HEBER, Calif. — The field of wheat across the street was a sand dune when John F. Menvielle was a boy growing watermelons. "Ditch riders," or zanjeros, got you your water. And when the Great Depression blew through town, you could buy land for pennies on the dollar.
The son of French immigrants, Menvielle has lived almost all of his 95 years in California's Imperial Valley, a desert where few wanted to live, much less farm. But he sweated it out, relying on hard work and plentiful Colorado River water to get him through droughts, floods and pests.
These days, the future of the $1-billion farm economy in California's poorest county has never been more uncertain. The biggest fear of valley farmers came true when the Interior Department cut the amount of Colorado River water available for Imperial Valley farms and shipped much of it to the coast.
"This is the biggest threat I've seen so far. They're trying to take our water away," said Menvielle, clutching a cane beneath the boughs of an Indian laurel tree on his farm.
"I'll tell you: I'll never give up water to San Diego."
Imperial is fighting back. The valley's water board has filed suit against Interior Secretary Gale A. Norton to block her from cutting the valley's water, arguing that the Imperial Valley's rights are guaranteed under contracts that date back to the 19th century.
A federal judge in San Diego has scheduled a hearing on Imperial's request for a preliminary injunction this month. If the judge doesn't restore the valley's water, farmers will see their water deliveries cut by 15%, board members said.
Outside the valley, Imperial is widely viewed as wasteful.
About a trillion gallons pour through the desert valley each year, making Imperial the nation's largest irrigation project. A third of that water is farm runoff that flows into the Salton Sea, California's biggest lake. In 1988, the state found that Imperial was wasting water because of too much runoff.
There's more, critics say.
Imperial farms use gravity to water crops, the most inefficient irrigation method around. And the valley produces mostly hay, a thirsty yet low-value crop. Menvielle's son, John-Pierre, who runs the family enterprise, farms 850 acres of mostly grass, wheat and alfalfa using enough water to supply about 10,000 homes for a year.
Farmers defend themselves by saying that this is the way it has always been in the valley and that it's a way of life they have worked hard for. Few can tell that story better than John F. Menvielle.
