The Bradford House was built in 1908 by John A. Larimer. He and his wife resided there until 1926.

by Rachel D. Creagan
photography by Denisse Leung

During La Verne’s early orchard days, their foundations were built to last, with attention to detail and the use of custom craftsman techniques. Today, many are being meticulously restored and stand as historical silos. The La Verne Historical Society, with the city, is officially recognizing 23 (and counting) of these historically significant homes built between 1880 and 1930 by placing bronze markers streetside that tell the stories they have to tell.

The Larimer house

“The first thing you need to realize about an old home is that you don’t own the house as much as the house owns you,” says Sherry Best, owner of the La Verne historical house that she and husband John are in the middle of restoring. John and Sherry live in a 1908 light pink farmhouse that once was centered in the heart of a massive orange grove on Bradford Street, above Foothill Boulevard. Its bronze marker states that original owner and builder John A. Larimer managed the Richards Orange Grove on Garey Avenue, one of the largest in the area. John Larimer came to Lordsburg from Tennessee in 1891 and married Suzie Zug of San Dimas in 1900. The family lived in the home until 1926. Since, the house has served as a single-family household with certain characteristics modified from its original look.

The house front presents a Victorian facade. Pink and green fish-scaled shingles accent the second floor open-air deck. The lower porch holds delicate white-spindled woodwork that complements the etched glass and wood front door. However, this is not originally a victorian home but a craftsman style home. A previous owner added the porch. A craftsman home is one built according to plans published by Gustav Stickley, an iconic figure in the Arts and Crafts movement. Eventually, the Bests plan to restore the porch to its original appearance. When they purchased the home 10 years ago, there was much repair work to be done. Under the Mills Act, passed to encourage property owners to preserve California’s dwindling legacy of historic buildings, the couple was rewarded with lower property taxes. They say the money saved is dwarfed by the money being put back into the house.

Refinished oak floors of the grand room beacon your entrance. Originally, the open area was split as a front parlor and a back room, but during a 1920s remodel, it became one large room. The house back was added then; part of the house now sits on a concrete slab while the rest covers the basement. An upstairs bedroom was turned into a bathroom, and the Bests believe this is when the fireplace was added. “We like uncovering how things were,” says Sherry. They have become detectives in figuring out the original look. “If we don’t remember what our past is, we can’t really appreciate our present,” says Sherry. “The American public is trained to believe that everything has to be done immediately, and that faster and newer is better,” she says. A principle of good restoration is that “when you own an old home, you must live with it and work with it slowly,” says Sherry. “People make mistakes when they jump in and try to get everything done immediately, but it’s a process,” adds John.

Finding restoration work experts committed to the couple’s ideal of using original materials was a big challenge. They are restoring the stairs and upstairs hallway, which requires precision. “We waited until we found the right people who were going to treat the materials right and try to integrate resources so it looks as it did,” says Sherry. A wood restoration expert has stripped off the layers of painted wood, conditioning it to its original luster. They have plans for a plasterer to scrape and skim the ceilings that are currently a textured Spanish-style. They have hired a carpenter to build a built-in bookcase; a paperhanger will re-paper the walls with embossed, paintable wallpaper. This will give the walls a pressed-tin appearance, appropriate to the time. Once completed, the Douglas Fur wood floors will be refinished. Sherry notes that the original owners floored the downstairs with the harder, more expensive wood where company gathered and used less expensive wood upstairs in the bedrooms.

They wanted an authentic historic backyard look that also met their backyard farming interests. Chickens supply them with fresh eggs and roam through an array of fruit trees. Sherry is known for her delicious fruit jams from these trees. Vegetable plants are in abundance and supply most of their needs. The modern era creeps in with an outdoor light system, installed for entertainment purposes. A sprinkler system and a wrought iron fence lines the house. It is a sensable balance: capturing the past while making sure everything is sustainable for the future.

