or being pulled and pushed about by bristly, bulldog tugs that growl violously and bully their charges into submission. In the Lower Bay a few—a very few forlorn sailing ships rode at anchor near the west end, relics of an almost forgotten era of navigation. Jack said that most of them belong to one or another of the "Oral-Movie" studios, half a dozen of which are visible from the huge arch of the bridge span. All of the old mud flats have disappeared; only the Waterfront Park remains of all the old landmarks, and that, thank God! will remain forever. We viewed it now from above—a glorious wonderland of beauty, a priceless heritage to the kiddles and grown-ups of Orange County that progress and commercialism cannot absorb. For this we thank Thee and those keen-visioned men of action who foresaw this day and age. "Just think of the millions and millions that have been spent in dredging and protecting this harbor," I mused aloud, "It seems as though Orange County must have gone bankrupt long ago. How did we stand it?" Richest in United States "Bankrupt!" scoffed Jack, "Don't you know that Orange County is the richest county per mile in the United States? Or...of it—something I had missed all day. Then suddenly I knew—the poles! those unsightly scarecrows that debased the scenery like so many gibbets, each waiting for its ghastly fruit. Jack grinned when I asked about them. "Your long illness has put you out of touch with events, my dear. The last of them was sawed into firelogs a month ago. All wires under-ground, now and forever in conduits. Billboards also—advertising posters; and in five years every unsightly building will have been razed to make way for others of an architecture to conform to the community." We wound around the scenic drive that circles the Pallisades, until presently Andrew turned into an underground parkway. An elevator carried us to a great height. "Prepare for a surprise, dear," said Jack as he helped me out, "I have brought you to the dearest spot on earth." Dreams Come True We stood on a broad, circular balcony surrounding a tower. Overhead was a jutting roof, or platform. The vista stretched for miles upon miles, and I gazed my fill from every vantage point; but presently my curiosity got the better of me. "Where are we, Jack?" I pleaded, "This is all so new to me." He took my face in his two hands and looked into my eyes. "Do you remember when we bought our little forty foot lot in Corona Del Mar?—and when we finally sold it for a hundred times its cost? Sweetheart, we are standing directly above that little plot of golden soil. The United States Government's Aero-Light throws its gilding beams through the densest of fogs from this tower. Sit down, my dear; close your eyes and visualize that Sunday away back there in the past. I'll tell you about the ships that pass in and out." I reclined in one of the lazy camp chairs and obediently closed my eyes. Presently it all returned—the twinkling waters of the bay, the unsightly mud flats, the tiny toy yachts; the unsightly gash with ragged toothless gums that was to become the mighty Upper Bay, and our poor little ugly duckling of a lot—the lot we loved and vowed never to part with, only to—But it gave us our start. Ah, well—and then I heard a laugh. "Just think of the millions and millions that have been spent in dredging and protecting this harbor," I mused aloud, "It seems as though Orange County must have gone bankrupt long ago. How did we stand it?" Richest in United States "Bankrupt!" scoffed Jack, "Don't you know that Orange County is the richest county per capita in the United States? Orange County merely started this; when the government saw that we were alive to our great opportunities it stepped in and helped us, and from that time on it was clear sailing. Outside capital, invested in our county has provided in added assessments far more money than we have ever needed for this great development. But look at that big foreign rotor-boat just coming under the vladuct. Isn't she a whopper? Watch her lower her stacks; they'd clear easily, but no vessel may pass beneath this bridge, since we did away with the drawbridge and its interminable delays, without lowering stacks or masts." The huge grey carrier slipped smoothly into the Upper Channel, holding closely to the East Bank to allow leeway for a capacious steamer, painted orange with black trimmings. One of the Tri-Counties Citrus Association's vessels, Jack told me, exporting their own products and bringing back cargoes of raw materials for our mills and factories. I reclined in one of the lazy camp chairs and obediently closed my eyes. Presently it all returned—the twinkling waters of the bay, the unsightly mud flats, the tiny toy yachts; the unsightly gash with ragged toothless gums that was to become the mighty Upper Bay, and our poor little ugly duckling of a lot—the lot we loved and vowed never to part with, only to—But it gave us our start. Ah, well—and then I heard a laugh. Vision Remains "Ho, ho! talked you to sleep, did I old girl? Well, sorry to wake you up, but it's getting late and we've got a long way to go. Where are those kids?" The sunset was upon us, and there in the west was a sight to make one remember—always. The soft misty horizon was touched with a red-gold which no artist has ever rivaled, its hues of warm orange deepening until they melted into the purple shadows of the night clouds. Above all, silent, inscrutable and mysterious bulked the shadow that was Catalina. And then I looked again to the north and east. The darkening shades of evening had dimmed the ugly gash, the mesa teemed with traffic. The dull mud flats merged into the dusky sheen of the Harbor; and the Upper Bay swarmed once again with bustling craft. I patted the soil of our dear little lot, and I sighed a sigh of deep content—for I knew that my dream would come true.