EAST PALETINE — Rick Tsai stands knee-deep in the rushing Lesley Run creek, a mile below where a massive derailment occurred in a Columbiana County village. He is wearing chunky blue rubber gloves, ponderous boots and a respirator and intends to check whether the chemicals previously detected are still visibly present.
Tsai lifts a vast rock and the milky purple surface emerges in a burst of seeping bubbles. The substance moves towards a deeper body of water; petroleum-based chemicals remain, floating and swirling on the jagged shoreline.
-Did you see it? – he shouts. It was tough not to.
Despite the stream’s location in a densely forested area, there are no birds, squirrels or chipmunks in sight, despite sunshine, blue skies and unusually high temperatures. The entire area is eerily tranquil. There is a fine smell of bubble gum everywhere.
We didn’t see any fish for an hour of walking through the mud.
On Thursday, the Ohio Department of Natural Resources updated its initial estimate of 3,500 animal deaths after the February accident to 45,000, which is the death toll reported within a 5-mile radius of the crash site.
Everywhere you go, in this Ohio village and across the state line in Darlington, residents are incredibly frustrated. They are deeply concerned about their health not only now, but also in the future, and they do not trust the Environmental Protection Agency, which has repeatedly said that air and water tests have found no risk to residents.
Chris McManus, 60, points to examples of lack of trust. First responders who cleaned up the rubble after 9/11 were told they were secure after their heroic efforts, and thousands of people developed cancer years later. “The authorities also told the people of Flint that their drinking water was also safe, but it turns out this was not the case,” she explained.
“The government has given us many reasons not to trust it,” she said.
McManus sits on a park bench on North Market Street, on a petite patio. There are two restaurants on either side of the venue, Sprinklz and China Cafe. Behind it is Sulfur Run, where EPA workers operate pumps in the creek to redirect water. The tributary flows directly under the patio, eventually flowing into the Ohio River.
A gentleman named Buck stops by. He instructs us to grab some Chinese dishes on the left. “The owner told me that no one comes anymore, no one, he will have to close. That’s a damn shame. Nice people, great food.”
East Palestine has a real sense of place. Small businesses along the main thoroughfare are dotted with handmade signs in their storefronts: “Please pray for EP and our future,” “EP Strong,” “East Palestine Lives Matter.” Dozens more dot the streetscape.
McManus is composed. He is not the type of person to shout at officials or raise his voice to express his concerns. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not just as angry as the people who do it,” she says.
A truck carrying a cable TV satellite drives by. “See this? When all this attention is gone, I don’t believe we won’t be forgotten. Nobody cares,” he adds firmly.
Like everyone else here, she’s anxious, worried about whether the city is safe to be in. “I understand why people who haven’t had this life-changing experience can watch it from their homes and not really think about it any more. I’m here to tell you that it changes you. Everything in our lives will never be the same, and that is devastating.”
Gov. Josh Shapiro of Pennsylvania visited both here and Darlington, Pennsylvania, a day earlier and in an interview with the Washington Examiner said no one should be fired because of concerns about long-term health impacts. “They have every right to be cautious. … These are the kinds of places that are so often ignored, deceived or exploited. That is why we have been in the field through our administration for several hours after the derailment. took place,” he explained.
It’s been 21 days since the nearly 3-mile-long Norfolk Southern freight train came to a screeching and blazing halt just before 9 p.m., sending freight cars flying in all directions, including several carrying dangerous chemicals. Three days later, the railroad recommended to state officials in Ohio and Pennsylvania the controlled release of vinyl chloride from five cars at risk of explosion.
The National Transportation Safety Board said Thursday that the crew was trying to slow the nearly 3-mile freight train seconds before the crash when they noticed a wheel bearing had heated to a threshold level of 253 degrees Fahrenheit above normal temperature.
The NTSB’s preliminary report did not provide any details about what caused the derailment.
Shapiro immediately sent state experts here. The next day, he spoke on the phone with Gov. Mike DeWine of Ohio. By February 6, it was decided to follow Norfolk Southern’s recommendation and order a controlled on-site release of vinyl chloride, a known carcinogen. The plan was to burn hazardous chemicals from the derailed cars to prevent a possible catastrophic explosion.
He has since begun to question the decision.
“Norfolk Southern has not explored all potential courses of action, including those that could have resulted in an extended closure of the rail line but could have provided an overall safer approach for first responders, residents and the environment,” Norfolk Southern’s director Shapiro wrote in a letter to the chief.
McManus has lived here all her life. She and her husband raised their children here. She said they were enjoying life, which was an idyll for them. “We have some bird feeders. We love watching the cardinals, blue jays and woodpeckers, heck even the squirrels use them. The first day after the evacuation, we returned home to sit outside and watch the feeders, but the birds never came, she said.
“It was amazing because it was so quiet. Nothing. No birds, no animals, nothing,” she explained.
Tom Maraffa lives 20 miles west of East Palestine in Salem, Ohio. It was here that a surveillance camera recorded the first images showing the site of the derailment – a dangerously overheated ball bearing in one of the cars carrying toxic chemicals.
The retired Youngstown State geography professor said the people of East Palestine are a classic example of the contrast between a place-centered America and a placeless America. “The majority of the population has lived there all their lives and their families are multi-generational residents of the area. Those who moved to the village probably moved out of the area or moved back to their hometown,” he said of a town that I haven’t really seen the wear and tear of other small Rust Belt towns.
“Rural life centers around local institutions such as high school sports, churches and social clubs,” he said
One of the city’s best features is the park, which is a very well-maintained center of social activity. As a little girl, my mother spent summers and endless hours at the local swimming pool.
Her grandfather, John B. Eyster, was from here and ran for the state Senate as a “free silver” Democrat – lost painfully – eventually settling in New Waterford, a neighboring town, where he became a Republican mayor.
Restaurants here are usually family owned. More than a third of the workforce commutes longer than half an hour.
Maraffa explains that the city government is drawn from this population and, unlike larger cities, is not separated by layers of bureaucracy. “Decision-making is personal in the sense that management actually knows the people affected by these decisions. “To be a city leader – whether it be mayor, council or school board member – you have to engage directly with individuals and their complaints and concerns,” he said.
Maraffa said the cooperation between the governors of Ohio and Pennsylvania, despite their polar opposite political orientations, is a testament to their competence and values.
“At first, I was surprised by the lack of response from the federal authorities to this situation. I didn’t expect them to flock to this area, but I did expect some sort of statement. The fact that it took so long to confirm the accident may not only lead to questions and suspicions, but also provides ammunition for the inevitable political battle,” he said.
In miniature, being delayed and speaking only emphasizes the lateness of your response.
Maraffa said for the government to be effective it must understand the nature of the place and its people. “Do not impose values based on placelessness or other places on this community.”
In an 1820 candle factory on Market Street, Melissa Smith and her daughter Sidney are in charge of production. Sidney is placing wicks in rows of glass Rust Belt candles, Melissa is getting ready for a guest, and the place smells magical.
“Norfolk CEO,” he says. “He comes here to talk…” she says in a quieter voice, adding that she really has no words to describe how she feels about his arrival.
“We’ll see,” he says. – We’ll see.