John, grew up in an old home in Pasadena. He works as a housing consultant for the homeless and mentally ill in Los Angeles and owns Cost Plus Mattress with his brother in La Verne. Sherry grew up in an old home in Whittier and works as a professor at Cal State Los Angeles, teaching in the division of special education counseling. Ten years in, they say they are only half way done with their planned work. One must enjoy the journey, they say.

The Johnson house

A newspaper clipping marked May 11, 1911, states the California Craftsman home on Magnolia Avenue, adjacent to Kuns Park, was designed and built by James Melvin Johnson at the same time and on the same block as Henry L. Kuns’ home. Johnson owned the Lordsburg garage and machine shop and maintained streets for the city of Lordsburg. He married Ora Lamb Kuns, youngest daughter of Henry, in 1906. They met at Lordsburg Academy, now the University of La Verne, in 1902. The couple and their three young daughters moved into the home on Sept. 3, 1911. Though they only lived there four years before moving to Chino in 1915, the home remains to be called the “Johnson House.”

The Clinton DeWhitt family moved in next. They sold it to citrus rancher William D. Somerville in 1920. Somerville managed the “Evergreen Ranch” in La Verne. He left the area in 1928 and rented the house out to college students until 1933, when he sold the house for $2,200 to R.O. Bell, who owned a feed business on D Street. Bell began to refurbish the now rundown residence before selling it to William Smythe, a retired painter from San Dimas, in 1942. Smythe installed a floor furnace in the front entrance that same year. The Smythe family, who raised chickens and sold eggs, sold the house to David and Terri Sardeson in 1980. Spring 1982, Steve Albrigo, a mechanical engineer, bought the property for $121,000 and is the current owner. Steve and wife Paula treat their home with love, dedication and admiration, as they reflect on their continuing restoration journey.

The couple share a love for the character of old homes, with no need to modernize. “If you’re going to buy an old home, then plan to take care of it,” says Paula. Steve, an incredible craftsman himself, started work on the house by installing a new roof and house fan. He re-plastered the water damaged ceilings, replaced the broken ropes that work the double hung windows and planted backyard fruit trees. Since old homes supply little storage space, in the late 1980s, a large linen closet was built in the upstairs hall. Downstairs, iron-rods lie across the entrances of the living and dining rooms, showing where heavy drapes once hung to keep the downstairs rooms warm. Today, one still hangs over the staircase during the cold winter months. At night, the drape is opened so heat can rise and warm the upstairs rooms. Old houses tend to be drafty and cold in the winter while hot and musty on summer days. Ingenuity must be used to offset this; hence the curtains and also warm day window venting strategies.

In 2003, the wood floors were refinished. Many paint layers were stripped from the ceiling woodwork, the banister in the upstairs hall, along with a bookcase and wood storage bench in the living room. They worked with a wood refinisher, who re-stained the old, new, and damaged wood to match the original color. The following year, they rebuilt the mantle in the living room to its original look by exactly replacing damaged hearth tiles with handcrafted tiles. The wallpaper, light switches and light fixtures all reflect the original period. Old California Lantern, a company that specializes in custom period light fixtures, provided the replicas.

The sinking north front porch floor and steps were reconstructed in 2010. The crumbling stone column was rebuilt, with each stone put back in its original space. Two new steel and wooden columns were added to the south porch for extra support for the second floor, along with two new support pilasters. The house was repainted and re-roofed in early 2011. Still awaiting restoration is the kitchen, which they plan to accomplish in 2012. The couple recently re-landscaped their yard with all California native plants, the result of careful research at the Rancho Santa Ana Botanical Gardens in Claremont. “We see the restoration process as a labor of love,” says Paula. The house exudes a feeling of value. “It is almost a feeling of honor to be able to take care of a home that has withstood all the years and people,” she says.

