Month: January 2015

FIGHTING FIRE WITH FIRE The torching of an environmentalist’s home

BY C.D. STELZER

first published in the Riverfront Times (St. Louis), July 22, 1994

There will be many questions asked this week, when the Second Citizens’ Conference on Dioxin convenes at Saint Louis University on Thursday.

The inquiring ranks at the four-day gathering will be comprised of more than 100 scientists, environmental activists, former Times Beach residents and Vietnam veterans exposed to Agent Orange. Big names like Retired Adm. Elmo Zumwalt Jr. and Barry Commoner, the former Washington University ecologist, are among the scheduled speakers.

Fewer people outside of the environmental movement may have heard of Pat Costner, but the 54-year-old chemist will also address the conference. Costner is the research director of Greenpeace’s U.S. Toxics Campaign. For the past eight years, she has been providing the technical answers that have stoked the environmental group’s fiery opposition to dioxin-generating incinerators.

The point at which science, politics and business intersect can be a volatile one. Costner, who lives near Eureka Springs,Ark., knows as much. She also knows there is no pat answer or formula that will reveal who torched her house on March 2, 1991.

“The night my house burned down, I went to town to visit a friend,” recalls Costner. “I came home and it was gone. It was burned totally to the ground. I can’t tell you how you feel at a time like that. I sat out here by myself, for I don’t know how long.”

The Arkansas Gazette reported that Costner’s “house was valued at $25,000, but only her computer equipment and office materials were insured.” But that’s not all that turned to ash.

“I probably had one of the larger technical libraries in the environmental movement,” Costner says. The irreplaceable books and technical papers took 30 years to accumulate and minutes to destroy. Costner’s will to employ her expertise remains unsinged. Her knowledge is based on years of experience within the industry she now opposes. Earlier in her career, the scientist worked for both Shell Oil and Arapaho Chemicals, a subsidiary of Syntex.

At the time of the blaze, Costner planned to publish a book based on five years of research into toxic waste incineration. Ironically, she had entitled her work Playing with Fire.

“We had arson investigators who said that my office burned at temperatures that were five or six times hotter than a normal house fire. They sent samples of the ash off to have it analyzed and found traces of an accelerant,” says Costner.

The evidence strongly suggests that her office and library were the targets of the arsonists. “It was a professional hit. It was not just somebody who wandered by with matches, says Sheila O’Donnell, a private investigator hired by Greenpeace.

The alleged attack against Costner is one of many acts of violence that may have been perpetrated against environmentalists in recent years. “I know that some of these attacks have been very well orchestrated,” says O’Donnell. The Center for Investigative Reporting has counted 124 credible cases in 31 states since 1988. Among them is the 1989 car bombing of Earth First! activists Darryl Cherney and Judi Bari in Oakland, Calif.

Costner estimates her efforts were instrumental in shutting down at least six hazardous waste incinerators in the year or so before her house burned. In most, if not all, of these cases, the Greenpeace scientist says she engaged in debates with incinerator proponents and government officials. In 1989, for example,Costner’s testimony helped block a multi million-dollar incinerator slated for the Kaw Indian reservation in Oklahoma. WasteTech, the proposed builder of the project, is a subsidiary of Amoco Oil, according to the San Francisco Bay Guardian.

Despite the personal set back, Costner has continued to fight the Vertac incinerator, an Environmental Protection Agency Superfund cleanup. The dioxin-contaminated waste at the Jacksonville, Ark. site was left over from the manufacture of Agent Orange, a defoliant used in the Vietnam War. The struggle by Costner and others to halt the burning of the waste has been supported by three decisions handed down by U.S. District Judge Stephen Reasoner. In each instance, however, the 8th Circuit Court of Appeals in St. Louis has overturned his rulings.

Although the arson case remains unsolved, O’Donnell’s investigation uncovered some interesting leads. “We located witnesses who said there had been three different incidences of thugs coming to town looking for Pat,” says O’Donnell. About six weeks before the fire, Costner says a local woman had warned that a man had inquired about her whereabouts. Two weeks later, customers at a Eureka Springs restaurant reportedly overheard Costner’s name come up in a conversation between two men. One of the strangers allegedly bragged of being trained at Quantico,Va., which is both the headquarters of the Marine Corp Combat Development Command and the FBI training center.

After the fire, Costner immediately pulled in a house trailer and set about having her home rebuilt. She makes no secret of where she lives. From St. Louis, head down I-44 to Springfield and veer onto U.S. 65. Keep driving past Branson. Past Andy William’s Pepsodent smile, past the other giant billboard images of Tony Orlando, Bobby Vinton, Wayne Newton and Mel Till-ill-is. Then head southwest across the Arkansas line,where straightaways are memories and the oak and hickory roots run deep under the roadbed. Outside of Eureka Springs, turn off Route 23, the faint gray line on the road map, and go down a dirt road a piece.

“I have 135 acres and I live plunk out in the middle of it.

“This is my home,” says Costner, as a rooster crows in the background. “I’ve lived here for 20 years. My children grew up here.”

She ain’t leavin’.

