Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, May 13, 1995 TAG: 9505170001
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CATHRYN MCCUE STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: MONTVALE LENGTH: Long
The oil didn't gurgle up from the ground, but gushed through a giant pipeline that sent millions of gallons each day from the Texas oil fields to the Northeast and points between. One of the stops was here in the Goose Creek Valley, a place surrounded by mountain ridges and rich in history.
"This was a pretty little valley," recalls Richards, a retired postmaster who lives a short way off U.S. 460. "Now I've got a bird's eye view of them, don't I?"
Six oil companies had soon tapped into the pipeline, eventually building 35 above-ground storage tanks holding 471/2 million gallons. From her yard, Richards can see more than a dozen of the massive, stark white tanks, each one as tall as a four-story building.
It was progress, many said. The tank farms, and the trucking companies that moved in to haul oil to local gas stations, meant jobs and tax revenue. They put Montvale on the map.
Now, what old-timers called "God's green valley" is known as "Tank City."
Other communities also found themselves sudden neighbors to tank farms during the 1950s and 1960s, when pipelines crisscrossed the country to feed America's growing hunger for automotive travel. Three companies set up terminals in Roanoke, which now has 33 tanks.
Fairfax; Richmond; Greensboro, N.C.; and Charlotte, N.C., also host tank farms, bigger than Montvale's. But the oil companies brought more than an economic boost to the communities.
Almost every large tank farm, including Montvale's,
has polluted the ground water beneath it, according to industry and government studies. In some places, nearby residents have been forced to move or abandon their wells and hook up to public drinking water. Cancer and other health problems have been linked to air pollution from several tank farms.
A survey by the American Petroleum Institute last year showed that two-thirds reported some ground-water contamination, which sometimes seeps onto adjacent property. The survey also showed that some tank farm operators don't know if the pollution is spreading or if their equipment is leaking.
"I don't think they could detect [losing] a gallon an hour, and that's 8,000 gallons a year from a single leak, and there's usually more than one," says Lois Epstein, an engineer with the Washington D.C.-based Environmental Defense Fund. "You just can't put a dipstick in and measure."
Her group estimates that up to 25 percent of the nation's 900,000 above-ground tanks are leaking. In too many cases, experts say, there's no other explanation for the oil slicks being discovered underground. Among them:
200,000 gallons in Fairfax, where houses were evacuated in 1990. Star Enterprises, an affiliate of Texaco, paid millions to buy homes and hook people up to public water.
600,000 gallons in Paw Creek, outside Charlotte.
252 million gallons in El Segundo, Calif.
Up to 38 million gallons in Tulsa, Okla.
17 million gallons in Brooklyn, N.Y.
2 to 4 million gallons in Boise, Idaho.
By contrast, the Exxon Valdez spilled about 11 million gallons into Alaskan waters.
Montvale hasn't had problems of such magnitude, but it's not without its environmental concerns. Over the years, the six oil companies and Colonial Pipeline combined have spilled 145,570 gallons, according to state and federal records.
The oil companies told the Virginia Department of Environmental Quality that most of the spilled oil was recovered, although some escaped into the South Fork of Goose Creek or into the ground where it can lurk for years.
All six companies have ground-water contamination to varying degrees, said David Miles, a ground-water specialist in DEQ's Roanoke office.
Some of the pollution shows up as "free product" - oil floating on the water table - several inches thick at times, state records show. Some has been underground long enough to dissolve into the ground water.
How bad the pollution is, or could be, remains unclear. It's nearly impossible, state officials and experts say, to quantify how much oil is under Montvale, how long it's been there, where it came from, or where it's going.
"You're not sitting on another Fairfax," said Vanessa Birrell, a DEQ hydrogeologist in Richmond. "Is it pristine out there? You can't say that."
The tanks never bothered Clarence Stevens much, though he was peeved no one had asked his opinion about putting a huge oil-storage complex within a few hundred yards of his Montvale home.
"I never did feel that scared about what was there, until that first spill; and if you had walked out in it, I think you would have understood," said Stevens, a railroad worker.
One night in 1978, he stepped out on his back porch and smelled gas. It hung like a mist in the air, stinging his eyes and nose.
"I called every terminal manager over there that night and couldn't get no one." It took several hours before officials arrived and the leak was found and stopped.
Amoco later estimated that 70,000 gallons had spilled from one of its tanks.
Four years later, Amoco was in the news again, this time for a 62,500-gallon spill.
The community smelled like a giant gas pump, only maybe a little sweeter, like yeast, the Rev. A.C. Holland recalls.
"A fog hung in the valley. It was an overcast day," he said. That moisture probably prevented a catastrophe. Sparks from a vehicle on busy U.S. 460 could have ignited the thick fumes, said Holland, a volunteer firefighter then and now. Other folks remember being told not to light any cigarettes.
"The good Lord was with Montvale that day," said Jessie Richards, who was working at the Montvale Post Office that morning.
