Willard Smith of Villa Park

Orange County Supervisor Willard Smith

One of the most influential Orange County citizens of the 20^th century is barely remembered today. Willard Smith of Villa Park was a huge figure in the citrus and banking industries, water and land development, and most notably, as a County Supervisor from 1925 to 1955.

Willard Smith was born March 24, 1882 in the rural community of Mountain View (now Villa Park), in the house his father, rancher James M. Smith, built at the east end of Santiago Boulevard. (Now 18992 Santiago Blvd. at Sycamore and listed on the National Register of Historic Places.) Willard would live in the house most of his life. He attended Mountain View Elementary School and Santa Ana High School, and graduated from the Orange County Business College in Santa Ana.

VPOA's Red Dog brand of Valencia oranges, inspired by one of Smith's prized bulldogs.

As a young man, Smith tried his hand at various jobs. He left home in 1900 to work in the sawmills of Redding but soon returned to Orange County to start a citrus grove fumigation business. Next, he entered the photo engraving business, which took him to San Diego and then to Los Angeles. But the chemicals he had to work with were bad for his health. In 1906 he returned to Villa Park where he managed three citrus ranches and began raising prize-winning English bulldogs. 

Within a year, Smith was made president of the Serrano Water Co. (later called the Serrano Irrigation District), which served the Villa Park area. In that role, he was involved in the construction of the Santiago Dam and the creation of Irvine Lake in 1931. Smith served on the board of the Bixby Development Co. and was involved with the development of the Cerro Villa and Peralta Hills tracts. 

A financial whiz and already a stockholder and director of the National Bank of Orange, Smith filled in “temporarily” for an ailing cashier and soon also found himself in a lifelong banking career. When the bank merged with the First National Bank of Orange, he remained on their board for more than forty years and he served, at various times, as vice president and chairman of the board.

L to R: Willard Smith, Mr. Hasenjaeger, Willis Warner, Dick Hater, and Pat Arnold horsing around after a planning meeting with Walt Disney (right) at Disney Studios, December 1954.

Willard married Edna Lee in 1910, and the couple had two sons, Dr. George Abbott Smith (1911-2002) and Willard Irving Smith (1914-1957).

Smith was a founding member of the Villa Park Orchards Association, and served as its president from 1913 to 1959. He also served on the board of the Orange County Fruit Exchange, and was a founding member of the Orange County Farm Bureau.

Smith was active in numerous fraternal and civic organizations. He was a member of the Orange Grove Lodge #293, Free and Accepted Masons, serving as Worshipful Master in 1918. He was also active with the Orange Chapter #99, Royal Arch Masons, the Al Malikah Shrine Temple, the Orange Elks Lodge, the Orange Rotary Club, the Orange Community Chamber of Commerce, and the Native Sons of the Golden West.

L to R: Orange County Supervisors George Jeffrey and Willard Smith with the mayor of Laguna Beach at the end of Blue Lantern St. in Dana Point after a tour of the under-construction Ortega Highway, 1930.

As a prominent and capable community leader, Willard Smith was an obvious choice when, in 1925, it came time for the governor to appoint a replacement for Orange County Supervisor Leon Whittsel, who had been appointed to the State Railroad Commission. 

Once on the board, Smith’s talents, experience, penchant for research, and community connections made him a force to be reckoned with. He was “the sparkplug of the county’s executive board,” wrote the Orange Daily News. “There is little of the sensational about Willard Smith, he is instead a quiet, level-headed executive who takes every responsibility in dead earnest and never makes a play for publicity.” 

Smith would not have run for re-election, but a contingent of friends and supporters arm-twisted him into it. He would end up being the longest-serving Supervisor in the history of Orange County.