–C.D. Stelzer (stlreporter@gmail.com)

DANGEROUS NITRO: Gaffey vs. Monatgue and the Agent Orange coverup

May 18, 1994

Gerson Smoger, the dioxin lawyer who has represented former residents of Times Beach and Vietnam veterans, has yet another suit pending in the 8th U.S. Circuit Court in St. Louis. In this case, however, he is acting as a defense attorney.

Peter Montague, director of the Annapolis-based Environmental Research Foundation, which publishes Rachel’s Hazardous Waste News, is being sued in a $1 million libel case by William Gaffey, a former Monsanto epidemiologist. At issue is a 1990 report by Montague that refers to an allegedly fraudulent dioxin study conducted by Monsanto. The allegation is based on court filings by Metro East attorney Rex Carr in an earlier unrelated dioxin case.

“They (Monsanto) had a (dioxin) explosion in a Nitro, W. Va. facility in 1949,” says Smoger. “They rushed through some studies that they started in 1979. (The studies) were part of Monsanto’s defense in the Agent Orange lawsuit,” he says. “These studies purported to exonerate dioxin as a cause of illness, particularly cancer.”
But according to Carr’s appellate brief, the two Monsanto researchers changed the number of exposed and unexposed workers to show fewer cancer deaths. The alleged fraud was subsequently investigated by the EPA, because it had based some of its early dioxin risk assessments on the Nitro studies. The EPA’s internal memos were the main source for Montague’s story. Adm. Elmo Zumwalt cited the same court evidence in his testimony before a HOuse subcommittee in 1990. His congressional testimony names another high-ranking Monsanto official as the source of the fraud allegation. Smoger says that many newspapers published the same information, but only Montague was sued.
“We call it a SLAP suit, which is something to shut people up, intimidate them, says Pat Costner of Greenpeace.

The previously mentioned Agent Orange case absolved all private industries from any further liability to Vietnam veterans who were exposed to the herbicide. The 1984 class-action settlement totaled $180 million. “(It) gives servicemen who either died or were totally disabled $3,200,” says Smoger. If you never went to court, never had an injury, your case was settled,” says Smoger, who unsuccessfully fought the ruling all the way to the Supreme Court. Last year, a panel of experts belatedly linked three cancers and two skin disorders to Agent Orange exposure.

“The settlement clearly left out veterans who became victims after the 1984 settlement. In that respect it is outrageous says George Claxton, the national chairman of the Agent Orange task force of the Vietnam Veterans of America.”

First published in the Riverfront Times (St. Louis)

–C.D. Stelzer (stlreporter@gmail.com)

WHY DIOXIN IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN YOU’VE BEEN TOLD — EVEN IF YOUR DAILY NEWSPAPER DOESN’T BELIEVE IT

May 18, 1994

Dioxin, the most toxic of all man-made chemicals. It’s been called the Watergate of molecules. Its poison trail winds through time, from the jungles of Vietnam to the Ozark hills. With more than two dozen confirmed dioxin-contaminated cleanup sites in Eastern Missouri, and a proposed dioxin incinerator at Times Beach, St. Louis could very well be considered the dioxin capital of the world.

The latest scientific evidence indicates increased dangers to the general population. The evidence follows years of continuing debate over the subject in both the laboratory and the courtroom. Research now shows that dioxin and related chemicals may be responsible for everything from fetal abnormalities to male feminization. The case studies are like a cheklist of industrial nations; they span the globe from Seveso, Italy to Times Beach.

It’s a big story. But judging from the coverage in the St. Louis Post Dispatch, it would be hard to tell. Here in Monsanto City, as one environmentalist not-so-fondly calls it, the public is being told not to be alarmed about dioxin-exposure levels, despite evidence of a significant health problem.

Gerson Smoger, a lawyer with more than a decade of experience in dioxin-related cases tell the Riverfront Times that he suspects the newspaper industry is treading softly on the dioxin issue because of its close ties to paper and pulp companies that create dioxin as an unwanted byproduct in their chlorine-bleaching process. Remediation has been a costly proposition that has already resulted in a concerted effort by newsprint interests to loosen Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) standards on dioxin. “One of the big things to remember, when you are reading this, is that it’s costing newspapers probably billions of dollars. I don’t know how this affects the Riverfront Times, but a lot of major papers own paper and pulp mill,” says Smoger.

The latest news to be de-emphasized is a summary draft of the EPA’s long-delayed reassessment of dioxin, which was leaked to the press last week. Those findings show that all Americans are likely to have already been exposed to levels of dioxin that may cause a plethora of illnesses. The summary among other things, links dioxin exposure to immunological disorders infertility and cancer.

In response to the EPA’s reassessment, the May 11 Post-Dispatch chose to reprint a highly condensed version of The New York Times coverage on page 3A. The next day, a follow-up story was moved to the bottom of page 1B. both stories were given headlines that could be considered misleading. The main headline on May 12, for instance, says: “Draft Report from EPA Gives Assurances on Dioxin.”

