The Fels South Philadelphia Family Center on Broad Street is not a building where you'd expect a debate regarding the future of Philadelphia's water treatment plants to occur. It has none of the imposing statues, high ceilings or mahogany tabletops typical of most conference centers.
Instead, bright finger paintings and cheery fluorescent cut-outs plaster the wall in alternating colors. The podium and slide projector look out-of-place; the men in suits might seem more comfortable trading industry secrets in a dimly-lit bar.
Still, on a blistery cold evening in late January, this room hosts an extremely important meeting: a public hearing held by Philly's Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) to discuss renewing the permits of the city's three water treatment plants. The issue may not seem controversial, but local residents have turned out in full force to protest a major side effect of Philly's troubled water system: continued flooding of their homes.
The room buzzes with members of the Sierra Club, Northern Liberties Neighborhood Association (NLNA) representatives and DEP and Philadelphia Water Department (PWD) spokespeople, who chat amiably before the meeting.
But after the hearing begins, it becomes clear there will be no peaceful resolution to tonight's debate. The PWD's presentation quickly evolves into a passionate deliberation about Philadelphia's water pollution problems.
"Philadelphia Water Department is proud to offer water-treating efforts using the newest technology," PWD spokesman Marc Cammarata beams, just as the Sierra Club blasts his organization for emitting too many chemicals into the water. Embittered activists like Matt Ruben of NLNA then angrily describe the failures of sewage pipes for the Philadelphians they represent. Organizers specifically request that participants not address flooded basements. But conversation invariably returns to the faulty sewage system and the questionable quality of treated water.
The 200 block of West Wildey in Northern Liberties has seen the bulk of the damage. From her neighbor's home, local resident Claire Hollocher complains, "The water department doesn't care about us, and never will." Hollocher, a fiery 70-something, has endured three years of constant flooding, backed-up sewage and fruitless discussions with the PWD, which claims that her problems aren't under its jurisdiction. "I'm tired of waiting for them to fix our problems."
Antiquated Infrastructure
There are 3000 sewers that connect Philadelphia's water supply to its three water treatment plants. When storms occur, half of the neighborhoods in Philadelphia have separate sewers for storm water and sanitary waste. The storm water is transported to a stream, and the sanitary waste goes to one of three water pollution facilities in order to be treated with a range of chemicals. To date, there have been few complaints from these neighborhoods about flooded basements.
For the other half of Philly's neighborhoods, it's a whole different story. The sewers in these neighborhoods (including Northern Liberties) are called combined sewers because they transport both sanitary waste and excess storm water to local waterways like the Delaware River.
While that system sounds feasible in theory, in reality Combined Sewer Overflows (CSO's) are damaging residents' houses. The sewers simply can't transport that much water. So the system backs up, forcing water back from where it came - into people's basements.
"We originally thought that two big storms in the summer of 2004 caused the flooding," says Matt Ruben, a Penn graduate student and former president of the NLNA. "But when flooding occurred even when there weren't big storms, we started to wonder.""
Ruben worked closely with NLNA member Hilary Regan to determine the cause of the frequent flooding.
"I happen to believe one of the main culprits, besides antiquated infrastructure, is construction run-off," Regan said. "A lot of sites haven't been properly managed, and the sewers are clogged with debris."
Many residents blame the debris on the recent surge in real estate development, particularly the extensive construction in Northern Liberties by the controversial Bart Blatstein of Tower Investments, Inc. These projects have left large reserves of sediment that the streets and utility services seem unable, or unwilling, to clear away.
Tower Investments refused to comment on the matter, but local residents say that before the construction boom, flooding happened rarely, if at all.
"I moved here in 1999 and didn't experience any backup in my basement," Northern Liberties resident Gary Hartwell says, sipping a glass of orange juice. "It's a classic combination of rapid development and faulty structure."
"It's greed!" Hollocher shouts from her perch on Hartwell's sofa. "Pure, unfiltered greed!"
Hartwell, whose basement is only five feet high, says that he and Hollocher, in addition to some other neighbors, have devised a system whereby they warn each other the minute a storm hits, so they can monitor the rising water.
He adds, "I think my favorite line of the past few years has been, 'it's happening. again.'"
What's in the water?
While storm water and sanitary waste seeping into basements poses its own problem, local activists are also worried about an equally important issue: the contents and quality of the water after it's been treated.
Under the stipulations of the Federal Clean Water Act of 1972, a cornerstone of federal environmental protection, Philadelphia's water treatment facilities must obtain (and renew) permits in order to discharge any pollutants into the water. The law imposes a variety of standards on how much of each chemical can be released into the waterways.
Local environmentalists, however, say the permits do not do enough to prevent harmful pollution.
The PWD is a self-reporting organization, which means that its own scientists conduct tests to determine the toxicity of the water. They then report these results to the DEP.
"Because PWD is self-reporting," Sierra Club spokeswoman Robin Mann says. "The DEP may not be getting the most accurate information of how many toxic pollutants are actually finding their way into the treated water."
"We are self-reporting," PWD representative Debbie McCarty responds with a stern smile. "But we strictly adhere to pollution emission levels."
