RABASA, MARCO Apple Dealer
It was a balmy summer afternoon, away back in 1870, in a little village on the Adriatic, along the Dalmatian coast of Croatia. All of the people of the
village were around, dressed in their festive attire, chatting, some laughing, some wiping tears trickling down their rugged brows, and the
children were merrily playing in the blue waters of the Adriatic, on the rock-ribbed shore. A little boat not far away stood majestic as it swayed to
and fro, awaiting peacefully in the summer breeze to sail on its daily voyage up the coast. Soon the chatting had abated; the children stood still, and
all that could be heard was the splash of the water against the rocks, and our of this stillness and solitude a young man, rugged in stature, tall and
rangy, with a youthful smile, was seen to clasp the hands of villagers and bid them a fond adieu. Slowly easing his way to the landing, where the boat
lay moored, there, as the twilight enveloped the sun’s rays on a late summer’s eve, he stood motionless. Kissing and embracing his loved ones,
bidding them a fond farewell. Then, gazing upon those with whom he worked and played as a lad in his teens, waving a sad good-bye, stepped on the
little boat just as the swish of the water bade him bon voyage.
As he sat there in the stillness of the evening shadows and watched the rippling waters flow by and the rugged shores of his native Dalmatia
disappear into morbid solitude of the darkness, he muttered to himself unconsciously, "America."
Across the barren wastes of the Atlantic to the welcoming shores of America he sped. At the approach of the New World his anticipations rose ever
higher, as he had come to the land of promise and dreams; so on he trekked from the eastern shore over the rolling hills and dells of America’s rising
empire. Across to broad plateaus that surround the Father of Waters, to the rugged hills of the Rockies; over their palatial peaks, across the burning
sands of the desert; into cool, invigorating breezes of the balmy Pacific; into the land were the sacred feet of the Padres tread. Down the trail of
the Padres he journeyed and finally stopped in an "oasis," which the
few inhabitants, as they bid him welcome, told him was Pajaro, or the Valley of Birds.
As he sat down in the cool breeze of the early autumn evening, his mind wandered back once more to those loved ones he left behind, and with their
parting sank into a peaceful sleep, dreaming of the new home he had at last found. As the early sun peeped over the surrounding hills he arose and went
out to see what this strange yet beautiful garden had to offer. As he walked alone he saw acres upon acres planted in sugar beets, beans and other
vegetables, with here and there trees laden with apples glistening in the sun as they seemed to say: "This is the land of apples and fair maidens."
Then it was he made up his mind that the apple was the eye of his heart. From farm to farm he went, buying a tree here, half a tree there, much to the
astonishment of the inhabitants. Buying all they would sell him, he rented a little shed, bought a horse and a little wagon, and set up a sign and rubber
stamp bearing the following: "Mark Rabasa, Apple Dealer." Thus
marked the first man to go into the apple business in Watsonville, California and he had
come from far-off Croatia to pioneer an industry which today is known from north to south, east to west, and throughout the universe. He peddled his
fruit to nearby towns and some he sent to San Francisco, and much to the surprise of the natives, made a little on his investment.
After his first experience he was well satisfied, but still he mused unto himself that nature hath produced but wild. What could he do to help?
First, he thought if he pruned and took some of the burden off the tree, he would produce better quality and better fruit, and with that, if he tilled
the soil, also production would be benefited, which he did. Well nigh his efforts repaid.
As there were no modern implements of farming in the late 70’s, as there are now, this was a hard task, but the sturdy farmer such as he was never
relinquished hope, and by hard labor and fortitude conquered, so much so that the inhabitants around saw the birth of a great industry and began to plant
apple orchards of apples. A few years rolled by, then came Banovac and Sresovich to help the sturdy warrior in his conquest of King Apple. Later
followed Lettunich, Miocevich, Strazicich, Marinovich and Scurich; they, too, went into the apple business, buying here and there and slowly but
surely success began to dawn upon their brows. Packing houses began to be built, quality of fruit assorted wider markets opened up for their
production. But in the midst of all this another difficulty arose to hamper the way of the sturdy new pioneers. That was that their fruit was being
infested with worms and other pests. Now, how and what could be done to help eradicate this menace: Tilling of the soil and destructing of places wherein
these insects laid their larvae beds were destroyed, but still may more were left to carry on their work of destruction. Chemistry was brought into
vogue. With the help of State and National Departments of Agriculture, chemicals were manufactured and were brought into play in process of spraying
with certain metallic poisons, such as arsenic, lead, zinc, etc., which proved a tremendous success in eradicating the pestilence which so prevailed,
and saved many more apples.