Representing the Fourth District, he saw the county through some of its most turbulent and transformative times, including prohibition; the dedication of the Orange County Airport; the building of the Ortega, Imperial and Coast Highways; the Great Depression; the 1933 Long Beach Earthquake; the development of Newport Harbor; the 1938 flood, the construction of Prado Dam and other flood control infrastructure; World War II, the shift away from an agricultural economy, the planning of Disneyland, and the beginnings of Orange County’s post-war population boom. No other individual was more responsible for guiding and shaping Orange County during its greatest era of development. During his time in office, he served several terms as chairman of the board.

Willard Smith's home and orange groves, Villa Park.

Although involved in steering the County through a vast array of critical issues, Smith was best known as an expert on county finances, water, flood control and agriculture. He also took a strong roll in forestry issues, fire prevention, and the growing population’s need for good roads.  

Politically, he was a proponent of keeping taxes low and spending revenue locally rather than turning to state and federal government for local needs. That said, he was more than willing to travel to Sacramento or Washington, D.C., when an advocate for Orange County was needed in the halls of power.

Despite his career and his impressive resume of public service, Willard Smith always regarded himself primarily as a farmer. His other interests were, he said, “incidental.”

Upon his retirement, Los Angeles Airways named their new heliport between Orange and Santa Ana in honor of Smith. After several years of poor health, he died in Orange on May 20, 1969. 

So much of what he created or laid the groundwork for is still part of Orange County today.

Anaheim’s “Missing” Jewish Cemetery

Anaheim in 1876. (Courtesy Anaheim Heritage Center)

There was almost a real cemetery in what became Disneyland’s backyard. But like some of the Haunted Mansion’s 999 ghosts, it failed to fully materialize.

Anaheim was planned and settled beginning in the late 1850s by the Los Angeles Vineyard Society, which was composed primarily of Germans and other Europeans who’d been living in San Francisco. It’s less well-known that some of Anaheim’s pioneers were Jewish – beginning with vintner, merchant and philanthropist Benjamin Dreyfus, who arrived in 1857. 

Jewish communities often prioritize acquiring land for a cemetery even before establishing a synagogue or school. The cemeteries are generally established by a local Jewish burial society – a tradition that began in Prague in the 16th Century. In keeping with religious law and tradition, these cemeteries are generally established outside of town. 

Gustav Davis, a founder of the Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery Assoc., joined his brother Phil in Anaheim in 1870. They opened a grocery and hardware store in 1878. (Courtesy Anaheim Heritage Center)

Indeed, as Anaheim’s Jewish community grew, the Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery Association was formed around 1876 and filed incorporation papers in January 1877. The first directors were Louis Wartenberg, Gustav Davis, Joseph Fisher, Morris A. Mendelson and H. Cohn. 

Henry Kroeger Building, south side of 100 block of Center St, (now Lincoln Ave.), Anaheim,1895. Early meeting place of the Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery Assoc. (Courtesy Anaheim Heritage Center)

The Association finally selected and purchased (from the Robinson Trust) two and a half acres south of town on July 8, 1882 for $125. 

In modern terms, the land is occupied by both the northbound and southbound lanes of Disneyland Drive, just south of Ball Road. 

Site of cemetery land highlighted in green.

Prior to the development of Disneyland Drive, the parcel was on the southeast corner of Ball and West Streets. (For you surveyor-types: The NE 1/4 of NW 1/4 of NW 1/4 of NW 1/4, of Section 22, Township 4 South, Range 10 West, San Bernardino Base & Meridian.) This spot was well known to locals into the early 1900s.

“However,” writes historian Dalia Taft, in JLife magazine, “no place of burial ended up being created and most Jews were interred in either Los Angeles or San Francisco." 

Site of proposed Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery as it appeared in 2024.

The fact that the land was never consecrated or used as intended was “perhaps because of the greater convenience of using the cemetery of the Hebrew Benevolent Society of Los Angeles located in Chavez Ravine,” writes Norton B. Stern in Western States Jewish History (Vol. 17, 1984). The reason was NOT – as one later history buff suggested – because God kept Anaheim’s Jews too healthy to ever need a cemetery.