The EPA draft itself reads much differently. Here’s an excerpt from the actual EPA report obtained by the RFT:

“Based on all the data reviewed in this reassessment, a picture emerges of TCDD (dioxin) and related compounds as potent toxicants producing a wide range of effects at very low levels when compared with other environmental contaminants.”
Those official words don’t sound too reassuring. But poo-poohing dioxin risks is far from unprecedented. It is uncertain whether the cause of this lax reporting is institutionalized lethargy, individual inattention or something more sinister, as Smoger suggests. But only last week the Post-Dispatch downplayed other dioxin-related news even more than the leaked EPA reassessment.

* A story about the halting of a controversial medical waste incinerator plan in the city ran on page 1B below the fold. No environmentalists who opposed the project were quoted in the story.

* A demand by U.S. Rep Jim Talent, no friend of environmentalists, that the EPA not build a planned $116 million dioxin incinerator at Times Beach was tacked onto the end of the medical-waste incinerator story. The congressman’s remarks, which included pleas for considering alternative technologies, appeared on page 3B without a headline.

* News of the St. Louis County Council’s unanimous opposition to the planned Times Beach dioxin incinerator and the council’s request to the Missouri Department of Natural Resources (DNR) to withhold permits was relegated to one paragraph at the bottom of page 3C.

Under-reporting the dangers of dioxin is something that St. Louisans have been overexposed to for a long time.

“There certainly has been a strong and continuing attempt to linguistically detoxify dioxin,” says Pat Costner, the national director of the environmental group Greenpeace’s toxics campaign. Costner, a 54 year-old chemist, formerly worked for the petrochemical industry that she now opposes. After years of fighting dioxin incinerator in her native Arkansas, she sees the EPA’s report as a clear mandate.
“All of the evidence-gathering considered in this reassessment makes an absolutely airtight case that the government in this country must move as quickly as possible to stop all releases of dioxin into the environment,” says Costner.

It will not be a simple task. If there is anything more complicated than the science of dioxin, it is the politics and history of dioxin. The three are inextricably twisted like together like a mutated triple helix.

“There’s a difference between science and politics. Scientifically, it was very carefully done, and very conservatively done,” says Smoger of the EPA reassessment. “What one has to remember is that the reassessment was commissioned under the Republican administration. The original purpose of the reassessment was actually to downgrade dioxin as a toxin, because the Chlorine Institute wished to relax regulations, because they weren’t complying with emission standards downstream and for incinerators. (But) now the reassessment actually said it’s more dangerous than we thought before.”

The EPA called for its reassessment of dioxin in 1991, in the wake of an expensive public-relations campaign by the paper and chlorine industries. The tactics included industry-financed conferences and studies that purportedly showed proof dioxin was less dangerous than once thought. These efforts were backed up by paper executives directly lobbying William K. Reilly, the Bush administration’s EPA head.

The main cheerleader for lowering dioxin standards on the government’s side was Vernon N. Houk, who was then a director at the federal Centers for Disease Control (CDC) in Atlanta. Houk has since retired and was unavailable for comment late last week. In 1990, his pro industry activities came under the close scrutiny of a House government operations sub-committee chaired by the late Rep. Ted Weiss of New York. Testifying under oath before the same body in 1989, Adm. Elmo R. Zumwalt Jr., in his capacity as a Veterans Affairs investigator, stated: “I believe that Dr. Vernon Houk … has made it his mission to manipulate and prevent the true facts from being determined.”

The subcommittee questioned Houk himself about his reasons form stopping a study of Vietnam veterans who had been exposed to Agent Orange, the defoliant that contained high levels of dioxin. At a subsequent hearing, the CDC official was grilled over his personal interest in lowering dioxin standards in Georgia at the behest of the paper industry.

A high-ranking public official pilloried by an aggressive congressional inquiry. But a year later, in 1991, the Post-Dispatch failed to mention any of this in a story that used Houk as its main source. “I just didn’t know about it,” says Tom Uhlenbrock, the Post-Dispatch’s environmental reporter. Uhlenbrock’s story — which appeared on the front page of the paper with a banner headline –Houk announced that he had changed his mind about the dangers of dioxin, and now thought the contaminated town of Times Beach should have never been evacuated. Houk had sanctioned the evacuation as a CDC official nearly a decade earlier, which was what made his declaration so newsworthy, Unlenbrock says. The headline for the story read: “Dioxin Scare Now Called Mistake.”

The setting for Houk’s conversion was a conference at the University of Missouri at Columbia hosted by the school’s Environmental Trace Substances Research Center (ETSRC). Armon F. Yanders, who heads the research center, told the RFT that the ETSRC had, over the course of several years, been paid $250,000 by a law firm representing Syntex — the company liable for the Times Beach dioxin cleanup — to conduct soil experiments on behalf of Syntex. Although Yanders was also used as a source in the 1991 Post story, his research center’s financial ties were not mentioned. Yanders has also been paid thousands of dollars to testify on behalf of Syntex in court cases.

