CA: Willits split on whether illnesses are due to chemicals left by shuttered plant

The poison runs deep in the little Mendocino County city of Willits.

A cocktail of chromium and other highly toxic chemicals has contaminated the town's groundwater -- the result of decades of illegal dumping and spills from a now-bankrupt hydraulics plant adjacent to residential neighborhoods, schools and busy commercial areas.

Everyone agrees on this point.

But the people of Willits are deeply divided over whether the contamination is responsible for health problems among residents, ranging from tumors and birth defects to a host of other ailments.

Chromium also takes center stage in the Julia Roberts movie ``Erin Brockovich,'' based on a true story in which a small Southern California town successfully sues Pacific Gas and Electric Co. over dumping of the chemical in its water supply. The situation in Willits is not as straightforward.

After dozens of interviews with local residents, town officials and public health authorities, a crazy quilt of opinion emerges in which the truth, whatever it may be, has been lost amid conflicting interests and perceptions.

What is clear, though, as a rancorous public hearing held last week by the Willits City Council demonstrated, is that the fabric of the community is being torn apart.

The welfare of individual citizens has been pitted against concerns about property values and tourism as well as a local history that enshrines the founder of the hydraulics plant as one of the town's most respected figures.

This is a tale that many in Willits, the self-proclaimed ``Gateway to the Redwoods'' about 150 miles north of San Francisco, would prefer to keep hidden from outsiders -- a matter that some townsfolk wish could be hushed up and forgotten.

``No town wants to be thought of as having a toxic site in it,'' said David Drell, head of the nonprofit Willits Environmental Center. ``But the story of this plant needs to be told.''

A RASH OF ILLNESSES

Donna Avila's backyard is 15 feet from the pale yellow siding of the vast Remco Hydraulics plant, which closed in 1995 after more than 40 years in operation.

Avila, 48, was concerned about the high-pitched whine of the plant's machinery when she moved in more than a dozen years ago but couldn't afford any other house big enough to accommodate herself, her husband and their four children.

``I had no idea what was going on in that building,'' she said. ``God, if I only knew.'' First, there was the smell -- a sickly sweet odor that Avila couldn't quite place. The headaches followed, and skin rashes. Then, in 1996, a tumor in her uterus resulted in a hysterectomy.

``I didn't really make the connection until after the surgery,'' she said, ``when my neighbors came over and said they'd had hysterectomies, too. Then I started talking to more and more people.''

Those conversations led Avila to draw up a map of Willits and to dot it with colored pins denoting cases of cancer, birth defects, diabetes, headaches, rashes, nosebleeds and numbness. Today, that map resembles a pin cushion of illnesses, suggesting that virtually the entire neighborhood had suffered in one way or another.

At the center, unmistakably, is the Remco plant.

Avila shared her concerns with City Hall and the school district, but, to her mind, was met with little but stonewalling and evasion.

Then, in November, she read about a lawsuit filed in U.S. District Court in San Francisco by the family of a 5-year-old boy with hemophilia who had allegedly died after drinking contaminated water from Willits' Baechtel Creek, which runs near the plant.

The lawsuit charged that the boy succumbed to internal bleeding due to high levels of chromium in the water. The case was subsequently dismissed by a federal court judge, but a wrongful-death claim is still pending.

``We've been poisoned,'' Avila declared. ``There is no way that there can be so many problems and something not be wrong.''

She has since filed a class-action suit with more than 60 other plaintiffs charging that the Remco plant is responsible for numerous health problems among Willits residents.

Avila's attorney, Oakland lawyer Bill Simpich, said that a ruling is expected by May on whether the case will be heard in federal or state court and that the case will proceed gradually from there.

These days, mention of Avila's name around town will prompt knowing looks and raised eyebrows. Whatever sympathies her cause may engender among others, there is clearly a feeling that Avila has gone too far in airing the town's dirty laundry.

She doesn't care.

``If they don't want to open their minds about polluting other people and hurting other people, that just shows how naive they are,'' she said. ``Someone has to be responsible.''

