By 1889, the newly established town of Redlands at the southern base of the San Bernardino Range offered mild winters and spectacular views of the nearby mountains. The sunny, dry climate enticed eastern industrialists, and Redlands became a place of annual escape, a millionaire mecca by the turn of the twentieth century. Early philanthropists set the tone for an active civic culture that has lasted throughout the citys 125 years. These stories, researched and written by Joan Hedges McCall, tell how and why the town developed out of dusty, semi-arid lands into a green belt of orange groves, parks and Victorian homes. Find out where the water came from, how the navel oranges grew and who helped Redlands grow into the beloved city it is today.

Cultural traditions coalesce in the city of Redlands like nowhere else in the Inland Empire. The University of Redlands is distinguished by a century of academic leadership to the community, the Fortnightly Club is one of the oldest literary organizations in the United States, and Spinnet plays favorites as one of the oldest musical societies in California. The rich cultural legacy of this sun-drenched San Bernardino County municipality intertwines with its past as a farming, citrus-growing, and health-care community, and lives on in the Redlands Symphony Orchestra, Redlands Art Association, and other regionally recognized organizations. The renowned A. K. Smiley Library remains an enduring tribute to one of the city's pioneering twin brothers (A. H. was the other) who oversaw its formative years.

A mysterious and bloodthirsty matriarchal force runs the town of Redlands, Florida, and in order to stay on top, sacrifices must be made. Someone is intent on removing these women from the top of the food chain, and he's ready to unleash their darkest secret but has seriously underestimated the lengths the townspeople will go to protect the new order of things. Inspired by the strange complexities of real-world politics and crime, the characters of REDLANDS play victim and villain, attempting to understand themselves and others through murder, magic, and mayhem.

As Southern California recovered from the collapse of the cattle industry in the 1860s, the arrival of railroads—attacked by newspapers as the greedy “octopus”—and the expansion of citrus agriculture transformed the struggling region into a vast, idealized, and prosperous garden. New groves of the latest citrus varieties and new towns like Riverside quickly grew directly along the tracks of transcontinental railroads. The influx of capital, industrial technology, and workers, especially people of color, energized Southern California and tied it more closely to the economy and culture of the United States than ever before. Benjamin Jenkins’s Octopus’s Garden argues that citrus agriculture and railroads together shaped the economy, landscape, labor systems, and popular image of Southern California. Orange and lemon growing boomed in the 1870s and 1880s while railroads linked the region to markets across North America and ended centuries of geographic isolation for the West Coast. Railroads competed over the shipment of citrus fruits from multiple counties engulfed by the orange empire, resulting in an extensive rail network that generated lucrative returns for grove owners and railroad businessmen in Southern California from the 1890s to the 1950s. While investment from white Americans, particularly wealthy New Englanders, formed the financial backbone of the Octopus’s Garden, citrus and railroads would not have thrived in Southern California without the labor of people of color. Many workers of color took advantage of the commercial developments offered by railroads and citrus to economically advance their families and communities; however, these people also suffered greatly under the constant realities of bodily harm, low wages, and political and social exclusion. Promoters of the railroads and citrus cooperatives touted California as paradise for white Americans and minimized the roles of non-white laborers by stereotyping them in advertisements and publications. These practices fostered conceptions of California’s racial hierarchy by praising privileged whites and maligning the workers who made them prosper. The Octopus’s Garden continues to shape Southern Californians’ understanding of their past. In bringing together multiple storylines, Jenkins provides a complex and fresh perspective on the impact of citrus agriculturalists and railroad companies in Southern Californian history.