Judge Eckels thinks globally. Better to have petrochemical plants here, where at least some controls keep emissions in check and the county can press the state for tighter regulations and strict enforcement of existing rules. The alternative, he notes, may be worse -- have them locate in Louisiana, a polluter's nirvana, or Mexico, and get hit by the fumes anyway. By keeping American Acryl and others away from Harris County, he says, "We solve our problem in the local community, but on the global scale we're making things worse."
That's small consolation for Frank Bettencourt, an El Jardin resident who bought a brand-new home almost two years ago. At the time, the location offered the perfect atmosphere to produce his paintings and laser shows, and it gave his wife an easy commute to her job at NASA.
Beset by chronic health problems, they regret the move. "Until we came here, I'd never had a sinus infection," Bettencourt says. "I've had one for eight months. I'd never had an ear infection. I've had one for eight months. I've had pneumonia; I've had bronchitis."
His physician has no doubt that exposure to chemicals from the nearby plants is to blame and has recommended Bettencourt move away to save himself. "My wife and I are having problems with whatever they're venting," he wheezes convincingly. "She's short of breath; I'm short of breath."
The thought of another plant within a couple of miles doesn't appeal to Bettencourt, and he's filed for a formal hearing before the TNRCC to register his feelings, which citizens can do if they can demonstrate potential adverse effects from a new facility. He's also protested American Acryl before the Seabrook city council and has tried to rally his neighbors, with marginal success. "There seems to be a lot of apathy, like there's nothing we can do about it," Bettencourt says.
Apathy wasn't an issue in 1992, when Chi Mei Industrial Co. wanted to build a plant in almost the same location. An outcry from Seabrook residents caused Chi Mei, which had already bought the land, to withdraw.
Compared to the American Acryl project, Chi Mei looked like a winner: 300 jobs as opposed to 125, fewer projected emissions and no hazardous waste incinerator. And compared to Elf Atochem, Chi Mei came across like a flag-waving environmentalist.
But residents didn't want another chemical plant in the neighborhood. They were still smarting from the encroachment of the other plants, which had happened contrary to the belief dating back to the 1960s that no petrochemical facilities would be built east of Highway 146.
Burned out from previous duels or distracted by the port threat, however, the residents just don't have the energy to mount an offensive this time. American Acryl's careful coddling has also weakened resistance to the project. "The focus has changed to the port expansion," agrees Pete Bracchio.
The company has seized on the lack of organized opposition to dismiss those who have stepped forward as a tiny minority who wouldn't be happy unless a total moratorium on development were declared in the area. A better gauge of community feelings, says John Gehbauer, is the number of locals who have already sent in their resumes for the jobs the plant will create. "There are a handful of vocal people against American Acryl, and they have several handfuls of associates," Gehbauer says. "We're talking about a small number of people who oppose this, or any plant."
Gehbauer is probably right, at least about the core issue. "As far as I'm concerned, I am not for any more emissions," Bracchio says. "We have plants that do not belong here to begin with."
Without a coordinated grassroots effort, the chances of keeping American Acryl out are practically zero. Except for individual city councilmembers like Bracchio, officials in Pasadena, Seabrook and other municipalities that have the standing to make a formal protest haven't expressed qualms about the plant. Instead, they'll rely on the experts to declare the plant safe and ready to fire up. "Basically, our position is that you've got the EPA and the TNRCC and Harris County Pollution Control looking at the [air quality] problem," says Pasadena spokesman Benson, "and I don't think the city feels it wants to get involved."
If the operation proves profitable, American Acryl sees the proposed plant as only the first step in a long-term development scheme. "The construction of this proposed facility may result in the opportunity for future expansions," notes the company's tax abatement application. Of the 137-acre parcel that can be developed, Gehbauer points out, the current plant design requires only about 50. "You've got plenty of room," he says.
As more plants move in, the critical mass of raw materials and feedstocks make the area ever more attractive to other American Acryls. For the residents of Seabrook and El Jardin -- and everyone else in the region who makes daily contact with the hundreds of chemicals floating around in the breeze -- the only options are to move or hope that nothing bad comes of it. "If it was that big a concern," says Benson, "probably we wouldn't live in the Houston metro area."
Frank Bettencourt puts it more simply, with a sigh: "Around here, that's just the way life is.
