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Citrus sales are part of the tradition in Redlands; nothing beats fresh

11:10 PM PST on Thursday, March 4, 2010
By JAN SEARS and DARRELL R. SANTSCHI
The Press-Enterprise

The Washington navels are ripening in Redlands, breathing fragrant life into a longstanding, informal city tradition.

Three times a year, as the various citrus crops ripen, curbside fruit stands open up. Some are sizeable, offering not only citrus but avocados and other produce raised by urban farmers.

Others are little more than a table and an honor box, with hand-lettered signs advertising oranges for $3 to $4 for a six- to seven-pound bag. Or in one case, juice for 75 cents a cup.

Neighborhood fruit stands aren't unique to Redlands, but they are abundant here, possibly because of the city's focus on preserving its citrus heritage. Like Riverside, Redlands was a focal point for Southern California's citrus industry from the late 1800s until the 1950s.

But citrus acreage has declined dramatically. In 1990, San Bernardino County had 6,496 acres. By 2008, it had dropped to 2,275 acres in the Redlands area, plus 260 in High Desert lemons.

The city of Redlands itself owns more than 200 acres of citrus groves and pays for their maintenance through commercial fruit sales.

The oranges come with a cachet.

"These oranges have been certified as the best-eating navel oranges in the world," said Larry Burgess, A.K. Smiley Library director and a citrus grove owner.

The backyard sellers range from longtime citrus ranchers to people who became fruit peddlers more by accident than design.

Christi Rettig and her family are in the latter category. They moved into their Terracina Boulevard home two years ago. At first, they gave away the fruit from their 62 trees so it wouldn't go to waste. Then daughter Marlee, 16, noticed the neighbors were selling their oranges. She asked to give it a try.

"She was selling them in Stater Bros. grocery bags," Christi Rettig said as she wiped oranges with a rag and bagged them at the foot of her driveway. "She was putting 30 of them in there and selling them for $2. It was ridiculous."

The customers came in droves. This year, the family is using plastic bags from a packing house and has boosted the price to $3. Christi Rettig says she sells 20 to 30 bags in a couple of hours each afternoon.

ACCIDENTAL SELLER

Pat David, 71, who lives on Highland Avenue, said she and her husband, Peter, moved into their house in the summer four years ago. The property has 31 citrus trees, mostly navel oranges, and a wooden fruit stand left out front by the previous owner.

Pat David paid little attention to the stand at first. When she finally inspected it, she was surprised to find a small cornucopia-shaped basket with $4 stuffed inside.

A few months later, people started coming to her door and asking when the fruit would be ripe, she said.

"I was so ignorant. I had no idea," she said.

But she remembered getting oranges at Christmastime as a child, she said. She bought a picker and come winter, sold fruit for $1 a bag.

"They went like hotcakes," she said. "So I said, all right, and I boosted it up to $2 -- and they still sold like hotcakes."

She made enough one year to buy a roundtrip flight to Chicago, but mostly the Davids donate the proceeds and extra fruit to their church for the needy.

Around the corner on Monterey Street, Madelyn Detwiler, 9½, runs an even smaller operation. From her front yard, she hawks lemonade or orange juice made of fruit from the family's trees.

On a recent holiday Monday she put up signs, but her voice was her best advertisement.

"Fresh lemonade!" she bellowed at passing cars.

Despite her volume, business was bad, she said with a downcast expression. But some days she makes as much as $6 selling to joggers and bike riders, she said.

A LABOR OF LOVE

Up the street a ways, Bernie DeYoung Jr. farms several acres of trees, many of which where planted by his father, he said. He makes enough money from fruit sales to pay his taxes and to maintain the trees, but no profit to speak of, he said.

The family used to have their stand on the street, but moved it up the driveway after some vandalism.

"A lot of things happened to that stand," DeYoung, a retired captain from the San Bernardino County sheriff's Yucaipa station, said with a wry grin. "People would tie ropes to it and haul it up the road ... They ripped off the cash box ..."

DeYoung said he breaks even mainly because he does most of the work himself.

"Citrus is a real labor-intensive thing," he said.

It's a labor of love. DeYoung treasures the view from the back of his property, where San Timoteo Canyon stretches into the distance. The land used to be "just dark with orange trees," he said, but even now there are groves to see.

Marlee Rettig enjoys picking the fruit despite getting dirty and scratched.

"You break a sweat and you get cuts all over your arms," she said. "It's like, therapeutic, because the sun comes through and the rays are hitting your face..."

CHERISHED TRADITION

The customers are just as fond of the tradition. Some travel a fair distance for the winter navels.

Jack Bailey drove down from Big Bear Lake in the San Bernardino Mountains to buy from the Rettigs' stand. Carol Fuhrman, of Riverside, was en route to Redlands Community Hospital when she stopped in. "I won't buy them from the grocery stores," Fuhrman said as she waited for Christi Rettig to fill her bag. "I'm picky. I want them fresh off the tree."

Reach Jan Sears at 951-368-9477 or jsears@PE.com

Reach Darrell R. Santschi at 951-368-9484 or dsantschi@PE.com