By Julie
Steinberg
The Fels
South Philadelphia Family Center
on Broad
Street is not a building where you'd expect a debate
regarding the future of Philadelphia's water treatment plants to occur.
It has none of the imposing statues, high ceilings or mahogany tabletops typical
of most conference centers.
Instead, bright finger paintings and cheery
fluorescent cut-outs plaster the wall in alternating colors. The podium and
slide projector look out-of-place; the men in suits might seem more comfortable
trading industry secrets in a dimly-lit bar.
Still, on a blistery cold
evening in late January, this room hosts an extremely important meeting: a
public hearing held by Philly's Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) to
discuss renewing the permits of the city's three water treatment plants. The
issue may not seem controversial, but local residents have turned out in full
force to protest a major side effect of Philly's troubled water system:
continued flooding of their homes.
The room buzzes with members of the
Sierra Club, Northern Liberties Neighborhood Association (NLNA) representatives
and DEP and Philadelphia Water Department (PWD) spokespeople, who chat amiably
before the meeting.
But after the hearing begins, it becomes clear there
will be no peaceful resolution to tonight's debate. The PWD's presentation
quickly evolves into a passionate deliberation about Philadelphia's water
pollution problems.
"Philadelphia Water Department is proud to offer
water-treating efforts using the newest technology," PWD spokesman Marc
Cammarata beams, just as the Sierra Club blasts his organization for emitting
too many chemicals into the water. Embittered activists like Matt Ruben of NLNA
then angrily describe the failures of sewage pipes for the Philadelphians they
represent. Organizers specifically request that participants not address flooded
basements. But conversation invariably returns to the faulty sewage system and
the questionable quality of treated water.
The 200 block of West Wildey in Northern Liberties has seen the bulk of the
damage. From her neighbor's home, local resident Claire Hollocher complains,
"The water department doesn't care about us, and never will." Hollocher, a fiery
70-something, has endured three years of constant flooding, backed-up sewage and
fruitless discussions with the PWD, which claims that her problems aren't under
its jurisdiction. "I'm tired of waiting for them to fix our
problems."
Antiquated Infrastructure
There are 3000 sewers
that connect Philadelphia's water supply to its three water
treatment plants. When storms occur, half of the neighborhoods in Philadelphia have separate
sewers for storm water and sanitary waste. The storm water is transported to a
stream, and the sanitary waste goes to one of three water pollution facilities
in order to be treated with a range of chemicals. To date, there have been few
complaints from these neighborhoods about flooded basements.
For the
other half of Philly's neighborhoods, it's a whole different story. The sewers
in these neighborhoods (including Northern Liberties) are called combined sewers
because they transport both sanitary waste and excess storm water to local
waterways like the Delaware River.
While that system sounds feasible in theory, in reality Combined Sewer
Overflows (CSO's) are damaging residents' houses. The sewers simply can't
transport that much water. So the system backs up, forcing water back from where
it came - into people's basements.
"We originally thought that two big
storms in the summer of 2004 caused the flooding," says Matt Ruben, a Penn
graduate student and former president of the NLNA. "But when flooding occurred
even when there weren't big storms, we started to wonder.""
Ruben worked
closely with NLNA member Hilary Regan to determine the cause of the frequent
flooding.
"I happen to believe one of the main culprits, besides
antiquated infrastructure, is construction run-off," Regan said. "A lot of sites
haven't been properly managed, and the sewers are clogged with
debris."
Many residents blame the debris on the recent surge in real
estate development, particularly the extensive construction in Northern
Liberties by the controversial Bart Blatstein of Tower Investments, Inc. These
projects have left large reserves of sediment that the streets and utility
services seem unable, or unwilling, to clear away.
Tower Investments
refused to comment on the matter, but local residents say that before the
construction boom, flooding happened rarely, if at all.
"I moved here in 1999 and didn't experience any backup
in my basement," Northern Liberties resident Gary Hartwell says, sipping a glass
of orange juice. "It's a classic combination of rapid development and faulty
structure."
"It's greed!" Hollocher shouts from her perch on Hartwell's
sofa. "Pure, unfiltered greed!"
Hartwell, whose basement is only five
feet high, says that he and Hollocher, in addition to some other neighbors, have
devised a system whereby they warn each other the minute a storm hits, so they
can monitor the rising water.
He adds, "I think my favorite line of the
past few years has been, 'it's happening�
again.'"
What's in the water?
While storm water
and sanitary waste seeping into basements poses its own problem, local activists
are also worried about an equally important issue: the contents and quality of
the water after it's been treated.
Under the stipulations of the Federal
Clean Water Act of 1972, a cornerstone of federal environmental protection,
Philadelphia's
water treatment facilities must obtain (and renew) permits in order to discharge
any pollutants into the water. The law imposes a variety of standards on how
much of each chemical can be released into the waterways.
Local
environmentalists, however, say the permits do not do enough to prevent harmful
pollution.
The PWD is a self-reporting organization, which means that its
own scientists conduct tests to determine the toxicity of the water. They then
report these results to the DEP.
"Because PWD is self-reporting," Sierra
Club spokeswoman Robin Mann says. "The DEP may not be getting the most accurate
information of how many toxic pollutants are actually finding their way into the
treated water."
"We are self-reporting," PWD representative Debbie
McCarty responds with a stern smile. "But we strictly adhere to pollution
emission levels."
