The Ruston tunnel at the south end of the Tacoma waterfront has reopened, after being shut for weeks while a contractor worked on sewer lines. It's the same dark, narrow, creepy place, with an angle in the sunken roadway partly blocking daylight from the south, and nameless fluids seeping down the walls. No doubt, you still hear an end-of-the-world rumble when a train passes nearly overhead.
The tunnel is the last visible remnant of the huge Tacoma smelter that shut down just 25 years ago, after nearly a century of refining first lead and then, for most of its existence, copper ore beside Commencement Bay.
Some day soon, it's supposed to close for good. A new road will run closer to the water, where smelter buildings once stood, creating a more direct route from Tacoma to the Point Ruston development rising above the old smelter Superfund site. When the tunnel closes — and is filled with lightly-contaminated dirt — there will be no real sign that the smelter ever existed.
Yet it stood there for all but four years of Washington State's first century, emitting to the end more sulfates than Mt. St. Helens. Now, of course, Washington has gotten $111 million from the huge ASARCO environmental bankruptcy settlement to deal with arsenic and other toxic leftovers from the smelter's years of operation.
I remember, many years ago, looking out the window of a Ruston tavern at the smelter's 562-foot brick smokestack. The tavern stood on the bluff above Commencement Bay. It was late afternoon. We could see a smoke plume rise from the stack and drift with the prevailing wind across Dalco Passage toward Vashon Island. The smoke was gray, the forested shore of Vashon dark green. Wait till tonight, a guy next to me said. Under cover of dark, they really put it out. But don't worry, he said, watching the smoke plume drift out across the passage: The people on Vashon are the ones who get it. He didn't know I lived on Vashon. I wasn't reassured.
By that time, the smelter had rained chemicals on the surrounding countryside for generations. Built in 1888, it was rebuilt and reopened two years later by William Rust, who incorporated around it the company town now known as Ruston. In 1905, Rust sold the smelter to the Guggenheims' ASARCO, which subsequently modified it to refine copper mined above Alaska's Copper River. When the rebuilt smelter started up in 1890, Murray Morgan writes in his book Puget's Sound, “Tacoma was proud as the pollution plume of the new plant rose above the Indians' place of the maples and drifted north toward Seattle.” When the tall smokestack was built in 1917, it was the largest in the world.
“In the 1940's,” the EPA says on its website, “ASARCO poured molten slag … into Commencement Bay creating a 23-acre peninsula.” ASARCO didn't stop pouring in the '40s; decades later, people riding the ferry at night from nearby Point Defiance could see carloads of molten slag plunging into the bay amid great eruptions of sparks; on the Ruston waterfront, any night could look like the 4th of July.
When the Clean Air Act passed in 1967, the smelter was pumping 186,000 tons of sulfur dioxide into the air every year. Sometimes, the SO2 combined with water in the air to form sulfuric acid, which rained down and burned the leaves of plants. (The same process took place around copper smelters all over the West. More than a century ago, farmers sued smelter operators for damage to their trees and crops. Some of the first serious efforts to control air pollution were made not in the industrial east but at smelters in the wide open west. Before World War Two, an arbitration panel awarded the United States damages for harm done to Washington crops and trees along the Columbia River by sulfur dioxide emitted by a smelter in Trail, British Columbia. The Trail smelter case is a landmark of international environmental law.)
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