Once declared defunct, Newcastle rose to be Placer County's fruit basket

Street signs do more than mark routes; they identify natural formations, notable occurrences, or the names of the people and things that came before. In Newcastle?s case, it?s all of the above.Looping over the shoulders of the mountain to reach neighborhoods of elderly properties and their younger siblings, the byways of Newcastle carry names that tie to the past, such as Kellogg, Armes, Threlkel, Orange, Peach, Cherry and Orchard.It is the farmers, pioneer horticulturists and the produce they nourished whose names are posted along the curvy streets.Like most foothills communities, Newcastle began as a mining camp sitting about six miles west of Auburn, near Secret Ravine creek. In 1850, when the territory was known as Secret Diggings, it was nothing more than a huddle of shanties on the banks of the creek. But within two years, the district?s population soared to 1,500 as word of Placer County?s golden opportunities spread and people from all over the world arrived for their shares of the wealth.But mining on the creek had limited profitability, and summer droughts left the bed dry, defying efforts to pan and sluice for gold. The prospectors left in search of richer claims and by 1861, the county register listed Newcastle as a ?defunct town?.While the miners moved on, early orchardists moved in, buying acreage in the gentle hills and lumpy vales surrounding the faded city. Sitting at about 970 feet above sea level, with a moderate climate ? and the natural watershed of the western slope of the Sierra Nevada providing plentiful water ? Newcastle was an ideal spot for growing berries, grapes, fruit and nuts.Soon the landscape was standing at attention as squadrons of vines and armies of fruit trees marched across the cleared hills as men like W.J. Wilson and C.M. Silva experimented with growing techniques and grafting processes in the late 1860s. Their homes stood amid piles of wood packing boxes and storage shacks that smelled of ripe fruit, with the legions of saplings standing guard on the perimeter.By then, the Central Pacific Railroad chugged through the hills to the north, drawing a cluster of merchants and tradesmen to the fresh depot, whose homes then sprouted in the neighboring vales. Wilson, who had been toting his harvests to local markets, saw the potential for harnessing the iron horse to expand distribution of the produce.In 1874, George Kellogg, a highly decorated soldier who had fought in the Union Army, left his wife and two children behind to come to California. His new command would be as a leader in Newcastle?s burgeoning fruit-growing industry. He purchased 60 acres known as Castle Rose, later buying Nob Hill, and the Hollywood and Willow Brook ranches, too, as well as commercial land and properties near the train station.He and Wilson were some of the first growers to recognize the potential in large-scale production and cooperative marketing, using the transcontinental rail line to transport fresh fruit throughout the Western United States as well as to Midwest and East Coast markets.George W. Threlkel settled to the west, in the district known as Long Valley, and planted his acreage in fruit. His son, George L. Threlkel, who was born in the Mormon Bar mining camp on the banks of the American River in 1850, also built a home and carried on the family?s agricultural legacy.Fred P. Armes, a native of the Azore Islands, was another early orchardist. His parents brought him to America as a child, then he and his brother traveled on to California in 1873, arriving in Newcastle to work at the fruit farms and peddle their produce along the Foresthill Divide. Fred eventually purchased 160 acres, cleared it of scrub and planted orchards.Some growers experimented with citrus and found the temperate weather and soil conditions ideal for cultivating oranges. The ghost camp came alive again, reborn as a bustling agricultural hub. Packing sheds were erected flanking the railroad tracks, where loads of freshly picked produce were weighed, sorted, boxed and readied for shipment. The aroma of bruised fruit perfumed the air of the growing city.In 1876, the total shipments weighed in at about one million pounds. By 1892, they had grown to 14 million. But disease, blight and tough competition from a blossoming agricultural network in the Central Valley took a toll on Placer?s commercial fruit production in the 20th century, with burning stump left smoldering in formerly fertile fields.Once more, Newcastle?s population shrank as its prime industry waned. A resurgence of new homes and businesses occurred after World War II, but its days as a bounteous fruit basket were over.Today, Newcastle remains an unincorporated section of the county, comprised of modest bungalows, small ranches, lavish country homes and vintage residences. The rows of weathered packing sheds still line the main thoroughfare of its tiny business district, shimmying each time the train thunders past.Queues of dark green mandarin orange trees are the newest crops popping up in side yards and fenced fields, and the modern Newcastle Produce market is where shoppers reap the harvests of local farms and production companies.It?s mining days were brief; its reign as king of California?s fruit producers is over. But what came before still lives on in Newcastle, in street names ? and, in spirit.