Back in the 1860s, if someone had been handicapping success stories, George Washington Carver would have been a decided long shot.

Born a Missouri slave, kidnapped as an infant by border raiders and raised an orphan, Carver's early life gave few hints that he would grow up to become one of the preeminent agricultural scientists and educators of all time. When Carver died on Jan. 25, 1943, he left no family; no known relatives. But thousands of people from all over the world came to pay homage to this man whom Henry A. Wallace, vice president of the United States, called "A human being first and a scientist second."

Carver was born (probably in July 1864) on the 200-acre farm of Moses and Susan Carver to Mary, a slave woman owned by the Carvers. The Carver farm was located just west of Diamond, in Newton County, Mo. Mary had other children--at least two daughters and an older son named Jim. The following winter, when George was barely 6 months old, Confederate bushwhackers raided the Carver farm, carrying off Mary and her infant son. Moses Carver hired a neighbor to track down the raiders and recover Mary and her baby. The neighbor brought back the boy, half dead from whooping cough and exposure, but found no trace of Mary.

When the Civil War ended--and ended the hateful practice of slavery--George and his brother stayed on with the Carvers. Moses and Susan Carver unofficially adopted the children and gave them their own names. Ill health plagued George for several years. While his brother, Jim, helped Moses around the farm, the frail George worked with Susan in the home. Mrs. Carver taught the young boy to read, write and do simple arithmetic. George also became adept in the "domestic" arts of cooking, laundering and sewing--skills that would stand him in good stead later.

Any breaks in household chores found young Carver in the fields and woods, studying plants, animals, insects, rocks and soil. His thirst for knowledge was universal. It could not be quenched on the Carver farm. When George was 11 years old, he went to Neosho, Mo., and enrolled in a black school that had been started by Stephen Frost. But the Neosho school was a disappointment. Carver soon found that he already knew more than Mr. Frost's school could teach him.

For the next decade, Carver drifted around the Midwest, supporting himself by cooking and taking in laundry. He wandered to Winterset, Iowa, where he met a white couple, Dr. and Mrs. John Milholland. The Milhollands were impressed by the searching, inquisitive mind of their new friend, and urged Carver to seek more formal education. Carver enrolled at Simpson College in Indianola, Iowa, where he studied art and music.

From boyhood, Carver was possessed of a deep religious faith. His was a belief based not on formal, doctrinal theology, but a personal, intimate relationship with God. God spoke to him through visions and through plants, creatures and other elements of the natural world, Carver said. At Simpson College, Carver became convinced that God wanted him to teach blacks. Although he was a talented painter and an accomplished musician, Carver realized that poor black people could not paint and sing their way out of poverty. He transferred to Iowa State College (now Iowa State University) at Ames and enrolled in agriculture courses.

In 1894, Carver earned a bachelor's degree in agriculture, becoming the first black graduate at Iowa State, and was appointed to the faculty. Two years later, he was awarded a master's degree.

Meanwhile, the noted black educator, Booker T. Washington, was establishing a college for African-Americans at Tuskegee, Alabama. Washington wanted to start an agriculture program and the best-qualified black man to run it was George Washington Carver. For $1,000 a year plus room and board, Carver took over the Tuskegee Institute agriculture department and was appointed director of the Tuskegee Agricultural Experiment Station.

Both Washington and Carver were convinced that education was the key to improving the plight of poor black people. "It has always been the one great ideal of my life to be of the greatest good to the greatest number of my people possible," Carver told Washington. "And to this end I have been preparing myself for these many years; feeling as I do that this line of education is the key to unlock the golden door of freedom to our people."

Beyond this mutually held goal, the two men seldom saw eye to eye. Washington was an administrator (and also was charged with raising funds for his fledgling school) and demanded thorough reports from Tuskegee department heads. Carver had little time and patience for paperwork, preferring to spend his days in the field or in his laboratory.

As he traveled in southern Alabama, Carver saw beaten-down farmers (both white and black) trying to wrest a living from burned-out soil. From before the Civil War, cotton had been the dominant crop in fields around Tuskegee. To anyone who would listen, Carver explained how continuous cotton had depleted the soil. He encouraged farmers to rotate crops, and include legumes in the mix. He demonstrated his beliefs at the Tuskegee research farm, and published his findings in research bulletins.

Then it dawned on the former slave that many farmers--both black and white--could not read. Carver acquired a "Jesup" wagon, loaded it with equipment and took the classroom to the countryside. Carver's Jesup wagon was the forerunner of the Cooperative Extension Service. "If you need help, I am as close as a postcard," he often told farmers.

Carver perhaps is best known for his work with the peanut, a crop from which he developed more than 300 products--from human food to fuel to plastics. But he also bred improved varieties of sweet potatoes, cowpeas, soybeans--even cotton--and developed processes for turning all of these crops into new marketable products. Eighty years before "value added" became a catch phrase, Carver was doing it.

Throughout his career, Carver was quick to give God credit for his discoveries.

"...[N]ature in its varied forms are little windows through which God permits me to commune with Him, and to see much of His glory, majesty and power simply by lifting the curtain and looking in," Carver wrote to a friend in 1930. "I am not interested in science or anything else that leaves God out of it. Science is simply God's truth about anything."

"Carver claimed that he talked with God," said B. D. Mayberry, former dean of agriculture at Tuskegee and a one-time student of Carver's. "How did he know how to homogenize peanut butter or develop ways to make rubber from soybeans? Carver said he could only do what was revealed to him..."

At the same time, as his reputation grew, Carver obviously basked in the recognition and honors that came his way. Over the years, the scientist was awarded honorary doctorate degrees from several colleges and universities, and was commonly addressed as "Dr." Carver.

"The prefix 'Doctor' as often attached to my name is a misnomer," he said. "I have no such degree."

Carver's personal appearance was disheveled at times. His suits often were rumpled and unpressed, and his shoes had not seen polish lately. But each day, he wore a fresh flower in his lapel.

"He was an enigma, no question," said William Jackson, superintendent of the George Washington Carver National Monument near Diamond, Mo. "He was what he was largely because of an extreme sense of purpose and the ability to concentrate intensely on a particular problem. He dedicated his life to service to his fellow man."

Money was not much of a motive for Carver. He repeatedly turned down salary increases at Tuskegee. Only three of the hundreds of his inventions and processes were ever patented. Carver thought the time and paperwork required to secure a patent distracted from his work; besides, he wanted his developments to be in the public domain, free to everyone. He became friends with such illustrious Americans as Thomas Edison and Henry Ford (both of whom tried to hire Carver). But when he died in 1943, George Washington Carver's entire estate totaled barely $60,000.

Carver was indeed an enigma, as William Jackson said. He was viewed as many different things by different people. During his lifetime, Carver often was held up by whites as a symbol of what black people could do and be--a sort of dark-skinned Horatio Alger. But he often was criticized by other African-Americans for not speaking out more forcefully against racial prejudice and social injustice.

"If I used my energy struggling to right every wrong, I'd have no energy left for my work," Carver said.

People of all races are richer because George Washington Carver lived.