Vintage Fruit Crate Art Portrays the San Fernando Valley of Long Ago

While gathering info and graphics for my recent post, Southern California’s Wooden Crate Art: Or the Romance of Fruits and Veggies, I set aside those crate labels that featured growers from the San Fernando Valley. And here they are.

Hard to believe, but once upon a time the Valley was known as an agricultural paradise, dotted with farms, ranches, wheat fields, and seas of citrus groves. The commercial crate art labels of the time did an outstanding job of depicting the various Valley neighborhoods with colorful and idyllic scenes that are still beautiful (and now collectible) today. The Northridge label depicts the San Fernando Mission in the distance.

The following photo shows women packing lemons at the San Fernando Heights Lemon Company, ca. 1930.

 

And this Monte Vista (“mountain view”) Brand label is from the San Fernando Valley’s Sunland Olive Cannery. The 1930’s commercial artwork is similar to fruit crate art and depicts the San Gabriel mountains towering above the olive ranch and the Sunland area.

Fruit and produce label artwork, so imaginative and colorful in its early years, only added to California’s nearly mythological image as a place of bounty and beauty.

Southern California’s Wooden Crate Art: Or the Romance of Fruits and Veggies

Recent research on the Internet has led me into the amazingly artistic world of vintage wooden-crate labels. This “crate art,” as it is generally known, refers to those colorful and eye-catching paper labels that agricultural growers once used to identify their fruit and veggie produce boxes. These artful little beauties served as a very early form of commercial advertising—and if they interest you as much as they interest me, then a little background history is in order.

Back in the 1880’s, West Coast citrus fruit growers began to seriously compete with each other for both local markets and East Coast distribution. With the development of the trans-Continental rail network, farmers were able to ship fruits (and veggies, once refrigerated rail cars were invented) in wooden crates clear across the country. So, how could growers make their products stand out from the pack? Well, for nearly seventy-five years, brightly colored and dramatic paper labels were the answer. Thus, crate art was born.

The artwork created for these labels was considered commercial—so although they were designed by many popular artists of the time, they remained unsigned. All labels were registered with the United States Department of Agriculture. Each label included the grower’s brand name, location, and what grade of product was being purchased.

Now, imagine how folks did their grocery shopping back then . . . it was definitely more in keeping with the farmer’s market concept of today. Families, merchants, and wholesale distributors alike would buy their fruit and vegetables right alongside the railroad tracks. The produce would be displayed in wooden shipping crates, usually under a tent or tin-roofed structure. So, how to sell a beautiful crate of oranges or lemons?

Well, it was all about the advertising, of course! Each crate would feature the grower’s distinctive label—sometimes up to one foot square—with a bright, colorful, eye-popping design. A memorable paper label soon became an agricultural grower’s most important advertising device to show the nation . . . and even the world.

Now these labels have a bit of interesting artistic history themselves. There were actually 3 styles—depending on when they were created. The early Naturalism style (1885-1930s) was done in the popular art of the day, and generally featured scenery, portraits, birds, animals, and flowers. California-based labels especially, focused on mountain and coastal ranges, fruit groves, and towns—often with such detail that specific landscapes and places could be easily identified.

The Advertising style (1930-1940s) instead went for “effect,” aiming to be recognizable from a distance. Labels in this style featured bright, simple images and strong messages. In wholesale auction yards or in the chaotic East Coast auction halls, crate labels had become the industry-wide means to quickly communicate what products were for sale. Buyers could not see fruit, in particular, because each piece was individually wrapped in tissue paper, then all were sealed in the wooden crate. Therefore, the more vivid and powerful the label image, the better the sales.

Then came the Commercial Art style (1940-1950s), which simply emphasized the brand name itself. Bold, three-dimensional block letters (often shadowed or contorted) and geometric designs were used to create brand recognition. Sometimes an image of the product itself was also incorporated into the design, but art was a secondary consideration . . . the idea was to have a marketing impact with a wall of crates that echoed one memorable brand name.

Throughout their heyday, crate labels included a wide range of themes: beautiful women, children, Indians, ferocious or cute animals, the Gold Rush, the Wild West, politics, holidays, and luscious vignettes of fruits or vegetables. Even though crate art had its beginning with the Southern California citrus industry, it went on to become a nationwide and worldwide produce marketing technique. It eventually stretched to other countries such as New Zealand, Australia, Japan, France, Chile, and more.

Crate art labels were printed using stone lithography with 6, 8, or 12 color inks. San Francisco housed a huge lithography industry during the crate art craze and produced most of these labels.

