No Rain, No Gain

By JEANNE McDOWELL

In the 40 years he has farmed the fertile soil of California's San Joaquin Valley, Fred Starrh has known his share of hardship. But never has he had a year like this. Rainfall and snowfall 75% below normal have left the state parched, and Starrh is struggling to save his 8,000-acre spread. He has let all 40 of his permanent employees go. He won't plant cotton this spring -- it needs lots of water. His alfalfa, another thirsty crop, will come in at one- sixth of last year's harvest. He is desperately scrounging for water to sustain his almond trees. Still he retains faith. "It's like being told you're going to die," says Starrh, 61. "Until it happens, you think you just might make it."

Such sentiments are increasingly common in California. From the rich farmlands that yield half the nation's fruits and vegetables to the usually snow-drenched Sierra Nevadas to the lush gardens of Bel Air, Californians are grappling with the state's worst-ever drought, now entering its fifth year. Farmers, who contribute $17.6 billion to California's $735 billion-a-year economy, last week absorbed a double blow. The state Department of Water Resources, which normally supplies water to major farming areas in the fecund San Joaquin Valley, suspended all agricultural deliveries of the water it controls. Meanwhile the Federal Government warned of up to 75% cutbacks in the low-priced water from its reservoirs over the next few weeks. City governments convened emergency sessions to consider strict rationing for business and residential users. In the first unforeseen crisis of his new administration, Governor Pete Wilson stopped just short of declaring a state of emergency, instead creating a "drought action team" to draft a water plan in two weeks. "Concern is justified. Panic is not," cautioned Wilson. "This is a threat to our livelihoods, not our lives."

The distinction provided little solace to farmers, who consume 85% of the state's water and are likely to take the biggest economic hit from the drought. With spring planting only weeks away, agricultural analysts predict a grim harvest: as many as 1.5 million acres left unfarmed, $642 million in net losses and layoffs of thousands of farm workers. "This is the worst drought most of us can remember," says Bob Vice, president of the 85,000-member California Farm Bureau Federation. "You can't raise crops unless you have tools, and water is the most important tool."

In California's semiarid desert climate, no one expects much moisture from May to October, but the months of December through March are generally rainy, with January the wettest. Not this season. From Oct. 1 through the beginning of February, only 5 in. of rain fell vs. an average of 28 in. for that period. Reservoirs are half full at best; some are empty. At Edwards Air Force Base, near Lancaster, pumping for groundwater has opened a half-mile-long, 12-ft.- deep, 4-ft.-wide crack close to a runway used by the space shuttles. Enough trees have died in the past two years, says the state Forestry Department, to build 1 million large three-bedroom houses. "I don't want to sound too severe," says a spokesman, "but there are certainly more dead trees than there ever have been in modern times."

The impact of the drought and cutbacks in normally vast supplies of ( government-provided water will vary through the state's agriculture industry. Field crops that consume large amounts of water, such as alfalfa and cotton -- the state's No. 1 export -- are sure to suffer. "We may be looking at a million-bale loss," says Kevin McDermott, vice president for economic research at Calcot, a Bakersfield cotton cooperative. That would equal 30% of the normal harvest. Most imperiled will be the 2.1 million acres of permanent crops, the grapevines and fruit, olive and nut trees that must be watered to survive, even if they don't yield a harvest. While tomato and carrot growers may be able to sustain the economic loss of not planting this year, the $3,000-per-acre capital investment required to plant trees and vines means that many farmers trapped in low-water areas are facing disaster or something close to it.

They can do little in response. Some are drilling wells to tap water deep beneath the surface, but others live in areas without significant groundwater. Still others are switching to crops that get by on less water -- planting safflower instead of corn, for example. Many search desperately for outside sources and are willing to pay top dollar. Near Bakersfield in Kern County, farm manager Ronald Khachigian has contracted to purchase water from a private industrial source for almost double the price he usually pays. "It's better than not harvesting anything," he says. His normal price is just $90 for each acre-foot (an acre-foot is 326,000 gallons and equals the annual consumption for two households).

The effects of California's drought will spread across the U.S. this spring and summer when shoppers may well pay higher prices for some fruits and vegetables. By far the country's largest agricultural producer, California grows more than 90% of America's broccoli, apricots, grapes, nectarines, prunes and almonds, more than 80% of its lemons and plums, most of its peaches, lettuce and strawberries.

In urban areas, rationing, cutbacks and conservation are spreading fast. The Los Angeles city council is expected to approve shortly a plan requiring residential users and businesses to reduce consumption 10% from 1986 levels or pay stiff penalties. In San Diego, where conservation is voluntary, the city has set up a telephone hot line to provide conservation tips and a snitch line for reporting water-wasting neighbors. All new construction in outlying areas must include low-flow toilets. Tough restrictions on landscaping, which would $ limit the planting of grass, are under consideration. In a two-prong strategy, San Francisco has set 25% mandatory cutbacks in water use and is purchasing water from neighboring Placer and Stanislaus counties. In Marin County last week officials passed the most stringent cutbacks yet: 50%. They are also studying plans to increase the water supply 14% by building a $60 million desalination plant that would transform murky water from San Francisco Bay into an extra 5,000 acre-ft. a year.

Frightened by prospects of further rationing, industrial companies that consume large amounts of water are seeking ways to use less. Kelco, a San Diego-based chemical producer, aims to cut water consumption 40% over the next three years by recycling more of what it needs to process the seaweed it uses as a raw material. Semiconductor manufacturing uses loads of water, so Silicon Valley's Intel, a leading maker, is also looking into recycling methods.

For California's nonfarm economy, the drought's long-term effects will probably be more important than the immediate ones. "We will survive the drought," says Gary Burke, president of the Santa Clara County Manufacturing Group. "But what effect will the drought have on companies' plans to expand and new businesses' decisions to locate in Santa Clara?"

He has a point. While emergency actions by industry and government may ease the crisis, California will have to adopt a better system for allocating water to attract skittish businesses and stabilize its agriculture industry. Analysts across the political spectrum prescribe a market system in which those who have water can easily sell it to those who need it more. Many agree on the root of the recent dislocations: California water is much too cheap. The federal authorities that sell it lose millions of dollars a year by charging farmers far less than it costs them to provide new supplies.

Some of the distressed farmers are suffering because they have planted thirsty crops -- rice, cotton, alfalfa -- that would not be economical to grow in the first place if water cost more. Farmers also typically use the most wasteful method of irrigation: ditches. The drip method, which supplies water in needed quantities to each plant, uses about 20% less water than ditches, but as long as water is cheap, farmers have no reason to spend the money to install drip systems. Says Richard Howitt, professor of agricultural economics at the University of California at Davis: "We should be treating water like a ) market commodity that fluctuates in value."

As the Golden State turns brown, residents wonder how long the drought will last. No one can tell them. Some meteorologists ask whether the state is undergoing a permanent climatic change, but most point out that multiyear droughts have occurred often over the centuries. The 1928-34 drought lasted even longer than this one. Astrologers, not always disdained in California, say that with Saturn moving toward Aquarius, the skies will begin to open. Drenching rains lashed Northern California last week but probably sank straight into cracked ground rather than running into rivers and lakes. Relief almost certainly will not come soon. Even if the rainy season were average, it would not return many reservoirs to normal levels. In any case, an average season would require 40 in. of rain between now and May, which is almost unheard of. And then another dry season begins.

With reporting by Paul Krueger/San Diego and Elizabeth L''Hommedieu/San Francisco