Farm Town

Reporting from Mendota, Calif. -- The Knucklehead Code of Honor always included honesty and kindness. Humility is a recent addition. "We never had to worry about gloating before because we never won before," said Vaness French, coach of the Knuckleheads, otherwise known as the Mendota High School chess team. The nickname refers not to human blockheadedness, but to the cylinders on vintage Harley-Davidson motorcycle engines known for their durability. Drought-weary Mendota — a Central Valley town of stilled machinery and packinghouses surrounded by industrial agriculture — is the kind of place that requires durability just to survive.

The women come in for milk in the morning, and the sun-wearied men for their 24-ounce Budweisers in the afternoon. Beyond that, Joseph Riofrio's general store stays afloat by cashing checks, collecting utility bills and selling the $5 phone cards that farm workers use to call El Salvador and Mexico from the pay phone shaded by an aging portico outside. Come 6 p.m.

A history of this town's role in the Revolutionary War notes that it was half a day's carriage ride from Boston and a favorite stopping-over spot for weary travelers headed for the state capital. Today it is the richest community in the state, one of two Massachusetts towns named as among the 50 most expensive suburbs in the nation. Elegant houses have replaced the outlying farms, and the automobile and the turnpike have cut the trip to Boston to less than half an hour.

In 1979, Fred Gratzon answered the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's call and moved to Fairfield, Iowa. There, in the shadow of the Golden Domes of Pure Knowledge at the Maharishi University of Management, he meditated and grew rich. This is no coincidence, says Gratzon, a self-described millionaire whose company sells cheap long-distance telephone access. "Without a doubt, meditation and being close to the university has helped me become a success," he said.

Most evenings, when the atmospheric conditions are just right, Duane Hamann drives the winding, dusty road to the top of a hill on the edge of this Central California farming community, unlocks the door of a brown shed and fires up a powerful laser.

To remind himself that he is not forgotten, parish priest Javier Castro keeps a 3-foot-tall trophy from the Orange County Soccer League at the foot of his desk. His boys won the championship in 1992. They carried their prize 1,500 miles back to this picturesque farming town in northern Michoacan state, handed it to Castro and celebrated for a week. Then they went home to Santa Ana, where so many of Granjenal's people have gone.

Floodwaters from a collapsed levee on the Yuba River continued to spread over two farm towns Friday, inundatingbuildings up to their rooftops and leaving up to 20,000 people homeless. More than a dozen Red Cross shelters were set up at Beale Air Force Base and adjacent areas to feed and shelter an estimated 10,000 of the homeless fleeing from the inundated farm communities of Linda and Olivehurst, near Marysville, 50 miles north of Sacramento.

This is a school district in upheaval: The superintendent has been fired. The interim superintendent was asked not to return next fall. Its schools rank among the lowest in the state. One board member never went to school. Now, all five board members are facing recall attempts amid allegations of racism, incompetence and vendettas. All this in a town of just two square miles. Though Farmersville has seen its share of divisive politics in the past, residents say nothing compares to this.

The question hangs everywhere in this quiet little farm town. Why did Dinuba, known as Raisinland U.S.A., with a dozen cops on the beat and not a single recent murder on the books, even need a SWAT team? Back in 1997, with scarcely a dissenting voice, Dinuba created a special paramilitary police unit complete with submachine guns and head-to-toe combat gear. It was a choice that this San Joaquin Valley town, population 15,269, would almost immediately regret.

After counting final absentee ballots, Kern County elections officials on Thursday announced that Arvin's combative mayor, Juan Olivares, survived a contentious recall election. The final tally was 662 votes in favor of the recall and 743 votes opposed. That means Olivares widened his margin of victory from 17 to 81 votes since the preliminary results were released Tuesday. Elections officials counted the last 149 ballots Thursday. Many were absentees. Some contained irregularities.