I too live in the Central Valley, except more in the south central portion. I grew up working in the packing houses. I packed tomatoes. It was dirty, hot, and dizzying work picking out the culls from the river of fruit that waved past us at a rapid pace. It took me a while to get past the nauseous feeling of following the flow of red. We were to keep an eye out for split fruit, usually around the stems. We’d quickly scan and pick up tomatoes that looked overly ripe or damaged and chunk them onto another constantly moving belt beneath us. At the end of the machine, women helped the tomatoes fall into plastic sleeves with divots in which each fruit would rest. Two layers of tomatoes went into each wooden box. Then an Federal inspector would check randomly for accuracy of our culling. It was always a tug and pull between the packing house owner and the inspector as to what was considered a cull. If too many culls were found in the random boxes, the belt would slow down to allow us to better catch unacceptable fruit. If the numbers stayed low, we’d stay at that pace, or sometimes speed it up since the more boxes we could pack in an hour saved the house from paying extra in wages. Then, many of us at the breaks would take our own sacks or boxes and glean from the culls to take home. My mom would then take these to a local cooperative to can. If I was off work that day, I’d help her wash, peel and squish as many to tomatoes as possible into a quart sized can. We’d add the desired amount of salt and seasoning to preserve the fruit. We’d label ours with a waxy black marker and pay for the processing based upon the number of cans. We’d often see other women we knew and visit. The shed we worked in perhaps had a fan, but no A/C. It was also hot work, so usually was done in the morning. One had to call ahead to reserve a spot. It was popular since one didn’t have heat up their kitchen by canning at home.
Thank you for sharing about your field experience. It flooded my memory about those years in high school of working in the packing sheds. Hard, but rewarding work.
What an experience you had! Thanks for sharing your experience. My husband worked for a company packing peaches and he had a similar experience. So hard, he said. But so rewarding. Thanks for reading my post and for sharing your experience. You are a part of the California that I love with all my heart.
My friend Patty Fairbrother and me,Lydia Vasquez at the time, got on those harvesters one summer in the 60s. I'll never forget the heat, it was over 100 degrees, the dusty stickiness of tomatoe debris and the standing for hours grabbing the the tomatoes off the belt.No breaks, just lunch. I totally appreciated farmworkers and eating ripe tomatoes after that summer. Once I started teaching farmworkers and their children, I totally could relate to some of their livelihood struggles in Hamilton City, Salinas, Woodland and Davis. Thanks for taking me down a hot memory lane.
Wow, what an adventure indeed. I grew up in west Davis, with tomato fields within a few minutes drive (and in fact just a couple of blocks from the Dunning home!), but never thought to take burgers to those all-night workers. What a wonderful reward for your generosity. The fact that it was completely unexpected makes it even more precious! This story inspires me to look for adventures close to home (my life's circumstances prevent me from looking further afield), by way of engaging with the goings on around me, with an attitude of gracious curiosity. Thank you Shelly!
Hi Cynthia. Thanks for reading about our tomato experience. One of my favorites. I feel so lucky to have had the experience. Luckily, for both of us, there are grand adventures everywhere, no matter the circumstances. You sound like someone who won't have trouble finding them. Have fun! Report back!
I too live in the Central Valley, except more in the south central portion. I grew up working in the packing houses. I packed tomatoes. It was dirty, hot, and dizzying work picking out the culls from the river of fruit that waved past us at a rapid pace. It took me a while to get past the nauseous feeling of following the flow of red. We were to keep an eye out for split fruit, usually around the stems. We’d quickly scan and pick up tomatoes that looked overly ripe or damaged and chunk them onto another constantly moving belt beneath us. At the end of the machine, women helped the tomatoes fall into plastic sleeves with divots in which each fruit would rest. Two layers of tomatoes went into each wooden box. Then an Federal inspector would check randomly for accuracy of our culling. It was always a tug and pull between the packing house owner and the inspector as to what was considered a cull. If too many culls were found in the random boxes, the belt would slow down to allow us to better catch unacceptable fruit. If the numbers stayed low, we’d stay at that pace, or sometimes speed it up since the more boxes we could pack in an hour saved the house from paying extra in wages. Then, many of us at the breaks would take our own sacks or boxes and glean from the culls to take home. My mom would then take these to a local cooperative to can. If I was off work that day, I’d help her wash, peel and squish as many to tomatoes as possible into a quart sized can. We’d add the desired amount of salt and seasoning to preserve the fruit. We’d label ours with a waxy black marker and pay for the processing based upon the number of cans. We’d often see other women we knew and visit. The shed we worked in perhaps had a fan, but no A/C. It was also hot work, so usually was done in the morning. One had to call ahead to reserve a spot. It was popular since one didn’t have heat up their kitchen by canning at home.
Thank you for sharing about your field experience. It flooded my memory about those years in high school of working in the packing sheds. Hard, but rewarding work.
What an experience you had! Thanks for sharing your experience. My husband worked for a company packing peaches and he had a similar experience. So hard, he said. But so rewarding. Thanks for reading my post and for sharing your experience. You are a part of the California that I love with all my heart.
This story is one of my all time favorites. I can’t look at the night harvesters now without picturing you out there feasting on burgers.
My friend Patty Fairbrother and me,Lydia Vasquez at the time, got on those harvesters one summer in the 60s. I'll never forget the heat, it was over 100 degrees, the dusty stickiness of tomatoe debris and the standing for hours grabbing the the tomatoes off the belt.No breaks, just lunch. I totally appreciated farmworkers and eating ripe tomatoes after that summer. Once I started teaching farmworkers and their children, I totally could relate to some of their livelihood struggles in Hamilton City, Salinas, Woodland and Davis. Thanks for taking me down a hot memory lane.
Wow, what an adventure indeed. I grew up in west Davis, with tomato fields within a few minutes drive (and in fact just a couple of blocks from the Dunning home!), but never thought to take burgers to those all-night workers. What a wonderful reward for your generosity. The fact that it was completely unexpected makes it even more precious! This story inspires me to look for adventures close to home (my life's circumstances prevent me from looking further afield), by way of engaging with the goings on around me, with an attitude of gracious curiosity. Thank you Shelly!
Hi Cynthia. Thanks for reading about our tomato experience. One of my favorites. I feel so lucky to have had the experience. Luckily, for both of us, there are grand adventures everywhere, no matter the circumstances. You sound like someone who won't have trouble finding them. Have fun! Report back!