Perspective
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The greater good
San Juan Capistrano had two choices – did its leaders pick the right one?
By William LobdellPublished: September 01, 2008
You run the city of San Juan Capistrano, a picturesque town that’s big on California history and open space. Your taxpayers own some of Orange County’s last few acres of commercial citrus groves, and you’ve had Ignacio Lujano, a sweet octogenarian farmer, tend to those orange trees, as he’s done for the past 38 years, in exchange for a small stipend and a rent-free home on the property.
The long-term open-space plan for the north end of town doesn’t include Lujano or much of the orange groves. In fact, you’ve got a maintenance yard planned where Lujano and his family have lived for nearly four decades.
You figure you’ve got two options:
A. Evict Lujano, 84, from the property.
B. Allow Lujano to live out the rest of his life on the property; it wouldn’t be too much longer in the scheme of things, and it would be the decent thing to do.
If you picked B, you failed at being a city bureaucrat. Officials took Option A, and a brokenhearted Lujano moved to Lake Elsinore last month. Since being evicted, he has suffered a minor stroke, and family members blame the stress of the move.
On paper, the city’s arguments made sense. One old man’s wishes shouldn’t hold up San Juan’s ambitious open-space plans, and besides, Lujano had slowed with age and couldn’t take care of the groves like he used to (an assertion the feisty farmer with a barrel chest, leathery skin and two bad knees flatly rejects).
But a city is a living, breathing organism that can’t be ruled well by cold logic and a cold heart. Besides, San Juan didn’t explore Option C (it could still make this work, because I’m sure Lujano would return to his home as fast as he could make that winding journey on Ortega Highway from Lake Elsinore).
So, why not allow Lujano to stay and use him as a piece of living history? The city could set up weekend and maybe evening sessions on the farm where Lujano – a gifted storyteller – can weave his spellbinding tales about the heyday of citrus farming in Orange County.
He’s got hundreds of stories. He could start with how he came to live in San Juan. He and his brother boarded a Greyhound bus near the Mexican border in 1958 and told the driver to take them as far as $5 would allow. They made it to San Juan Capistrano, and Lujano instantly fell in love with its rolling hills and seemingly endless groves.
He could tell his audience – as they ate oranges fresh off the tree – how he would sleep under the stars in the groves, a gun by his side to run off poachers (the statute of limitations has passed, so he might be willing to reveal if he ever pulled the trigger).
And he could describe how he was able to coax his trees into a more bountiful harvest than any citrus farmer around (a good soaking at the end of the trees’ roots is one secret).
For San Juan Capistrano, that option is available for a limited time only. Lujano won’t be around forever. It’s time to recapture a city treasure. ocm
William Lobdell, a veteran Orange County journalist, is co-founder of a company that produces online media, and provides media training and strategies. His e-mail is williamlobdell@yahoo.com.
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The long-term open-space plan for the north end of town doesn’t include Lujano or much of the orange groves. In fact, you’ve got a maintenance yard planned where Lujano and his family have lived for nearly four decades. You figure you’ve got two options: A. Evict Lujano, 84, from the property. B. Allow Lujano to live out the rest of his life on the property; it wouldn’t be too much longer in the scheme of things, and it would be the decent thing to do. If you picked B, you failed at being a city bureaucrat. Officials took Option A, and a brokenhearted Lujano moved to Lake Elsinore last month. Since being evicted, he has suffered a minor stroke, and family members blame the stress of the move. On paper, the city’s arguments made sense. One old man’s wishes shouldn’t hold up San Juan’s ambitious open-space plans, and besides, Lujano had slowed with age and couldn’t take care of the groves like he used to (an assertion the feisty farmer with a barrel chest, leathery skin and two bad knees flatly rejects). But a city is a living, breathing organism that can’t be ruled well by cold logic and a cold heart. Besides, San Juan didn’t explore Option C (it could still make this work, because I’m sure Lujano would return to his home as fast as he could make that winding journey on Ortega Highway from Lake Elsinore). So, why not allow Lujano to stay and use him as a piece of living history? The city could set up weekend and maybe evening sessions on the farm where Lujano – a gifted storyteller – can weave his spellbinding tales about the heyday of citrus farming in Orange County. He’s got hundreds of stories. He could start with how he came to live in San Juan. He and his brother boarded a Greyhound bus near the Mexican border in 1958 and told the driver to take them as far as $5 would allow. They made it to San Juan Capistrano, and Lujano instantly fell in love with its rolling hills and seemingly endless groves. He could tell his audience – as they ate oranges fresh off the tree – how he would sleep under the stars in the groves, a gun by his side to run off poachers (the statute of limitations has passed, so he might be willing to reveal if he ever pulled the trigger). And he could describe how he was able to coax his trees into a more bountiful harvest than any citrus farmer around (a good soaking at the end of the trees’ roots is one secret). For San Juan Capistrano, that option is available for a limited time only. Lujano won’t be around forever. It’s time to recapture a city treasure. ocm William Lobdell, a veteran Orange County journalist, is co-founder of a company that produces online media, and provides media training and strategies. His e-mail is williamlobdell@yahoo.com. |
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