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The dam," said former Department of Interior Secretary James Watt in the spring of 1983, "has tamed the waters." He was referring to Glen Canyon (right), bulwark of a Colorado reservoir system. Within days, however, the river refuted Watt's remarks with resounding fury. Months after flooding ended, workers were still trying to repair one of Glen Canyon's damaged spillways (inset). It was started in the 1930s, when workers poured concrete 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for two years to build the first major control on the Col- orado: Hoover Dam. Today, as a result of such efforts, restaurants in New York City serve lettuce watered by Rocky Mountain snowmelt and grown on the floor of the Great American Desert. Los Angeles thrives by the grace of the great aqueduct that channels Colorado River water across what once was sandy wasteland. The reservoir system also generates nearly 2.5 million kilowatt hours of electricity each year, along with billions of dollars in utilities revenues for the federal government. Managed by the Interior Department's Bureau of Reclamation and other federal agencies, the system represents an engineering triumph. "The dam," Watt concluded in his Glen Canyon tribute, "has tamed the waters." As the Secretary spoke, however, the Colorado was preparing a rebuttal. Gorged reservoirs along the river al- ready stored water at near capacity. Soon, a Memorial Day heat wave! would settle over the Rockies, followed by a torrent of snowmelt and spring rain. By early June, despite decades of building, billions of tax dollars and bureaucratic confidence, there would be no place to put the river roaring down from the mountains. Within weeks of its birthday celebra- tion, Glen Canyon Dam would be crack- ing at the seams. As the Colorado plunged toward the sea, threatening to crush the engineering monuments in its path, the untame waters would exact a toll of more than $100 million in flood damage, and uncounted costs in human suffering and environmental havoc. When it was over, the Colorado River flood of 1983 would leave troubling questions about mismanagement of what had seemed to be a management marvel, and about the proper balance between power profits and water con- servation. It would also leave thousands of distressed people in its wake. "I don't know what we'll do," said one Arizona retiree as the Colorado poured into Bermuda Plantation, a riverfront com- munity near Parker Dam. "But I do know one thing: God didn't make this disaster. Man did." The system exposed in the wake of the flood was, and remains, a jumble of of- ficial jurisdictions, competing interests and contradictory policies. Part of the disaster could be traced to the first at- tempts to manage the river, more than a half-century ago. The Colorado River Compact of 1922 apportioned the river's flow among the states of the upper basin (Wyoming, Colorado, Utah and New Mexico) and those of the lower basin (Arizona, Nevada and California). Ever since, an observer points c states have "behaved like gree tagonists in a messy divorce." The upper basin states have so, hoard water for their own uncer7 velopment needs. The lower basir have insisted on more and earlic releases to quench the thirst booming Southwest. The clan duced historic lawsuits, and h, distrust and fear that eventuall,, ened into policy. Upstream, the U.S. Bureau of mation, designer and manager Colorado dams, has presided o, clamorous competition between and the release of water and elec Downstream, the bureau and th, Corps of Engineers have shared r 44