Early Los Angeles map (detail) shows the Jewish cemetery on Reservoir St. in Chavez Ravine (Courtesy Huntington Library)

After being delinquent on taxes on their cemetery property since 1903, the Anaheim Hebrew Cemetery Association lost the property to the State of California on July 9, 1909. 

In a curious footnote to history, had Anaheim’s Jewish Cemetery been established it would have meant that Disneyland would have ended up elsewhere. Walt Disney made it clear to those helping him select a site, that he did not want his “Happiest Place on Earth” near a cemetery. 

Thanks to Jane Newell and Cynthia Ward for their help with this article.

Orange County’s Swamps & Marshes: A Historical Thumbnail Sketch

Bolsa Chica Ecological Preserve, 2012 (Photo by author)

You’ll never hear it from the Chamber of Commerce, but much of Orange County – from Irvine to Seal Beach to Westminster – was once covered in swamps and marshes. In a few places, segments of these swamps can still be found. But more often, over a century of elaborate drainage efforts have obliterated most signs of the wetlands. Let’s look at a few lowland highlights:

The area southeast of Garden Grove was known as “the Willows” for the dense swampy thickets that trapped wandering cattle and hid fugitive criminals. Even after the dense tangle of willows was carved away, simply driving a pipe into the ground a short distance would send a geyser of water into the air. Fountain Valley took its name from this phenomenon. 

Marshy willow thickets below the Newland House, Huntington Beach, 2007.

The miles-wide, willow-clogged river delta between the Huntington Beach mesa and Costa Mesa was occasionally described as being part of “the Willows,” but was also known by other names, including Talbert Gap. This swampland providing bait for fishermen, and seclusion for moonshiners and hermits. It included numerous lagoons including the large “Bitter Water Lake.”

The Talbert dredger, dredging a drainage canal near today's Atlanta and Magnolia Streets, in what's now Huntington Beach, 1898.

Westminster and north Huntington Beach were known as “the Peatlands” in the 1890s and early 1900s. Attempts were made to harvest peat from the bogs for fuel, and horses had to wear wide “peat shoes” to keep from sinking into the squishy ground. And the Cypress area was once called “Waterville” for its many artesian wells.

Peat shoes kept horses from sinking into the bog.

Gospel Swamp was the name given to the marshy land south of Santa Ana, below today’s McFadden Avenue and extending down into the northern edge of Costa Mesa. Many of the area’s settlers in the late 1800s were rural, religious folks from the South, who were jokingly called “Swamp Angels” by their city slicker neighbors in Santa Ana. The Greenville Country Church (1877) still stands at Greenville St. and MacArthur, near the heart of Gospel Swamp. A small remnant of the swamp itself can be seen behind the Heritage Museum of Orange County near Centennial Park. Some have surmised that the “Gospel Swamp” name stretched as far west as parts of Fountain Valley, although details about that particular boundary are hazy.

Upper Newport Bay, 2012 (Photo by author)

From the top of Upper Newport Bay to the foothills above Tustin and Irvine, the wetlands were almost impassable during the rainy season. When California was under Spanish and Mexican rule, the place was called la Cienega de las Ranas – the Swamp of the Frogs. Millions of tiny frogs could be heard “singing” for miles around each night, making it a landmark for travelers on El Camino Real. Today’s San Joaquin Marsh was part of the cienega. 

Blue heron at Bolsa Chica, 2013. (Photo by author)

The Bolsa Chica wetlands in Huntington Beach are named for the Mexican rancho they were once part of. It’s still an amazing repository of wildlife and is a critical spot for many species of birds during their migration up and down the coast. But it also has a rich human history. One can still find evidence of its Indian village sites, the exclusive Bolsa Chica Gun Club, the oil boom, the (now missing) Freeman River, World War II shore defenses and the modern battle between environmentalists and developers.

The "last peat bog in Fountain Valley," circa 1950s. Was west of Brookhurst St, on Garfield Ave.