According to the Post-Dispatch story, Yanders believes “that dioxin has certain properties that may be useful in fighting some cancers, including breast cancer.
“That was sort of a joke,” Yanders now says. Yanders says it was a reference to a study in which mammary-gland tumors decreased in some rats that were fed dioxin. The humorless fact is that 50,000 American women die of breast cancer each year, according to a report issued by Greenpeace last year. The Greenpeace study showed breast-cancer risks four to 10 times higher in women with high levels of chlorine-based pesticides and other chemicals in their blood.

It could be argued that dioxin, in addition to its known health hazards, has spawned a social disease, an endemic malady that has compromised both science and journalism. Those infected by its subtle but pervasive influence may not even be aware that they themselves are carriers. “We have to realize industry has much more control over setting governmental standards than any environmentalists do,” says Smoger. “The tug-of-war always pushes into industry’s favor.”

At the end of that rope are a wide range of industries facing the prospect of costly retooling, including paper companies that supply newsprint to newspapers. The paper and pulp industry professes to be cleaning up its act, but dioxin effluents are still being released into water sources as a result of the paper-bleaching process.
The most notorious culprit in the creation of dioxin is chlorine, and a chlorine-free environment has become a cause celebre among Greenpeace activists, much to the chagrin of industry. The ubiquitous chemical is commonly used in the manufacture of polyvinyl chlorides (PVCs), a form of plastic. When PVCs are burned in incinerators, they spew dioxin into the atmosphere, and it then moves up the food chain, becoming more concentrated as it goes.

According to the EPA reassessment, there is evidence that dioxin’s effects are related to cumulative exposures. Dioxin also appears to have the ability to interfere with responses that are hormonally controlled. The latency period between the time a person is exposed and the onset of health problems may be many years, which makes it difficult to ascertain the cause. “At this point, we are all swimming around in such a stew of chemicals,” says Costner, “that it is no longer possible by looking at the general population to establish a cause/effect link.”

But, again, the words of the EPA reassessment leave little doubt as to the consequences or how they come about:

“Dioxin exposure from multiple sources may result in a number of bio-chemical and biological effects in both humans and animals, many of which are considered adverse or toxic effects, and some of which occur at very low levels of exposure. A large variety of sources of dioxin have been identified and others may exist.

Because dioxin-like chemicals are persistent and accumulate in biological tissues, particularly in animals, the major route of human exposure is through ingestion of foods containing minute quantities of dioxin-like compounds. This results in widespread exposure of the general population of industrialized countries to dioxin-like compounds.”

The media coverage of the dioxin reassessment emphasized immunological and reproductive disorders that the chemical is now suspected of causing. Studies of women in the vicinity of a 1976 dioxin explosion in Seveso, Italy, for instance, showed they experienced twice as many still births and miscarriages after their exposure, says Greenpeace’s Costner. As for increased levels of cancer among Seveso inhabitants, costner cautions that it is too early to judge. “It only happened in 1976, and you have a 20-to-30 year latency period for cancer. So the exposed population is only now beginning to enter the time frame where you would expect to see cancer,” she says. In The New York Times and Post-Dispatch the threat of cancer is downplayed. Here is what the EPA’s reassessment actually says:

“While the data base for epidemiological studies remains controversial, review of these studies appears to support the position that dioxin increases cancer mortality of several types. The instances of soft-tissue sarcoma is elevated in several of the recent studies. … What emerges is a picture of dioxin as a multi-stage carcinogen in highly exposed populations.”

This year, cancer will kill 538,000 Americans, according to the American Cancer Society. Costner cites an article published in the Journal of the American Medical Association from February of this year that indicates “a white male of the baby boom generation is twice as likely to get cancer as his grandfather was. A white female of that age has about a 50 percent better chance than her grandmother did.” The EPA now admits that at least some of the cancer mortality may be attributed to dioxin exposure, albeit at high levels. So the argument, becomes what should be considered an acceptable level of exposure.

“Zero,” says Costner of Greenpeace. According to the reassessment, “humans are currently exposed to background levels of dioxin-like compounds … more than 500-fold higher than the EPA’s 1985 risk-specific dose.” But an acceptable risk level for dioxin is in constant dispute and has never been clearly established. Just two weeks ago in Detroit, a CDC scientist postulated that dioxin levels in the average American have decreased significantly.

Industry sources make careers out of bolstering or condemning such data. Referring to the EPA reassessment, a spokesman for the Chemical Manufacturers Association says: “The whole document is about 2,000 pages, and this is only one chapter. No conclusions can be drawn from any of this research yet. It is way, way too preliminary.”

Barry Polsky at the American Forest and Paper Association (AF&PA);agrees with his counterparts at the chemical trade group, but he goes a step further. “They (the EPA) haven’t drawn any strong causal connection between dioxin and cancer or other human illnesses. There are a lot of sources of dioxin, not just mill effluent.
Members of the AF&PA;claim they have reduced dioxin emissions by 90 percent since 1988. A press release from the paper association notes that “31 pounds of dioxin are released each year from all sources, of which less than four ounces are released annually from U.S. bleached pulp mills.”

The New York Times
reported last week that 500 pounds of dioxins enter the atmosphere each year. Despite disparate data, dioxin is deadly. Studies have shown guinea pigs are killed by a single dose that weighs less than a billionth of their body weight. Monkeys croak when they are fed 0.016 ounces of dioxin per thousand pounds of food.

