Choking on the past
Picher nearing date of no
return
By John David Sutter
Staff Writer
|
Sunday, August 13, 2006 |
|
PICHER — Their names are traced in the dust of a dying town.
Jeremy. Josh. Myles. Ryan.
In Picher, an old and
environmentally troubled ore-mining boomtown in far northeastern Oklahoma,
young men have written their names in the toxic zinc- and lead-based dust that
settled on the windowpanes of a long abandoned storefront.
Many of the townÕs estimated
1,200 residents live on top of crumbling mineshafts. The ground routinely
collapses, forming gaping sinkholes. Metal waste, ground into coarse sand by
miners and piled into 150-foot gray mountains, rides on the Oklahoma wind,
putting residents at risk for poisoning that brings learning disabilities,
lowered IQs and behavioral problems, according to government studies.
PicherÕs friendly, gritty
and hard-working residents are family, and they love their town. However
fragile the land, it is home — the only many have ever known.
Soon, though, most signs of
life in Picher will fade. The dust will settle. This town likely will die.
The federal government is
offering to buy property from people in Picher and nearby Cardin and
Hockerville so they can leave the dangerous towns if they choose.
Some in Picher are
distraught; others are relieved.
Many donÕt know where
theyÕll go if and when they receive a check for their property in Picher.
Mayor Sam Freeman is
considering moving Òsomewhere south,Ó and in the context of extreme
northeastern Oklahoma, that means he may move to Miami, about 10 miles down the
only road that leads into Picher. With a population of 13,500, Miami is 11
times PicherÕs size.
Freeman has lived in other
parts of the country. He was born in California.
But for reasons he canÕt
fully describe, his roots and heart have always been in Picher.
ÒItÕs really not something
you can put into words,Ó he said. ÒItÕs just home.Ó
The $18.8 million federal
buyout was proposed by U.S. Sen. Jim Inhofe, R-Tulsa, to save the areaÕs
residents from mine cave-ins and sinkholes. A recent study by the U.S. Army
Corps of Engineers shows 228 homes, businesses and churches are at great risk
of sinking into the abandoned mines.
Since 1983, when the
Environmental Protection Agency declared a 40-square-mile area known as Tar
Creek the second-worst Superfund site in the nation, the federal government has
spent roughly $150 million trying to make the area safe and healthy, with
little to no success. About $100 million of that went toward scraping lead
contaminated soil off residential lots at an average cost of $71,000 per home.
It wasnÕt until 2004 that
the government offered to pay some residents to leave. Under Oklahoma Gov. Brad
HenryÕs plan, 52 families with children 6 and younger (who are thought to be
most susceptible to lead poisoning) were paid an average of $40,000 per
residence to go if they so chose.
Now, all residents face that
dilemma.
The current buyout is
optional. But many feel theyÕre being forced to leave home, as neither the EPA
nor local government officials can make assurances water and electricity will
be available after the 12,000-acre buyout is finished.
This very likely will be the
Picher-Cardin School DistrictÕs final year, said its superintendent, Bob
Walker. Classes will begin this week with about half the staff of last yearÕs
33 teachers, and no athletic or music programs.
Many have switched school
districts already. The schools expect about 150 total students this year,
compared to 340 last school year, Walker said.
Add to pollution the
danger of cave-ins
About 300 miles of mining
tunnels — some as wide as football fields and so tall that, according to
one former miner, Òyou (couldnÕt) even see the roof with a five-cell
flashlightÓ — weave underneath the ground in the Tar Creek area.
TheyÕve left the surface
fragile.
A barbed-wire fence
surrounds the recently constructed Soupy Suman MinerÕs Reunion Park in the
heart of Picher because a study gave it a 50-50 chance of caving in. Old Main
Street has been condemned for decades for fear it would collapse.
The mining tunnels once
brought prosperity to Picher.
Tar CreekÕs mines operated
between the late 1800s and the early 1970s. During the war years, Picher was
one of the largest ore-mining communities in the world. At its peak, the town
was home to about 10,000 people. Its minerals produced bullets used in World
Wars I and II.
When the ore ran out, most
people and businesses left.
TodayÕs Picher reflects an
eerie emptiness.
The town clusters around its
main drag, State Highway 69, or Òthe highway,Ó as itÕs called by residents. It
was closed to trucks heavier than 12 tons last year for fear the road might
collapse under their weight. The closure dealt a fresh blow to the few
remaining businesses.
Just south of Òthe four
way,Ó the main roadÕs intersection with A Street, about half the downtown
stripÕs fewer than 10 storefronts are abandoned. Their wood is warped; paint is
peeling and windows are boarded up. One has a small tree growing where a
welcome mat might otherwise be.
TheyÕre gathering dust.
Mountains of poison tower
over the town
Dusty mountains of mine
tailings, or Òchat piles,Ó as the locals call them, are in the middle of
PicherÕs neighborhoods of small houses and trailer homes. They tower over the
two-story town, above its tallest trees.
From atop one such mound,
resident John Sparkman points out a thin veil of gray dust that hangs over the
morning horizon. From above, trees cannot cover the lunar-like landscape that
decades of mining left behind.
As a child, Sparkman played
in the chat. He used the piles of zinc, lead and cadmium as a sort of oversized
sandbox, perfect for pushing toy trucks through. Mickey Mantle, who grew up in
nearby Commerce, did the same, locals say.
Studies have shown exposure
to chat dust raises lead levels in childrenÕs blood. In some areas of Tar
Creek, 40 percent of children have dangerous levels of lead in their blood,
putting them at risk for wide-ranging health problems and development issues,
according to a government task force report from 2000.
Toxins also have leached
into Tar CreekÕs water.
Acid water now fills the
abandoned mine tunnels, and the earthÕs pressure is pushing rust-colored ooze
out of the ground and into Tar Creek. The creekÕs water and banks are coated in
the thick, red sludge.
For all those reasons, some
wish they could have left years ago. But property in Tar Creek is worth close
to nothing. TheyÕve needed the federal government to help them leave.
Some will stay as long as
they can
Inside PicherÕs Pastime
MinerÕs Museum on Mondays, locals feed lazy country music into the twilight.
Long-timers gather in the
museum — which is part pool hall, part mining museum and part escape into
an era thatÕs held close in the memories of many here — to pick their
guitars and pass the microphone around their circle.
By the time the group
finishes, around 9 p.m., the PastimeÕs glowing red ÒopenÓ sign is the only
indication of activity in town.
The PastimeÕs owner, Orval
ÒHoppyÓ Ray, 81, has tacked dozens of black-and white photos of miners, wearing
hard hats and dingy uniforms, to a particleboard wall in the pool hall.
His father was a miner. So
were his brothers. So was he.
HeÕs proud of PicherÕs
history, and says he will never leave.
Ray has outlived most of his
friends and relatives. Soon, he may outlive his town.
ÒIÕm going to try to, IÕll
tell you,Ó Ray said. ÒIÕll be 110 years old when this guarantee runs out on the
roof, and IÕm going to be right here to make sure they take care of it.Ó
In the coming year, many of
PicherÕs homes and businesses — a lifetime of memories for Ray and others
— likely will be vacated. They may be bulldozed.
The school will hold its
last class, its last prom, its last graduation. PicherÕs final class will move
away.
The deadline for residents
to turn in buyout applications is Sept. 30.
And once the process is
complete, the town of Picher may return to dust.
Contributing: State
Correspondent Sheila Stogsdill