For much of our history, the soggy parts of Orange County were both an annoyance and a boon. While it made the land useless for some purposes, the soil was rich with nutrients and damp enough to create booming industries in sugar beets, celery, lima beans, and other crops that benefit from constant moisture. The wetlands also served as a home for dozens of gun clubs or duck clubs, making Orange County a hunter’s paradise from Bolsa Chica to San Joaquin Marsh.

San Joaquin Marsh, Irvine (Courtesy Andreas Lombana/VvVAmobile)

Today, we recognize the value of wetlands and the many ways they provide a healthier environment for plants, animals and people. Instead of draining and paving them, there are efforts to preserve and even restore the marshlands that survive. 

Swamps: More proof that Orange County is more than Disneyland, and that all our local ducks don’t all wear sailor suits or hockey masks.

Talbert Marsh, near the mouth of the Santa Ana River, 1990.

O.C.’s First Automatic Elections Equipment

Two Coleman vote talley systems in 1964.

Concerns about the accuracy and security of automatic vote tallying isn’t something new, or even something that arrived with the infamous “hanging chads” of 2000. In Orange County, specifically, those headaches began in 1964 -- when the very first time such machinery was introduced: The Coleman Electronic Vote Talley System (sometimes called the Coleman-Gyrex System). 

Coleman Engineering Co., Inc, was founded in 1950 by Northrop Aircraft vice president Theodore C. "Ted" Coleman as a small R&D firm working for military missile test centers. Over time, it transitioned to manufacturing and selling products for industrial photography, electronic controls, data handling, security and metal finishing. Originally based in Los Angeles County, the company headquarters later moved to 3209 W. Central in Santa Ana. In 1962, Coleman Engineering bought the Norden division of United Aircraft. Originally a separate company known as the Norden-Ketay Corp., it had developed an electronic vote tallying device. 

By noon on election day 1964 – Orange County’s first election with the Coleman Electronic Vote Talley System -- it was already clear that there were big voter fraud problems. The system's special ballot-marking pens had been sabotaged in more than 100 of the county's 1,021 precincts -- mainly in the Anaheim, Huntington Beach, Westminster, and San Clemente areas. It was the Orange County Republican Party that raised the alarm and soon Ted Coleman was able to confirm that "about one in every eight pens reported as faulty were definitely tampered with."

But the County continued to use the Coleman system. Upgraded equipment used in the June 1968 primaries had some glitches and was slow, but ultimately proved to be extremely accurate. 

The County last used Coleman equipment in the special election of Nov. 6, 1979, then migrated to a new system sold by Valtec Corp. and built in Costa Mesa by Major Data Concepts. This new system worked well mechanically, but suffered from programming errors that threw the election results into doubt.

So, what happened to Coleman Engineering? In September 1968, they bought five other companies: Salsbury Corp, Keystone Abrasive Supply, Knodsen Engineering, Industrial Hydraulics, and Kasco Abrasives. The latter two of these were had been owned by Frank E. Vachon. The mergers resulted in the company being renamed Coleman Systems and moving to 18842 Teller Ave. in Irvine in 1970 or 1971. Later in 1971, Ted Coleman retired as head of Coleman Systems and left Vachon in charge. The business was still operating in Irvine as of 1977.

Today, the County of Orange uses dramatically more sophisticated and accurate equipment from entirely different vendors to scan and tally votes. Every step of the process has safeguards to prevent errors or fraud and voters can even go onto the Registrar of Voters' website to track their ballot and confirm that their vote was counted.

Carl R. Nelson (1930–2024)

Carl R. Nelson in 1989

One of the individuals most responsible for the way modern Orange County looks and functions has passed. Carl Nelson was an expert on countless aspects of local infrastructure, past and present, and was a tremendously helpful resource to those wanted or needed to understand such things. 

And as much as he shared his knowledge with others, he also never stopped wanting to learn. He was a longtime member of the Orange County Historical Society, and a frequent visitor to the Orange County Archives -- so we saw each other often. I also called him occasionally, when I thought there was something he should be involved in or when I needed to pick his brain. 