Arliss Johnson, youngest son of the original owner, visited the Albrigos. Though he did not live in the house, being born 13 years after his family’s move, he did provide them with the family history. Writing in a letter to the Albrigos, he said he could feel his mother’s imprint on the house design, “utilitarian but friendly and comfortable.” He talked of many fond memories at his grandfather’s house down the street, and how the park across the street (Kuns Park) was his favorite place to play. In that park, trees planted by his grandfather Henry Kuns stand as some of the oldest trees in the city of La Verne.

On Nov. 13, 2011, the couple held a 100th birthday party for their home. Guided home and garden tours were offered. In addition, guests were invited to enjoy birthday cake and refreshments on the back patio. Landscape design specialist Joel Shaffer was there to answer questions about the landscape design, along with a Rancho Santa Ana Botanical Gardens representative, who answered questions about the native plants. Honorary guests Ruth Ora Johnson and Kathleen Johnson, granddaughters of James M. Johnson, attended the celebration.

Historical marker program

The La Verne Historical Society conducts research on La Verne’s structures to determine whether they meet approval standards, following the submission of an application by the homeowners. The home must be maintained true to its original crafting. If the home passes muster, Galen Beery, president of the Historical Society, forwards to the city a proposed marker draft for its final review.

Self-selected homeowners invest tens of thousands of dollars in their restoration. Yet, old homes are not for every one. They were built without much storage space. Kitchens were bare essential work areas. Electrical outlets were limited to one plug per room. Air conditioning was non-existent, as was viable insulation.

Nevertheless, old homeowners find great joy in being connected with history. The homes connect them to the past, and remind all of a lost but now rediscovered way of life.

A streetside bronze marker captures the historical significance of the home. The $150 marker cost is divided between the homeowner, the Historical Society and the city of La Verne. It was installed August 2011.

John and Sherry Best, owners of the Bradford House, enjoy spending time together in their breakfast nook, their favorite room. From here, they enjoy a view of their garden where they grow vegetables and breed chickens.

Bronze marker homes

• 2236 Third St., David Blickenstaff Home, 1912

• 2380 Third St., Isaac Eikenberry House, 1912

• 2341 Third St., Dr. Frank Shirk Home, 1910

• 2478 Bonita Ave., Hortense Lear Home, 1921

• 2259 Third St., The McClellan House, 1909

• 2309 Third St., The Bowman Home, 1927

• 2553 Magnolia, The Lomeli Adobe, 1957

• 2141 Sixth St., Hazel Snoke Home, 1890

• 2449 Magnolia, Henry L. Kuns Home, 1911

• 2308 Third St., The Huck Residence, 1900

• 2446 Park Ave., The Overholtzer Home, 1914

• 1655 Fifth St., Durward-Bowers Home, 1914

• 2417 Magnolia, J.M. Johnson Home, 1911

• 2219 Third St., The Neher-Vaniman Home, 1907

• 1622 Bonita Ave., The Inman Conety Home, 1912

• 2607 Sedalia, The Meredith Home, 1887

• 2369 Third St., The Moomaw House, 1911

• 2040 Second St., The Hanawalt House, 1908

• 2610 Bonita Ave., Harvey Hanawalt House, 1906

• 2210 Bonita Ave., The Hauch Residence, 1913-14

• 2368 Third St., The Brandt House, 1922

• 3949 Bradford St. John A. Larimer 1908

For more information about historically marked homes, visit www.lavernehistoricalsociety.org.

The J.M. Johnson House was built in 1911 at the same time as Johnson’s grandfather, Henry L. Kuns, built his home at the north end of the same block on Magnolia Avenue.

Keepers of a legacy, Steve and Paula Albrigo take pride in their 100-year old craftsman home.

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Pulling up to the Peyton packing house on D and First streets, a horse-drawn wagon carries the day’s lemon harvest in 1918. In present day, the building is the University’s Arts and Communications Building. / photo illustration by Christopher Guzman

by Kristen Campbell
photography by Christopher Guzman

The historical senses can still see and hear horse-drawn wagons arriving at La Verne’s packinghouses to drop off freshly picked citrus. Steam trains come to a rumbling halt to pick up shipments to be sent on their world journeys. In the present time, these buildings are now known for the quality educational pursuits that take place inside their walls. Nearly lost, except to the mind’s eye, is their international fame for packing quality citrus that was sent to far-off lands, even to the Queen of England.

