For decades, a stubborn California farmer stood his ground against the behemoth that was the Walt Disney Company, fighting relentlessly to protect his family’s land from development.

But when the city of Anaheim, backed by developers, moved to seize the family’s beloved farm in 1985, it marked the beginning of a heartbreaking saga that would change everything for the family of farmers. 

The Fujishige farm legacy began in 1906 when Hisao Fujishige immigrated to the United States from Iwakuni in the Yamaguchi Prefecture. 

Years later, in 1918, he purchased a 30-acre plot of land in East Los Angeles where he and his six children, Aiko, Hiroshi, Masao, Kimi, Henry and Anna, and his wife, Ayano. grew a variety of crops.

On the sizeable farm off Atlantic Eastern Avenue and Santa Fe, the Fujishige’s grew dry onion, garlic and cabbage – and they did so happily, until disaster struck. 

A few days after the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, Hisao was arrested and in March 1942, his wife and two eldest sons, Hiroshi and Masao, moved their family to Clearfield, Utah to live with their cousins instead of an internment camp. 

During the war, they continued farming in Clearfield, growing tomatoes, canning peas, sugar beets and onions. 

The Fujishige farm legacy began in 1906 when Hisao Fujishige immigrated to the United States from Iwakuni in the Yamaguchi Prefecture. Pictured: Fujishige Farms sign from Harbor Blvd

In 1952, Hiroshi and Masao Fujishige moved back to California and bought H&M Fujishige Farms (pictured), a 58-acre farm in Anaheim, where they grew strawberries, vegetables, and herbs 

In 1944, Hiroshi, who would eventually go on to steward the family farm, was drafted into the 442 Regimental Combat Team, and his brother Masao took charge of the farm. 

Following the war, the Fujishige family stayed farming in Utah for the next nine years, before Hiroshi and Masao moved back to California and bought a 58-acre plot in Anaheim in 1952.

The sprawling land would soon become H&M Fujishige Farms where they sold strawberries, sweet white corn, pears, mandarins and so much more. 

The beloved property, located at 1854 Harbor Boulevard, would be where the two men would raise their families. Together they worked on the farm, growing and harvesting crops, and slowly but surely making gains in the industry. 

However, a little ways down the road, the former site of a grove of orange trees was being developed by a man named Walt Disney. 

As the Fujishiges continued to pick strawberries, they could see a castle being built across the field. 

In July 1955, Disneyland finally opened to the public. It was a sensation, and the Fujishiges were suddenly neighbors to the most famous theme park on the planet.

Yet, offers for their prized plot didn’t roll in immediately, but as Disneyland grew, the eyes of every developer turned to the rural Orange County property.  

Hiroshi would soon become the family’s unofficial spokesperson, though often described as a quiet, private man.

In 1991, Hiroshi told the Los Angeles Times that a man had recently dropped an offer of $2million per acre and that he flatly turned him down. 

‘I didn’t even get his name,’ he told the outlet. 

A few years later, then-Disney Chairman Michael Eisner invited the strawberry farmer for dinner at a Disneyland restaurant in a desperate plea trying to convince him to sell. 

Following the war, the Fujishige family stayed farming in Utah for the next nine years, before Hiroshi and Masao moved back to California and bought a 58-acre plot in Anaheim in 1952

The sprawling land would soon become H&M Fujishige Farms where they sold strawberries, sweet white corn, pears, mandarins and so much more. Pictured: Late 1990s, crops grew on the Fujishige farm location off of Harbor Boulevard

But, Hiroshi wasn’t at all swayed by the high-powered executive, claiming, ‘I’m just a dirt farmer.’

In 1984, Hiroshi once again found himself in hot water when an Orange County grand jury named his farm as one of 26 in the county that housed migrant workers in ‘inhuman conditions’. 

Soon after, the California farmer was given a deadline to shut down the housing, and, when asked about it by reporters, he said: ‘The growing season will be over by then. I won’t need the barracks. Besides, one of them is ready to fall down anyhow.’  