The bean counters crank out the numbers, and the public-relations flacks play badminton with them. But it’s far from a picnic, and serious people are keeping score with actuaries. Billions of dollars of potential profits could be won or lost. Billions more could end up being spent on legal liabilities for this scourge.

“`Dioxin’ is a term that is commonly applied to a whole sizable group of chemicals,” says Greenpeace’s Costner. “These chemicals are what are called polynuclear aromatic hydrocarbons. They have two or more benzene ring structures in them of which chlorines are substituted. I know that sounds convoluted. I need a blackboard in front of me to make sense of it.”

Costner doesn’t need to draw a picture of other elements in the dioxin puzzle, however. “The government itself has some vested interest in the detoxification of dioxin, because of (its) own liability in cases involving Vietnam War veterans,” she says.

As early as 1948, Monsanto and other companies began manufacturing commercial herbicides that contained dioxins. They would not be outlawed until 1979. Years before that, Monsanto and Dow were among the companies that sold even more potent dioxin-containing herbicides to the military for use in Vietnam. For nine years, from 1961 until 1970, U.S. forces were involved in the aerial spraying of between 15 and 20 million gallons of toxins on South Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. The defoliation campaign was code-named Operation Ranch Hand. its motto — “Only We Can Prevent Forests” — satirized the slogan of the U.S. Forest Service. The herbicide that became known as Agent Orange took its name form the color of the stripe that was painted around each black metal drum.

Before the Vietnam War had concluded, a little of it herbicidal misery returned to Missouri soil. Hoffman-Taff, which was later acquired by Syntex, began producing a component of Agent Orange in 1969 in a building leased from Northeastern Pharmaceutical and Chemical Co. (NEPACCO) in Verona, Mo. At the same facility, NEPACCO made hexachlorophene, an anti-acne medicine that yielded dioxin as a byproduct. Both the zit lotion and the super-weed killer were taken off the market. By then, however, Independent Petrochemical Corp. (IPC) had been contracted to remove residues from the plant’s holding tank. IPC subcontracted Russell Bliss, who mixed the dioxin with waste oil and sprayed it on horse arenas, truck lots trailer parks and the town of Times Beach in the early 1970s.

After more than 20 years, the problem has far from evaporated. Currently there is a burgeoning local environmental movement intent on stopping the dioxin incinerator that has been planned for Times Beach. The EPA, Missouri DNR and Syntex are all involved with that Superfund project.

First published in the Riverfront Times (St. Louis)

–C.D. Stelzer (stlreporter@gmail.com)

SHOT IN THE DARK: The St. Louis Post-Dispatch Uses a Corporate Photo to Promote the Safety of the Controversial Times Beach Dioxin Incinerator

April 20, 1994

A picture is worth a thousand words, or so they say. But photographs don’t always tell the whole story. Take one that appeared in Saturday’s St. Louis Post-Dispatch, for example.
 
The aerial shot is prominently displayed at the tip of page 1 of section B. It shows the levee constructed around the proposed dioxin incinerator at Times Beach surrounded by water. The cutline states that “the water did not top the levee.,” which is the gist of the accompanying story. There is no credit line — no indication of who snapped the shutter or for whom.
 
When Steve Taylor called the Post photo desk Saturday morning to inquire about the photo, he was told that it was taken by freelance photographer Bill Stover. Taylor is a member of the Times Beach Action Group (TBAG), and as such was recently arrested for trespassing at the cleanup site during a demonstration against the planned incinerator.

 
Taylor then called Stover and politely asked him who commissioned the photograph. Taylor says Stover told him he was not at liberty to divulge his clients. When the RFT called the photographer on Sunday afternoon he had a lapse of memory. He couldn’t remember the specific photograph even though it was taken only a few days before. “I don’t know what photograph you’re talking about,” said Stover. “What I do for my business is my business,” he added.

 
Monday, the Post-Dispatch staff was a little more cooperative. The photo, it seems, was paid for and provided to the newspaper by Agribusiness Technologies Inc., according to Post photographer Gary Bohn. Agribusiness is a subsidiary of Syntex Inc., a giant pharmaceutical and chemical conglomerate that has been held liable by the EPA for the $116 million cleanup at Times Beach.

 
Gary Pendergrass, a spokesman for Agribusiness, says Agribusiness “took the pictures for our own documentation. … We just want to get the facts out.” But Agribusiness has more than a casual interest in the Times Beach dioxin incinerator. The preparations for the levee have been going on for years, as have the image problems associated with the cleanup. although federal and state agencies have given the green light, environmentalists and local elected officials are still objecting to the incinerator. Citizens of St. Louis County also voted against the construction of the incinerator in a non-binding election in 1990.
Besides all these public-relations problems, the planned incinerator would be located in a floodplain, one inundated previously. That’s why last week’s deluge offered Agribusiness such a positive media opportunity. What better way to prove the strength of their levee than trough providing photographs of it withstanding an Act of God? And who better to bear the Good News than the Post-Dispatch.