Carl in 1958, working for the State Division of Highways.

Back in 2009, when realized that wildfires had burned away a century of brush that had overgrown historic irrigation canals in Santa Ana Canyon, my first call was to Carl. He knew the stories behind each of those canals and he needed to be part of a hike to see them. Ultimately, a whole passel of us historical folk tagged along. It was an unforgettable day.

A few years ago, Carl suggested we collaborate on an article about some aspect of water in Orange County. (I forget what exactly.) I liked the idea and started to research the subject, only to find that Carl himself had published a comprehensive article on the topic himself, years earlier! I don't know what he thought I might bring to the table, but there's no way I could ever out-Carl Carl on topics relating to water and public works. I stepped back, knowing I was out of my depth.

Just back from our hike through Santa Ana Canyon, 2009.

I'm taking Carl's obituary (shown in quotes, below) as I found it online, and interspersing it with other information I have about Carl from other sources, to paint a little more of the portrait of this man who contributed to so much to Orange County, ...

"Carl Richard Nelson was born December 31, 1930, in Los Angeles, California, to Eric and Alma Nelson. He passed away on October 22, 2024, surrounded by family. The son of Scandinavian immigrants, Carl’s early life took him across Southern California, including Lawndale [and] Santa Monica..."

Carl visits construction site on Santa Ana River near Angels Stadium, Anaheim

His family moved to the San Fernando Valley when Carl was nine and he graduated from Vista High School in 1948. He attended Palomar Junior College and was accepted at UCLA but enlisted in the U.S. Air Force in 1951 as an electronics technician and instructor. "Carl honorably served in the U.S. Air Force during the Korean War." He left the service in 1955. 

"He graduated from UCLA with a bachelor’s degree in engineering" in 1958, obtained his engineering license in 1961, "and earned a Master of Science in Civil Engineering from USC [1964], setting the foundation for a distinguished career. Carl was a member of the Lambda Chi Alpha fraternity at UCLA."

Carl Nelson at the Old Orange County Courthouse, circa 1989.

Carl then became a junior engineer with the State Division of Highways Bridge Department. In late 1960 he joined the Orange County Flood Control Department. 

"For fourteen years, Carl was the Orange County Director of Public Works and County Surveyor, where he directed the planning, design, construction, and maintenance of vital infrastructure, including roads, flood control systems, harbors, beaches, and parks." He was also the right-hand man of Environmental Management Agency Director George Osborne and together they were responsible for creating much of what we now know as South Orange County.

Carl and his family. Circa 1960s.

Carl's "commitment to public service extended beyond his role; he was an active member of the American Society of Civil Engineers [ASCE], the Southern California Chapter of the Public Works Association, the Orange County Historical Society, and the Laguna Niguel Historical Society. Carl was also a member of the Sons of Norway."

He also enjoyed sports, including bowling, and he famously Bowled a sanctioned 300 game at Saddleback Lanes in Mission Viejo in 1982.

Carl on the stump

After retirement, Carl joined The Keith Companies, Inc., and later Holmes and Narver Engineering. In 2009 he wrote a history of water resources development on the Irvine Ranch. He also wrote a number of other historical articles for the local ASCE chapter. 

In his later years, he tackled consulting work on projects that interested him. And right up until the end and was an active, well known, liked, and respected member of the local historical community.

George Osborne and Carl Nelson of the Orange County Environmental Management Agency visit a washout at Trabuco Creek in Live Oak Canyon above O'Neill Park.

In his retirement years, I often picked his brain on issues relating to water, flood control, planning, or countless other projects he worked on for the county. There was never a short answer with Carl because he wanted you to understand the whole context. But his answer was always a definitive one. He was particularly helpful to me when I was working on a necessarily complicated history of the County’s old Environmental Management Agency (EMA). Carl knew Orange County history in ways that no one person likely ever will again. He'd not only studied it; he'd also been integral to creating a good share of it himself.

