A Radioactive Nightmare In Concord, Massachusetts
By Ed Ericson
E/The Environmental Magazine
3-8-4
The waitress at the ice cream shop in Concord, Massachusetts, was
surprised. "A
Superfund site?" she asked incredulously. "On Main Street?" It's
not just a Superfund site but one dubbed by a cleanup contractor as "near
the tip of the peak in terms of [cleanup] difficulty." It's radioactive.
Concord, the crucible of the American Revolution, where the "shot
heard 'round the world" rang out on April 19, 1775, is a Boston suburb
filled with professionals and stately homes. Tourists still come to see
the war sites and to visit the bucolic Walden Pond that Thoreau celebrated.
Few know about the nuclear waste dump at 2229 Main Street.
But this shady burg of 15,000 residents quietly struggles with its legacy
as the maker of depleted uranium slugs for the U.S. military's latest
wars. The soil more than a mile from the nuclear dump is radioactive.
A 1993 epidemiological study found the town's residents suffered higher
rates of cancer than the state average.
Today, atop and buried beneath a low hill above a cranberry bog lie
more than 3,800 barrels of radioactive and toxic waste, subject to a
government-paid cleanup estimated to take 10 years and cost at least
$50 million.
The company responsible for most of the waste, Starmet, declared bankruptcy
in 2002. Massachusetts has sued Starmet and several related companies
to enforce state laws against radioactive dumping, but so far has had
little success on the legal front. The Environmental Protection Agency
(EPA) hastily concluded that Starmet was broke and has made no move
to charge it for the pending cleanup.
"All of the people who benefited and made millions from the process
are not being tagged at all with the cleanup process," said Mark
Roberts, an environmental lawyer and member of Citizens Research and Environmental
Watch, a citizens group that has fought to get the site cleaned up for
more than 20 years.
Since 1958, Starmet (formerly known as Nuclear Metals) processed depleted
uranium into tank shells and armor for the U.S. Army, using caustic
acids, beryllium, and other dangerous substances. From the early 1970s
until 1985, the company dumped depleted uranium into an unlined lagoon
on the property, sending a toxic plume of radiation, heavy metals, and
solvents migrating into the groundwater, fouling at least two wells.
The company resisted pressure to clean up the lagoon until 1997, when
the pond was finally dug up and the soils shipped to a low-level nuclear
waste dump in Utah. That project was costly, though, and the remediation
company sued Starmet for unpaid bills associated with it. Just about
this time, military orders for depleted uranium munitions stopped too.
Starmet began to lose money.
In May 2001, Starmet officials illegally shipped 1,700 barrels of depleted
uranium "greensalt" from a company facility in Barnwell, South
Carolina, to Concord. The cash-strapped company was cleaning the South
Carolina facility in preparation for sale, EPA documents say.
When Massachusetts' health and environmental officials protested, Starmet's
president, Robert Quinn, threatened to abandon the Concord site and
stick the state with the cost of cleanup. In 2002, after the state forced
bankrupt Starmet into receivership, the company did abandon the site
for several weeks, according to EPA records.
Nowadays Quinn, who angrily blames the U.S. Army for Starmet's bankruptcy,
sits at a lonely desk in a low building on the site while a few security
guards watch over the mess.
And what a mess it is. Conservatively speaking, there is at least 20
times more depleted uranium on and under Starmet's 46 acres on Main
Street, Concord, than the 340 tons that were fired in all of Iraq during
the first Gulf War. There are tons of beryllium - a probable carcinogen
- in the soil and leaking from buried drums. And in a recently discovered
area known as the "old dump" there are unknown substances, possibly
including high-level radioactive waste and exotic explosives, dating from
the effort to build the first atomic bombs.
Much of the work during the next four to five years will consist of
determining what's in the barrels buried in the old dump, according
to Bruce Thompson of De Maximis, Inc., the engineering group chosen
by EPA to head the cleanup process. He says some preliminary research
indicates that exotic radioactive and heavy metals may have been buried
there by MIT scientists during the Manhattan Project. He is also concerned
about the potential presence of an explosive, zirconium azide.
"That's something I don't want to hit with a backhoe," Thompson
told a town subcommittee meeting in September.
That Thompson and the EPA arrived in Concord at all is credit to the
efforts of a small group of committed activists. Citizens Research and
Environmental Watch (CREW) is led by Rick Oleson, a Princeton- and Harvard-educated
radiation biologist and toxicologist whose late father was a nuclear
physicist. Oleson spent part of his childhood in a house near the factory.
State records show the most contaminated area on the site is adjacent
to Camp Thoreau, a summer camp for children ages three and up.
"It's one industrial setting in a very residential area," said
Oleson. "People later could put a house there and dig a well there,
or grow vegetables."
Oleson and fellow CREW members are focusing their efforts to make sure
the EPA demands that the dump is cleaned up to a "residential level," rather
than to the looser standards allowable for an "industrial" site.
Jeffrey McNabola was a member of Concerned Citizens of Concord, CREW's
predecessor, in the 1970s and early 1980s. He notes that the group was
warning people about the dangers of depleted uranium and other activities
at Nuclear Metals for decades before anyone in officialdom gave them
any credence.
"There was a cavalier attitude about depleted uranium," he said. "They
said that it's safe as chocolate milk."
Even Oleson took years to conclude that Nuclear Metals' activities were
unacceptable.
"I used to cross-country ski and run back there," he said of
the woods bordering the dumpsite. "It was a very pretty place ...
and there was this big pond. It was full of psychedelic colors."
Oleson and CREW are hunkering down for a long battle, keeping a wary
eye on the EPA and its cleanup contractors. Loath to link deaths from
cancer or rare diseases to the factory and its dump, Oleson (who works
for Monsanto) and others in CREW strive to hue a strict scientific line,
lest they appear to be "radicals."
The strategy seems to be working.
"The real story behind the story I tell people is that a few people
volunteered their time to really do something that needed doing," said
Oleson. "And for years they were dismissed and made fun of. And they
totally turned the town around."
Related Links
Citizens Research and Environmental Watch http://www.crewconcord.org
Nuclear Information and Research Service http://www.nirs.org
