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Gob Story

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Everyone here wants ExxonMobil to cover the waste, but they say the company's plan will do little to prevent rainwater from falling onto the pile and leaching contaminants into the aquifer below. Under the proposed clean-up strategy, two and a half feet of tightly compacted soil would blanket the waste. Lime would be added to raise the pH of moisture that saturates the pile, minimizing the possibility of acidic liquid leaching metals into the aquifer below. The method is common for capping coal-waste piles in the state, acknowledges Ronald Yarbrough, a geologist hired by Jerry and Lana Korte's attorney. But most waste piles don't sit atop water tables that are only ten feet underground, he says. "This is a unique situation, because you've got a groundwater problem here."

Robert Johnson, who represents investors hoping to buy land near the gob pile, says a synthetic covering similar to those used to cap municipal landfills should be used atop the waste to minimize the amount of moisture seeping through the pile. "Covering the pile with some dirt and pumping some water for a while will not remediate anything," he claims.

Illinois EPA director Renee Cipriano acknowledged in an October 28, 2003, letter to Johnson that the EPA preferred using a synthetic cover "because it would minimize infiltration to the greatest extent." But, Cipriano went on to say, "[T]he synthetic cover would require very long term care to maintain its low permeability."

Animals could dig holes in the synthetic covering, allowing rainwater inside, argues Lynn Dunaway, of the EPA's water bureau. In addition, he says, with a soil-and-grass cover, rainwater will evaporate or be absorbed by plants on top of the pile before it ever reaches the aquifer.

Yarbrough scoffs at the idea that a soil covering is superior to rubber for keeping out rainwater. "Cost was part of the equation," Dunaway counters. "[Exxon] said if they were not spending money on a synthetic cover, they could spend it on a drinking-water system."

Jerry and Lana Korte's attorney questions why money played a role in the decision at all. "I think it would be good for the EPA to recognize that ExxonMobil is the third-largest corporation on earth," Penni Livingston says. "They have lots of money."

In 2002, the same year the state agreed not to sue ExxonMobil, the company posted earnings of $11.5 billion on revenues of $204 billion.

Jennifer Malacarne, who lives twenty miles south in Venedy, believes the coal waste should be relocated into a clay- or rubber-lined landfill away from any shallow aquifer. "Just like any other hazardous waste," she says.

But coal waste is not considered hazardous under federal regulations, notes EPA spokesman Britton. "It's not flammable, it has naturally occurring minerals," he explains. "These aren't in the category of manmade toxic wastes."

Some residents, including road commissioner Langenhorst, question if water in the Kaskaskia River will be fit to drink after the contaminated groundwater and runoff from the pile is dumped into it. Langenhorst has refused to sign an easement for the pipeline, which would have to pass under the township's roads. "We probably can't stop them," he concedes. "But we can be a pain in their side for a while."

Effluent from the gob pile will contain sulfate levels that are nine times higher than drinking-water standards and chloride and manganese levels nearly twice the legal limit. Despite assurances from the state that the groundwater and runoff does not contain heavy metals such as arsenic, some people are upset that the discharge will only be tested for metals once every eight years.

At a hearing this past summer at the Albers American Legion Hall just west of Germantown, locals said they want Exxon to build a water-treatment plant to remove contaminants from the groundwater before it is dumped into the river. That would be too expensive and unnecessary, answered Larry Crislip, permit manager for the EPA's mine-pollution control program.

Under the proposed plan, the extracted groundwater would instead be routed through a series of ditches and ponds. Through contact with the air, iron and manganese levels would be reduced before the water reached the Kaskaskia. At the river, the effluent would come out of a twelve-inch pipeline on one bank. According to calculations provided by Exxon, water in the river will dilute contaminants to levels that make it safe to drink within 75 feet of the discharge point. The nearest intake for a rural water district is 25 miles downstream, state officials say.

At the hearing in Albers, Eric Netemeyer, a dairy farmer who lives near the gob pile, questioned whether there will be enough water in the Kaskaskia to dilute the effluent during dry summers. According to state officials, Exxon based its calculations on 1984 data from the state water survey, which predicted the Kaskaskia would only flow at 69 cubic feet per second in a worst-case drought scenario. But during most of the summer, water released from the dam on Lake Carlyle, 25 miles to the north, only flows at 50 cubic feet per second, says Jody Harris, a park ranger for the Army Corps of Engineers, which operates the dam.

"This summer, when we had this drought and we weren't getting any rain, the Kaskaskia River wasn't even flowing," Dot Timmerman asserts.

If the state grants a permit to discharge effluent into the river, Exxon's Monterey Coal Company will be required to sample river water three times each month and analyze it for sulfates, iron, chlorides, manganese, total suspended solids, pH and the ratio of alkalinity to acidity. That doesn't sit well with Michelle Langenhorst, who lives near the waste pile and is related to the road commissioner. "Monterey did some of the testing [of well water] at our homes," she said during the hearing in August. "Some of the residents here have hired independent testing of our groundwater. And our lab's results were completely different from Monterey's results. And I just want to know: Who keeps Monterey acredible [sic] for the test results? So far, it's been nobody."

While a state inspector will occasionally visit the site, the EPA's Crislip admitted during the hearing that "this is an honor system on the sampling and analysis on their part."

That's not good enough for road commissioner Langenhorst. "I just think that the EPA should remember that they're the Environmental Protection Agency and not the Exxon protection agency," he said at the hearing. "As far as I'm concerned, Exxon and Monterey -- we really do not consider them neighbors, and I don't know of anybody around here that really does."

"Everybody wants it fixed," Germantown Township supervisor Warren Strieker added. "We just want to make sure that it's done for the best interest of everybody that lives here, because we're stuck with it."

Later this month state officials will respond in writing to comments made at the August hearing. Then EPA director Cipriano will decide whether to go forward with the plan.

Meantime, back at Germantown City Hall, Gerald Kohnen, the town's six-foot, six-inch mayor, stands to leave with the rest of the bunch. The sun has set, and the cold night air meets them at the door.

Later, Kohnen speaks of the locals who come into his heating and cooling business and ask him what he thinks of the gob pile. "You look at that pile and the winds coming from that direction and you think: 'What am I breathing?'" one farmer told him recently.

"I tell them I don't know and I don't think our EPA knows either," the mayor goes on, "because they seem to be hiding their heads in the sand. Exxon is such a mighty company, and we don't have the clout with the government. I just know we need to get this thing solved."

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