Hard-learned lessons brought La Verne to the citrus forefront. In 1894, the first shipment of La Verne oranges sent to New York arrived rotten and covered in blue-green mold. The leaders of the fledgling citrus industry had much to learn to swiftly get their quality product into the hands of an eager public. Although there were packinghouses in San Dimas and Pomona, La Verne rancher Marcus L. Sparks decided to save money and precious time by doing his own packing and shipping. He hired Chinese workers, and they worked on the platform of the La Verne railway station. Sparks persisted and, by trial and error, developed proper methods of packing and shipping so those on the receiving end would get a salable product. Soon, he built two packinghouses near his groves; one on the SW corner of D and First streets (see map 2), and the second at the SE corner of E and First streets (see map 4). His prime location land

began to gain value, and he started selling his orange groves to industrialization companies wanting to be near the railroad. By 1909, he had sold his citrus and packinghouses to the budding La Verne Orange Growers Association. Sparks may have been turning away from citrus, but the La Verne citrus empire was just blossoming. The D and First streets packinghouse (map 2) was expanded and named the La Verne Orange and Lemon Growers Association Packinghouse. This large wooden structure was in use until the 1960s when it was demolished, and citrus operations moved to Upland.

Citrus structures still standing

Marcus Sparks built a co-op headquarters in 1919 on the SW corner of First and D streets (map 1). It still stands today as a University of La Verne Organizational Leadership building (soon to be converted into the new home of the La Verne Chamber of Commerce). His E and First streets packinghouse was rebuilt with reinforced concrete and was named the La Verne Orange Association Plant Number 2 (map 4). The oranges were marketed under the Sunkist brand for 40 years. This packinghouse provided the association with ice-making capabilities as well as room in the basement for box-making, leaving the main floor clear for orange packing. Today it houses the University’s Enrollment Management, Mail Services and Facilities Management.

Valentine Peyton, another prominent orange grower, also had a privately-owned packinghouse (map 3) directly across the street from Sparks’ (now demolished) house (map 2). Once the Association acquired Sparks’ properties, it expanded its operation to handle lemons. When Peyton sold his packinghouse in 1914, the name of the group was changed to the La Verne Orange and Lemon Growers Association. By fall 1918, lemon and orange house packing had increased to more than the packinghouse’s capacities, so the Peyton building was expanded. Even in the midst of the Great Depression, the Association saw the shipment of more than 1,700 carloads of fruit. In 1960, the former Peyton lemon packinghouse was closed and the laborers were moved to Upland. The last Upland packinghouse was razed in 2002. “It seemed almost overnight the packing of oranges shifted from 10 or 15 area houses down to just one in Upland because it was cheaper,” Galen Beery, La Verne city historian, says.

After Peyton’s fruit trees were uprooted and replaced with homes, his packinghouse (map 3) stood empty or was used as a warehouse for three decades until the University of La Verne acquired it in 1988. With structural and minor remodeling, the University used the property for warehousing and storage. In the mid-1990s, additional remodeling converted the main floor into the University’s Art Department and the basement into U.L.V. Graphics, a printing company then owned by the school. Around the same time, murals reminiscent of La Verne being the heart of the citrus industry were painted on its south side. The building’s transformation came in 2000 when Claremont Environmental Design Group turned the aging building into an Art and Communications building. Today, its massive front wall of glass provides light for art studio classes on the main floor. The building is simultaneously utilized by the Communications Department, housing television, radio, multimedia and print journalism areas. The remodel shows off its ducts and metal features and reminds visitors that the building was born as a packinghouse. Those who walk into the building find it constantly alive with students engaging in studio and production activities. The still-rumbling trains are a reminder that its historic close railway location was meant to facilitate citrus loading ease.