Those levels, however, may be the source of the
problem. Because the DEP doesn't require certain thresholds of chemicals and
metals like silver, lead, zinc, and copper, there is no way to monitor the
amount that gets poured into the water. "The current permit doesn't set any
pollution limits for a variety of toxic pollutants," says David Masur, director
and founder of PennEnvironment Research and Policy Center, a non-profit organization dedicated to
researching solutions for Pennsylvania's environmental issues
Masur believes that the DEP, instead of trying to use
the best available technology to reduce pollution, is instead merely rubber
stamping legislation that could possibly have disastrous health effects upon
Philadelphia's
residents who come into contact with water.
"We think that these
carcinogens cause neurological effects," Masur says. "There's no direct cause
and effect, but we shouldn't have to connect the dots. We know they're bad for
us.""
Local organizations that use the waterways recreationally are
especially at risk. Take Dana Fry for example, of the Philadelphia Canoe Club.
Most Sundays she can be seen paddling on the Schuylkill, training with the club's other
members.
Before she canoes, Fry checks Philly RiverCast, a PWD Web site
that predicts the conditions of the waters and lets water users know whether
it's safe for water sports. One week, however, the site was far off in its
predictions.
"The computer told us it was safe to go in because it
predicted a fish-kill for a different day," she says, referencing the sudden
destruction of the river's aquatic life. "Unfortunately for us, the contaminants
were in the water the day that we were on the river, and we canoed right into
[it]."
But DEP spokesman Dennis Harney dismisses the allegations that
the water could be harmful, saying that "the public isn't at risk."
That
may not hold true for homeowners who encounter flooded sewage in their
basements.
At the hearing, Dr. James Plumb of Physicians for Social
Responsibility testified that he has treated patients who have become sick due
to the backups of sewage in their basement. Residents are put in danger not only
through direct contact with polluted water, but also from patches of mold that
grow in the moist, dark spaces. This growth can cause respiratory or
asthma-related ailments, says Penn environmental medicine professor Marilyn
Howarth.
Besides the physical effects, residents have also suffered
financially. Ubirajara Nascimento, a homeowner in Northern Liberties and one of
Hartwell's neighbors, lost his central air conditioning and heating systems
after the first flood in 2004.
"I worked for a few months to earn the money to
reinstall the systems," Nascimento said. "Then another storm hit, the basement
flooded and I lost them again."
Hartwell also experienced vast
devastation, eventually shelling out $30,000 dollars to pay for damages,
including buying a new water heater and reinstalling phone lines.
Because rainfall is deemed an "act of god," PWD doesn't issue
reimbursements to Northern Liberties residents for the damages they incur.
Neither do insurance agencies. In fact, many of them have even dropped clients
such as Hartwell and Nascimento for having filed too many claims.
Hollocher is quick to point out the discrepancy. "Storms may be an act
of god," she declares, raising her arms in the air, "but CSO's
aren't."
Possible Remedies
For Robin Mann, any
solution to the twin issues of flooding and polluted water must involve more
diligent notification.
When CSO's occur, residents usually have little to
no warning because PWD isn't required to notify the residents. In New York, by contrast,
the water department is required, by law, to post signs along the rivers that
are contaminated.
Mann believes that it would be easy to implement such a
system, simply by posting a message online warning residents about water
problems that day or by posting signs along the river when a large amount of
pollutants contaminate the water.
The best option may be to dig up the
existing pipes and replace them with an entirely new structure. "It would be
beneficial to rip out the old combined pipes," environmental science professor
Frederick Scatena said. "If they're replaced with new ones that separate the
sewage and storm water, that would help stop the backups into homes."
The
problem with that solution, Scatena acknowledges, is the exorbitant costs that
such a project would entail - funds the city simply doesn't
have.
Final Impressions
For Hollocher and
Hartwell, speaking to a reporter is more tiring than exhilarating. The media has
addressed their problem in the past to no avail, so they're skeptical that
further change can come from awareness alone.
They're wary when it comes to discussing their friends
who became sick from encountering sewage in their basements, and even Hollocher
(who has taken hundreds of pictures of the floods since their first occurrences)
seems resigned to living out her life surrounded by water when it
rains.
For environmentalists, however, this is only the beginning. They
have no choice but to keep barreling on, regardless of their chances for
success.
"We know that exposure to the bacteria and metals in the water
is harmful to one's health," Masur argues at the end of January's meeting. "What
we don't know is to what extent - but the onus is on the government to prove
that it won't hurt us, as opposed to our proving that it does."
And
though Philly's water treatment plants won't find out whether they receive the
permits until February 22nd, there's still plenty of work to be done before
then.
"The Water Department acknowledges they have no idea what's causing
the flooding," Regan says. "That doesn't give us much hope, but we still want to
get to the bottom of it."
As the hearing comes to a close, tension in the
room still percolates, but members of all organizations get up and shake hands.
Good manners dictate common courtesies, even though few agree on how to fix the
problem.
Dana Fry heads to the corner where Dr. Plumb and Matt Ruben
discuss the night in low undertones. David Masur wearily pats Robin Mann on the
back, and they nod briskly at Dennis Harney.
For the residents of
Northern Liberties, tonight has been just one more meeting. For the activists,
it's further proof of governmental neglect.
"We need to take a stronger
stand," Masur says, putting on his coat. "Not only to save the environment, but
to save ourselves."
