Drought-Ravaged Town Trucks In Water
As twilight falls over this Tennessee town, Mayor Tony Reames drives up a dusty dirt road to the community's towering water tank and begins his nightly ritual in front of a rusty metal valve.
With a twist of the wrist, he releases the tank's meager water supply, and suddenly this sleepy town is alive with activity. Washing machines whir, kitchen sinks fill and showers run.
About three hours later, Reames will return and reverse the process, cutting off water to the town's 145 residents.
The severe drought tightening like a vise across the Southeast has threatened the water supply of cities large and small, sending politicians scrambling for solutions. But Orme, about 40 miles west of Chattanooga and 150 miles northwest of Atlanta, is a town where the worst-case scenario has already come to pass: The water has run out.
The mighty waterfall that fed the mountain hamlet has been reduced to a trickle, and now the creek running through the center of town is dry.
Three days a week, the volunteer fire chief hops in a 1961 fire truck at 5:30 a.m. - before the school bus blocks the narrow road - and drives a few miles to an Alabama fire hydrant. He meets with another truck from nearby New Hope, Ala. The two drivers make about a dozen runs back and forth, hauling about 20,000 gallons of water from the hydrant to Orme's tank.
"I'm not God. I can't make it rain. But I'll get you the water I can get you," Reames tells residents.
Between 6 and 9 every evening, the town scurries. Residents rush home from their jobs at the carpet factories outside town to turn on washing machines. Mothers start cooking supper. Fathers fill up water jugs. Kids line up to take showers.
"You have to be in a rush," she says. "At 6 p.m., I start my supper, turn on my washer, fill all my water jugs, take my shower."
During its peak in the 1930s, Orme (rhymes with "storm") boasted a population of thousands, a jail, three schools and a hotel. But those boom times are long gone.
After the coal miners went on strike in the 1940s, the company shut down the mine and the town has never been the same. Not a single business is left in Orme. The only reminder of the town's glory days is an aging wooden rail depot that sits three feet above the eerily quiet streets.
Although changes are coming - cable TV arrived just a few years ago - cell phones still don't work there. The main road into town is barely wide enough for two cars to pass one another. Dogs wander the streets, farm animals can be heard all around town, and kids gather outside the one-room City Hall to ride their bikes.
"It's like walking back in time. It's Never-Never Land here," says Ernie Dawson, a 47-year-old gospel singer who grew up in Orme.
Water restrictions in Orme are nothing new. But residents say it's never been this bad.
Even last summer, as the water supply dwindled, city leaders cut off water only at night. But in August, Reames took the most extreme step yet and restricted use to three hours a day.
Elected in December, he has now spent $8,000 of the city's $13,000 annual budget to deal with the crisis. Most of the money went toward trucking water from Alabama.
He has tried to fill the gaps with modest fundraisers, but it hasn't been easy. A Halloween carnival last week cleared about $375 and a dog show two weeks ago made $300.
The town has received a $377,590 emergency grant from the U.S. Department of Agriculture that Reames hopes will be Orme's salvation. A utility crew is laying a 2?-mile pipe to connect Orme to the Bridgeport, Ala., water supply. The work could be finished by Thanksgiving.
"It's not a short-term solution," Reames says. "It is THE solution."
He says the crisis in Orme could serve as a warning to other communities to conserve water before it's too late.
"I feel for the folks in Atlanta," he says, his gravelly voice barely rising above the sound of rushing water from the town's tank. "We can survive. We're 145 people. You've got 4.5 million people down there. What are they going to do? It's a scary thought."
GREG BLUESTEIN
© 2009 The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed. With a twist of the wrist, he releases the tank's meager water supply, and suddenly this sleepy town is alive with activity. Washing machines whir, kitchen sinks fill and showers run.
About three hours later, Reames will return and reverse the process, cutting off water to the town's 145 residents.
The severe drought tightening like a vise across the Southeast has threatened the water supply of cities large and small, sending politicians scrambling for solutions. But Orme, about 40 miles west of Chattanooga and 150 miles northwest of Atlanta, is a town where the worst-case scenario has already come to pass: The water has run out.
The mighty waterfall that fed the mountain hamlet has been reduced to a trickle, and now the creek running through the center of town is dry.
Three days a week, the volunteer fire chief hops in a 1961 fire truck at 5:30 a.m. - before the school bus blocks the narrow road - and drives a few miles to an Alabama fire hydrant. He meets with another truck from nearby New Hope, Ala. The two drivers make about a dozen runs back and forth, hauling about 20,000 gallons of water from the hydrant to Orme's tank.
"I'm not God. I can't make it rain. But I'll get you the water I can get you," Reames tells residents.
Between 6 and 9 every evening, the town scurries. Residents rush home from their jobs at the carpet factories outside town to turn on washing machines. Mothers start cooking supper. Fathers fill up water jugs. Kids line up to take showers.
"You never get used to it," says Cheryl Evans, a 55-year-old who has lived in town all her life. "When you're used to having water and you ain't got it, it's strange. I can't tell you how many times I've turned on the faucet before remembering the water's been cut."
