Stockton has a population of over forty thousand according to the 1920 census—a gain of nearly one hundred per cent in ten years. You would be likely to guess even a larger figure when you note the metropolitan appearance of the town—the broad, well-paved streets, the handsome stores, and the imposing public buildings—or when you enter Hotel Stockton, a huge, modern, concrete structure that it would be hard to match in most eastern cities of a hundred thousand. The town is situated at the gateway of a vast, fertile plain, rich in grainfields, orchards, vineyards, and garden and dairy products. It is a sightly city, with eleven public parks and numerous fine homes and churches; many streets are bordered with shade trees, the elm, maple, acacia, and umbrella tree being most common. Orange trees and palms are also plentiful, reminding one that a mild winter climate prevails in the valley.
The town was incorporated in 1850 and was named in honor of Commodore Stockton of the United States Navy, who raised the first American flag in California. It had previously existed as a mining supply camp and the site belonged to Captain Weber, who received it as a grant from the Mexican Government in 1843. It has been a quiet, steadily growing commercial center and its history has never been greatly varied by sensational incidents. Its first railroad came in 1869, its commerce having been carried previously on the San Joaquin River. To-day a canal connects the river with the heart of the city and good-sized steamers arrive and depart daily. It is also served by main lines of three great transcontinental railways, an advantage not enjoyed by many California towns.
Stockton is seldom the goal of the tourist and most travelers get their impressions of the town from a car window while enroute to or from San Francisco. Not one in a thousand of these, nor one in ten thousand who only hear of the town, knows that in its immediate vicinity, almost adjoining its borders, is the greatest and most remarkable enterprise of the kind in America. I refer to the land reclamation projects of the San Joaquin Delta, comprising the marvelously fertile tracts already under cultivation, and the efficient methods employed to ultimately reclaim a million acres of peat swamps still untilled. Thirty years ago this land was supposed to be absolutely worthless—a vast tract of upwards of a million and a half acres, covered with scrub willows and "tule"—a species of rank reed—and overflowed at times to a depth of several feet by flood and ocean tides. The soil in the main is black peat, made up of decomposed tule and sand washed in by the floods—a composition of untold fertility if properly drained and farmed.
I was especially interested in this enterprise since a pioneer in reclamation work and president of one of the largest concerns operating in the delta was an old-time college-mate who came to California some twenty-five years ago. He had little then save indomitable energy and unusual business aptitude, and with characteristic foresight he recognized the possibilities of the San Joaquin swamps when once reclaimed and properly tilled. He succeeded in interesting capitalists in the project, which has steadily grown until it has merged into the California Delta Farms Association, a ten-million-dollar corporation which owns and controls more than forty thousand acres, mostly under cultivation. The company also owns a fleet of a dozen great steam dredging plants, principally engaged in reclaiming new tracts on their own properties, though occasionally doing work for other concerns.
Besides the Delta Farms Association, there are several other large companies and individual owners operating in the delta, which now has upwards of three hundred thousand reclaimed acres, and it is said that a million more will be brought under cultivation within five or six years. The aggregate value of the land at that time will not be less than two hundred millions, figures which speak most eloquently of the almost inconceivable possibilities of the Netherlands of California, and any tourist whose convenience will permit will find himself well repaid should he stop at Stockton for the especial purpose of seeing this unique wonder of America.
We found no difficulty in arranging for a good-sized motor-boat capable of twelve to fifteen miles per hour, in charge of a man familiar with every part of the delta and well posted upon the details of farming and reclamation work. The harbor is at the foot of Washington Street, well within the confines of the city and a canal about two miles long connects with the main channel of the San Joaquin. There are no roads in the delta, the river and canals serving as highways; each tract in cultivation is surrounded by water held back by a substantial levee usually about twenty-five feet high and one hundred and fifty feet thick at the base. The tracts range from one thousand to thirteen thousand acres in size and are usually spoken of as islands. It is hard for a novice to get a clear idea of the lay of the land—the waterways twist and turn and interweave in such a baffling manner. Nor can one see over the high levees from an ordinary launch; the top of the pilot house on our boat, however, afforded views of most of the tracts. The main stream is several hundred feet wide and the canals average about twenty-four feet, with a depth of ten to fifteen feet.
