Paraffined Oranges

Stevedores sweated and loading cranes whirred in Los Angeles harbor last week as the warm dry hold of the Dorothy Luckenbach was lined with case after case of oranges all apparently blighted by a sickly pallor. When 7,500 cases were stowed aboard the freighter nosed out of the harbor on a fortnight's voyage to Manhattan.

The oranges were choice Valencias, tree-ripened to ruddy perfection. Ordinarily they would have spoiled during water transit without refrigeration. But shippers were not deliberately throwing away 7,500 cases aboard the uniced Dorothy Luckenbach: their ripe oranges were completely protected and preserved by a thin film of paraffin.

Few days before another Luckenbach boat had sidled into its slip in Manhattan with a first consignment of paraffined oranges. Luckenbach men and officials of the processing company which had devised a cheap way of dipping the fruit in paraffin, waited anxiously on the pier. They peeled off a few paraffin skins, found the fruit beneath succulent, glowing with health. Great was their rejoicing at the success of the new process.

The high cost of refrigerated water shipments dropped into the railroads' lap the fat job of carrying the West's oranges to the consuming East. The paraffin process seemed likely to win back for the steamship companies a good share of that business, perhaps even increase consumption by lowering Eastern market prices. Untried but inviting were the new method's possibilities for lemons, limes, grapefruit, cantaloupe.

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