"You have to be in a rush," she says. "At 6 p.m., I start my supper, turn on my washer, fill all my water jugs, take my shower."
During its peak in the 1930s, Orme (rhymes with "storm") boasted a population of thousands, a jail, three schools and a hotel. But those boom times are long gone.
After the coal miners went on strike in the 1940s, the company shut down the mine and the town has never been the same. Not a single business is left in Orme. The only reminder of the town's glory days is an aging wooden rail depot that sits three feet above the eerily quiet streets.
Although changes are coming - cable TV arrived just a few years ago - cell phones still don't work there. The main road into town is barely wide enough for two cars to pass one another. Dogs wander the streets, farm animals can be heard all around town, and kids gather outside the one-room City Hall to ride their bikes.
"It's like walking back in time. It's Never-Never Land here," says Ernie Dawson, a 47-year-old gospel singer who grew up in Orme.
Water restrictions in Orme are nothing new. But residents say it's never been this bad.
Even last summer, as the water supply dwindled, city leaders cut off water only at night. But in August, Reames took the most extreme step yet and restricted use to three hours a day.
Elected in December, he has now spent $8,000 of the city's $13,000 annual budget to deal with the crisis. Most of the money went toward trucking water from Alabama.
He has tried to fill the gaps with modest fundraisers, but it hasn't been easy. A Halloween carnival last week cleared about $375 and a dog show two weeks ago made $300.
The town has received a $377,590 emergency grant from the U.S. Department of Agriculture that Reames hopes will be Orme's salvation. A utility crew is laying a 2?-mile pipe to connect Orme to the Bridgeport, Ala., water supply. The work could be finished by Thanksgiving.
"It's not a short-term solution," Reames says. "It is THE solution."
He says the crisis in Orme could serve as a warning to other communities to conserve water before it's too late.
"I feel for the folks in Atlanta," he says, his gravelly voice barely rising above the sound of rushing water from the town's tank. "We can survive. We're 145 people. You've got 4.5 million people down there. What are they going to do? It's a scary thought."
GREG BLUESTEIN
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1. Is Tennessee paying Alabama for the water they get?
2. Is the town charging for the water they get from Alabama, other than the cost hauling ( if they are not paying for it)?
3. Has anyone in town tried putting down their own well?
I ask because:
1. Alabama deserves to be compensated for their resources.
2. If the town isn''t paying for the water and are receiving payments beyond their actual costs they have no reason to find another solution; they are benefiting from their problem by receiving a profit.
3. There are very few locations where an on-site well would not be possible, although in some locations the drilling would be difficult and in some the water would not be suitable for consumption.
Posted by apndrgn at 11:16 AM : Nov 02, 2007
You just might be on to something. The tip of the iceburg....LOL!
All he accomplished at the end, was an aqueduct from Mono Lake in California to LA. The LA aqueduct was the basis for the massive growth in LA after the oil rigs were taken down and replaced with oranges, and then houses.
We have crisis here at home and all he can do is continue to fumble around overseas.
Overseas and our Military is exactly why the federal Government was form. Not to be Big Brother and woory about funding snotty noses and social ills in America.
Yes give them water, but people can''t expect Big Brother to bail us out of every crisis. Every time the Federal Government helps... we loose!
More taxes and LESS Freedoms.
Droughts/burn bans
NO WATERING THE YARD/LAWN.
NO FIRE WORKS.
NO WASHING YER CAR.
NO TOSSING YER CIGERETTE ON THE GROUND.
NO CAMP FIRES.
DO WASH FULL LOAD.
DO CONSERVE WATER..
BE MINDFUL OF YER WATER USE..
THERE DO HAVE WATER COPS OUT AS PEOPLE WON''T ABIDE.
THE RICH IS THE WORSE..
GOTTA GO..
Money and men all in Iraq, killing civilians (another 1000 dead this month).
when el stupido finally leaves office, this country is going to be a wobbling wreck. I can''t blame the climate change conditions on him, those started decades ago, but I can blame him for not having US resources there help.
We have crisis here at home and all he can do is continue to fumble around overseas.
What a loser!
2: On the subject of dustbowls and other historic weather patterns, I find it odd that you would rely on historic meteorology to make an argument against global climate change, when it is exactly this data that scientists use to support the case FOR climate change. For communities such as Orme, the subject is no longer academic or political.
Unfortunately, Orme''s residents seem to show the same patient resignation that has permitted the South to remain at the bottom of the list in metrics for education, health care, income, and other measures of quality of life. It is time that we stopped accepting the degradation of our environment as the will of god and started demanding an emergency response from our elected leaders.
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Posted by Blackbug99 at 10:51 AM : Nov 02, 2007
+ report abuse
The Dust Bowl was far different. The Water Table didn''t fall and the drougt was NOT as bad. IF Farmers knew then what they know now there "Dust Bowl" wouldn''t even have been noticed today. Add to that the COMPLETE Economic Depression of that time and you have the migration. No, this time is VERY much different and people are going to die this time.... thanks to Con''s and their fear.