In 1873, a woman named Eliza Tibbets received an unexpected gift from her friend, William Saunders, who happened to be a horticulturist at the United States Department of Agriculture in Washington, D.C.
Knowing that Saunders liked to figure out the science of growing plants, we might presume Tibbets may have thought a lovely bouquet of Camellias would be special. Those rare flowering plants found in the far-flung lands of eastern and southern Asia would be charming to put on her windowsill at her home in Riverside, California.
When the package arrived, her friend had sent three Brazilian navel orange trees. He explained that the trees had come from Bahia, Brazil, and would grow very well in the semi-arid climate of the town situated alongside the Santa Ana River.
“I like oranges,” Tibbets may have said while donning a pair of work gloves and grabbing a shovel.
It turns out the trees did like the weather in Riverside, and soon, the citrus revolution in this Southern California town was in full bloom.
One of the orange trees planted by Tibbets is still thriving and can be seen at the junction of Magnolia Avenue and Arlington Avenue to this day.
By 1882, Riverside had over half of California's citrus trees growing, and people were making all kinds of money. Then, with the invention of the refrigerated railcar, oranges and other citrus could be shipped anywhere in the United States without rotting.
By 1895, Riverside had become the wealthiest city in the nation by way of income per capita.
As Laureen, my citrus-loving wife, and I recently wandered the beautiful green gardens of the Heritage House in Riverside, I regaled her with tales of growing up in the city of oranges.
“I’ve heard those tales before. Many times,” she said.
I’m sure that meant she wanted to hear more about the times my friends and I would ride our stallions through the acres of orange groves in Riverside on lazy summer afternoons looking for boyish adventures.
“I recall the time near Victoria Avenue ...” I started.
“The tour is beginning,” Laureen interrupted. “You can finish your monologue later.”
I thought you bet I would, as Docent Sandy invited us into the parlor of the relatively sizeable Victorian house along Magnolia Avenue.
We visited the historic Heritage House, built in 1892, and wondered what it offered visitors in the way of Riverside history. As we stepped into the entrance, it seemed as though the residence had just recently been constructed. It is simply gorgeous - in a 19th-century sort of way.
Docent Sandy, dressed in period costume, introduced herself to our small group of tourists, or, as I like to refer to myself, historical researchers.
“The house is maintained in almost the exact way it would have appeared when Mrs. Catharine Bettner had lived here,” Docent Sandy said. “All the furniture, paintings, photographs, and other items in the house come from that period, though they may not have all belonged to Mrs. Bettner.”
We later learned during the tour that people living in Riverside donated all the items in the house from their private collections when the Riverside Museum Associates purchased the property and converted it into a museum in 1969.
“Good time to get rid of great-grandma’s rocking chair,” a husband may say. “Then I can get a wide lounger to take its place for game day.”
The Heritage House and all the belongings were as authentic as possible.
“Mrs. Bettner had always wanted to live in a Queen Anne-style home, and she got her wish after hiring architect John A. Walls from Morgan and Walls out of Los Angeles.”
It turns out that even with detailed plans, the contractor made one terrible boo-boo as he went to turn the keys over to the new owner. He had forgotten to add the servant staircase at the rear of the house.
And we all know how that feels. Servants are strolling down the main staircase. How ghastly indeed. Laureen would have clasped her pearls in dismay at such an atrocity.
“John, my smelling salts, please,” she may say. “Jeeves just came down OUR staircase.”
The contractor sued Bettne. Bettner sued the contractor. The judge said to build the staircase, and she would pay for it.
The total cost of the house, with the added servant staircase, was a staggering $13,500, which in today's money would be nearly $400,000. This is not bad considering the home boasts over 4,000 square feet of living space with an intricately carved staircase (not the one for servants), multiple fireplaces that are inlaid with gorgeous colored tiles, and pocket sliding doors weighing 400 to 600 pounds to close off rooms which glide like they are slicked with butter - and these doors are 132 years old. Try to get that warranty from Home Depot or Lowe’s.
The ceilings are designed in various patterns utilizing all sorts of native and imported wood that Docent Sandy told us about, but I forgo. Wait, my wife just nudged me: pine, redwood, and white oak. Finely crafted hanging lights are in each room, showing nothing but elegance.
An interesting tidbit is that Catharine Bettner had moved from New York to California with her husband, James, in the late 1870s and knew about electric lights. Even though electricity was not readily available at that time in Riverside, she installed the lights in anticipation of retrofitting so no cosmetic changes would have to be made to the house when electricity became available.
An efficient and forward-thinking woman.
Wandering through the residence, I noticed how life was similar and quite different at the same time at the near turn of the 20th century.
All the comforts of an expensive home but with a few things missing, like air conditioning.
“The Heritage House is closed from June until September since the association desires to maintain the place as original as possible,” Docent Sandy said.
In other words, the museum is closed during the very hot summer months so visitors don’t faint while grasping for the banister as they descend from the second floor.
“Oh my,” a woman visitor may say as she slides face-first down the stairs. “It is hot in here.”
As we entered the gracefully decorated dining room, Docent Sandy told us how Mrs. Bittner came to build her home along Magnolia Avenue.
It turns out that James and Catharine left New York because of James’s bad health. He was given less than a year to live unless he moved west to the warmer climate of California. They did, and he lasted an amazing 11 years longer until passing in 1888.
When they arrived in Riverside, James jumped into the new citrus business, planting trees and building packing houses to prepare the citrus for delivery locally or eventually nationally.
“Back then,” Docent Sandy said. “Men had multiple jobs or careers to take care of their families. There were no pensions like today, so many men became wealthy working in this field and that field simultaneously. James was a lawyer, a civil engineer, and a citrus farmer.”
I could feel Laureen’s eyes on me. I ignored them.
“So, when James died, Catharine took over his businesses and decided to build this house since she did not want to live in the house in which her beloved husband had died,” Docent Sandy told us.
Bettner was a very wise and shrewd business owner who wanted to make her late husband proud. Under her guidance, citrus production flourished, and later, when it was time to slow down, she turned everything over to her only surviving child, Robert.
As the tour progressed, we realized this was an extraordinary place. Not only did it have an excellent history, but it showed the love and respect the citizens had for this one-time small town in the West.
It was their home, and they took pride in it.
To preserve history, Riverside Museum Associates wanted the residence designated on the National Register of Historic Places, which it received on Feb. 28, 1973.
John can be contacted at: beyersbyways@gmail.com
Information
https://riversideca.gov/museum .
This article originally appeared on Visalia Times-Delta: Visit Riverside Heritage House for a taste of history in a beautiful setting
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