Spring/Summer 2000 One Year Later

Spring/Summer 2000 - One Year Later

The Neighborhoods
by April Busch

This year, a yellow, nylon rope – fading and fraying against the spring-green growth of the park – frames Whatcom Falls Park’s creek-side trails. The ropes are visible reminders of the charred creekbed lying just beyond view.

The ropes mark time in a timeless place and appear out of place as they mark an unnatural event in a world of natural cycles.

But as the trail winds onto Iowa Street, the roped off areas naturally foreshadow the quiet of the park giving way to the muffled stillness of the street where two 10-year-old boys lived. Like the park, the people on this street that parallels Whatcom Creek’s windy east – west flow, are still recovering from the rupture in Olympic’s pipeline that spilled 229,950 gallons of fuel into Whatcom Creek and exploded June 10, 1999, burning two miles of creek and park land.

On the eastern end of this established street, directly north of where the pipeline broke open, 72-year-old Don Moen has lived amid the decorative fences, blossoming shrubbery, and manicured lawns for almost 15 years.

On a sunny spring day, reminiscent of the day the creek caught fire, Moen’s voice drops and his face braces against memories of the explosion.

"It’s a pretty sad neighborhood," Moen says. "I was down there when they pulled the boys out.

"I don’t go down that way anymore." From the sheltered courtyard of his house Moen looked west, toward the river. "Right after it happened, for two or three months, I’d wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares."

When describing the neighborhood where people still garden, wash their cars, and exchange words over rakes, Moen says, "It’s a lot quieter here. The kids used to be in the street all the time-skateboarding. They were very athletic kids."

Quietly he notes, "I’ve just stopped dreaming about it."

Looking west from Moen’s driveway, the top of Lauren Kwiatkowski’s brown shoulder-length hair and the back of her husband Larry’s tie-dyed T-shirt are visible as they tend the flowerbeds in their front yard. The Kwiatkowskis, with their young son and daughter, have lived next door to the King family for seven years.

"I don’t know, (the pipeline explosion’s) just sort of tainted the neighborhood somehow," Lauren says, resting both hands on the handle of her rake. "I always really loved living here and I feel okay with the pipeline not running. But I don’t know how I’d feel if it ever opened up again - if I’d ever feel safe."

Because the park was closed for a long time, the Kwiatkowskis haven’t used it as much as in the past and Lauren says that every time she goes into the park it’s a reminder of what happened.

She had hoped the neighborhood would become closer — and for a while it did. But then it became private again, partly out of respect for the families, she says. Lauren says she would like to see the pipelines shut down and sold to someone who would take responsibility for them. Larry mentions that he doesn’t know who was responsible for the explosion, but Lauren quickly interrupts, "Oh, I know it was Olympic. That’s my feeling."

"I don’t trust Olympic," Lauren says. " I don’t think they should be allowed to run through the city."

Nodding his head in agreement, Larry says that by insisting on naming other parties in lawsuits to deflect culpability, Olympic isn’t looking very responsible right now.

"That’s the thing, I mean, why don’t they just say, ‘We made a mistake’? I mean it’s a big accident, a big mistake, but they’ve got to take the blame for it."

Retired insurance salesman Jack Freeman has lived in the same cul-de-sac as the Kings for 10 years. He agrees that Olympic Pipe Line Co. appears negligent by not just stepping up and taking responsibility. He would like to see the pipeline, which runs the length of his backyard, moved out of any residential neighborhoods.

"I found out about the pipeline when I got my plat map that comes with the title for a house," Freeman says. "I didn’t think much about it then, but I sure think about it now. I just don’t know how safe this thing is, considering it’s age.

"I would hope that Olympic would have to make a guarantee that this thing wouldn’t rupture again, but who knows," he said.

Freeman and his wife used the park a lot before the explosion, but he says now he’s only gone through once since last June.

"We sure miss it," he says warmly. "But there’s not much to do, just make your wants and desires known and hope that people will help carry the ball."

Freeman is frustrated that no one has asked him or his neighbors what they want, since they’re almost at ground zero where the pipeline exploded and it still runs right behind their property.

Retired Equilon Refinery worker Tony Fisher has lived on the cul-de-sac west of the Freemans for 25 years. He says he speaks out about the need for more pipeline regulations whenever he can.

"I’ve tried to be outspoken that I don’t think they regulate the pipelines nearly enough," he says, contrasting it with the thorough safety measures he saw taken in the refinery.

He hopes that being outspoken about pipeline regulations will encourage other people to do the same. From his front yard he can see Stephen Tsiorvas’s house across the street to the left and the yellow ropes of the park to the right. Fisher believes the Olympic pipeline tragedy has brought people in the neighborhood closer together.

