They Plant Seeds That May Become Works of Art
Every spring, Linda and Peter Lindberg meticulously select their seed, place it by hand into the San Joaquin Valley loam, nurture the crop--and wait eagerly for the first frost to kill their handiwork.
It is, in its way, absurd. But it is the life of an average gourd grower.
The Lindbergs, however, are not average gourders. They are, in the minds of many, the finest gourd growers in the world.
Their smooth, shapely bottle gourds, canteen gourds, Nigerian kettle gourds and other varieties are coveted by folk artisans and ethnic musicians from the Ozarks to the New York Philharmonic for their remarkable quality and beauty.
Their produce is not to eat, but to fashion into works of art. In the small but ordered world of gourd-workers, the Lindbergs’ fare has the reputation for making the finest ethnic rhythm instruments and most beautiful folk-art pieces around.
Even artists who grow their own gourds in the eternal quest for the perfect dried, woody vegetable concede that they inevitably return to tiny Linden--to the metal shed that constitutes the Lindbergs’ “Gourd Factory”--whenever they can’t settle for less than perfection.
“They’re just the best,” said Yael Powell, co-owner with her husband, Doug, of Rhythm Makers, a Eureka Springs, Ark., manufacturer of kalimbas, or African thumb drums. “Their gourds are real consistent--thick shell, well cared for, very clean.
“We’ve tried growers all over the country--in Florida, Georgia, Louisiana--and we always come back to (the Lindbergs).”
The popularity of California’s gourds, perhaps the most whimsical specialty crop in a state famous for specialty crops, rests on two things, the Lindbergs said. One is consistent shape, the result of careful plant breeding. The other is the gourds’ thick and unblemished shells, the result of careful growing and San Joaquin County’s long, slow growing season.
“We set the worldwide standard for quality, and the worldwide standard for price,” said Peter.
He would brook no arguments from his delighted customers, and none from the American Gourd Society, the club for only discerning calabash connoisseurs. The 3,000-member society, based in Mt. Gilead, Ohio, recently hailed the Lindbergs in its quarterly journal, The Gourd.
Lest anyone scoff--and the Lindbergs said that many of the neighboring nut growers and vegetable farmers do indeed scoff at their unorthodox crop--Linda said some of their prime examples of Lagenaria siceraria , or bottle gourd, can fetch up to $40 apiece. Individual orders for hundreds of gourds worth $25,000 or $30,000 are not uncommon.
Most, of course, sell for far less. Some small gourds, barely larger than an egg, can be had for 50 cents. But the relatively high prices--no farmer sells individual tomatoes for anything close to 50 cents, much less $40--illustrate the patient care that goes into the Lindbergs’ gourd growing.
Seeds must be collected and catalogued by hand each spring, as the previous year’s crop is brought in from the field. A new grower must be contracted for, because gourds pull so much nitrogen from the soil that gourds cannot be grown well in the same field twice in a row, Linda said.
The seeds--many of which are the size of small arrowheads and too large for a mechanical planter--must be placed in the earth by hand, at the right depth and distance from one another. The plants must be precisely watered and weeded to discourage insects. Bugs scar the gourds and insecticides wither them.
Frost--which kills the vines and starts the process in which the inedible, melon-plump ripe gourds dry into their useful, woody state--must come after the gourds thicken and mature, but must come soon enough to let them thoroughly dry by spring.
Drying is done on the vine, but must be watched closely to make sure gourds do not dry too fast or overheat in the scorching Central Valley sun, phenomena that can cause gourds to burst or split.
Harvesting is done by hand, as well, to cull inferior specimens and protect marketable gourds from blemishes. Once the annual harvest of 100,000 gourds are deposited behind the Lindberg homestead, they are carefully processed in small batches to remove the ashen skin of mold that collects on them.
They are then taken inside the metal shed to be sized, marked, packed and shipped--all by hand. The Lindbergs and a small cadre of employees spend most of the entire year working or worrying about the gourds. A new crop is planted each spring as soon as the last one is harvested.
“We don’t worry too much about competition,” said Linda. “It is too much work.”
And not always profitable. A disastrous 1986, when a poor crop not only did in that year’s gourd shipments but also the next year’s seed stocks, convinced the Lindbergs to diversify. They now also grow another quirky specialty crop--microwaveable, multicolored popcorn-on-the-cob.
Linda backed into the gourd game in the late 1970s after she and her first husband left Corona del Mar for what they thought would be the simpler, easier life of farming. Unable to pursue her old floral wholesale business so distant from major markets, she began selling battered milk cans and lug boxes to city folks, calling them country decorator items.
A local grower, impressed with her sales skills and eager to build a market for his new specialty crop, challenged her to peddle the odd-looking gourds he was starting to harvest. She pitched them as planters, but failed.
Discouraged after an especially disappointing Los Angeles trade show, Linda said, she was about to quit the gourd business when a man approached her to ask if she could supply his chain of Native American-themed Southwest gift shops.
Once in a gourd groove, she met Wilbur Bradley, a National City gourd grower who is venerated--even now, years after his death--as the “Gourd King.” Linda said Bradley shared with her his secret for growing the superior gourds sought by the manufacturers of a Hawaiian musical instrument called the ipu and by other Polynesian artisans.
That introduced the Lindbergs to the makers of other gourd-dependent ethnic musical instruments--African skekeres and mbiras , Cuban guiros , and Brazilian berimbaus , among others. Their clients range from the Women of the Calabash to the percussion section of the New York Philharmonic, as well as craftsmen, American Indians and others who whittle, gouge or paint gourds into everything from sculpture to masks to talismans.
“Their gourds are the best--beautiful, beautiful gourds,” said Karenlee Spencer, a Charleston, Ill., artisan who supplements her own crop with gourds from the Lindbergs. “They are hard, thick and perfect. I don’t know how they do it.”
Spencer uses the figure-8-shaped bottle gourds to produce dolls, from Uncle Sam to Santa Claus, that can be seen at the Museum of American Folk Art in New York or bought at Goods from the Woods, the company she runs with her husband, Chuck. He uses gourds to make Indian-influenced spirit pots, jewelry and other items.
The Lindbergs ship gourds throughout North America as well as to two other continents, Australia and Europe. Through her volunteer work as international outreach coordinator for California Women for Agriculture, Linda has even been able to sell some gourds to visiting farmers from Africa--birthplace of the gourd.
“I know, I know--coals to Newcastle; refrigerators to Eskimos. I’ve heard them all,” she said with a laugh.