Today, label art and the lithography houses that once created it are basically extinct. Grocery store clerks, like my dad—who, in the early 1950’s, was stocking produce in L.A.’s now-defunct “Boys” markets—most likely experienced the transition from fancy-labeled wooden crates to plain but cost-effective cardboard. Not long after World War II, the shortage of metal and wood would lead to the invention of these pre-printed cardboard shipping boxes—thus spelling the end for the crate label business. When this happened, most of the paper labels were destroyed or placed in storage. The latter, when found in unused and excellent condition, are now the Holy Grail of crate art collectors, and they sell for good money. Framed labels are also a very popular form of vintage wall art.

Going to L.A.’s First Drive-In Theater, the Pico, and Beyond

. . . not to mention that it was California’s first, as well as the fourth in the entire USA. The Pico Drive-in . . .  seen in the photo below . . . opened on September 9, 1934, at 10850 Pico Boulevard and Westwood Blvd. It was later demolished in 1943. Today, the Westside Pavillion near UCLA occupies the original site.

 

Night view of the Pico Drive-In taken at the closing of the first show on Sepember 9, 1934. Shot from the roof of the movie screen and showing a capacity crowd. (Courtesy, Los Angeles Public Library)

It also turns out that L.A. was home to California’s second drive-in theater, the San Val. (Back then, Southern California land was cheap and plentiful enough to build these massive open-air theaters—and the mostly dry and temperate climate meant almost year-round outdoor movie viewing.)

San Val Drive-in, Burbank.

The San Val (here the name is an abbreviated spin-off of it’s location in the “San Fernando Valley”) opened in 1938 at 2720 Winona Street and San Fernando Road in the city of Burbank. It survived into the mid-1970’s and is now the site of various businesses.

Another gem, Gardena’s Vermont Drive-in (17737 Vermont Avenue) featured a huge painting of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs with a misty forest and castle in the background on the exterior of it’s movie screen (which were essentally giant advertising billboards). The Vermont Drive-in once held 900 cars at a viewing. It was demolished in 1999 to make way for housing development.

Vermont Drive-in theater entrance.

Patented in 1933, the drive-in theater was the brainchild of a New Jersey businessman/inventor, Richard M. Hollingshead. He placed a 1928 Kodak projector on the hood of his car— which was parked in his home driveway—and used it to project onto a cloth screen nailed to trees in the backyard. A radio placed behind the screen provided the sounds. Once Hollingshead figured out the right angle for cars and how to raised the front ends with ramps for optimal viewing . . . well, the rest, as they say, was history. (Sound system refinements would follow later to allow for individual car speakers.)

Rows of speakers in the parking lot of an empty drive-in theater. (Courtesy, USC Digital Library)

Movie drive-ins really hit their heyday in the 1950’s-1960’s, when family cars became plentiful, and they remained popular into the late 70’s. From a kid’s standpoint, the best part was getting there early enough to play on the swings and merry-go-round at the base of the gi-normous movie screen, then loading up with goodies from the snack bar (XLNT tamales in a paper boat, anyone?). The cartoons would come on as the sky slowly darkened, and then it was time to switch into pajamas, grab your pillow, a stuffed animal, and . . . fall asleep.

These short YouTube clips happily capture a bit of the fun . . . so grab your popcorn and enjoy!

and just one more (very “Rocky and Bullwinkle-esque”) from the 1960’s that I couldn’t resist!

 

 

Devilishly Hot Halloweens in the Southland

If you are a native Angeleno, you probably associate Halloween with the Santa Ana winds—powerful, hot, dry gusts that blow trick-or-treating witches and goblins down the street, send ghost costumes madly flying, and raise the hair on your head, crackling with electricity. The air even smells ionically charged and different. While we all call them the “Santa Anas” (another localism,  just like Angelenos  say “San Peedro,” not the correctly pronounced “San Paydro”  when referring to the city’s San Pedro Harbor) . . . they are really the “Santana” or “devil winds” and were named such by the early Spanish settlers. They can reach velocities of 50 MPH or more, and always bring dry weather conditions that increase risk of wildfires all around Los Angeles county. So it is a time when residents—whether they know it or not—find themselves a bit on edge. American (and local) mystery writer Raymond Chandler captured this feeling beautifully in this excerpt from his 1938 detective story “Red Wind”:

“There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands’ necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.”

References to the hot Santa Ana winds pepper songs and literature by many other Los Angeles-based musicians and authors (the Beach Boys, Joan Didion, Bret Easton Ellis, etc.). Blustery and powerful, the Santa Anas lend an annual and eerie atmospheric touch to Halloween that locals know (and fear) only too well. Candle-lit jack-o-lanterns will struggle to keep their flickering grins aglow when the Santa Anas begin to blow . . . wishing you all a Happy Halloween!