 
Bohn, the Post photographer, attributed the missing credit line to simple deadline pressure. Tom Uhlenbrock, the Pst environmental reporter who wrote the accompanying story, says the story was justified because of concerns over whether the levee could hold against such a big flood.

 
In a phone interview Monday, Uhlenbrock said that he inspected the levee early last week, and that he was told at that time that the company picture had been taken the day before. When reminded that his story didn’t run until Saturday, he corrected himself and said that he went to the site on Friday. The crest of the flood peaked on Thursday, which is when the photograph was allegedly taken, according to Uhlenbrock and Pendergrass. A for the helicopter service chartered by Agribusiness verified that the photograph was taken on Thursday.

 
But the cutline states that it was taken on Friday. The date is cortical to the accuracy of the photo because of the fluctuating river levels during the flood. The Meramec crested at 38.4 feet at Eureka on thursday, according to the National Weather Service. By Friday, it had dropped to 34.1. Earlier in the week the river was significantly lower.

 
Besides timing and attribution, the subject of ethics apparently never entered the picture, either. Uhlenbrock says printing company photographs “is not an unusual practice. We do that quite often..”

 
Bohn, the photographer, is in limited agreement. Using corporate photos is “not a common practice, but when it does help tell the story we accept photographs like that, says Bohn. “Our intent is not to make judgments on whether something’s ethical or not. Our intent is to tell the story in an objective way.”

 
Taylor doesn’t believe the Post’s actions were objective. “Pictures don’t lie,” says Taylor. “But you can lie about pictures. I want to emphasize that the floodplain is no the major issue. The major issue is corporate accountability and the whole question about the safety of incinerators in the first place.”

 
Taylor does see something else in the picture., however, something more subtle than a missing credit line. He sees the photo as a representation of the coverage the Post-Dispatch has chosen to provide on the dioxin issue. “I think it’s highly unethical that they would run a corporate photo with a credit line.”

First published in the Riverfront Times (St. Louis)

–C.D. Stelzer (stlreporter@gmail.com)

BEACH BRAWL: The Times Beach Action Group Begins its Protests in Earnest

April 6, 1994

Press critics may find it comforting to know that a
newspaper is ultimately responsible for the imbroglio
called Times Beach.

The town in southwest St. Louis County began as a river
resort back in the mid-1920s, when the now-defunct St.
Louis Star Times sold property along the Meramec to
increase circulation. A six-month subscription qualified
a reader to purchase a lot for $67.50.

Of course, this was in the halcyon days before anyone
ever heard of dioxin, television or guerrilla theater.
Last Friday, those three modern inventions collided at
the Lewis Road exit to Interstate 44 in front of the
barricaded Route 66 bridge that once served the
now-defunct town.

About 30 members of the Times Beach Action Group (TBAG)
began arriving around 11 a.m. dressed in white "moon"
suits. They came to protest the planned Times Beach
dioxin incinerator, which they believe will be unsafe if
built.

In some ways, the original organizer of the protest was
Russell Bliss, the waste oil-hauler who unwittingly
sprayed the streets of Times Beach and other sites with
dioxin-tainted oil in the early 1970s. At the time, he
was just trying to keep the dust down. Bliss didn't know
his actions would make him the founder of an
environmental-protest movement and the provider of job
security for countless state and federal bureaucrats.
Those bureaucrats with the representatives of Syntex
Inc., the company liable for the cleanup, have been
creeping ahead since their 1990 consent decree to build
the Times Beach incinerator, despite opposition by the
St. Louis County Council and the disapproval of voters
in St. Louis County, who rejected the proposal in a
non-binding referendum.

Last year, a federal judge halted a similar dioxin
incinerator in Jacksonville, Ark., because the U.S.
Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) could not be sued
until after the completion of a cleanup. 

TBAG would prefer that the toxic waste be stored until a
proven technology is developed to destroy the dioxin.
State and federal studies recommended exactly the same
thing a decade ago, but the soil was never collected.
Since then, the Missouri Department of Natural Resources
(DNR) and the EPA have decided to burn the tainted soil
at Times Beach. If built, the facility would also torch
the dioxin from 26 other locations in eastern Missouri. 
TBAG has demanded that the DNR reopen the consent decree
on the incinerator on the incinerator so the public can
voice opposition to its construction. The press release
distributed in advance of the demonstration warned of
acts of civil disobedience. In response, a handful of
St. Louis County police and a highway patrolman invited
themselves to the occasion. 

For some, it was definitely an event worth recording.
The TBAG members didn't even have to wait for the TV
stations to arrive before the video cameras started
rolling. One camera was aimed at the protesters from the
security shack. later, a second cameraman who refused to
identify himself, began shooting footage from a doorway
of the rehabbed project offices across the road.
The protesters milled around the parking lot of that
building, talking to reporters and chanting
anti-incinerator sound bites. Most of those in "moon"
suits were college-aged, so it was easy enough to
identify the locals. The latter was Paulette Taykowski,
43, a lifetime resident of nearby Crescent, Mo. She and
her husband, Joseph, criticized the way the Times Beach
dioxin site has already disrupted their lives and both
questioned the efficacy of incinerating the waste.

