Winter
2000 - Environmental Audit
Chemicals On Campus:
Tracking Down Western's Hazardous Waste, Part II
by Skye Thompson
In the winter quarter
of 1990, Planet editor Sara Olason set out to explore the way Western
managed its hazardous wastes. What she discovered was troubling. Instead
of finding an educational institution with an unblemished record and a
fail-safe method of monitoring and disposing wastes, Olason found a newborn
hazardous waste program already weakened by financial malnutrition and
poor decision making. Renewing Olasons search a decade later, I
found that while Westerns new stewards of campus safety bear more
administrative gravity, they still suffer from financial undernourishment.
This aside, there have been drastic improvements in how well Westerns
dangerous chemicals are managed.
Producing hazardous
waste may be as much an inevitability of operating a university as belching
methane is to a pasture-bound cow. Indeed, almost every department on
campus generates some hazardous wastebut what is Westerns
administration doing to keep students and faculty safe? What and where
are the toxinsand what are the risks?
Dennis Fitch supervises
the chemistry departments stockroom. He is responsible for some
of the worlds most dangerous chemicals, and he guards them like
a mother hen tending her nest. But the maze of glass jars that line his
warehouse shelves in Chemistry Building 150 arent your average chicken
eggs. Fitch stores substances so toxic that other well-known poisons pale
in comparison. Describing his most exotic and potent compounds, Fitch
leans back in his office chair and lets loose a nervous chuckle. He speaks
of osmium tetroxide, a dangerous chemical kept in supply somewhere deep
in the labyrinth of the storerooms shelves a chemical that
makes cyanide look like watered-down apple juice, a chemical more toxic
than any other on campus.
"One drop in
the room we are sitting in could possibly do us in," he says.
Fitch explains how
we would suffocate our lungs filling with fluid if osmium
tetroxide were to escape from its protective housing. He puts his hands
to his throat and widens his eyes, acting out final mortal poses.
Of course the bottom
floor of the chemistry building isnt the only place on campus where
hazards reside. The basement of Bond Hall holds an abandoned nuclear laboratory.
Its doors are marked in black miniature type: "Nuclear Lab."
Under the tiny typed header, room 10s label reads: "Chernobyl,"
the clever graffito of some pencil-toting, physics nerd. The second door,
room 08, reads "Kiev." A faded and peeling-away nuclear materials
sticker warns passers-by of the rooms once unstable contents. Neither
door appears to have been opened recently.
Jim Mullen, a Western
science technician, has worked in the electronics shop that shares a wall
with the nuclear lab for the past 12 years. Students no longer use the
lab anymore, he says, because nuclear physics labs all use computer simulation
instead of actual radioactive material.
"I dont
know whats in there to tell you the truth," Mullen said.
Professor Bill Wilson,
an ex-NASA scientist and Westerns Radiation Safety Officer, oversees
the nuclear laboratory. Wilson insists that the Bond Hall nuclear labs
are harmless now. Five or six years ago everything in the rooms was removed
and the walls, floor and ceiling cleaned. The labs most contaminated
contents, two neutron generators, were also removed and taken to Richland,
Wash. for permanent disposal, Wilson said.
The cleanup left rooms
08 and 10 safe according to federal standards, but there is still some
cleaning up to be done before the space is reopened. Rooms 10a and 10b,
the two closet-like rooms that housed Westerns neutron generators
still have what Wilson called "low-grade" radioactivity and
need to be decontaminated.
"Its a
question of money," Wilson said. "Itll probably take another
$100,000 to finish cleaning 10a and 10b."
In 1990, when the
Planet published Olasons article on Westerns hazardous waste,
a departmental Safety Committee hadnt even established a satisfactory
protocol for dealing with toxic wastes.
"Western had
been sending its waste chemicals to the Thermal Reduction Company, a local
incinerator not licensed to burn hazardous waste," Olason wrote.
In fact, a more responsible alternative wasnt found until the Department
of Ecology stepped in and ordered the old practice stopped.
John Zylstra, then
part of the art departments technical support team, remembers what
an awkward position it was to be responsible for the departments
health and safety issues.
"If there was
a spill, they would call me," he said. "But I really had limited
training and no real authority."
It wasnt until
1991 that Zylstra received proper training in chemical hygiene. Today,
a certificate hangs above Zylstras desk showing that he was trained
and certified in a two-week chemical hygiene course. A one-day version
of the same course is now prerequisite for participation in some of Westerns
chemistry lab classes.