PLANT KEPT DUMPING WASTE

Remco Hydraulics was established in 1957 at the site of a small machine shop on the outskirts of town. Its chief backer was Bob Harrah, who would go on to set up two other industrial concerns in Willits, making him one of the town's leading employers and businessmen.

Remco grew in size as contracts for hydraulic equipment arrived from the U.S. Department of Defense and other customers. Chrome plating for parts began in 1963.

County health officials soon started receiving complaints about strange smells and chemicals emanating from the plant, and these officials in turn notified Remco that the company appeared to be in violation of environmental regulations.

There are some who believe that Harrah's extensive connections, both in Mendocino County and in Sacramento, allowed him to all but ignore the officials' warnings. After all, he was handling defense contracts as the Vietnam War was intensifying, and that was a higher priority than how chromium and assorted solvents were being handled.

Whatever the reason, Remco continued dumping its waste in and around the plant site as the facility's main building grew in size to nearly 3.5 acres. Runoff poured through a storm drain straight into nearby Baechtel Creek.

The company also installed large fans atop the roof to ventilate the factory. Those fans pointed directly at Baechtel Grove Middle School, located just across the street.

These were good years for Harrah. He served on the Willits Planning Commission, City Council and high school board of trustees. He also was chairman of the board for the town's only hospital and a director at the bank.

Times changed. While Harrah moved on to other ventures and other responsibilities, Remco eventually began to struggle as its defense contracts dried up after the war. The company was sold and resold to a variety of new owners before finally declaring bankruptcy and closed five years ago.

CLEANUP YET TO BEGIN

Yet even after the cogs and wheels of its machinery started rusting, Remco still managed to provide plenty of work -- this time for lawyers. The city of Willits filed suit shortly after Remco's bankruptcy, demanding that the plant's former owners assume responsibility for cleaning up the site.

A federal court judge ultimately ruled that a Chicago firm called Whitman Corp. was accountable for Remco's toxic legacy. Whitman, which began life as the Illinois Central Railroad in 1851, is now the holding company for Pepsi-Cola General Bottlers.

Pepsi is Whitman's single largest shareholder, but to date has played no role in the Remco case.

In 1997, Whitman agreed under a court-mediated consent decree to fund an independent trust charged with investigating and cleaning up contamination at the Remco site. While cleanup has yet to begin, the company said it has spent $7 million so far.

``We don't believe there's a problem out there at all,'' said Barbara Guibord, lead attorney of the Chicago law firm representing Whitman in its dealings with Willits. ``We absolutely believe there is no health threat whatsoever.'' Whitman, she said, has tried to be a good corporate citizen. ``We're doing the right thing,'' Guibord insisted.

Willits officials aren't so sure. City Manager Gordon Logan and City Attorney Ross Walker noted with undisguised frustration that Whitman did not disclose until only recently that depositions taken from former Remco workers in 1996 show the company was aware of illegal disposal of chemicals.

``Whitman probably should have found a way to work out our problems with the city earlier than we did,'' Guibord admitted. ``We weren't in any kind of meaningful dialogue.''

But no matter how severe the contamination, she stressed that no evidence exists linking Remco with any health problems.

``Lots of people get cancer,'' Guibord said, ``and it's not because they live in Willits.''

ILLNESSES PLAGUE FAMILIES

Still, some parts of Willits appear to be more prone to illness than others. And most of those areas just happen to be downstream from the Remco plant.

Eric Hoggett, 26, lives in his parents' garage on Franklin Street, across from the old factory, and runs his own printing company.

He said he never really gave much thought to all those rumors about Remco. He'd heard the one about the kid who had vomited up some sort of green fluid, and when his parents tried to preserve it by placing it in the freezer, it wouldn't harden.

Everyone in Willits had heard that one, Hoggett said. It was part of the local folklore.

But lately, Hoggett has started taking such talk more seriously. As he spoke, he kept one eye on the telephone. He was waiting for word of his father, who at that very moment was undergoing surgery for a tumor in his groin area.

``I think there's definitely something going on,'' Hoggett said. ``It seems fishy. It seems real fishy.''

Florence Dilling lived with her family in a cozy house right above Baechtel Creek, behind where the Safeway now stands. She never knew about the storm drain just upstream or the way that chromium from Remco had a way of turning the water yellow.

