Going Bananas : Small plantation makes the near-impossable with exotic varieties of the tropical fruit.

LA CONCHITA, Calif. —  Lost in a blur of passing scenery along U.S. 101, just north of Ventura, is an elongated plot of land that represents one of the more interesting chapters in California’s diverse agricultural treasury.

Sandwiched between the coastal mountain range, the freeway roar and Pacific Ocean is the continental United States’ only commercial banana plantation.

Well, it’s not quite a sprawling agrarian estate yet--what with only four acres of fruit-bearing plants and twice as much again about to come on line.

But the lush foliage hugging the sloping hillside here is much more than an experiment. Fifty or so different banana varieties grow successfully year-round from the crowns of the towering, leafy plants.

Doug Richardson, otherwise a landscape contractor, is proving that the most tropical of fruits can be commercially raised in balmy Southern California. And his 2 1/2-year-old project also makes him, for now, the state’s top banana.

Not only has he ignored the skeptics, but in the process Richardson has become a monopolist, of sorts, being the sole supplier of several exotic strains normally found only in the rich soils of faraway island nations or in the heat and humidity of Central America, South Asia or Africa.

‘No Other Place’

“There is no other place in the world, certainly no place in this hemisphere, where you can find such a selection,” he says.

Despite riding a streak of good gardening fortune and trade press acclaim, Richardson complains that Americans take bananas for granted.

“People have paid so little for bananas for so long that they don’t appreciate them,” he said, referring to food store prices that often fall as low as 19 cents a pound.

Although Richardson grows only a small amount of the Cavendish variety, universally found in supermarkets, he also produces other, more extraordinary fruit that will change the banana’s simple image forever.

There’s the tangy, citrus-like “ice cream” or blue Java banana with its pale, silvery peel. Another, the sweet, musty Iholena, has a coral/pink heart, more like a sherbet than a fruit. And the Red Jamaican offers a luxurious scarlet covering and an aromatic fruit with flavor reminiscent of apple. The others differ in size, shape and texture. Some are eaten raw, others lend themselves to cooking.

Prices for this rich assortment range from 50 cents to $1.50 a pound. That includes special care to minimize the bruising found on the more common variety.

Richardson also grows the fruit without the fungicides routinely used on imports. Bananas grown in Central and South America, for instance, must be treated with chemicals to inhibit the development of mold or rot during extending shipping to this country.

For now, Richardson’s retail efforts are limited to Saturdays at the Ventura Farmers’ Market. He also distributes directly to those few who know of the project, such as a couple of caterers and several Los Angeles-area restaurants.

Although sales are modest, Richardson’s Seaside Banana Garden is verging on a profit for its troubles--a surprising accomplishment considering contemporary farm economics and the short amount of time invested.

Richardson hit on the idea after growing weary of planting the same kinds of fruit-bearing trees--oranges, lemons, avocados--during the course of his landscaping business.

Sought Something New

“I went to several San Diego nurseries looking for something new in the subtropical realm,” he said. “So, I started latching on to all these different types of banana plants. But the guys down there said, ‘Don’t expect to get any bananas from these trees because they have never borne fruit in California.’ ”

“Not only did I get some fruit, but I got great-quality bananas,” said Richardson, enthusiastic even after a long day of hard work--planting, trimming, harvesting and selling.

His project initially was assisted by research accumulated in other subtropical parts of the world that have a history of banana production, such as Israel, the Canary Islands and South Africa.

Much of the work, though, was trial and error.

It also took several years to persuade the operators of the La Conchita Ranch, which owns the property, to lease him the necessary acreage for what, at first, looked like folly.

The product certainly seems worth the pioneering efforts at this stage.

In fact, Richardson has found that bananas grown in the cooler Ventura County climate yield a more pronounced, richer flavor than those from the hot, tropical growing areas of Costa Rica, Honduras or Ecuador.