"People feel like the park has been violated," Fisher says. "My daughter, who’s 22 and has a little girl, did a lot of walking in the park and has strong feelings about, you know, never wanting to swim there again because of the pollution factor and … the unknown.

"Quite honestly, I don’t feel as safe," he says. Fisher is afraid the pipeline will rupture again in one of the residential neighborhoods.

"I’d like to know what happened (in the explosion)," Fisher says. "Olympic is bringing up the possibility of third-party damage, but there’s always that possibility. It’s Olympic’s responsibility to insure the integrity of the pipeline," he says, adding that he would like to see increased regulation, a better use of new technologies to inspect the pipeline, and regular visual inspections.

"(Olympic) appeared to have great trouble using their technology. I’ve got no confidence in them. I don’t think they’re regulated nearly enough," Fisher says.

"If they have to claim eminent domain over the federal government, so be it. I know that wouldn’t be very easy from the pipeline (company) standards point of view, but that’s not my concern. Money shouldn’t be an issue when talking about insuring public safety," he says. The federal government should have the toughest regulations possible, he adds, but if not then the state should enforce what’s necessary to keep people safe.

"We’re still affected by the tremendous grieving process of this tragedy," he says, looking toward the park. "It hurts your feelings so bad to know the boys were just being boys, playing in the park when this happened."

Down the road from the park, Kristen and Doug Krussow hang out with a friend in front of the house they bought two years ago.

Doug Krussow, who works in the oil industry, knew the pipeline was in the park and why it was there before they moved into the neighborhood.

The city and the county governments are being just as careless as Olympic is purported to be, according to Krussow.

"My question is where were (politicians) when they were putting in all these houses. You know, you go half-a-mile over here, you’ve got this whole new Barkley development going in and they’re building right on top of the pipeline — even after this incident."

As he discusses Kulshan Middle School, Krussow grows frustrated. "Five or seven years ago the city ok’d building a junior high right over there and it’s within a rock’s throw of the pipeline. I mean, why? Why is the city allowing that? I think it’s important."

Krussow says that the security of the park has been shattered for some people in the neighborhood.

"You think of a park and you think, ‘Oh, I can go in a park,’ especially in a city like Bellingham," Krussow says. "You go in a park and be safe. I think a lot of people, (the explosion) really, really hurt them and really terrified them that they could go in a place that seemed so benign and have something so tragic happen.

"You expect to go out on the freeway and somebody can get killed, you know," Krussow adds. "You don’t expect to walk into a park and have somebody die, especially so horribly."

Cost should not be a factor in proper pipeline regulation, Krussow says, adding that expert knowledge and the latest technology should be used to keep the pipeline up and monitored at all times to make it as safe as possible.

"I feel pretty confident that when and if they reopen the pipeline, it will be with the best technology they have," he says. "You know, they’re not going to just go, ‘well, reopen it.’ With what’s happened they’re not going to just reopen it with the status quo."

Krussow believes that like all accidents, this too will fade over time, but people should always be aware of what they share their community with. He hopes awareness can come out of this.

If she looks left into Whatcom Falls park when she crosses the street to St. Clair playground – just around the corner from the Krussow’s, 11-year-old Elizabeth Johnson sees the yellow ropes put up after her classmates, Stephen and Wade, were killed.

The western end of Iowa Street runs into St. Clair children’s playground and winds back into Whatcom Falls park along the water. Elizabeth Johnson’s family home is buttressed between Whatcom Falls to the back, Iowa Street to the front and St. Clair across the side yard.

"My brother and I were home alone when (the explosion) happened," Johnson says.

She said the explosion affected some of the students in her class more than others.

"Well, they were crying a lot," Johnson says. "And this one girl never says ‘explosion.’ She says ‘the E-word.’"

Though the kids try not to think about it, Johnson says when the adults in the neighborhood get together with one of the boy’s parents they often cry. None of her friends’ parents worry about them playing at the park, and Johnson herself hasn’t altered her playtime in Whatcom Falls Park.

"It doesn’t really worry me because I know that the pipeline isn’t open," Johnson says, but then grows contemplative. "But if it ever does open again I might not go there alone."

In many public and private ways this street will never be the same for the people who have retired here, raised their kids here, walked through the park from their backyards and barbecued with neighbors. Though the pipeline tragedy has affected everyone, there is healing and they all hope that better things will come out of this: more pipeline regulation, better technologies and higher accountability by the industries operating in their backyards.

Spring/Summer 2000 - One Year Later

The Neighborhoods by April Busch

The Neighborhoods
by April Busch