Within just the past couple years, he'd been doing research and trying to work out solutions to the terrible beach erosion problems down at Capistrano Beach. He wasn't being paid as a consultant. He was just a concerned citizen -- with tremendous knowledge and experience -- offering what he saw as a more viable approach. Carl was being Carl.

Carl photographs historic irrigation infrastructure in 2009.

"Carl is survived by his beloved wife, Donna; four children; three stepchildren; five grandchildren; and his brother, John Nelson. His legacy of dedication and service will be remembered by all who knew him."

What was happening at Huntington Beach in 1884?

Sedgwick Post G.A.R.’s shrine to fallen comrades, circa 1887, Santa Ana. (Courtesy Library of Congress)

Two blurbs published in the Los Angeles Herald in June 1884 were undoubtedly unremarkable at the time, but now provide a glimpse of some of the earliest recorded events on the coast at what's now Huntington Beach. Both items deal with a gathering held by the Grand Army of the Republic (G.A.R.) – an organization for Civil War veterans of the Union Army – at “Shell Beach,” which became Pacific City in 1901, and finally Huntington Beach around 1903. The two blurbs follow:

• "…Sedgwick Post of the G.A.R. of Santa Ana contemplates a grand encampment at the ocean beach down near Newport. They will take their wife and families and stay during the 2d, 3d, and 4th of July. A jolly, happy idea." (6-17-1884)
• "The members of Sedgwick Post, G.A.R., have made arrangements for a campfire at Shell Beach, on July 2, 3, 4 and 5. Army rations, pork, beans and coffee will be issued each day." (6-24-1884)

The General John Sedgwick Post, No. 17, was the local G.A.R. chapter, based in Santa Ana. Their 1884 Shell Beach encampment is the first known of its kind that we now know about. Until now, the earliest known event of this kind in Orange County was held in 1888 by the Southern California Veteran's Association (SCVA) – an informal branch of the G.A.R. that planned their encampments – at Anaheim Landing (now part of Seal Beach). According to local Civil War historian Charles Beal, the 1888 event was probably the SCVA’s first encampment. 

It wasn’t until 1905 that the SCVA held its first of numerous large-scale encampments for G.A.R. members at the Methodist Campgrounds, centered at what’s now the intersection of Pecan St. and 12th St. in Huntington Beach. These large conventions, held at what was dubbed “Tent City” or “Arbamar,” were very important to the local economy prior to the Huntington Beach oil boom of 1920. These veterans’ events filled the tents on the Methodist Campgrounds and the (few) local hostelries, like the Evangeline Hotel. The encampments were heavily photographed and extensively written about in the local newspapers. They were important events in the early Huntington Beach.

Sunset at Huntington Beach. (Photo by author)

The references to an event in the summer of 1884 are significant in that they suggest the G.A.R. came to Huntington Beach much earlier than previously known, that the G.A.R. was holding encampments here even prior to the SCVA, and that people were using the strand at Huntington Beach for events much earlier than was previously known. 

Unfortunately, while there are multiple references in the newspapers for weeks prior to the 1884 event, so far no post-event summaries have come to light. Is it possible the event was rained out (unlikely in July) or that it proved so underwhelming that nobody saw fit to mention it again? Perhaps further details will on day come to light. 

O.C. Q&A: Halloween Edition

Q:  Are there any Nessie-type lake monsters in Orange County?

A:  The closest thing to such a legend was Old Bob, the “monster of Laguna Lake” – a dark presence that menaced ducks and snapped fishing lines from the 1950s into the 2000s. 

While draining the lake for maintenance in 2004, workers finally discovered what appeared to be a large log but which snapped at them with incredibly powerful jaws. Old Bob was a 4-foot long, 100-pound alligator snapping turtle. Native to the American southeast, ugly as sin, and downright dangerous, his specie is the largest among freshwater turtles. Old Bob was likely a pet someone dumped long ago.