Even so, some in the produce industry still don’t buy Richardson’s apparent success with this fickle fruit.

Special Circumstances

“You cannot grow bananas in the (continental) United States,” said Rosita Romero, secretary/treasurer of the Washington-based International Banana Federation, a trade group whose members import 98% of the bananas sold in this country. “You need an even-tempered, warm climate. A little frost will kill the fruit. . . . It’s hard to even grow the plants here, let alone the bananas.”

Richardson acknowledges that it takes a special type of land and climate for the fruit to thrive.

Ideal conditions are crucial because bananas are extremely sensitive to temperature. Both plant and fruit growth stops when the thermometer drops to 50 degrees. Damage begins in the low 40s, and the plant dies if the mercury dips into the 30s.

The necessary conditions, microclimate in agricultural parlance, are in confluence here--one of the most valuable strips of undeveloped coastal land in the state.

“Microclimates such as this are extremely limited in California,” Richardson said. “There is an absence of frost here because of the mild average temperatures moderated by the ocean. And most of the areas similar to this one are highly urbanized, where water and land is expensive.”

However, bananas, not condominiums, are sprouting within view of the crashing surf because Ventura County has established this area as an agricultural preserve or coastal open space. Such “green belt” zoning excludes everything other than a farm-related project or weeds.

Others share Richardson’s belief that bananas have a future in California. An agriculture trade publication listed the crop as one of 50 such specialty items that may have commercial potential for the state’s farmers looking for alternatives. The lack of appropriate land, climate and water, though, is likely to prevent the fruit from ever being anything more than a novelty.

For now, Richardson is getting an impressive 10 tons an acre from his plants, a figure he expects to increase as he eliminates some varieties that prove untenable. His “little contribution in the fight to cut the trade deficit” is dwarfed by total banana imports.

Last year, a record 3.1 million tons were imported to the United States, an increase over 1985’s 3-million-ton level, according to the banana federation.

The import statistics are enormous and place bananas among the top-selling produce items sold in this country.

“The figure goes up every year,” Romero added.

Content With Smallness

Even so, dreams of large-scale plantations are not filling Richardson’s nights. He’s content, for now, keeping his select group of customers satisfied and exposing the uninitiated to the many shades of banana.

Some of his first, and easiest, converts were the neighbors.

The western edge of this one gas-station town borders the grove. Richardson soon discovered that the local residents were to embrace the operation, a pleasant twist from the typical frictions found whenever residential tracts abut farms.

In an extraordinary gesture of tolerance, some of his most immediate neighbors did not object when the taller leaves of the banana plants began obscuring a portion of their ocean views.

One reason is that the area was previously inhabited by weeds of a similar height. Another is the pleasure of having a banana reserve down the street.

“There are no gates around the grove,” Richardson said. “And people like to stroll through in the evenings. Everyone loves the feeling the place gives them.”

Although the no-gate policy may eventually end, there is much to see among the neat aisles of broad-leafed plants. From virtually all corners of the grove looms a striking ocean view.

An additional dash of color is interspersed among the plants because the banana bunches are covered, almost from the moment they appear, with blue plastic bags. The enclosure helps prevent the fruit from wind damage and hastens ripening by increasing the heat and humidity.

Wooden stakes, which support the weight of the fruit, jut out from all angles. And Richardson recently erected a thatched-roof shack, decorated with his multicolor company logo, to give the place an extra, informal touch of the tropics.

Visitors curious about all the banana leaves swaying in the sea breeze occasionally stop by and ask about the goings-on. If he’s in the mood, Richardson will offer them a taste of one of his many prizes. Or, on a slow day may even sell a young banana plant or two--a good-will gesture that also helps the cash flow.

Incidentally, Richardson has studied temperature charts for various locations throughout Southern California searching for other areas where bananas might thrive, as much out of curiousity as expansionism.

He concluded that tiny Sierre Madre, in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, would be just the perfect spot for another such fledgling plantation.