Agriculture Reference
In-Depth Information
The cost of perfection is enormous. Whereas the average stone fruit farmer in Califor-
nia harvests about ten tons per acre, Lange and Kelly pick only two or three. This differ-
ence in sales volume could never be recouped through normal commercial channels; it is
only by direct marketing that growers can get a premium for a great product. Peaches and
nectarines at many supermarkets can go for less than $1 a pound, and even good farmers'
market fruit might sell for $2 a pound, but stone fruit grown by these two men fetches far
higher prices. And people stand in line to buy it. Even at those elevated prices, however,
the economics are tough. Multiply an average of $4 a pound by two tons per acre, and
you're still barely in the black - especially when the profit is spread over so few acres.
But even setting economics aside, life as a farmers' market grower is not all artistic rig-
or and rustic bliss. There is a dirty, even a dangerous, practical side to it. Somebody has
to get that fruit to the market, and in most cases it's the farmer. Compounding the issue is
the fact that most farmers' markets start early in the morning. So, in addition to growing
great peaches and nectarines, these guys have to be willing to jump in a pickup truck at
the end of a long day and drive the four and a half to five hours to the big markets in San
Francisco and Los Angeles. Every year in California, three or four farmers' market grow-
ers are killed in automobile accidents while making this long, exhausting trek.
For Lange every week is a test of whether he still has the stamina to stay awake. His
continued presence at farmers' markets is strictly a week-by-week race against encroach-
ing age. Highway time is not the only hurdle growers encounter in this phase of their op-
erations. Because the early market starts usually dictate an overnight stay, farmers some-
times are forced to get creative in arranging accommodations. Some have friends in their
market towns that lend them a couch, or even a room. For Lange and Kelly, the choices
are often less hospitable. At dinner one night, the two spent half an hour comparing the
relative merits of various residential construction sites in Santa Monica and Brentwood.
Frequently, they end up spending the night in their trucks, parked in the driveway of a
house that is unoccupied during remodeling.
It's a challenging business, but what keeps Lange, Kelly and other farmers of their ilk
going is the notion that what they're doing is more than just a business. Sure, they have to
earn enough money to keep going the next year - there are no arts grants for fruit grow-
ers - but these guys passionately believe that they're saving the very idea of great-flavored
fruits and vegetables from the blanding effects of modern farming. Like the Blues Broth-
ers, they're on a mission from a different god.
Ask Kelly about a commercial peach, and he goes practically apoplectic. "You know,
I'll tell you the truth," he says. "The tomato has always been the example of what people