The first step towards reclaiming a tract of land is to surround it by a large levee or bank of soil scooped from the swamp by great floating dredges, the resulting depression serving as a canal. When the levee is completed, the island is cleared of tule and brush and the water pumped out. It is then ready for cultivation, but breaking up the tough, fibrous peat is laborious and tedious work, which the average white man seems unwilling to do, and Oriental labor has played a big part in reclaiming the delta.
Should the peat become too dry, it is liable to take fire and smoulder indefinitely, though this can be controlled by flooding from the river. Its fibrous composition makes it an excellent material for levees; when thoroughly packed it is quite impervious to water and little affected by floods.
Our guide informed us that the actual cost of reclaiming the land averages about one hundred and sixteen dollars per acre and that its value when in cultivation is from two to three hundred dollars. Irrigation, when necessary, is accomplished by elevating water from river or canal at high tide over the levee by means of huge siphons. The tide rises three or four feet, though salt water does not come in so far. Thus the water supply is never failing and a crop is always assured. Disastrous floods are now so guarded against as to be of rare occurrence, though in earlier times they frequently wrought great havoc; even then they were not an unmixed evil, a layer of rich fertilizer being deposited in their wake.
It is not strange that the owners of the San Joaquin Delta lands are opposed to the anti-Japanese legislation now the fashion in California. The work of reclamation has been done mostly by Orientals—Japanese, Chinese, and a few Hindus—and farming operations are largely carried on by laborers of these nationalities. In the earlier days white men suffered severely from ague and malaria, though conditions in this regard are better now. The Jap seems perfectly at home in the San Joaquin swamps; hot sun and drudgery have no serious effect on him and he has the industry and infinite patience necessary to succeed under such conditions. He requires less supervision than the white laborer and in this regard the Chinaman is still better. Altogether, the Oriental is the ideal laborer for the delta; and he is at his best when employed by a fellow-countryman.
This fact partially accounts for the phenomenal success of George Shima, who is probably the most extensive farmer in the whole region. He not only owns considerable land, but leases great tracts which he farms in a thorough and scientific manner. His problem is not to secure a big yield—he is sure of that—but to get a favorable market. The flood danger, which wiped out his possessions in 1907, is said to be well guarded against now, but the danger of a glutted market remains. On the other hand, there is the gamble of a shortage of potatoes in the rest of the world—a thing which happened in 1910, when Shima is said to have cleared over half a million dollars on this crop alone. The wily Jap held his crop until the demand was keenest and let it go at two or three dollars per hundredweight. He has learned to depend on other products besides potatoes, both to avoid danger of a glut and to provide for proper rotation of crops. Rich as is the delta soil, several successive crops of potatoes will impoverish it. Alternating with barley, beans, asparagus, alfalfa, or onions, all of which thrive in an incredible manner, serves to stave off the evil day of soil exhaustion. It is Shima's boast that he farms scientifically and employs experts on soil chemistry, and the results he gets seem to bear out his claim. He lives on a fashionable street in Berkeley and has done much to overcome prejudice against his nationality by intelligent and liberal donations to public and charitable causes.
Besides Shima there are several smaller Japanese operators and two or three Chinamen who lease land on a large scale. Shima markets as well as raises his product, but the others sell mainly through brokers and commission men. There are several white ranchers who farm their own land and who have demonstrated that success can be achieved in this way. The millennium of the delta is expected to be attained by wholesale subdivision into farms of one hundred acres or more, operated by the owners. Indeed, the Delta Farms Company is already planning to dispose of a part of its holdings in this manner and there is certain prosperity for the farmer who buys a small tract and tills it himself. A good yield is always sure and by proper rotation and division of crops a market for the majority of products is equally certain. It has also been proved that hog-raising and dairying can be profitably engaged in. The time will come, say many, when this Holland of America will support a large population of thrifty American farmers and the bugaboo of Oriental labor will have faded away. Schools, roads, and bridges will come, and there is already a daily mail delivery by water and an elaborate telephone system in the delta. The splendid system of water highways upon which every farm will front, will afford quick and cheap access to markets. Every farmer will have his motor-boat instead of automobile, and this will put him in easy touch with towns, cities, and schools. This ideal state is still in the indefinite future; most of the land is held by absentee landlords who are more than satisfied with the returns from the present system and whose holdings are not for sale. The reclamation of new tracts and the increasing scarcity of Japanese and Chinese labor may, however, change conditions more rapidly than now seems probable.