Sometime during the night of Oct. 19, 1982, when no one was around, one of Amoco's tanks had overfilled. Most of the oil was recovered, but an estimated 10,000 gallons evaporated, and another 12,000 gallons seeped into the soil.
The three other large spills that have been reported to the state - 5,400 gallons at Gulf, now Chevron, and 1,100 gallons at Conoco, both in 1980, and 4,500 gallons at Amoco in 1991 - all happened during the night when no one was around.
In addition, Amoco has reported six smaller spills over the years, Conoco four, Amerada Hess three and Star three. Most are attributed to ruptured valves, overfills and other equipment failure. Other times, the companies simply reported to the state that oil was found in the soil or ground water without pinpointing a source.
Most people in Montvale don't know about these other mishaps. The companies "don't advertise that kind of stuff," Richards said. "You just find out by accident."
Former employees, contractors and some residents say other spills haven't been reported.
Oil company officials say the farms meet today's environmental laws; they acknowledge, however, that past actions sometimes caused pollution, even if they were legal.
"Practices were a lot different way back when," said Dian H. Boothe, spokesman for Texaco and its affiliate, Star Enterprise.
"I don't feel like we impose a threat to the community or the environment," said Donna King, Amoco's manager at Montvale.
In recent years, the industry has established strict standards, including:
Increasing tank inspections and repairs, and putting a second bottom on older tanks.
Moving pipes above ground where they can be seen, and problems caught early.
Improving technology to prevent corrosion of underground pipes.
Improved training and operating procedures for workers.
Adding alarms on tanks to avoid overfills.
In Montvale, Star, Amoco, Conoco and others have adopted many of these standards, some of which were required by recent changes in state law.
While these measures should result in fewer spills, they won't take care of pollution already in the ground.
Few people in Montvale realize their ground water is contaminated.
"They've improved a lot since they came in here, the cleanliness," said Wayne Garner, who lives close by.
"They've fixed the facilities up, they look nice. They paint, they mow," Richards said.
Montvale's tank farms appear well-kept, with trimmed lawns, planted shrubs and almost-spotless white tanks. A family of ducks even hangs out at Star's holding pond. But appearances can be deceiving.
"There's a certain false sense of security with above-ground tanks," said a staffer with the House Commerce Committee, which studied the issue last year. "You're staring at it, the walls are fine, the roof looks fine, but the bottom can be leaking thousands of gallons of oil."
For a long time, and even now to some extent, government regulators and oil companies were unaware of the pollution at the country's tank farms.
Keeping track of inventory at the huge facilities is like running a household budget, said John Novak, a Virginia Tech engineering professor who has worked extensively with petroleum contamination. "You can't account for all those small amounts being lost."
And, Novak said, the oil giants generally "don't want to go look, because if they know, they'll have [an] obligation" to do something.
Such was the case in Fairfax County, where residents had no idea that a tank farm had oozed an estimated 200,000 gallons into the ground over the years. The diesel fuel, gasoline and jet fuel spread over 18 acres and measured 7 feet thick in some places.
In 1990, Star Enterprise received Texaco's highest recognition for its environmental record at Fairfax. A month later, the underground slick was discovered in sewer drains, posing a safety hazard to the community. Star eventually agreed to pay more than $50 million to settle claims from dozens of families, and bought 79 of their homes.
More recently, in Paw Creek, N.C., north of Charlotte, residents found that an estimated 600,000 gallons of fuel had leaked from the neighboring tank farm. About two-thirds has been recovered, the state says, but oil still taints the ground water off site.
Paw Creek residents also discovered that leukemia deaths among their neighbors could be linked to the gasoline vapors they've been breathing for years. State toxicologists have confirmed that elevated levels of benzene, a carcinogenic component of gasoline, pose a slightly higher risk of leukemia.
In East Austin, Texas, a leaking tank farm contaminated drinking wells and polluted the air, causing residents to complain of headaches, nosebleeds and breathing problems. Under pressure from residents and a local prosecutor, the six oil companies agreed to move out.
Oil, water don't mix
In Montvale, none of the ground-water contamination has crept beyond the tank farms to threaten drinking wells, according to the DEQ.
Residents on the north side of 460 are hooked to the community-run Montvale Water Inc., which gets its supply from two wells drilled deep into the bedrock a distance from the tanks. The Virginia Department of Health checks the water monthly and has found no indication of petroleum.
Folks on the south side rely on private wells and haven't noticed a problem.
"No, I ain't had no bad smell or bad taste or nothing," said Donald McClain, Sr., a retired Rubatex Corp. worker who lives across Virginia 607 from the tanks. He built his brick ranch there in 1964, and dug his well 65 feet deep.
Next door, Teresa Taylor wonders why her pet fish die in tap water. She and her husband lived at the site for 16 years in a trailer and never had a problem with their well water.
