Evening star., 1931-12-13
of its storage basin TO the last

BHilCn-
This was in the days when Gen.
Alvaro Obregon was President Of Mex
leo. Obregon, one of the most energetic
executives our sister republic has ever
seen, plunged into the work with both
feet and his one arm. He strode about
the sandy wastes of Sonora Province,
giving orders, summoning crews and
promising the photographers everything
they need to make the Job a success.
The first thing they needed was some
sort OF landing field within striking dis
tance OF the job, but not within striking
distance Of the yengeful Yaquis. OBJ
RECON called together an army of labor
ers and cleared a square mile of land.
The crew felt grateful, but there was
something else Would the president
guarantee that the base would be safe
from Yaqui attack? He would. He did.
He had q company OF Mexican regulars
on the field day and night.
The field was i5s miles from the
dam site, and close to the provincial
capital, Herrhosillo. Obregon stayed
there during the latter part of the
mapping work, straying into the photo
graphers' hut, grinning beneath his
clipped mustache and watching the as
sembling Of the map. To the presi-
dents credit, be 1t said that he never
promised anything he didn't deliver. II
he agreed to furnish guard or field
it was there on time.
The whole idea of this mammoth
irrigation project originated with OBJ
RECON, and he backed 1t enthusiast
cally. Toward the latter part of the
mapping york, I remember, he was
asked how he would get the dam built
after 1t had been designed. Our map
ping crew, high above the Yaqui pla-
teau, could snap its fingers at the In
dians; but the contractor couldn't.
He'd have TO shove them aside and get
the job up. standing right in their
midst.
Needed Strong Force.
"I'H build it," Obregon declared, III
l nave TO use the whole army TO do it,"
He didn't need all the army. but he
did need a cavalry regiment and all the
troops he could muster from Sonora.
But to get back to the map. That
had been completed after about six
weeks Of intermittent flying, and was
ready for the engineers who we're to de-
sign the dam. Obregon was delighted
He strobe into the hanger, congratu-
lated all hands and announced that he
was going to fly with the map to Mex
leo City-right away. Waving his
stump arm toward our old plane, he
asked that he be flown to the capital.
The boss shook his head. The plane
was not built for such trip. It would
mean crossing the Sierras at 10, 1000 feet
and hying prodigious distance before
II could land and refuel The ship could
60 hlgh enough to cross the range. but
qua not have the gasoline capacity
Tor such long hop.
But Obrepnp Was Rry, rT1.~.a t. 49,
office shack he pounded a pine tabe TOP
with his artificial arm. He was going
he wasn't afraid to make the trip il the
pilot was willing to try it He pounded
the table again.
"Shucks," barked the pilot. I'm not
scared either. Tell him to climb in
We might do it,"
No, you don't" growled the boss
III send radiogram to Headquarters
II they want 70 take the responsibility
let him go. But I'm not going to be the
goat II our ship kills the president OF
Banned by Headquarters.
Headquarters didn't allow il It WAS
too risky, The message was given To
Opregon and he gave up the idea He
understood He went TO H.rmosillo
ana boarded train for Mexico CITY.
arriving intact with the map. A short
time later he was assassinated.
Today the billions of gallons of irri
CATION water in the Yaqui River are
heid back by mammoth dam, and the
valley is growing melons and grain and
thriving with more than a thousand
homesteaders.
irrigation and drainage are two of
clVl!lzation's biggest bugbears. In these
lpTiQl
ing Things every day that would have
looked like witchcraft 300 years ago
lhe Everglades, at the tip Of Florida.
mas been attacked by successful gener-
atlons since the days of the Spanish
conqulstadorS. The aerial photographer
mas done more TO drain that swamp
than any other single agency. But the
nrSt attempt nearly came to grief.
Capt Smith played one of the urin-
clpal roles in that drama. He was
ouslly cranking film past the huge lens
on not afternoon in May in an old,
creaKy alrplane with q peculiar sort of
cubby built over the back cockpit, when
his pilot, E. P. Lott, let out veil
smith craned his neck out of the tinv
port hole to see what was the matter.
Inc ancient motor, wartime relic,
was giving up the ghost. It's water
jack had cracked. The motor prompt
ly became overheated and stuck There
they were 10000 feet above q desolate
swamp and 40 miles from their base.
Dead Stick Landing.
Lott came down with dead stick and
managed to find dry clearing. He
made a masterful landing in grass waist
high, and the old ship rolled to stop
without damage. The clearing they
mad found was a poisoned water hole.
StreWn about were the bones of count
less swamp animals.
The first day and the second were an
noying, as the two men had no water
and only three cans of beans which
smith had brought along on a shunch.
BUT by the third day things began to