Our skipper landed us at several of the islands and it gave us a queer sensation to walk over ground that quaked and quivered to our step as though it rested on a subterranean lake. The improvements were generally of the flimsiest type—clapboard houses resting on piles afforded quarters for the laborers. Near the superintendent's home on one of the tracts was a field of carmine sweet peas in full bloom—a pleasing patch of color upon the general drab monotone of the landscape, suggesting the possibility of flower-farming on a large scale. The quarters for the help make it clear why Chinamen and Japanese can be so profitably employed—they demand little in the way of comforts and are satisfied with the cheapest and plainest fare. Wages, even of this class of labor, are not low, the average Oriental earning forty to sixty dollars per month besides his keep. Chinese and Japanese do not readily affiliate and men in adjoining camps may scarcely speak to each other during the entire working season. A good many Chinese live in house boats on the river and we saw the curious sight of a house-boat saloon, for the difficulty in getting in a supply of opium has driven the Chinaman to the white man's tipples and he has learned to carry a comfortable load of gin without losing his head. There were also camps of Chinese fishermen who take quantities of bass, shad, and catfish, which we were told were shipped to China. The smells from these camps frequently announced their proximity before we came in sight of them.
Asparagus is one of the large and profitable crops and on our return trip we saw a thousand-acre tract of this staple and a big factory which turns out many hundreds of carloads of the canned article. The Delta brand is famous as the largest, tenderest, and best-flavored variety known. Celery is also raised in large quantities and here is the only spot in the west where chicory thrives.
During our round, which covered eighty miles of river and canal, we had the opportunity of observing reclamation in progress, as well as many phases of farming. The huge steel dredges were slowly eating their way through the waste of reeds and willows, their long black arms delving deep into the muck and piling levees alongside the canal, which served as a pathway for the monster's advance. A little farther we saw a tract around which the levee had been completed and which was being cleared of tule and brushwood, fire being freely used, as the peat was still too wet to burn. Beyond this a field was being brought under the plough and desperately hard, heavy work it was, breaking up the matted fibrous soil that had been forming for ages. In another place a break in the levee had permitted an inflow of water and this was being thrown out with a mighty floating pump capable of handling some seventy thousand gallons per minute. Farming operations require a fleet of barges, for horses and heavy farm machinery must be carried and the products transported from the markets.
Altogether, the San Joaquin Delta was very interesting and surprising; well worth seeing aside from the personal element, which was the prime motive in our case. It is only because this wonderful region is so little known that visitors are comparatively few, but the tourist tide will surely come before long and many will find profitable investments in the lands. Of course the ordinary tourist will be able to see only a small section of this vast tract until the age of airship touring comes, but that small section will be so typical as to afford a fair idea of the whole. The story of the delta makes a unique chapter in American agriculture and it is bound to prove a fertile field for research and experiment, which will result in still greater production and a wider variety of crops. Its vast extent and endless resources make it a notable asset, even in a state so famed for big things as California, and some day it may be comparable in population and thrift to the Dutch Netherlands.
It was late when our skipper turned the launch homeward and there was something exhilarating and inspiring in swirling through the long sunset stretches of still water between the high green banks. We agreed that the boat ride alone as a variation from weeks of dusty motor travel would have been worth while, even if we had not seen and learned so much of the wonderland of the San Joaquin Delta.
On our second visit to Stockton a year later we passed through without delay on our way to the state capital. We came from Oakland—where we passed the night at the magnificent new Hotel Oakland, unsurpassed by any of California's famous hotels—by the way of Haywards, Niles, Pleasanton, and Altamont. The direct road by way of Dublin was closed and we were saved a useless twenty-mile jaunt by an obliging garage man at Haywards, who hailed us as he saw us turning into the obstructed route.
"You'll have to take a round-about road," he declared on learning of our destination. "A car which tried the Dublin road just returned, having found it completely closed. The county board is cutting down the big hill near Dublin—commenced a year ago and was held up by a lawsuit. They had to condemn a piece of land—so steep a goat couldn't stand on it—for which an Eastern owner wanted seven thousand dollars. The jury awarded the owner seventeen dollars, and now the work can go on."
"Our Eastern friend must have thought he saw a chance to get rich quick," we ventured.
"No, the funny part of it was that he wanted just what he paid for the land, which he had never seen. Some real estate agent had sold it to him for seven thousand dollars and he only wanted his money back. I reckon that any man who buys land in California on someone's representations is a sucker,"—a proposition that we did not feel called upon to dispute.
