A teamster waits with his wagonload of watermelons outside James A. Anderson's fruit shipping shed. By 1905, there were still many acres planted in watermelons, but tokay grapes were rapidly becoming Lodi's main crop. (Photo courtesy of Ralph Lea)

Harvest news, rotten potato feud mark August 1905 in Lodi

Like today, the harvest was big news in August 103 years ago.

That month the Lodi Sentinel reported on declining local watermelon shipments, the development of a new fruit called a peacherine, the rushed building of the Woodbridge Co-Operative Winery, fruit shipping in innovative refrigerated rail cars, the increased price of $12 per ton of zinfandel grapes and the beginning of the promising tokay grape harvest.

August 1905 also was an active time for news that didn't relate to agriculture. Wilson H. Thompson, manager of Frank H. Buck Fruit Co., bought an Oldsmobile runabout, according to the Aug. 1 newspaper's front page. The families of hotelkeeper George LeMoin and grocer Frank Beckman were enjoying a vacation in Pacific Grove, and their many post cards were observed at the local post office. Other news reported in the Lodi Sentinel that month included the announcement that Central California Traction Co. planned to build an electric railway through Lodi, the appointment of George M. Steele as Justice of the Peace, and two Delta residents' feud involving rotten potatoes and a dead horse.

By the summer of 1905, Lodi had lost its former distinction of being the "watermelon capital of the world." Manteca, led by former Lodi-area farmer E. Powers, claimed that title. In mid-August, the newspaper reported that Manteca was shipping about four to five railroad cars of watermelons every day. Lodi shipped five cars a day in late July, but that yield dropped to one carload a day in August. Melon growers hoped to get $125 per car; meanwhile, tokay grape shippers were getting more than $1,700 per car later in August. This illustrates why Lodi farmers were switching from melons to grapes in the early 1900s.

After three years of experimentation, John Phillippi of Acampo successfully crossed a peach and a nectarine to create a new fruit sensation he called a "peacherine," declared the Aug. 1, 1905 Lodi Sentinel. Phillippi said blending the two varieties produces a firm, sweet fruit that will be a good product for shipping. Noted local tree fruit grower J. B. Cory ordered 100 trees of the new variety.

In early August, packing sheds and wineries geared up for the grape harvest. Oppenheim Fruit Co. advertised for 100 grape packers. This fruit packing and shipping company planned to start "a new order of things" in Northern San Joaquin. The company announced it would buy a great acreage of table grapes, pay packers with daily wages, not per piece, and offer cash prizes to workers who pack the crates garnering the best prices on the fresh market.

James A. Anderson, Lodi's successful independent fruit shipper, took a quick vacation in early August to Pacific Grove before the harvest and shipping season began. The newspaper quoted Anderson as saying that his new Ford auto ran like "a scared dog" on the 330-mile trip. Back in Lodi, it was back to business for Anderson and all the fruit men who expected a good crop with good prices. The newspaper stated there were 1,000 more acres planted with new grapevines in 1905.

On Aug. 12, Anderson shipped the first tokay grapes of 1905 to New York. The shipment only had 15 crates of grapes, and the rest of the rail car was filled with tree fruit. It was expected that grapes would be shipped out every day for the remainder of the harvest. Growers and shippers then said that the crop will not be as large as expected due to extreme heat and some mildew damage.

The heat was ripening the peach crop quickly. School professor J. A. Carroll, his wife and 15 others helped Walter Lochart save his peach crop on Saturday, Aug.12 and Monday, Aug. 14.

"It was a merry crowd, and the click of knives and the rattle of peach trays mingled joyously with laugh and song and repartee going on in that packing shed during the first two days of this special effort," the newspaper reported.

Lockart's saviors, however, did not pick or cut his peaches for drying on the Sabbath. Yet the newspaper reported Aug. 15, 1905 that the quick ripening pushed many to work on the traditional day of rest.

"More people worked in the fruit over Sunday last than have done so for years in these parts," the Sentinel state. "It is a proposition upon which religious people are divided in opinion whether a Christian is justifiable in working on Sunday to save fruit that otherwise might be lost."

On Aug. 19, men gathered at Anderson's shed to see a new kind of refrigeration rail car being loaded with fruit. The car was equipped with a refrigeration machine at one end with compressors driven by the axle of the car while it moved on the rails. Before that, rail cars used ice to keep fruit cool and fresh, and this required stops along the way across country to load more ice. Not stopping for ice would save at least one day in the journey to the fresh markets.

While news about the crops dominated the talk about town, Lodians noted other happenings that August. Central California Traction Co. incorporated and announced its ambitious plans to build an electric railway between Stockton, Lodi and Sacramento. A Sioux Indian baseball team with an ace one-armed pitcher wanted to play the Lodi team. There were 175 automobiles in San Joaquin, and 110 of those were in Stockton. A calf without a tail was born on J. Bischofberger's farm.

But the oddest news of the month had to be the escalating feud between two neighbors on Delta farmland along the San Joaquin River 12 miles west of Stockton. It all began when A. R. Allen, who rented the large track of Delta land from a San Francisco-based man, sublet a parcel to August Dupzyk, a German from North Dakota who had just settled here with his wife and 12 children. Allen and Dupzyk lived in houses only 100 feet apart and did not get along. Allen tried to get his tenant to leave, but Dupzyk refused. Then the feud began to fume.

Dupzyk called the county district attorney and complained that Allen slapped his daughter and shot one of his pigs. The attorney investigated and learned that Dupzyk had dumped a pile of rotting potatoes beneath Allen's window.

"The odor was something quite undesirable," reported the Aug. 3 newspaper. Not knowing which action came first or what charges to bring, the attorney could make nothing out of the case.

Still reeling from the smell of the rotten vegetables, Allen retaliated by burying a dead horse under Dupzyk's window.

"The stench was something unbearable," the newspaper reported.

At this point, an enraged Dupzyk took a shotgun and waited for Allen. A dredging firm employee saw Dupzyk, got in a boat and sped off to Stockton to get the peace officers. Constable M. N. Beach went to the scene and ordered both men to appear in the district attorney's office. Once both men were in the office, George McNoble assumed the role of peacemaker. It was agreed that the San Francisco landowner would be contacted and all efforts made to find Dupzyk a home on another island.

Vintage Lodi is a local history column that appears on the first and third Saturday of the month. This Vintage Lodi article first appeared in August 2004.