I’d always felt that there are two kinds of towns in California (and perhaps beyond). The first is the generic and undistinguished town, with the usual collection of faceless corporate businesses (Applebee’s, Chili’s, Home Depot, Target, etc) and the same tract home developments with names like “Willow Creek” or “Creek Willow,” where you literally would not be able to tell which specific town you were in without a sign to tell you.

The second type is the town that has some distinctive character that makes it recognizable. This second category can be further subdivided into towns with an organic distinctiveness (due to their history or topography or whatever) and those that fabricate their character out of whole cloth.

I was reminded of this distinction when I recently received an article from loyal reader Karen Y. The article lists six “themed towns” in the US that “lean into their own unique identities.” Some of these, like Tombstone, Ariz., have legitimate historic links that make them special. Others, like Santa Claus, Indiana, less so.

Two of the six “Themed Towns” are Leavenworth, Wash. (pop: 2,400) and Solvang, CA (pop: 6,000). Alert readers will recall my 2022 blog post about Leavenworth, which postures as a Bavarian village. As I noted in that post, the civic leaders in Leavenworth had visited the Danish-themed town of Solvang as part of their planning to go Full Saxon.

Though not mentioned in the article, there’s a Swedish-themed town in California’s Central Valley that might warrant inclusion on the list. And, like Solvang, this town’s civic leaders also visited Leavenworth before they launched their Scandinavian make-over.

The “Swedish” town we’re talking about is Kingsburg (pop: 12,600), which is about 20 miles southeast of Fresno on CA-99. It is sited next to the Kings River. And it’s where I spent an enjoyable day this week.

Kingsburg enthusiastically embraces the Swedish vibe. Everywhere (and especially on the main street that cuts through downtown) you see Swedish flags, dala horses, half-timbered facades, and even a gigantic Swedish coffee pot. Check it out:

Like so many California settlements, Kingsburg owes its existence in part to the railroad. In 1873 the Central Pacific Railroad established “Kings River Switch” as a flag stop, where boat-borne freight was transferred to rail (and vice versa). The town’s name was changed a number of times, to Wheatville to Kingsbury to Kingsburgh and finally to Kingsburg.

Notably, the railroad station still stands today. And fortuitously, I arrived on the one day of the week the station is open for tours. Docent Steve (no relation) showed me around. The current building was constructed in 1888, and was moved to Kingburg in 1902 to replace the original station that had burned down. Remarkably, both stations were constructed from the exact same plans (“Southern Pacific Common Standard No. 18”), so the replacement station was simply dropped directly onto the foundation of the station that had burned down.

The station/museum is maintained by an amazingly dedicated crew of volunteers. It’s been restored to appear as it did in 1922, when it was modernized with electric lights, steam heat, and a stucco facade. The latest restoration took place 2007-2015, and it’s a well-executed, authentic restoration. The station is full of period-correct antiques, including many pieces (such as the telephone, freight scale, and some furniture) that are original to the depot.

Docent Steve is a knowledgeable historian who’s eager to share his knowledge, but the one thing I couldn’t get him to shed much light on was: Where does Kingsburg’s Swedish connection come from?

This is a question I pursued at the local bakery. The woman behind the counter said she thought there used to be “a lot of Swedes living here,” but that “these days hardly anyone is Swedish.” She said she never really gives it much thought.

Next I asked at the coffee shop: “What’s the story behind the Swedish theme of this town?” asked I. The young woman seemed to be taken by surprise. “What Swedish theme?” To her it was all just decoration, I guess. “I commute from Fresno,” she added, as though that explains everything.

The clerk at my hotel darkly observed that “The Church controls everything in this town.” I wasn’t sure if she meant the Church of Sweden or a local parish or maybe some kind of Elmer Gantry figure. I thought it best not to ask her to elaborate.

Finally, at a local cafe a friendly woman (who, alas, wouldn’t consent to being photographed for this blog) advised me to talk to the owner of the Svensk Butik gift shop. “She knows all the history of this town.”

And that wasn’t an exaggeration. June (for that’s her name) comes from honest Swedish stock, was born in Kingsburg, and opened her shop here 39 years ago. She’s been a major force behind the town’s Swedish theme. Dressed in traditional Swedish garb, she told me the story behind Kingsburg.

Here’s the short version, and I apologize if I have garbled anything. Back in the 19th century, Swedish immigrants came to the Midwest to escape religious persecution and find employment. They took up mining, agriculture, and other trades. But over time some became restless and began to the west coast, where the weather was better, might be the ticket. A scouting expedition was dispatched, and through some fortuitous encounters that featured someone’s cousin, the scouting party determined Kingsburg would be a suitable place. Many Swedish-American families subsequently came out to settle in Kingsburg, and by the turn of the century virtually the entire town was ethnically Swedish.

Notably, those early settlers didn’t try to replicate the architecture and other trappings of the Old Country. They were just trying to sink roots and make an honest living. It was a fairly prosperous town, served by the railroad and the river.

In the 1960s the railroad ended its passenger service, and then CA-99 became multi-lane freeway that whisked travelers past the town without stopping. To make matters worse, many local residents made use of that same freeway to shop in Fresno and other towns. Kingsburg needed something to bring business back to its commercial center, and that something became the Swedish Plan. The aforementioned visit to Solvang followed. June tells me that the good folks of Solvang warned the Kingsburg delegation against becoming too much like Disneyland. Evidently there’s some regret among Solvang’s residents that the Danish village is built to serve tourists but not residents. June tells me that, in her opinion, Kingsburg found a good balance, where the Swedish theme is evident and attractive, but the underlying services remain practical and accessible to the town’s residents.

She also mentioned that Kingsburg holds an annual Swedish Festival every May, with native food, crafts, music, and the like. I may need to come back.

After hearing June’s story, I reconsidered my typology of organic vs. contrived theme towns. In some ways Kingsburg is promoting its very real Swedish history, although few of the current residents have any connection with the Old Country. But what struck me was the friendly vibe of the place. Every single person I spoke with was kind and welcoming and happy to be there. The public spaces were clean and attractive and welcoming..The main street even had Swedish music softly playing over speakers. Even if the Swedish heritage feels a bit forced, it doesn’t feel fake. This is just a nice, friendly, attractive town that I’d like to visit again.

There is one dark postscript to this story–Kingsburg is the headquarters of Sun-Maid Raisins, which is nice so far as it goes.

However, a neighbor to the Sun-Maid plant is evidently at war with the company, putting up combative signs, maintaining an expose-themed Facebook page, and offering passersby “free tours” of the environmental degradation supposedly caused by Big Raisin.

It seems the neighbor (Doug Johnson) is upset that some of Sun-Maid’s “raisin processing discharge” ends up in his ditch. I can’t offer any judgments about his claims, but I will say that this doesn’t appear to be a Silkwood situation. So let’s move on to the..

BREW OF THE DAY

For reasons that are too convoluted and uninteresting to get into here, I had my BOTD at the Seal Beach Grill in Seal Beach, CA. It was a warm day, so I decided an IPA would do the trick. The Seal Beach Grill does not brew its own beer, so I had an Elysian Space Dust IPA. Elysian Brewing is based in Seattle, and, like so many breweries, is owned by Anheuser-Busch. But let’s not hold that against them.

Space Dust is a bright, flavorful IPA. It’s got a fresh sweetness that’s nicely balanced with several different types of hops. It presents beautifully with a golden honey color, lively carbonation, and a decent surface of foam. At 8.2 percent ABV, this is a big beer that happens to go down easy. On a hot day it can be downright dangerous. Ask me how I know.

Four stars out of five.