He was briefly displayed at the Fullerton Arboretum’s Fall Festival before going into retirement in a pond (with a cave, waterfall and plenty of fish) provided by the O.C. Chapter of the California Turtle and Tortoise Club. Old Bob died of natural causes at his “turtle assisted living facility” around 2010. 

Q:  What's a somewhat forgotten Orange County Halloween tradition?

A:  The Halloween concerts of ska-infused New Wave octet Oingo Boingo were a local holiday tradition through the 1980s until their final show in 1995. From 1986 to 1993 -- at the height of their popularity -- those shows were held at Irvine Meadows (later Verizon Wireless Amphitheater and now apartments).  

Band leader Danny Elfman (now better known for movie scores) belted out peppy/macabre songs like "Dead Man's Party" and “No One Lives Forever.” Costumed revelers danced through shows that lasted for hours.  

Many of the band members still perform Halloween shows as the creatively-named Oingo Boingo Former Members. 

Elfman said long ago that he was done with concerts, citing partial deafness from years of loud music. But in the last couple years, advances in Weird Science allowed Elfman to return to the stage without further hearing damage. But he has not performed again with his former band.

Q:  What's the strangest beast ever to have washed up on Orange County's beaches?

A:  Not counting a couple of my surfer friends, the strangest bit of local flotsam was probably the 22-foot "sea serpent" that washed up in Newport Beach in February 1901. It turned out to be an oarfish, a rarely-seen deep sea animal. It made quite an impression on those who saw it and read about it in the newspapers. The Newport Harbor Chamber of Commerce was still putting it on their promotional maps of the area in the 1950s.

O.C. Q&A: Potpourri Edition, Part II

Santa Ana River in Santa Ana Canyon, pre-WWII.

Q:  Is the Santa Ana River man-made?

A:  Although it looks like a concrete flood control channel today, the Santa Ana River is ancient. In the past, its course changed wildly -- creating Newport Bay, carving the bluffs below downtown Huntington Beach, and sometimes cutting across Anaheim and meeting the sea as far north as Alamitos Bay. But as Orange County became more populous, an ongoing battle to tame the river began. From reinforced berms, to Prado Dam, to concrete channels, we've come a long way toward protecting ourselves from nature's wrath. 

Q:  I'm going to Tustin Tiller Days. What's a tiller? 

A:  In this case, a tiller isn't what you steer a boat with. Instead, it's a reference to the farmers (those who till, or turn over soil for planting) who once made up much of Tustin's population. Tustin High School opened in the early 1920s and nicknamed themselves the "Tustin Tillers." In 1957, the name was adopted by a new annual community festival which continues today. The Tustin Tiller Days event is generally held in early October and includes a carnival, a parade, a pancake breakfast, contests, local vendors, live music, and more. Don't expect to see many farmers,... or boats.

Q:   Someone told me some musicians founded Anaheim as "a temple to Bacchus." True?

A:   Sort of, but not exactly. With the dream of creating a wine business in Southern California, a group of several professional musicians—Germans living in San Francisco—started the Los Angeles Vineyard Society, which ultimately led to the founding of the vineyard colony of Anaheim in 1857. But the town’s German pioneers and planners also included lawyers, surveyors, merchants, and many others. Like the Anaheimers of today, they threw great parties but were also no strangers to hard work. When actress Helena Modjeska and her aristocratic artist friends arrived in Anaheim a couple decades later to start their own agricultural colony, their nearly immediate crash-and-burn stood in stark contrast to the success of the Germans.

Q:  What's the most historically important thing to happen in Orange County?

A:  Opinions vary. Orange County's been around 125 years (this month), and many important things have happened here. You could easily argue for our involvement in the space program, or in biotech innovations like the artificial heart. We introduced America to the Valencia orange, Sunkist, Richard Nixon and European Modern architecture. And don't forget the 800-pound mouse in the room: Disneyland's impact on the amusement park and tourism industries, urban planning, family entertainment, and popular and corporate culture is vast and deep.