How citrus made a name for La Verne

The year was 1873 when the United States Department of Agriculture sent, at the request of Riverside resident Eliza Tibbets, two budded Washington navel orange trees. Unfortunately, the land where she planted the trees was low, water would not drain, and the trees’ roots literally drowned. But from failure came success: her two orange trees would be the beginning of an industry that would define a city and a region. In 1886, Mr. and Mrs. L.H. Bixby and Dr. and Mrs. Lyman Allen, Mrs. Bixby’s brother-in-law and sister, settled on their northern La Verne land, planning to farm. Because of the hot, dry summers, they realized they could not undertake conventional crop cultivation until a better source of water could be made available. The two couples and other ranchers below the foothills began to dry-farm, planting different crops in the fall and harvesting in the early summer, soon learning citrus would thrive. In order to survive, cooperation between ranchers became a necessity to share and manage scarce water supplies.

Early on, the area south of Foothill Boulevard was held by two major owners, Valentine Peyton and William Mills. When Mills put his non-citrus property on the market, Peyton bought the northern acreage. His holdings extended to White Avenue. With the sale, new growers entered into the La Verne Co-op Orange Association. This barren land proved to the new owners that the soil and the climate allowed the Washington navel orange trees to flourish. The soil was mostly granite, which promoted drainage since navels could not thrive where water pooled.

The co-op’s first oranges came to harvest before Christmas 1910 and were sent on their way to the nation’s four corners. Stories tell of the cherished joy when East Coast children found a La Verne orange in their Christmas stockings. The oranges peeled easily, and those peels were then saved, dried and kept in a child’s dresser drawer.

As citrus became a new commodity, the eccentricities of the Washington navel orange were soon learned and solved with innovative strategies developed to harvest, pack and ship them for market. Ranchers discovered it took a large work force to grow and sell sizeable quantities of citrus. The local workforce was inadequate to sustain this demand. This was a skilled job because pickers had to be trusted not to carelessly drop the oranges into boxes. The skin of an orange is delicate, and, if damaged, rots quickly.

Between 1943 and 1944, grove owners began to notice their healthy trees showing signs of deterioration. In the end, it was a very small enemy that took over this booming industry, something the Agriculture Department called “quick decline.” Eventually, the citrus experimental station, now the University of California Riverside Graduate School of Management, identified that a virus brought with the Meyer lemon affected the buds of citrus trees and prevented an interchange of water and nutrients. Smog also prevented the exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide.

Prominence for years to come

Distinguished names and artifacts from the booming empire can be seen in several La Verne locations. The orange tree growing at La Verne City Hall was planted to honor 20 years of civic service by Frank Johnson. Heritage Park, a model working grove, captures the way and life of La Verne during the empire’s reign. Multiple buildings in downtown La Verne hold murals depicting citrus, packinghouses and grove life. Due to this living commemoration throughout the city, future visitors and residents will forever know the significance of the center of the citrus industry, La Verne.

Creating an image to last generations, the red rose depicts the La Verne Cooperative Citrus Association’s “pure gold” standard. Used as a symbol for its very best, high grade fruit, this label graced superior crates of oranges and lemons sent around the world.

Citrus as a Johnson family affair

Frank and Nadine Johnson owned five citrus groves and raised three sons, Scott, Steve and Kirk among their bountiful groves. “My dad would tell us as kids that it was his childhood dream to be a citrus farmer. Since he grew up with the packinghouses, he wanted to see and experience the other side of the citrus industry,” Kirk, the youngest son, a La Verne real estate broker and attorney, says. The family owned five California groves, one each in Upland, La Verne, Porterville, Springville and Corona, including a Corona packinghouse. Their La Verne grove was located near Fruit Street, site of a mobile home park today. Frank also served as city of La Verne mayor. “It was a magical time for our family because we got to teach our sons about business and responsibility early on, all while having fun doing it. Our boys would always get into mischief while playing in the groves, but that was to be expected since they were boys,” Nadine says. All three sons remember the fun of growing up on an orange grove and just “being boys,” as their mother so fondly recalls. “Our La Verne grove is basically in many, if not all, of my childhood memories,” says Steve, the middle son, a present day Farmers Insurance agent. Kirk says that he remembers getting into much waywardness. “My older brothers and I would go down to the pond at the Springville grove at night and go frog-gigging. We would try to catch bullfrogs to eat the frog legs, but I do not think we ever caught one. We would chase rabbits and scare rattlesnakes while we were working.”