As the years rolled by and competition increased, these pioneers had to go realm of California to market their fruit; well nigh they did,
until in the early 1890’s England and the Continent knew of their endeavors. The natives marveled at their fortitude, their work, and when in the early
1890’s they saw in one shed a thousand boxes of apples stacked up tier upon tier, still more was their surprise that so many apples were owned by one
individual, and what he was going to do with them. When later on, in the packing houses, others put their apples there and kept them two to three
months after picking them, they were astonished at their keeping qualities. Why keep them? This laid the foundation for cold storage, to keep them not
for a month of two but five to six, in order to equalize the makers and bring more revenue for their effort, so as not to sacrifice them on the altar of
downtrodden markets.
Still more difficulties arose as to what they were going to do with apples that were diseased and barred from markets, and small ones not worth of
shipping. Then came the idea of evaporated apples of dried apples to take care of this depreciation, which today in itself is a large industry. Then
came with it the early twentieth century and in ushered the Milladins, Cikuth &
Miovich, Stolichs, Kalich, Bachan, Butiers, Madeskos, Rilovich, Sresovich,
Resetars, Franichs, Katusich and many others, and with them a modern era of civilization, automobiles, gasoline engines, tractors, sorting machines,
trucks, spray machines, etc. That onslaught expedited the work of the horse and man to a higher level of perfection, due to more modern tools to work
with. Transportation became an easier item. World markets were brought closer with faster methods of labor, and soon the packing sheds congregated
on the railroad itself, as a unification of one packing shed next to another, intermingled with cold storages, dryers, etc., an a solid railroad front,
with the Croatian as its pioneers, and still developing it into an industry which
takes foremost rank on this little valley on the shores of the turbulent waters of Monterey Bay. They surround us today with orchards of apples
owned, and some leased, by them. There are numberless packing sheds with modern equipment, beautiful homes, buildings; truly a tribute to the
community they so helped to build, and an honor to the sturdy pioneers of the apple industry who brought it to the from in years gone by.
How did they do it, those old sturdy pioneers? Yes, how? Through perseverance and a do-or-die spirit from early sunrise to late sunset,
winter, summer, autumn and spring, always out upon nature’s bosom, toiling, watching and persevering. Nursing her in her infancy and never letting her
die until the spring blossom smiled upon their endeavors and the yellow leaf of autumn fell off to hide itself before the chilly blasts of winter. Others
laughed, scoffed maybe, but today copy their ideas and marvel at what the human mind and physical prowess had done to nature’s budding tree. Yes, we
can say that the Croatians are the true pioneers of the apple industry; truly, they found the tree there, but in the same manner a hunter finds a
lion in his African den, so, too, they found the apple tree.
As a hunter traps his prey and tames it, so did they help with nature’s aid to tame this wilderness until today anybody entering our beautiful valley in
blossom time sees a paradise of blossoms gently swaying in the mild breeze of the Pacific.
Today, as old Mark Rabasa lies serene in the veil of death on the little hillside surrounding this garden spot, a beautiful smile peruses his lips as
he looks down upon his fellow Croatians still pursuing in his same footsteps that he trod a half a century ago. So also do the other sturdy pioneers,
bent low with age and hardships of years gone by.
Today, throughout the markets of the world, Croatian names mark the boxes laden with the delicious apples grown in our valley, and as they eat them,
cannot but thin of what fortitude, gentleness and hardships it took to nurse such a fruit to a state of beauty and sweetness, wrapped up in its little
individual paper, to bring its rosy cheeks to the lips of men and women throughout the length and breadth of countless millions in this world.
To these sturdy pioneers of Dalmatia’s rugged coast who came here and stacked their lives and all, that this industry may develop here to what she
is today upon this seventy-fifth anniversary of our organization, we pay solemn tribute,and as we now look around us and see what they laid the
foundation to, with our modern implements and ways of doing, we wonder how it was possible, and well, too, may we wonder.
To these sturdy and rugged Croatians of years gone by, and to those new who followed in their footsteps and made the apple industry, what it is today,
and to their enterprises here today, we see and industry developed to the highest pitch of perfection, a true and fitting memorial to those who staked
all and made this part of our broad continent a Paradise of Eden.
In conclusion, in this melting pot of America we can truly say that these rugged Croatians played their part in her history and today their names dot
the register of American citizenship as good old pioneers of California’s apple industry, and with it waved the true American banner of success and
fidelity to the flag that hovered over the fields of daily toil and were found not wanting when their country called, as true citizens were they, and
as rugged tillers of the soil. So today, as many of them lie beneath and near the shade of the majestic apple tree and smile at its growth, the spirit
hovers in its adopted land in true American democracy.