Get on Board the Sludge Train

By Richard Woodbury/Sierra Blanca

THE FREIGHT TRAIN RUMBLED TO A HALT ON A CATTLE ranch in Hudspeth County, and workers began unloading biologically treated sludge onto the dry West Texas earth. County Judge Billy Love reflected on the manurelike mush with satisfaction. "This is about as big a blessing as the community could hope for," he declared. "The gains for us far outweigh any dangers."

Not everybody in Hudspeth County concurs. Ever since an Oklahoma consortium, MERCO, announced plans to turn the old 128,000-acre ranch into a repository for millions of tons of New York City sewage, local ranchers and townsfolk have worried about toxic pollution spilling into their air, their soil and the waters of the nearby Rio Grande. But overall there was a strong show of support for the project, because MERCO offered 35 jobs and a $10,000 weekly payroll.

In growing numbers, financially desperate communities are making what seem like pacts with the devilish, opening their arms to garbage, toxic waste and nuclear refuse from distant states. Such trade-offs of trash for jobs seem certain to increase in number, given the growing crackdown by states on local landfills, impending EPA standards for construction of dumps and the recent Supreme Court decision prohibiting trash tariffs to discourage out-of-state dumping.

In Kimball County, Nebraska, local officials welcomed a hazardous-waste incinerator after Waste-Tech Services promised a $60 million investment. The mayor of Bridgeport, Connecticut, which tried to declare bankruptcy last year, is angling to win a cash infusion of several million dollars from Wheelabrator Environmental Systems in exchange for permitting the expansion of a regional waste incinerator.

In many cases, the trade-offs make sense -- both financially and environmentally. But in others, long-term costs and dangers can outweigh the benefits. "Pollution problems go up, property values collapse and frequently no real jobs result," says EPA engineer Hugh Kaufman, a hazardous-waste specialist. In East Liverpool, Ohio, some local residents, aided by Greenpeace, launched a hunger strike to protest the start-up of a giant incinerator that promoters say could help uplift the devastated steel region by processing dangerous industrial wastes.

In West Texas the stench of the New York sludge is helping opponents mobilize against MERCO and build support for a lawsuit brought by the state attorney general to force the EPA to require an environmental-impa ct statement from MERCO. "We're trading a few short-term jobs for our way of life," argues antisludge organizer Linda Lynch. Supporters retort that the sludge will eventually revitalize depleted rangelands. Exxon station owner Andy Virdell, who has seen other ventures die in the hardscrabble desert, is ecstatic. "Sure, we'd rather have an electronics plant here," he says, "but in this economy we have to be thankful for anything."