Key to map1. Marcus Sparks co-op headquarters, then ULV’s Organizational Leadership Building2. Demolished Sparks packing house3. Valentine Peyton packing house, becoming the ULV’s Arts and Communications Building4. Marcus Sparks packing house, becoming the La Verne Orange Association Plant 2 and then ULV’s Enrollment Management

A fond memory is going door-to-door with a wagon of freshly picked fruit. “It was a nice introduction to running a business and making money for yourself,” says Scott, the oldest son, an orange grower in Corona. Kirk says that he even enjoyed most of the manual labor, especially because they would have to get dirty and stay that way for a few hours. “Even though I liked the manual labor, I absolutely hated dead-wooding. I and two other kids would put on these thick, long-sleeved shirts and giant gloves and climb into the trees to remove the deadwood. We had to do this so the fruit would not get scarred because if it did, the value would diminish.”

While the Johnsons’ groves brought them together, it was not easy to run a Southern California grove. The weather was great to grow citrus, but orange trees need much water. “We owned our own wells on our property, but this region is a desert so there were droughts that hurt us significantly,” Nadine says. “Some years, the drought would be so intense, we would have to dig deeper, but you can only go so far.” The years passed and land values increased considerably. It was then that Nadine and Frank decided it was time to sell. “My parents eventually said we had to sell the groves because it was difficult to farm locally due to urban encroachment,” Steve says. Looking back, the Johnsons agree they miss living and working on their once-prominent groves. “My backyard is filled with citrus because the fragrance of the blossoms in the springtime is heavenly, and they are gorgeous fruits to look at,” Nadine says. “La Verne was the heart of the citrus empire, and I try to maintain some of that.”

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A proudly held photograph of Oliver Riley with his prized Christmas Tree invention brings remembered joy to Garnett Riley, Oliver’s wife, and son Gary Riley. / photo by Christopher Guzman

by Jennahway Huerta
photography by Christopher Guzman

“Ah! What did I tell you? 88 miles per hour! The temporal displacement occurred at exactly 1:20 a.m. and zero seconds,” says Dr. Emmett Brown in the blockbuster movie “Back to the Future.” Like the fictional Dr. Brown, epic drag racing icon, Oliver “Ollie” Riley was a man ahead of his time when it came to “timely” inventions. As the design engineer for the Terrier guided missile at Pomona’s Convair plant, he worked with top secret precision timing devices. It was at a 1954 Dale Carnegie public speaking class that he met Bud Coons, a Pomona police officer and the National Hot Rod Association field director, who headed NHRA’s Safety Safari. The two struck up a friendship. “Bud Coons was active with kids and wanted them to drag race on a track instead of on the streets,” Tom Riley, Ollie’s son says. Coons told Ollie of incredible racers jumping to speeds way beyond accurate capture. Ollie’s interest was beyond the cars. He listened intently about the time it took for these mechanical dragons to burn rubber down a quarter mile strip. Up to now, the NHRA had just been using flag persons to start races and to announce winners. Ollie was a problem solver, a man who tinkered with tools in his kitchen, garage and business. A California Hot Rod Reunion V Magazine article, “Christmas Trees and Other Electronic Goodies,” by John Jodauga, tells what happened next: “When I learned of his guided missile engineering background, I couldn’t help but ask him to take a look at what we were using and give us some advice,” says Coons. “Riley had to work in an isolated room all by himself at Convair for security reasons, and he was somewhat unhappy with his job. He was also near retirement, liked auto racing and wanted to spend more time with his sons.”