We had no reason to regret our enforced change of route, for we passed through some beautiful country—quite different from what we had previously seen in this vicinity. Following the railroad southward to Niles, we turned sharply to the left, entering the low green hills along which we had been coursing. Crossing a moderate grade, we came into a narrow valley lying between rounded hills, which showed evidence of having been in cultivation for many years. The roads, bridges, farm houses, and other improvements indicated a prosperous and well-established community and the towns of Pleasanton, Livermore, and Altamont must have sprung into existence as far back as the "days of gold." These were quiet, pretty villages connected by a fine macadam road, evidently a temptation to the "scorcher," for placards in the garages warned motorists against the despised motorcycle "cop."
It was a glorious day and the well-groomed valley showed a wonderful display of color, the prevailing green being dashed with the brilliant hues of wild flowers. The low hills on either hand were covered with lawnlike verdure and dotted with ancient oaks, while an occasional cultivated field redeemed them from monotony. Beyond Livermore we came into the San Joaquin Valley, which at this time was reveling in the promise of an unprecedented harvest. The wide level plain was an expanse of waving green varied with an occasional fringe of trees, and a low-lying, dark-blue haze quite obscured the distant mountains.
Beyond Stockton the characteristics of the country were much the same, though it seemed to us as if the valley of the Sacramento were even greener and more prosperous. The vast wheatfields were showing the slightest tinge of yellow and the great vineyards were in bloom. Some of the latter covered hundreds of acres and must have been planted many years ago. The luxuriant, flower-spangled meadows were dotted with herds of sleek cattle and it would be hard to imagine a more ideal agricultural paradise than the Sacramento Valley at this particular time. On either hand the rich plain stretched away to blue mountains, so distant that only their dim outlines were discernible, and at times they were entirely obscured by low-hung clouds or sudden summer showers.
The road between the two cities is a recently completed link of the state highway and the smooth asphalted surface offers unlimited speed possibilities if one cares to take the chances. In the spring and early summer Sacramento is surrounded by vast swamps and we crossed over a long stretch of wooden bridges before entering the city. Our original plan was to come from Napa, but we learned that the roads north and west of the city were usually impassable until late in the summer. The entire city lies below high-water level of the Sacramento and American Rivers and in its early days suffered from disastrous floods. It is now protected by an extensive system of dikes, which have successfully withstood the freshets for half a century.
A handsome city greeted us as we coursed down the wide shady street leading past the capitol to the Hotel Sacramento. Palms and flowers were much in evidence in the outskirts and many imposing modern buildings ornamented the business section. There were, however, many indications of the city's age, for Sacramento is the oldest settlement of white men in the interior of California and was a town of ten thousand people in 1849, though probably there were many transient gold-seekers among them. It was the objective of the early "Argonauts" who crossed the plains long before the discovery of gold. Here in 1839 Colonel John H. Sutter established a colony of Swiss settlers which he called New Helvetia, and the old adobe fort which he built still stands, having being converted into a museum of pioneer relics. Sutter employed Marshall, who was sent into the mountains to build a mill at Coloma, and who picked up in the mill race the original nugget that turned the tide towards California in the forties. The first railroad in the state ran from Sacramento to Folsom, and the experimental section of the state highway system was built between these two towns.
There were many productive gold mines about the town in an early day, and though these are largely worked out, Sacramento has to-day a greater and more permanent source of wealth in the rich country surrounding it. It was made the capital of the state in 1854 and the handsome capitol building was erected a few years later. This is of pure classic design in white stone and though small as compared with most other state capitols, it is surpassed architecturally by none of them. It stands in a forty-acre park intersected by winding drives and beautified with the semi-tropical trees and plants which flourish in this almost frostless climate. Among these is the Memorial Grove, composed of trees collected from the battlefields of the Civil War. The state insectary, which breeds and distributes millions of fruit-protecting insects every year, may also be seen on the capitol grounds.
Our hotel, the Sacramento, a modern concrete structure, proved fairly satisfactory, but so far as we could judge, the hotels of Sacramento were hardly up to the California standard for a city of sixty thousand. The city is visited by comparatively few tourists at present, though the motor car and the new state highway are likely to change things in this regard. The fine old town has much of real interest and the run through the prosperous valley is an experience worth while to any one who wishes to know the beauties and resources of the Golden State.