60 years later, people from the Environmental Protection Agency came to see about cleaning the lead up, but they couldn't find it; the property owner had given them the wrong address. Not too wrong, but just enough: It referred to Shore Road, which the street outside the factory used to be called decades earlier, before it became Richmond Terrace. The lead stayed.
This was in 1981. The factory site is now a dusty lot, and the lead is still there. But the EPA, which had missed it the first time, went back in 2008 and determined last year that it must go. A spokesman told City Limits that the agency hopes to take more soil samples this month, as soon as a sampling plan is complete.
The property–commonly known by the names of former owners, like Jewett White Lead and Sedutto's Ice Cream–has much in common with its industrial neighbors on the island's North Shore. Besides the shore's 60,000 residents, the 5-mile stretch of Staten Island facing the narrow Kill Van Kull is home to a checkerboard of toxic and contaminated sites, several of which have been polluted for decades without cleanup.
Even as debates about new industry on the shore continue – planned projects include a controversial cement terminal and a container port expansion that would pave over 18 acres of marshland –the toxic legacy of old industry remains, and while it's the focus of
renewed government attention, officials at the agencies involved say long and deliberate remediation processes are just getting started.
For residents, action cannot come soon enough; according to Census data, four of Staten Island's five poorest zip codes are on the North Shore. In some cases, all that separates industrial sites from residential areas is the width of Richmond Terrace. In others, the margin is even less.
"Everybody in this community is already at a disadvantage," said Beryl Thurman, executive director of the North Shore Waterfront Conservancy of Staten Island. "The last thing they need to deal with is the disadvantage of being in an environment that's poisoning them."
In 2008, Thurman, who lives in the North Shore's Port Richmond neighborhood, used $10,000 in grant money from the state Department of Environmental Conservation to produce a booklet, sardonically titled "Staten Island's Gold Coast." It details the troubled environmental history of 21 different sites on the North Shore, ranging from the alarming (a Manhattan Project-era uranium spill) to the mundane (fumes from a bus depot).
The EPA took notice, and in November, it named the North Shore as one of 10 charter members in its Environmental Justice Showcase Communities program. The program targets communities with "multiple, disproportionate environmental health burdens" and "limits to effective participation in decisions" about environmental issues, according to the EPA's web site. It is not primarily focused on cleanup, but on broader tasks like education and community outreach. On Staten Island, the program's web site says, the agency aims to develop a community-based health strategy.
By federal government standards, the funding for the Showcase project is slim: $1 million, to be divided among the 10 named communities, which are spread across the country.
The process of dividing and allocating the North Shore's $100,000 will be complex.
A coalition of more than a dozen local groups, agencies and elected officials have been meeting to formulate a plan. The next meeting is on June 23. The work, while encouraging, is slow, said Dee Vandenberg, president of the Staten Island Taxpayers Association, a coalition member.
"Some of us work together quite well, and some of us have never worked together on anything," Vandenberg said. "It's not going to be an easy task."
In the meantime, the coalition members are pursuing shorter-term goals like asking local governments for signage along the shore to warn against the dangers of eating fish from Kill Van Kull, where anglers are active. The state Department of Health advises handling Kill Van Kull fish with care, and never eating striped bass from that waterway.
The most worrisome contaminants in the fish, the Department of Health says, are PCBs, dioxin and cadmium. But at one site on the banks of the Kill, by the Bayonne Bridge, an even more alarming chemical has lurked for almost six decades. It is uranium, spilled onto waterfront ground during one site's long-ago association with the Manhattan Project.
According to Department of Energy documents, several private companies involved with the development of the first atomic bomb stored 2,007 drums of high-grade uranium ore from the Belgian Congo at a warehouse off Richmond Terrace between 1940 and 1942. The uranium was bought by the federal government and moved in late 1942– but along the way, some of it seems to have been left behind.
An investigation by the Oak Ridge National Laboratory in 1980 concluded that a 20-by-40-meter area appeared to be contaminated with uranium ore, and recommended further investigation.
The uranium's chain of custody, though, was complex, which means that who spilled the uranium, who should clean it up and who should pay for the work has long been disputed. While the ore was on Staten Island, according to Department of Energy records, it was owned by a Belgian company called Union Miniere du Haut Katanga. The warehouse was owned by the Archer Daniels Midland Company, and rented by the African Metals Corporation. The Department of Energy, meanwhile, insisted from the time that it discovered the contamination in 1980 that it was not responsible for the uranium, or for removing it.
That disavowal of responsibility, which the agency maintained steadfastly throughout the 1980s and ‘90s in correspondence with the site's owners and state officials, has lately softened. This year, an EPA spokesman said, the energy department reversed its long-held position and decided to include the land in its Formerly Utilized Sites Remedial Action Program.