Southwest Drought

On the southwestern plains of the U.S., weather as hot and dry as a kitchen stove lid is an accepted part of life. West Texans like to say that when the great deluge flooded the world and Noah took to the ark, West Texas had half an inch of rain. But last week the Southwest was not in a joking mood. In Texas and parts of Oklahoma, New Mexico and Colorado, dry weather had turned to drought and drought was turning to disaster.

The region has had its longest, most severe and most widespread dry spell on record, even greater than the searing droughts of 1886 and 1934-36. In the whole area, rainfall has been subnormal for four years. Last year Texas had less than 30% of normal rainfall. This year, in the Texas Panhandle, it has been less than 25% of normal. There was little rain in Texas during June, and temperatures exceeded 100 almost every day.

At Laredo, the Rio Grande ran dry (TIME, June 15), until irrigation upstream was curtailed. Grass on the ranges is burning brown and then disappearing. Great cracks are ripping open in the bare, scorched earth. The brown soil is blowing, an eerie haze against the blazing blue sky, forming dunes in the fields and lying in ripples against the sides of buildings.

The Worthless Calf. The Texas wheat crop this year is expected to be about one-third of normal, the cotton crop one-half. Hardest hit of all are the cattle ranchers. Their ranges are burned up, their ponds and wells are going dry; most of the cattle they have left stand forlornly in the baking fields, ribs pressing against their skin.

Because of the feed shortage, thousands of cattle are being dumped on the market. In Fort Worth, receipts soared last week to about 7,500 a day, twice the normal run. Some of the animals brought to market were so emaciated that they fell as they were driven into the chutes. Some registered Herefords are being sold as commercial-grade beef; some cattlemen are selling their foundation herds, the animals they would normally keep to produce next year's calves.

Naturally, the dumping has caused prices to crash. Last week choice calves brought 16-c- a Ib. in Dallas (compared to 30-c- a year ago), and some cows sold for as little as 5-c- a Ib. (the alltime low in the great depression: 3-c-). Said Cleve Littlepage, a Tahoma, Texas rancher one day last week: "I had a little calf born on my place this morning. A month ago that calf would have been worth $35. maybe $40. I've offered it to ten men free and they all turned it down."

Town Without Water. All this spells financial disaster for some cattlemen, although there are many who have shored up their financial position out of the huge profits of recent years. Eventually, consumers all over the U.S. will feel the effects. Although beef prices are down at the butcher shops now because of the market glut, premature marketing and sale of foundation herds are likely to lead to serious beef shortages and high prices in the months ahead.

Big cities in the drought area have felt little effect so far, but many a smaller city and town has. Hamlin (pop. 1.800). in west Texas, has been out of water for more than a year, is importing it in railroad tank cars at a cost of 60-c- for 100 gallons. Both wheat and cotton crops in the area have been failing for three years, the town is surrounded by abandoned farms, and many houses and business buildings stand vacant.

Last fortnight a group of southwesterners, including a delegation of Texans led by Republican National Committeeman Jack Porter, went up to Washington to tell their story and to ask for help. Last week Secretary of Agriculture Ezra Taft Benson flew to Texas to make a speech at a cotton convention in Lubbock, and turned his trip into a drought-inspection tour.

At 7 a.m. one day Benson rolled out of Lubbock in a blue Cadillac, rode over roads that had been plowed clear of drifted dust. He gazed at the parched earth, ran some of it through his fingers, then went into conferences with farmers and ranchers. At week's end Benson said he would recommend that the Government do everything it can to give the drought-stricken southwesterners what they want: 1) emergency feed supplies at reasonable cost, 2) a Government buying program to take distress cattle off the market, and 3) emergency, long-term credit.

One Real Solution. Secretary Benson is basically against Government price supports and controls, but he approves of them in precisely this kind of situation-- to prevent disaster. Said Mormon Apostle Benson: "We will move just as expeditiously as humanly possible. You people don't want handouts, you want help to help yourselves. I know that your hearts and sentiments are in this, and we want you to stay on your land. And may the Good Lord send us moisture from above.''

This week, as Democrats tried to make political hay in the dried fields, Ezra Benson was back in Washington working on his program, which would be of some temporary help in the drought area. At Benson's recommendation. President Eisenhower allocated $8.000,000 in emergency funds for drought relief. But the Secretary of Agriculture and everyone else knew that no man could supply the only real solution: rain.

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