Those levels, however, may be the source of the problem. Because the DEP doesn't require certain thresholds of chemicals and metals like silver, lead, zinc, and copper, there is no way to monitor the amount that gets poured into the water. "The current permit doesn't set any pollution limits for a variety of toxic pollutants," says David Masur, director and founder of PennEnvironment Research and Policy Center, a non-profit organization dedicated to researching solutions for Pennsylvania's environmental issues.
Masur believes that the DEP, instead of trying to use the best available technology to reduce pollution, is instead merely rubber stamping legislation that could possibly have disastrous health effects upon Philadelphia's residents who come into contact with water.
"We think that these carcinogens cause neurological effects," Masur says. "There's no direct cause and effect, but we shouldn't have to connect the dots. We know they're bad for us.""
Local organizations that use the waterways recreationally are especially at risk. Take Dana Fry for example, of the Philadelphia Canoe Club. Most Sundays she can be seen paddling on the Schuylkill, training with the club's other members.
Before she canoes, Fry checks Philly RiverCast, a PWD Web site that predicts the conditions of the waters and lets water users know whether it's safe for water sports. One week, however, the site was far off in its predictions.
"The computer told us it was safe to go in because it predicted a fish-kill for a different day," she says, referencing the sudden destruction of the river's aquatic life. "Unfortunately for us, the contaminants were in the water the day that we were on the river, and we canoed right into [it]."
But DEP spokesman Dennis Harney dismisses the allegations that the water could be harmful, saying that "the public isn't at risk."
That may not hold true for homeowners who encounter flooded sewage in their basements.
At the hearing, Dr. James Plumb of Physicians for Social Responsibility testified that he has treated patients who have become sick due to the backups of sewage in their basement. Residents are put in danger not only through direct contact with polluted water, but also from patches of mold that grow in the moist, dark spaces. This growth can cause respiratory or asthma-related ailments, says Penn environmental medicine professor Marilyn Howarth.
Besides the physical effects, residents have also suffered financially. Ubirajara Nascimento, a homeowner in Northern Liberties and one of Hartwell's neighbors, lost his central air conditioning and heating systems after the first flood in 2004.
"I worked for a few months to earn the money to reinstall the systems," Nascimento said. "Then another storm hit, the basement flooded and I lost them again."
Hartwell also experienced vast devastation, eventually shelling out $30,000 dollars to pay for damages, including buying a new water heater and reinstalling phone lines.
Because rainfall is deemed an "act of god," PWD doesn't issue reimbursements to Northern Liberties residents for the damages they incur. Neither do insurance agencies. In fact, many of them have even dropped clients such as Hartwell and Nascimento for having filed too many claims.
Hollocher is quick to point out the discrepancy. "Storms may be an act of god," she declares, raising her arms in the air, "but CSO's aren't."
Possible Remedies
For Robin Mann, any solution to the twin issues of flooding and polluted water must involve more diligent notification.
When CSO's occur, residents usually have little to no warning because PWD isn't required to notify the residents. In New York, by contrast, the water department is required, by law, to post signs along the rivers that are contaminated.
Mann believes that it would be easy to implement such a system, simply by posting a message online warning residents about water problems that day or by posting signs along the river when a large amount of pollutants contaminate the water.
The best option may be to dig up the existing pipes and replace them with an entirely new structure. "It would be beneficial to rip out the old combined pipes," environmental science professor Frederick Scatena said. "If they're replaced with new ones that separate the sewage and storm water, that would help stop the backups into homes."
The problem with that solution, Scatena acknowledges, is the exorbitant costs that such a project would entail - funds the city simply doesn't have.
Final Impressions
For Hollocher and Hartwell, speaking to a reporter is more tiring than exhilarating. The media has addressed their problem in the past to no avail, so they're skeptical that further change can come from awareness alone.
They're wary when it comes to discussing their friends who became sick from encountering sewage in their basements, and even Hollocher (who has taken hundreds of pictures of the floods since their first occurrences) seems resigned to living out her life surrounded by water when it rains.
For environmentalists, however, this is only the beginning. They have no choice but to keep barreling on, regardless of their chances for success.
"We know that exposure to the bacteria and metals in the water is harmful to one's health," Masur argues at the end of January's meeting. "What we don't know is to what extent - but the onus is on the government to prove that it won't hurt us, as opposed to our proving that it does."
And though Philly's water treatment plants won't find out whether they receive the permits until February 22nd, there's still plenty of work to be done before then.
"The Water Department acknowledges they have no idea what's causing the flooding," Regan says. "That doesn't give us much hope, but we still want to get to the bottom of it."
As the hearing comes to a close, tension in the room still percolates, but members of all organizations get up and shake hands. Good manners dictate common courtesies, even though few agree on how to fix the problem.
Dana Fry heads to the corner where Dr. Plumb and Matt Ruben discuss the night in low undertones. David Masur wearily pats Robin Mann on the back, and they nod briskly at Dennis Harney.
For the residents of Northern Liberties, tonight has been just one more meeting. For the activists, it's further proof of governmental neglect.
"We need to take a stronger stand," Masur says, putting on his coat. "Not only to save the environment, but to save ourselves"