The Fujishige farm made the news once again in 1985, when the city of Anaheim announced, for the first time in its history, it was going to use eminent domain on behalf of a private business. 

A Hong Kong developer planned a $200million hotel and condo project near the Anaheim Convention Center – located just a half-mile from the farm – and the increased traffic brought by the project necessitated two additional roads that would cut through the property. 

As usual, though, the Fujishiges refused to sell, and in order for the project to move forward, the city decided to seize the land.

However, in the midst of their bitter battle the city, tragedy struck. 

After a day of work, Hiroshi’s brother Masao killed himself. 

Family members said he had been ‘very despondent’ over the fight with the city and that after a stroke three years prior, his health had never recovered. 

A few days later, Hiroshi addressed the Anaheim City Council to assure them they ‘shouldn’t feel any guilt’.

‘I have no bad feelings for any of you,’ Hiroshi said. ‘He was a sick man. The only trouble was I didn’t realize how sick he was.’

Once a lush 58-acre family-run farm, H&M Fujishige Farms has since been condemned by high-rises, chain restaurants and the world’s most powerful entertainment empire 

Hiroshi’s children work on the family’s Anaheim farm

The developer eventually pulled out of the project, but new bidders continued to approach the Fujishiges.

With each year that passed, their land became more valuable. In the 1990s, it was estimated to be the single most valuable undeveloped property left in the area. 

‘Some say he’s crazy, because he’s sitting on property worth between $60million and $70million, watching his strawberries grow,’ a source close to the family the Los Angeles Times in 1991. ‘I think he knows something we don’t know.’

Each day from sunrise to sunset, the Fujishiges’ farm stand sold fresh produce to passing tourists and locals, making next to nothing compared to the generational wealth that a deal with Disney was offering. 

With time, Disney would soar in popularity, looking to expand its already expansive attractions but without any more room to do so – still tirelessly pleading with the stubborn farmer for his slice of undeveloped land. 

In February 1998, Hiroshi, who was 75 years old at the time, suffered a bad fall.

Finally, after over 40 years of cultivating their treasured land, in August 1998, Disney announced that the Fujishige family had, at last, agreed to sell on the condition they could keep three-and-a-half acres for a bit of farming and their produce stand. 

The family did not say what changed their minds, but Hiroshi’s declining health was thought to be a possible part of that decision. 

After over 40 years of cultivating their treasured land, in August 1998, Disney announced that the Fujishige family had, at last, agreed to sell on the condition they could keep three-and-a-half acres for a bit of farming and their produce stand. Pictured: A tractor makes its way across a corner of the Fujishige family’s farm 

A month after the monumental sale, Hiroshi died and despite going head-to-head with Anaheim’s top politicians and business leaders for decades, sorrow-filled tributes poured in for the dedicated farmer. Pictured: Pancho Contreras, who worked 19 years at the Fujishige farm gathers flowers which were delivered to the stand the day after Hiroshi’s death

The Fujishige farm is now the site of the ‘Toy Story’ parking lot, where each day, thousands of guests park and take a shuttle to Disneyland

The final sale price was also never disclosed, but experts guessed it was somewhere between $65million and $78million. Today, adjusted for inflation, the Fujishige’s deal would equate to about $127million, SFGate estimates.

‘It’s just too valuable to stay as agricultural land,’ an Anaheim city council member told the Times in 1998.

A month after the monumental sale, Hiroshi died and despite going head-to-head with Anaheim’s top politicians and business leaders for decades, sorrow-filled tributes poured in for the dedicated farmer.

‘We have the highest respect and regard for the Fujishige family, and we are very saddened to hear of the death of Hiroshi Fujishige,’ Disneyland spokesperson Ray Gomez told the LA Times. 

Meanwhile. former City Council member Irv Pickler marveled at how Hiroshi’s ‘integrity’ was ‘more important than money: ‘I admire the fact that he stood his ground and the family knew what they wanted to do. I wish we had a little more of that today.’

Now, the Fujishige farm is the site of the ‘Toy Story’ parking lot, where each day, thousands of guests park and take a shuttle to Disneyland.