EHS, the administrative
body in charge of health and safety issues at Western, was established
in early 1992. Their creation absorbed the responsibility of the campus
safety committee Zylstra had been on.
EHS is the primary
responder for releases of hazardous chemicals on campus.
Gayle Shipley has
been director since its inception. She keeps a copy of "WAC 173-303
Dangerous Waste Regulations" within arms reach on a shelf beside
her desk.
"We try very
hard to do the right thing: comply," Shipley said.
But she also said
theres more to be done at EHS than people to do it a sure
sign that EHS is underfunded. And the lack of funding shows.
The office in Old
Main has the busy feel of an emergency room or wartime command center.
The obvious shortage
of people-power and time, however, has compromised their integrity as
a public office. Office workers claimed they were too busy or too disorganized
to produce records on hazardous waste disposal. It took three attempts
before someone agreed to look for the information.
Others on campus have
felt similar frustrations with EHS operations.
"Id like
to see things picked up a little quicker," Zylstra said. "I
think we tend to store waste too long." Long storage periods are
a risk to students and faculty.
But EHS is not responsible
for final disposal, only for safely rounding up and storing it. A licensed
contractor has been hired to export wastes from campus.
In late January, EHS
reported that the contractor hired to pickup photographic chemicals for
Western, Hallmark Refinery Corporation, was two weeks late on its pickup.
Meanwhile, hazardous waste was accumulating in the basement of the Art
Building.
Monte Robinson, EHS
safety professional, was frustrated.
"[Hallmark] hasnt
responded for two weeks. I had to go to G[eorgia] P[acific] to get more
fifty-five gallon drums. The four drums I got should last half a quarter."
The extra drums will be used to store backlogged photographic chemicals
until Hallmark finally comes to get them.
However, since the
creation of EHS, hazardous waste has , unmistakably, been managed more
safely at Western than ever before. Happily, some of the improvements
are answers to questions Olason raised in her 1990 article. Unventilated
storage facilities, such as the one that had been in Haggard Hall basement
before its renovation, have been removed. The day-long chemical hygiene
class and other programs are helping to educate those who work with potentially
hazardous chemicals. And, according to Fitch, the chemistry stockroom
and other storage facilities are much safer than they were before his
arrival.
But the 90s did not
pass entirely without incident. According to Zylstra, there was a spill
in the basement of the Art Building that ended safely, but was potentially
very dangerous.
Early in the 1990s
the Art Building basement was used as a campus-wide clearinghouse for
hazardous materials.
"Nobody really
talked to each other back then," Zylstra said.
As a result, hazardous
chemicals from at least five different branches of the university were
being stored in close proximity. And then, Zylstra said, an old, unmarked
container spilled.
Authorities discovered
the leak and realized that the campus police were using a room next door
to load and store ammunition.
"Seeing all those
things stored, that if mixed could have exploded, we decided to make a
change," Zylstra said. "Thats what really brought it to
a head."
Zylstra said the art
basement spill, while potentially very dangerous, had little or no negative
impact.
"In fact,"
he said, "the biggest impact it did have was positive because it
scared us into changing the way we do things." After the Art Building
spill, EHS operations improved; monitoring, labeling and chemical segregation
was better and tracking the life of chemicals has gotten better.
Because of the potential
risks to human health, managing a campus-full of toxics can be as precarious
as balancing a highwire trapeze act. So why bother?
Professor Wilson,
sees it as an issue of morality.
"There's a huge
legal responsibility," Wilson said, "but even more, there's
a human responsibility."
Back in the chemistry
stockroom, one of Westerns main chemical attractions, Dennis Fitch
feels that personal pride compels him to manage responsibly.
"We have a really
prestigious faculty," Fitch said. "I want our infrastructure
to be just as fabulous."
The office of Environmental
Health and Safety is a big part of that infrastructure. Indeed the past
decade has seen the treatment of hazardous waste on campus ripen to near
full administrative maturity. Of course there is still some room for improvement
their administrative transparency, allowing the public to see what
work they do, should be better but EHS has done well to keep its
tigers caged. And they have been at the root of every major improvement
in hazardous waste treatment on campus in the past eight years. For that,
they deserve a lot of credit.
I think Sara Olason,
were she to return, would be grateful.
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