• Nationally known homemaker turned environmental activist speaks in Whiteville, Lake Waccamaw.

By NICOLE CARTRETTE
Staff Writer

Lois Gibbs wasn’t all that different from other housewives in her community. She graduated from high school, married her high school sweetheart and bought a house in Niagara Falls, N.Y.

The smell of chemicals in the air didn’t bother her or her neighbors and she described the community as “idyllic.”

“We smelled chemicals; we smelled a good economy,” Gibbs said. “We knew we would have food on our table, good benefits and healthcare.”

After her son Michael developed epilepsy, a urinary tract disorder, an immune system disorder similar to HIV and major liver problems her fairy-tale life was taking a terrible turn for the worst.

His pediatrician told her God gave her a sick child because he knew what a wonderful and caring mother she could be but that was not something Gibbs could easily accept.

“No, God gave me a healthy baby,” she said.

There seemed to be no good explanation in her eyes for Michael’s illnesses and disorders and she began noticing there were other children in her community with major sicknesses and birth defects.

Two years later, her daughter Melissa, just a toddler, would also face horrid health problems.

“She was head to toe covered with bruises,” Gibbs said. “With even a light touch she would bruise.”

“We believe your daughter has leukemia,” she was told.

She recalled standing outside a room at the Buffalo Children’s Hospital as Melissa screamed for her.

Gibbs couldn’t bear to help hold her daughter down while a sample of her bone marrow was taken.

“There was no calming her down,” Gibbs said, and after the event there was no calming Gibbs down either.

“I tell you this story because this is the story that someone in North Carolina could be telling,” Gibbs said. “This is the story of what could happen.”

Gibbs learned that the city, county, state and Environmental Protection Agency knew for years that the Love Canal was the source of dangerous toxins polluting the community’s water supply and ground.

In the spring of 1978, at 27 years old, Gibbs learned that her child was attending an elementary school built on top of a 20,000 ton, toxic-chemical dump.

“I read it in the newspaper,” she said. “Two years before there was a report done by a consulting firm,” Gibbs said. They looked at leakage from the canal; they evaluated the exposure, and measured the contamination levels in basements and backyards.

“Some homes had levels in basements that a 160-pound man could not be exposed to more than 40 hours a week in (an industrial job),” Gibbs said.

Various recommendations were made to reduce the “imminent” health risks.

The most expensive was a recommendation that a liner completely cover the canal and be used to reduce air contamination and rainwater pollution.

The cost estimate was $20 million.

“How does the government make a decision?” Gibbs posed the question. “They do a cost benefit analysis.”

She said the income of the community was evaluated and individual families were evaluated.

“Harry (her husband) made $10,00 a year so he was worth $10,000 a year plus inflation,” Gibbs said. “I don’t work outside the house; I was worth nothing.”

After looking at 900 families, Gibbs said, the suggestion was the families weren’t worth $20 million, she said.

“I was mad as the dickens,” Gibbs declared. “Maybe they just don’t understand,” she thought.

She and a group of other homemakers embarked upon their own survey – a health survey.

Fifty-six percent of the children were born with severe birth defects – “three ears, double rows of teeth, six toes.”

She found that of 22 women, just four had “normal babies.” Many had miscarriages and birth defects.

She was told her research was “just useless housewife data.”

Under political pressure, an official health survey was conducted.
“We thought science was the answer,” Gibbs explained.

While the numbers matched Gibbs’ informal study, it was explained away.

“We don’t believe it is related; rather, it is a random cluster of genetically deficient people,” she was told.

“We lost that battle,” Gibbs said. “Science is core, it’s critical.”

The next contact was with a lawyer.

“It’s not illegal to pollute in America,” the attorney told them.

She pointed out there are scores of permits and license sthat allow it and also allow for a one in one million cancer risk.

“The unborn and infants are most affected,” Gibbs said.

She emphasized the importance of grassroots advocates and environmental groups to put science, economics and the law behind their arguments.

“You need political muscle,” Gibbs added.

Politicians who opposed the relocation of families near Love Canal saw Gibbs and other protesters the most.

“If the answer was no, they saw us everyday,” Gibbs said. She pointed out the governor of NewYork was up for re-election and at the very least they would have one person stand outside $1,000 plate dinners and hold signs. “We messed with campaigns in non-violent ways,” Gibbs said.

President Jimmy Carter came to Love Canal and in Oct. 1980, signed an Emergency Declaration, which moved 900 families from the area.

“When you are talking about politics it’s not about being right – it’s about being heard. You know you are right,” said Gibbs, now director for the Center for Environmental Health and Justice based in Washington, D.C.

She spoke to groups in Whiteville and Lake Waccamaw last week as part of a statewide environmental tour in which Columbus County was a major stop and local environmental group Friends of The Green Swamp hosted (See related story.)

“People who voted against you – those are people you have to get out of office – you really can’t support them,” Gibbs told people who took part in a statewide tour sponsored in part by Friends of the Green Swamp, a group that formed in opposition to the Riegel Ridge Landfill planned for the Green Swamp.

It was one of six regional landfills planned for North Carolina and one of three that was essentially defeated due to legislation that narrowly passed the house and senate, tightening restrictions on landfills and particularly those near parks, nature preserves, and game lands.