Drag racing, born on the Pomona/La Verne border, was catching on nationally, and Ollie was working with its leaders. In the article, Coons relates that Ollie built the first Chrondek clocks right on his La Verne kitchen table. The timers were accurate to within .001 second, and they were modular, which allowed for the replacement of a single defective component. Soon, in his garage, Ollie was mastering other precision drag racing timing instruments that would change the sport and launch it to a new level. He soon opened an electronics business, Chrondek Electronics, a family run shop where he was the president, his wife the vice president, and his sons the share holders. The name Chrondek was carefully chosen and captured Ollie’s time passion: “chron” for time and “decca,” Latin for 10ths. “We had only a couple thousand dollars in our bank account and decided to put that money toward Chrondek Electronics,” Garnett Riley, Ollie’s wife remembers. At Chrondek, Ollie created his inventions. “He liked the electronic end of it. Others wanted their cars to be the best. He wanted to make his timers the best,” says Gary Riley.

The business was located in the city of La Verne. Ollie first moved into the former First National Bank building at the corner of D and Second streets (Circle K’s present location). He then leased a location near the southwest corner of D and Second streets, present site of the University of La Verne’s new residential housing building. His Chrondek staff numbered between five and 10. Gary Colby, University of La Verne professor of photography, grew up with Ollie Riley’s sons and has lasting memories of the family and their business. He worked at Chrondek Electronics when he was a student at Bonita High School. “After school, I would go to work and sweep the floors, paint and build objects,” Gary says. His mother also worked for the Rileys. “Inside Chrondek Electronics was a gutted building where they had a warehouse of timing parts and assembly rooms. It was like ‘Dad’s garage.’ It was fun to work there. I remember shipping products constantly.” Besides being an electrical engineer, Ollie also worked Chrondek’s business angle. But most of all he worked on his creations. “I saw Oliver as a man who was motivated to provide instruments that measured the human skill in popular culture,” Gary says. Ollie’s inventions included timers used by gun slingers and for starting track events. Both were also used as false start indicators. Ollie would help friends and family fix broken radios or any gadgets that needed repairing. But his precision timers were his true passion. “He sold these timers all over the world,” says Ollie’s wife Garnett. His timers used light beams at the start and finish lines—then a radical new technology. “Oliver was a big part of drag racing because he created the accurate time systems which are essential to make drag racing work,” Greg Sharp, NHRA Wally Parks Museum curator, says. Oliver traveled with the NHRA throughout the United States, educating others on the set up and use of his timers, therefore ensuring timing accuracy and continuity in the NHRA record books.

Inventing the Christmas Tree

During the late 1950s, a flag starter determined how deep the driver went into the starting light beams during the staging process. Oliver noticed that the flag men who signaled with a wave for the drivers to take off were not uniformally accurate. An invention was needed. According to John Jodauga’s article, “In 1962, NHRA National Field Director Ed Eaton approached Riley with the idea of a step-light countdown system that would give each racer a fair chance at anticipating the green while acting as an electronic judge of foul starts.” The story also says, “Eaton talked with Division 1 Director Lew Bond, who owned the Dragtronics timing business. Bond worked with Riley to develop the first Christmas Tree, which was initially tested at a Wednes­day event at Indianapolis Raceway Park during a May Speedweeks race. Its major-event debut was at the 1963 Nationals.” Jodauga says that the device signaled drivers to begin their races by a progressive change of colors from yellow to green and sometimes to red. This prevented starting errors and stopped the race if cars broke the line early. Pre-staging bulbs were added in 1964.