The leaders of the demonstration used a bullhorn to get
their points across.

"We want a congressional investigation into the coverup
that's been perpetrated by the EPA and industry to
mislead the public about the dangers of dioxin," said
Tammy Shea. She was referring to industry sponsored
reports that diminish the dangers that dioxin poses to
humans. "We are also asking for an investigation into
the unethical relationship between the EPA and the
chemical waste industry. They are working on behalf of
profit not people."

When activist Don Fitz got his turn at the bullhorn he
said the preliminary finding of the EPA's long-delayed
dioxin reassessment reaffirmed that dioxin causes
cancer. The latest evidence also shows that dioxin may
enhance other carcinogens already in the body. "If this
incinerator goes up, the effect it will have will be to
increase the level of dioxin that an already-exposed
population has," said Fitz.

As part of the well-coordinated protest, activists set
up two mock smokestacks made of plywood. They then lit
smoke bombs attached to the cutouts and un furled a
banner across the road that read: "No dioxin
incinerator."

For the grand finale, three protesters walked behind the
gate on the bridge and were summarily busted for
trespassing. One slumped to the ground, while another
held a smoke bomb aloft like the Statue of Liberty.
Meanwhile, their comrades shouted slogans and lobbed
more smoke bombs in the direction of the arresting
officers. A reporter began gasping for air and waving
her arms. The police lieutenant checked the shoulder of
his starched white uniform for smoke damage. A small
plane buzzed over the gathering bearing yet another
motto of opposition.

It all seemed like a movie set, and, to a degree, it was
just that. But with the TV cameras trained on the smoke
and the air show, a moment of reckoning almost went
unnoticed. It came as 19-year-old Lydia Roberts of
Eureka waited to be placed in the backseat of the squad
car. Her hands were handcuffed. Her face and the
arresting officer's were inches apart. "I'm doing this
for family," she said. "What about your children? What
about the land?"

The cop didn't answer.

(first published in the Riverfront Times – St. Louis)

–C.D. Stelzer (stlreporter@gmail.com)

Death in Venice: Following the trail of unanswered questions

Residents are concerned about mortality levels near the site of a 20-year-old radioactive waste clean-up. Canvassing the neighborhood 2

Diane Ratliff, a native of Venice, Ill., remembers when the dump trucks first started lumbering up and down Meredosia Avenue in the early 1990s. She then surmised the drivers must have made a wrong turn. “Where the hell were they going?” she asked herself.

Nobody informed her or any of the residents of the neighborhood that a radioactive clean-up was taking place down the block.

That was 20 years ago, and Ratliff, a special education teacher for the East St. Louis School District, is still searching for answers as to whether exposure to radioactive waste may have affected the health of her family and neighbors. She is among a group of citizens who are now pressing the federal government for an epidemiological study of the area to determine the impact that the radioactive site may have had on public health.

In 1989, the Consolidated Aluminum Corp. (Conalco) and Dow Chemical Co. began to quietly clean up a 40-acre site adjacent to a foundry in Madison, Ill., that the two companies formerly owned. The plant and dump site are both located on the boundary between the Metro East cities of Madison and Venice. [read earlier story by clicking here]

The clean-up entailed dividing the area into a massive grid made up of hundreds of squares and then using a complicated formula to measure the contamination levels in each of them. To carry out the job, contractors constructed a laboratory, rail spur and loading station.

By the time the project ended in December 1992 more than 105,000 tons of thorium-contaminated slag had been loaded into 978 rail cars and shipped to a low-level radioactive waste facility in Utah, according to a final report prepared for the Illinois Department of Nuclear Safety (IDNS), the state agency responsible for overseeing the clean-up. The 1992 report states: “Because of the proximity of the contaminated area to a residential neighborhood, and the inconvenience that the construction activity imposed upon the neighborhood, the construction was done in a manner such that all contaminated material above natural background was removed and the area was backfilled immediately. ”

Larry Burgan, a community activist and former foundry employee, has doubts about that conclusion. “It makes it sound like they were doing the residents a favor,” says Burgan. “But they also could have been doing it quick to get it out of sight [and] out of mind.” Canvassing the neighborhood

Earlier this summer, Burgan and Ratliff’s brother, Calvin Ratliff, canvassed the neighborhood, asking among other things whether residents had ever been informed of the safety risks posed by the radioactive waste or its removal. None of the residents with whom they spoke indicated that they had ever been contacted.

Instead, contractors appeared to have launched the first phase of the clean-up without warning. At 8 a.m., March 5, 1990, heavy equipment operators began excavating more than 15,000 cubic feet of radioactively contaminated soil along Rogan Avenue, a neighborhood street that borders the 40-acre site. The work continued for the next two days. Contamination in this area was found from six inches to five feet below the surface, according to the final report. To ensure compliance with state safety regulations, Conalco and Dow installed eight air-monitoring stations to measure airborne concentrations of contaminants during the clean-up, but a portable generator that powered one monitor was stolen early in the clean-up and never replaced. Despite the loss, the work continued and the final report dismissed the significance of the incomplete data.

