Word: watered
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...years, some of Teviston's leaders dreamed of digging a deep well and creating a water district of their own, but cash and hope were scarce. Then, five years ago, Field Hand James Morning, Farmer John Williams and Missionary Baptist Preacher Robert Daniels began talking up the idea. They got Bard McAllister, a representative of the American Friends Service Committee, to come over from Visalia to help. For four years McAllister worked and argued with the people, tried to explain how a community effort could bring running water into their homes...
...length, Teviston voted to create the water district, even though the assessed valuation on their land was so low that a bond issue seemed out of the question. Still, Teviston hired a lawyer, and the people emptied their pockets, begged loans from banks, floated a tiny ($7,800) bond issue. Even after the deep well was dug, the hard-pressed laborers had to dig down for more money to help pay for equipment and water lines. A few bluntly refused: "I'll believe it when I see the water," grumbled...
...children this week there were few toys, little tinsel-only one Christmas tree (at the church) in the whole community. But the 300 Negroes of Teviston had a promise of bounty that seemed greater than all the growing things in the green valley: fresh water that would run to every house in Teviston from the deep well on the empty lot. And standing over the well like a monument, was the gift (sold at half price by one company, installed at no charge by another) that they had given to each other-the pride of the new Teviston Water District...
...more than 16,000 ft. above sea level. The prisoners were herded into a 6-by-7-by-15 ft. pit normally used for storing vegetables, and covered with a tarpaulin through which whistled the bone-cracking Himalayan wind. For food there was only dry bread; they were refused water or permission to leave the pit to relieve themselves...
...discomfiting discovery: he had mistakenly left his charts behind, had a choice of burning up his excess fuel and returning to Africa or of navigating with his unpaid bills. Little daunted, Conrad headed on westward, a 3,700-mile leg of the flight over a very lonely stretch of water, where there is only fragmentary weather information, no radio-navigation aids. It was a grim, dead-reckoning proposition at best. All he had to go by was his compass and a bare outline map of the world. Said casual Max Conrad last week: "I navigated by guess and by prayer...