The author writes how the Tree was not initially accepted by the racers, who had “grown comfortable throughout the years with flag starters. In some cases, competitors attempted to run over the Tree with their vehicles as a sign of protest.” Nevertheless, Jodauga writes that Steve Gibbs, then NHRA vice president and retired director of the NHRA Motorsports Museum, later embraced the change impact of Ollie’s inventions. “Years ago, any news of an outstanding run was met with skepticism and was called a ‘popcorn time.’ We’ve worked hard to eliminate that specter. With so many important barriers being broken…it was important for us to make sure that the timing devices, as well as the starting line system at our high-profile national events, are always accurate and fair. I’m glad to say that I think that we’ve more than achieved that goal.” Ollie spent a decade perfecting his Chrondek timing systems. Then, in 1972, he sold the business to Aero-Marine.

The child inventor

Ollie, born in Kansas, was a premature child, weighing in at about 4 pounds and was raised on a farm in Stafford, Kansas with his two brothers. The family was poor. His sons remember that when Ollie was old enough to use tools, he made his own toys. “Even at a young age, my dad was always interested in electronics,” Tom Riley says. Before transistors were created, Ollie would create his own radios, and he would string together old batteries for power. In high school, he repaired radios for extra money. He attended Kansas State University and earned his B.S. and M.S. in electrical engineering, both with honors. Later, for five years, he was an instructor in the engineering department at KSU. During WWII, he moved to Florida to work for the Army as a civilian. Ollie was the main design engineer for the top secret Norton bomb sight. After the war, he worked for General Electric and later gained his Convair job in Pomona. “La Verne appeared to be a good city for my family to live in since it was affiliated with the Brethren church,” Gary Riley remembers. The Rileys lived near Bonita and Park avenues and were neighbors and close friends with the Colbys. “My dad assisted with Boy Scouts, and all of his sons were involved in Boy Scouts,” Tom Riley says. The three sons graduated from Bonita High School and attended the University of La Verne and Cal Poly, Pomona. Ollie’s daughter-in-law and two grandsons have or are in the process of graduating from the La Verne College of Law.

The impact of Ollie’s drag racing inventions spread nationally. “This is a national competition because of this inventor,” Gary Colby says. “I don’t think there would be drag racing today without Oliver’s inventions. His innovation was ahead of his time,” says Darren Davis “California Kid” drag racer. The time devices validated old records in the modern era and allowed for future NHRA success. Ollie’s inventions can be seen at the NHRA museum in Pomona, Calif. “The museum keeps the memory of these cars and inventions,” says Monique Valadez, NHRA museum manager.

Ollie died about 15 years ago. His family carries on his life story as an inventor, husband and father, who changed the NHRA not through power but the capture of time.

Present day Christmas Trees are computerized, but the basics invented by Oliver Riley are still part of their operating systems, as attested by this Christmas Tree at Auto Club Dragway in Fontana, Calif. / photo by Christopher Guzman

Who was first?

Oliver Riley? W.H.David? Lew Bond? Ed Eaton? Welcome to the confusing world of multiple claims of origination, says David McClelland, known as “the voice of the NHRA,” who holds, since 1959, a prominent national announcing role. While the NHRA museum credits Riley as the Christmas Tree inventor, there are others who claim a share of the fame. W.H. David, from Lafayette, Louisiana, the founder and president of Pel State Timing Association, early on began using a traffic signal-like device to start races. “He started using a rudimentary electric starting device in the ‘60s,” says McClelland. Lew Bond, an NHRA Division 1 official, and his predecessor Ed Eaton, who also served in Division 1 positions, also claim credit. An article in Hemmings Muscle Machines by Jim Donnelly tells, “Eaton came up with a countdown system of five yellow lights, each flashing at half-second intervals before the green would light. Bond developed the electronics to make it work.”

Says McClelland, “My personal feeling? They all could be given some props as being the originator, but, and it’s a big but, which was first? All three are widely scattered: Oliver on the west coast, David in the deep south, Eaton on the eastern seaboard; most likely they were all working on it at the same time, maybe with knowledge of the other, maybe not. Communications were not as sophisticated as today. But it is ironic that all the claims of origination occurred roughly in the same time frame. As you can see, it’s almost a matter of ‘Whom do you believe?’”

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