``But there was a foul odor in the air,'' recalled Dilling, now 76 and bedridden with back problems. ``And we would see a grayish-white fog that covered the ground near the plant.''

Her children played in the creek, and Dilling served her family water from the property's well. She also used well water for the fruits and vegetables grown in the garden.

Eventually, her daughter Frances gave birth to a son with muscular dystrophy. A subsequent daughter was born prematurely and weighed just 4 pounds.

Then Frances had a second daughter, this one with a tumor in her brain. The child died shortly after her second birthday.

Four years ago, Dilling's 53-year-old son was diagnosed with diabetes.

``I have no proof that any of this is connected to that plant,'' she said as her eyes filled with tears. ``But I remember that odor.''

John and Pam Arlich also recalled a funny smell at their home three blocks from the Remco plant. The smell was especially strong after heavy rains, when the groundwater would rise and flood the garden where they grew pears, cherries and prunes.

Shortly after moving in, John and Pam both developed sinus troubles. Then their daughter, Christina, was diagnosed with bladder and kidney infections. Now 22, she may soon require a hysterectomy, doctors say.

The Arlichs' oldest son, 20-year-old Jarrod, has asthma. Their younger son, Matthew, was born prematurely. Now almost 13, he doesn't talk much. He has a bad stutter.

``This is five people all living in the same house,'' Pam Arlich said. ``You should have at least one healthy person.'' Four years ago, Christina gave birth to her own son, Aaron. He doesn't talk much. He, too, has a bad stutter.

CITY SAYS WATER IS SAFE

Experts speak of ``pathways of exposure'' when trying to determine how an environmental hazard can affect surrounding communities.

In the case of PG&E and the contamination depicted in ``Erin Brockovich,'' the pathway was fairly clear: Chromium had entered the groundwater, the groundwater fed into nearby wells, people drank from the wells. In Willits, however, most homes are hooked up to municipal water lines that feed from a surface reservoir 7 miles away, upstream from the Remco plant.

City officials insist that their drinking water is safe, although most townsfolk say they don't touch it. Bottled water tastes better, they say.

Meanwhile, nobody is sure what to make of people eating fruits and vegetables grown with well water or children playing on lawns sprinkled with well water.

``These folks close to the site have legitimate concerns,'' said Janice Goebel, an investigator with the California Regional Water Quality Control Board who has studied the Remco plant. ``The exposure potential is definitely there.''

She added: ``It's a significantly contaminated site. The concentrations of chromium are the highest I've seen.''

Specifically, Goebel said levels of chromium in the groundwater run as high as 336,000 parts per billion. The ``public health goal'' set by her agency for acceptable chromium exposure is a mere 0.2 parts per billion.

Hexavalent chromium -- the most toxic form of the chemical and the one contaminating Willits' groundwater -- is known to cause a variety of illnesses, including cancer. The Remco contamination is complicated by the presence of a number of other chemicals also known to be carcinogenic.

Various county and state agencies are now investigating the matter as well.

But Dr. Mills Matheson, who has practiced medicine in Willits since 1974, insisted that ``there's no route of exposure'' between the contaminated groundwater and nearby residents, and that the chance of one's health being affected by eating chromium-tainted fruits and vegetables ``is so tiny that it's very unlikely.''

Matheson has made it a point to read all available medical literature on chromium and to educate Willits' dozen or so other physicians on the effects of exposure to the chemical. For this reason, the town's medical community is united in believing that Remco's neighbors have no grounds for claiming their health troubles stem from close proximity to the site.

``There's no danger now,'' Matheson said. ``There's no need to close the school. The danger was in the past. What that danger was, we don't know.''

Indeed, that's part of the problem. All efforts to date have focused on determining existing health hazards, which, considering that the plant has been closed for five years, are considerably less than in earlier decades. A recent study, for example, found no evidence of chromium at Baechtel Grove Middle School.

But no one has yet conducted the epidemiological research required to determine past contamination among plant workers, their offspring, or students exposed to airborne toxins. Entire generations of Willits students have scattered far and wide, with subsequent health problems going undocumented.

