Gov. Andrew Cuomo will soon decide whether to allow hydrofracking, a process of pumping water, chemicals and sand underground to extract natural gas from shale bedrock, in New York. Proponents say it is safe and will provide much-needed energy and boost the state's economy. Critics say that it will waste water, contaminate drinking water supplies and further contribute to air pollution.
In late September, Cuomo spoke at Boreas Pond in North Hudson to highlight the acquisition by the state of 69,000 acres of pristine land for public use. He called it a generational gift to our children and grandchildren and an example of government at its best.
"Are we using our time here to make this place a better place and do we leave it better than we found it?" he asked rhetorically. "That to me is the bottom line with all these things that we do."
How will his concerns for preserving New York's environment balance against his continuing campaign for economic growth in the fracking decision?
The theme of environmental risk vs. economic benefit has played out many times in New York, most dramatically in the infamous Love Canal crisis.
In 1894, Niagara Falls developer William Love proposed a model city of 200,000 people with factories, parks, and other amenities. It would be powered by inexpensive electricity generated by a canal to be excavated between the upper and lower levels of the Niagara River. Love was politically well-connected, so he arranged to address a joint session of the Legislature to promote his visionary scheme. The Legislature passed a law establishing the Modeltown Development Corporation with sweeping powers to condemn land and divert water from the upper Niagara River, even to the point of turning off Niagara Falls.
Love went to work with great fanfare, acquiring land and beginning canal construction. But soon the economy was in a depression, and funding evaporated. Congress passed a law restricting private infringement on Niagara Falls. Advances in electricity generation and transmission technology made it unnecessary for industry to locate near sources of electrical power. Modeltown failed, a casualty of overhyped development schemes. The sole remaining feature was a short segment of his proposed canal, in the LaSalle section of Niagara Falls.
Soon, Niagara Falls became a major center for the chemical industry. By 1970, there were nine major chemical-producing companies in Niagara County, employing nearly 5,300 people. The state Commerce Department highlighted the chemical industry's economic contributions.
But there was a downside, the toxic wastes created through chemical production. The county sprouted more than 100 chemical dumps. One Niagara Falls company, Hooker Chemical, acquired the abandoned Love canal site and dumped nearly 22,000 tons of chemical wastes there from 1942 to 1953. The city and the Army also dumped refuse there. Hooker sealed the site using the approved containment technology of the day, heavily packed clay soil.
The city's population expanded as its chemical and other industries grew, and the public demanded more schools. The school district saw the Love Canal site as the perfect location for a new school, and threatened to take the land by eminent domain. Hooker acquiesced, sold it for a dollar in 1953, warned chemicals were buried there, but disclaimed liability. The school was built and soon homes also were constructed around the old canal.
In the late 1970's, heavy rains washed away the clay barrier and began exposing the toxic chemicals. Neighbors complained of health problems. The local press carried investigative news stories, alarmed homeowners demanded action and the state ordered an evacuation.
The Love Canal had become a "Public Health Time Bomb" in the words of a state report. State and federal authorities bought up contaminated homes. Chemicals were excavated from the topsoil, flushed from sewers, and dredged out of nearby creeks. The crisis brought new laws, including the federal Superfund, to clean up contaminated sites nationwide.
A hard lesson had been learned. Cleaning up Love Canal had cost nearly $400 million and left behind lingering health concerns. Occidental Petroleum, which purchased Hooker Chemical in 1968, was fined $129 million to help pay for the Love Canal cleanup. Oxy, as it is now known, is a leading developer of natural gas and is considering using hydrofracking in California.
Lois Gibbs, the Niagara Falls activist who led the crusade against Love Canal, went on to found the Center for Health, Environment and Justice (http://chej.org), a national organization that fights environmental threats. These days, she is crusading these days against fracking, which she says already has "destroyed people's land, water, air, property and health."
There is an analogy to Love Canal: decisions to promote economic growth may mask long-term, disastrous environmental consequences that show up years later and are next to impossible to correct. Fracking is another example of irresponsible corporate greed, she says.
Cuomo counters that hydrofracking won't come without a longer review that will yield more data. He says "it will be a more defensible review in the event we're challenged."
The state was challenged, of course, during the Love Canal episode for not having done more beforehand to prevent it, and for not giving even greater aid to those damaged by it.
"Anyone can ring the fire alarm," a somewhat exasperated Gov. Hugh Carey said in 1980. "It takes a lot of money to send the fire engines out. We've sent them out. We know what it costs."
Critics scoffed.
"He is trying to get off the hook," Gibbs retorted.
Boreas Pond is distant from the potential gas drilling sites in New York's Southern Tier, but the governor's comments about passing things on better than we found them seem relevant as he considers the fracking issue. The story of missteps and consequences stretching back to William Love shows how difficult it is for New York to balance economic development with environmental protection.
Bruce W. Dearstyne of Guilderland is an adjunct professor at the University of Maryland. He previously was a program director at the New York State Archives.