Four years ago, they built their dream house, a contemporary home with skylights. Taylor thinks the new copper tubing might have killed her fish. Her husband put a filter on their kitchen faucet because it tastes bad, she said.
"I have no complaints about it [the tank farm]. Except they're an eyesore," Taylor said. But, she adds, "they were here first."
Both households volunteered to have their water tested as part of a sampling conducted for the Roanoke Times & World-News by Environmental Directions Inc., a consulting and lab service in Roanoke. The results for all six households were negative.
Wells drilled on the tank farms to monitor ground water, however, have turned up benzene levels many times higher than drinking-water standards.
That's OK, state officials say, as long as it doesn't threaten anyone's drinking water or the state's natural resources. Relying primarily on reports from the companies' hired consultants, they say there is no health risk or environmental threat from the contamination at Montvale.
"It would be hard to justify routine testing of private wells," said Dave Ormes, head of Virginia's above-ground storage tank program. Besides, anyone who had the tiniest amount of oil in their water could taste and smell it immediately, Ormes said.
Gauging ground-water oil pollution is an inexact science at best, experts say. Each site is unique, and myriad factors come into play - the type of petroleum, type of soil, rock formations, rainfall, slope, height of the water table, depth of the bedrock and more.
A 1989 study by the Central Virginia Planning Commission found that, in general, Montvale is the most vulnerable place in Bedford County for ground-water pollution. Contamination can move relatively quickly through its porous limestone, sandy soils and fractured bedrock.
The South Fork of Goose Creek, designated a public water supply by the state, also is vulnerable to oil pollution: It lies within a few yards of the Colonial Pipeline, and it is fed partly from the water table, which is within a few feet of the surface in some spots around the tank farms.
The state, again relying heavily on the companies to check for pollution, says the creek shows no evidence of petroleum.
The environmental testing firm employed by the newspaper found no bad water samples from the creek. But one test of creek-bottom sediment a quarter-mile downstream from the tank farms showed high levels of diesel fuel.
Miles, the DEQ ground water specialist in Roanoke, said there are no standards for hydrocarbon pollution in creek bottoms, although the federal government is looking at the issue.
Without further testing, the source of the diesel pollution in Goose Creek remains unknown.
"They done ruined that creek," said McClain, who used to fish there in his younger years. "There used to be a whole lot of fish in there. Some of them got to be a pretty good size."
Now all he sees are minnows and small fry, and people no longer let their cows drink from the stream.
`I was old hat'
If history had played out according to the oil industry's plan, there would be 35 huge white tanks sitting in Bonsack today.
But in 1962, people in that community hired lawyers and stormed the meeting rooms of Botetourt and Roanoke county officials.
To assuage their opponents' fears, American Oil Co., now Amoco, hosted a tour of a year-old tank farm in Greensboro for the opponents and local officials. Residents told their visitors from Virginia that they had had no problems with the tank farm.
Still, the planning commissions of both counties turned down the oil company's rezoning request. Amoco looked east, and saw Goose Creek Valley.
"I fought them like tooth and nail," said Margaret Garraghty, who has lived all her 80 years on her ancestors' farm at the foot of Porters Mountain, one of the mountain ridges that define the valley.
"I preferred them not to be here because I didn't know about them," said Garraghty, who signed a petition to keep the tank farms out. "But I was old hat. I loved the valley."
The oil companies promised between 150 and 200 jobs, as well as tax dollars and other revenue from their operations and the trucking firms that would follow. Montvale's representatives on the Board of Supervisors and Planning Commission, and the school principal, welcomed the oil companies, recalled Cecil Richards, Jessie's husband.
Only some of the jobs materialized, and many were workers from other areas, specially trained engineers to build the tanks.
Nowadays, most everyone in Montvale says the tanks are no bother, even Bill and Ruth Ferris who plan to move into an old house less than a football field away from Citgo.
Ferris, wearing a Chevron cap as he works his farm behind the tanks, doesn't mind that the view from his front porch gleams white from the huge tanks. Nor is he worried about pollution. His ex-wife lived there for eight years recently, "and she's still living," he said.
"They've been safe all these years," Ruth Ferris added. "Most people around here don't think much about them."
Nor do most people know much about the tank farms. In 32 years, they've never been contacted by the oil companies, or talked with them about emergency plans and environmental concerns.
"I guess they don't feel like they owe us any explanation," Teresa Taylor said. "You wonder how many close calls they've had, if they have people there 24 hours, how serious is it [an emergency] going to be?"
Texaco spokesman Dian Boothe said the company has an "open door" policy, and would be distributing brochures this summer to all the communities where Texaco and Star have tanks "to take some mystery out of the operation."
Such efforts may come too late for some, who have had to learn to live with the tanks after so many years.
"I don't like to see them, but I have just closed my eye to them and learned to accept," Garraghty said. "You do that."
Staff writer Richard Foster contributed information to this story.
by CNB