For that matter, Willits' main tourist attraction, the scenic Skunk Train that travels from the town to Fort Bragg, passes within feet of Remco. When the fans were turning, riders from throughout the world also were exposed to whatever was being ventilated from inside the facility.

William Wright, head of the cancer surveillance section at the state Department of Health Services, said a full epidemiological study of Willits would entail many thousands of interviews and blood samples, and cost ``millions and millions of dollars.''

``There is no such thing as a single study that would put all these issues to rest,'' he said.

Wright added that there have been other regions where epidemiological research could not adequately explain chronic health problems spanning decades.

Matheson said he used to treat patients for headaches, sinus troubles and nosebleeds ``all the time.''

``But there's a lot of hay fever in this area,'' he pointed out. ``It's like a dentist saying that they see a lot of cavities. It's routine.''

FULL DAMAGE NOT KNOWN

The Willits Environmental Center is based in the middle of town, right on Main Street and just across from the post office. David Drell established the center 10 years ago to oppose construction of a power plant in the town.

The Remco factory didn't figure on the center's agenda until only a couple of years ago, after Donna Avila began stirring up the dust.

Today, Drell acknowledged that contamination at the site is ``very severe'' and said, ``We still don't know the full extent.''

As for the health problems of local residents, Drell said: ``We don't know if it's attributable to the plant. We're not health professionals.''

The soft-spoken Drell, 55, is uncharacteristically subdued for an environmental activist.

``We live in a toxic world,'' he said with a shrug. ``The dumping of toxics is not limited to Remco.''

Drell's interest in the plant is limited primarily to cleaning up the site. He is eager to work with town officials in pressing their case, and he has embraced an offer from Whitman to fund a committee that would help citizens understand the hundreds of documents the investigation has generated.

Drell has lived in Willits for 26 years. Like many other townsfolk, he doesn't like to make waves. He's also thinking about running for a seat on the school board.

``It's a small place,'' Drell observed. ``When this is all done, we'll still have to meet each other in the supermarket.''

COMMUNITY FULL OF CONFLICTS

Potential conflicts of interest abound in Willits.

The city has had to adopt an adversarial posture in its negotiations with Whitman, yet is also partnered with Whitman in pursuing a separate lawsuit against one of the Chicago firm's insurers.

At least one member of the city council owns property near the Remco plant -- property that would plunge in value if the city were to be more vocal in calling attention to its contamination problem.

Farr Associates, the environmental engineering firm that virtually serves as the independent trust overseeing cleanup of the plant, previously served as a paid consultant on the Remco case for Whitman.

Henshaw Environmental, which was hired to conduct soil and groundwater tests on behalf of the trust, employs at least one former Remco worker, who proudly wears his battered old Remco cap while on the job.

Meanwhile, life goes on in the town. Randy Cantua at the local Farmers Insurance office said people used to talk about Remco a few years ago, ``but now it's kind of old news.''

Mary Vest, a broker at the Century 21 real estate office, said average home prices in the area run about $150,000, in part because the town so far has succeeded in playing down talk of the contamination.

``I think people are making a big deal about nothing,'' said Clinton Wilson, manager of the Computer Cave, Main Street's sole electronics store.

Most Willits residents don't seem particularly concerned about the pending cleanup of the Remco plant, which Anne Farr, the trust's site project manager, estimated could take 30 years and cost more than $50 million.

They are focused instead on the town's near-term prospects and how they can attract more visitors. According to City Hall, tourism now accounts for about 20 percent of Willits' total revenues.

To boost that amount, Lynn Kennelly, executive director of the Willits Chamber of Commerce, said the town is playing an active role in a countywide effort to attract more people from the Bay Area.

``We have a high quality of life here,'' she observed.

Harrah, the Remco founder, was a key factor in spurring the town's growth. ``He was wonderful in terms of helping,'' Kennelly said.

But the man who also was pivotal in turning his hometown into a toxic-waste dump would not survive to see the ensuing troubles. Harrah passed away in 1993 at 77.

He died of cancer.

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-- Carl Jenkins (Somewherepress@aol.com), March 31, 2000