They said in order for me to understand their work, I should visit the commune-school in Wales. I said I could do that, but I’d want to take pictures there, because the paper I’d read could get no decent photos of the commune-school. One of the women that night said that might be arranged, but I’d have to speak with their leader first. We arranged for a phone call to be placed by him or by me the next day, when I was back at  my group’s office at the Sunday Times.

    Next day, I spoke with their leader. He said everything else would be fine, but he’d have to make up his mind about the photos when I arrived there. I said simply, if I couldn’t have his assurance on the phone that I’d be allowed to photograph at the commune-school, I wouldn’t be visiting there.

    I next spoke with our program’s moderator, John Whale, and he said I really should go to Wales; it would be a very good story, he said. I had tried to sell the idea to the paper that printed the first story, but that paper didn’t bite. I knew I could report for my university’s daily, the Columbia Missourian. However, because I’d decided not to visit the commune-school, I didn’t write a story about the group, though it would have been added to the allotment of stories I had to write that semester, which I was very short of. It may have been a chance missed; but I wanted to photograph the commune-school, and when I wasn’t allowed to upfront, I gave up interest in them then. I never did hear what had become of the put-out child, because no one else continued the coverage that semester, at least no one else I knew of..