The assessment, prepared by Roy F. Weston Inc. of Albuquerque, N.M., does stipulate, however, that one of remaining air monitors registered high concentrations of radioactivity on numerous occasions and exceeded permissible levels at least three times. But the risk to residents was deemed safe because all the radioactive contaminants were “assumed” to be Thorium 228 and not its more potent sister, Thorium 232. Moreover, concentrations of radioactive airborne contaminants were averaged out over several months to lower the estimated dosage to within established limits set by IDNS.

The history of radioactive contamination at the foundry dates back to 1957, when Dow began processing uranium for fuel rods under a subcontract with St. Louis-based Mallinckdrodt Chemical Co., which was working for the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission. The plant was one of hundreds of low-priority radioactive sites nationwide identified by the federal government’s Formerly Utilized Sites Remedial Action Program in the 1990s. The subsequent government-mandated clean-up, which was overseen by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers in 2000, focused mainly on uranium contamination inside facility and did not include additional monitoring or remediation at the adjacent 40-acre site.

The thorium waste was the byproduct of another facet of the foundry’s operations — production of lightweight alloys used for military and aerospace applications. Between 1960 and 1973 Dow dumped millions of pounds of sludge containing 4 to 8 percent thorium behind the plant on the adjacent property. After Conalco took over the operation, the dumping continued for years, including monthly shipments of thorium waste produced at Dow facilities in Bay City and Midland, Mich.

Company guidelines also permitted up to 50 pounds of thorium sludge per month to be poured directly down the sewer. The radioactive contamination could also have been released into the environment by the plant’s several 20-foot diameter exhaust fans. Venice waste site

The Ratliff family has lived in the brick bungalow at Meredosia Avenue and College Street next to the foundry since 1950. Louis D. Ratliff, Diane Ratliff’s late father, built the house. He died in 1974 from brain cancer. An informal survey of a two-block stretch of Meredosia Avenue conducted earlier this year yielded anecdotal evidence of 44 cases of cancer or lung disease among longtime residents, many of whom are also now deceased.

“Before sunset there was always a cloud emanating from the plant,” says Ratliff, who attended elementary school across the street from her family home. The special education teacher now worries about spots that she says have developed on her lungs. Ratliff also worries about her siblings, whom she says have been diagnosed with sarcoidosis; a debilitating, chronic disease that commonly causes inflammation of the lungs and other organs, and in some cases can be deadly.

The clean-up of the site that was initiated 20 years ago did nothing to allay her fears. It only left unanswered questions. “They were supposed to have examined the yards for contaminants,” says Ratliff. “But that didn’t happen.”

C.D. Stelzer (stlreporter@gmail.com)

THE JAMES GANG: Prelude to an Environmental Protest Movement

April 28, 1993

When a call was placed to the billboard Saturday morning, the environmentalist answered his cellular phone in a businesslike manner. “Times Beach Action Group,” he said.
Under the cloak of darkness two environmental guerrillas scaled the Meramec Caverns billboard located approximately one mile west of Route 141 on the north side of Interstate 44. Jesse James — the 19th-century bandit who is advertised on the billboard as having hid out in the cave — would probably have been awed by the outlaw environmentalists who temporarily robbed him of his glory. The well-planned assault on the sign was coordinated with a radio equipped ground crew and a press spokesperson. The operation also included the use of code names and phrases. One participant even referred to the group’s headquarters as a “safe house.”

The climbers hauled up provisions, handcuffed themselves to safety cables and waited throughout the blustery predawn hours on a 100-foot high perch.  By about 9 a.m., the duo unfurled their message to the world and in the process covered up Jesse James’ name and most of the giant Meramec Caverns sign with a banner that read: STOP THE INCINERATOR AT TIMES BEACH. The action was taken in advance of a nationwide bus tour that will stop at Times Beach on Thursday. The caravan has been organized by the environmental group Greenpeace to draw attention to the hazard of incinerating dioxin. The Times Beach incinerator, when completed, will burn the hazardous waste.

A demonstration against the planned incinerator and the hazards of dioxin disposal throughout the country will be held near Times Beach at the Lewis Road exit to Interstate 44 at 5:30 p.m. on Thursday. At 7 p.m. on the same date, opponents of the Times Beach incinerator will gather at Pacific, Mo. City Hall to hear Greenpeace scientist Pat Costner and Vietnam veteran George Claxton speak on the dioxin problem.

One of the sign-climbers, who confessed to being scared of heights, explained why he took part in the act of civil disobedience. “If you try to work just within due process with the big guys, you always lose,” he said. The environmentalist said the goal of the Times Beach Action Group is to create grassroots opposition to the planned incinerator. The risks of incinerating toxic wastes overshadow violating private-property rights, according to the environmentalist. “They (the police) may come for us, they may not. We feel like, if they arrest us for trespassing, we’re just trying to keep the EPA and the (Times Beach) incinerator from trespassing through our air with toxic emissions.”

–C.D. Stelzer (stlreporter@gmail.com)