History & Culture

Railroad Origins

Every city has an origin story. Fullerton’s starts with a railroad man and a land deal. In 1887, George H. Fullerton — a president of the Pacific Land Improvement Company and a key figure with the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railway — helped secure the right-of-way for the rail line through this part of Orange County. In exchange, the new townsite was named after him. That’s it. That’s how we got the name. No battle, no gold rush. Just a shrewd railroad executive and a handshake.

The Santa Fe Depot became the beating heart of early Fullerton. It was how people arrived, how goods shipped out, and how this patch of Southern California connected to the rest of the country. The railroad didn’t just pass through — it created the town. The streets were laid out from the depot. The first businesses clustered around it. The entire geometry of downtown Fullerton traces back to where those tracks were laid.

Today, the Fullerton Train Station still operates on roughly the same spot, serving Amtrak and Metrolink commuters. You can stand on the platform and feel the continuity — trains have been stopping here for well over a century. It’s one of the busiest stations in the Amtrak Pacific Surfliner corridor, which means the thing that founded this city is still, quite literally, keeping it connected.

The Citrus Groves Era

Before the subdivisions, before the strip malls, before any of it — Fullerton was orange groves as far as you could see. By the early 1900s, this area had become one of the most productive citrus regions in California. Valencia oranges and lemons covered the hillsides and flatlands. The scent of orange blossoms in spring was the defining sensory experience of living here, and old-timers will still tell you nothing since has quite compared.

The citrus industry shaped everything about early Fullerton. Packing houses lined the railroad tracks, processing and shipping fruit across the country. Workers — many of them Mexican and Mexican-American families — built tight-knit communities that remain part of the city’s fabric today. The Bastanchury Ranch, one of the largest in Orange County, ran cattle and citrus operations that employed hundreds. The wealth generated by citrus funded the schools, the churches, the civic buildings. It was the economic engine.

By the 1950s and ’60s, the groves started giving way to housing developments as Orange County’s population exploded. Most of the trees are gone now. But you can still see echoes of the era everywhere — in the street names (Orange, Lemon, Valencia), in the occasional massive old tree surviving in someone’s backyard, and in the architectural DNA of the older neighborhoods that were built when citrus money was flowing.

The Fox Theatre

Built in 1925, the Fox Fullerton Theatre is one of those buildings that makes you understand what people mean when they talk about “they don’t build them like this anymore.” It was designed as a movie palace in the grand tradition — ornate plasterwork, a soaring auditorium, atmospheric styling that made the ceiling look like an open night sky. For decades, it was where Fullerton went for entertainment. First-run films, live performances, community gatherings. It was the cultural center of the city.

Then came the decline. Like so many downtown theaters across America, the Fox struggled as suburban multiplexes pulled audiences away. It closed. It sat empty. The building deteriorated. For years it was one of those heartbreaking downtown fixtures — beautiful bones, boarded-up windows, an uncertain future.

But the community wouldn’t let it go. A long, persistent restoration effort — driven by locals who remembered what the Fox meant and could see what it could mean again — brought the theater back. It wasn’t quick. It wasn’t cheap. It took advocacy, fundraising, and the kind of stubborn civic pride that defines Fullerton at its best. Today, the Fox operates as a live entertainment venue hosting concerts, comedy, film screenings, and special events. The interior has been meticulously restored, and walking into that auditorium still produces the same jaw-drop it did a century ago.

Historic Downtown Architecture

One of the things that sets downtown Fullerton apart from most of Orange County is that it actually looks like it has a history. While so much of the region was bulldozed and rebuilt in the postwar suburban boom, downtown Fullerton held onto its bones. Walk along Harbor Boulevard and the surrounding blocks and you’ll see a streetscape that reads like a timeline — 1920s commercial facades, Art Deco details, mid-century storefronts, all standing shoulder to shoulder.

The SoCo (South of Commonwealth) district is where a lot of this architectural character concentrates. Old industrial and commercial buildings have been repurposed into restaurants, shops, galleries, and creative offices without losing what made them interesting in the first place. Exposed brick, original signage, high ceilings — the kind of adaptive reuse that gives a neighborhood texture and soul. It feels authentic because it is. These aren’t replica vintage buildings. They’re the real thing, just put back to work.

The city has done a decent job of protecting its historic core through a combination of local landmark designations and the downtown’s inclusion in the National Register of Historic Places. Not every building has been saved — you’ll hear locals lament specific losses — but the overall character of downtown has survived in a way that feels almost miraculous for this part of Southern California. Walk it slowly and pay attention to the upper floors of buildings. That’s where the original architectural details tend to survive, even when the street-level storefronts have been modernized.

Arts & Music Scene

Fullerton punches way above its weight when it comes to arts and music, and it has for decades. The Muckenthaler Cultural Center — a 1924 Italian Renaissance-style mansion on a hilltop — hosts rotating art exhibitions, concerts, and cultural events year-round. The grounds alone are worth a visit: lush gardens, mature trees, and views that remind you this was once estate country. It’s Fullerton’s living room for the arts, and it feels like a well-kept secret even to people who’ve lived here for years.

But the Muckenthaler is just the polished surface. Fullerton’s real music credentials run deeper and rougher. In the late ’80s and ’90s, Fullerton was a legit hub for the Southern California punk and ska scenes. Bands rehearsed here. Shows happened in backyards, warehouses, and small venues. The city’s affordable rents (at the time) and proximity to both LA and the beach communities made it a natural home for musicians who needed cheap space and a scene to plug into. That DIY spirit never fully left. Today, venues like The Continental Room and various popup events keep live music central to the downtown experience.

The gallery scene is quieter but persistent. Small independent galleries pop up in the SoCo district and surrounding neighborhoods, often run by local artists. CSUF’s art department feeds talent into the community, and you’ll regularly find student and faculty exhibitions open to the public. There’s also a growing mural and public art presence — the kind of thing that makes an ordinary walk downtown a little more interesting.

Fullerton Today

The Fullerton you’ll find today is a city still figuring out the balance between its past and its future, and mostly getting it right. The agricultural roots are gone — no more orange groves stretching to the horizon. In their place is a mid-sized Southern California city of about 140,000 people that somehow manages to feel smaller and more distinctive than that number suggests.

The railroad still runs through the center of town. The Fox Theatre still lights up Harbor Boulevard. The Muckenthaler still hosts art on its hilltop. The downtown is walkable and alive in a way that most Orange County cities would kill for. What’s changed is the layering. Each generation has added something without completely erasing what came before. You can see the railroad town in the street grid. The citrus era in the old neighborhood trees and Spanish-style homes. The postwar boom in the mid-century ranches. The modern era in the restaurants, breweries, and creative businesses filling the historic storefronts. Fullerton has its challenges — housing costs, traffic, the tensions that come with growth. But it has something a lot of cities in this part of the world lack: a sense of place. An identity that goes deeper than “suburb near Disneyland.” People who live here tend to get attached, and people who visit tend to notice that it feels different from the surrounding sprawl. That’s not an accident. It’s the accumulated result of more than 130 years of people building, fighting for, and caring about a specific place. That history isn’t just something you read about. In Fullerton, you can still walk through it.