Friday, January 29, 2010
At the risk of making a pun on "moral bankruptcy"...
At the risk of making a pun on "moral bankruptcy"...
We apologize if this week’s front-pager on the landfill owners’ bankruptcy woes seems convoluted. Imagine how we felt trying to piece together all of the players in this bizarre saga for you.
It’s the story of a few Georgia real estate bigwigs and some multi-million dollar businesses; a confusing shell game of small corporations whose owners are difficult to pinpoint; money of dubious origin; one of the largest and most bulletproof public utilities in the nation; and corrupt or incompetent or apathetic government officials at every level.
It’s a story about greed, and the way greed warps people, makes them view the very earth itself as something to be exploited and stripped and pumped for every last dollar it will yield up. The way greed makes human lives, thousands of them, no more important than figures on a ledger.
It’s the story of Perry County, and in one way or another it’s been our story for as long as these borders have existed. There is no way around it; our county and its long-gone riches were built on the backs of oppressed and enslaved human beings. This is a story the people here know well. But that kind of oppression, when white citizens here made vast fortunes by owning the lives of their black brethren, is gone. We are all in it together now.
Perry County has had a hard, painful road towards reconciliation. Its citizens, black and white, still often have a difficult time trusting each other in light of our troubled history. But we’re trying. Look around you: the people, the regular citizens of Perry County, are not its problem.
We may disagree on politics, but we sit together at Commission and City Council meetings and treat each other, mostly, with respect. We are working, just by living here together, toward building a future for this home of ours. We know, and have for a long time, that we all need the same basic things out of life, and as long as we need them together, we can seek them together.
The old bad guys are dead and in the ground. The new ones drive SUVs with Fulton County plates.
…put down your Blackberrys, guys, and stay your attorneys. We don’t mean you’re “bad people.” But in this story, you are the villains.
You’re chasing the American Dream, of course, just trying to make a dollar, providing the country with the valuable and much-needed service of efficient and affordable solid waste disposal. You came by your permits legally, and with the full-throated blessing of Perry County’s elected representatives, who were, after all, just trying to get a little revenue for their little cash-strapped county.
No matter.
Here’s our fear: no amount of money will be able to make up for what the landfill, particularly the coal ash deal, has wrought. The City of Marion has met with ADEM’s furrowed brow over its handling of leachate from the Uniontown facility. While an environmental lawsuit against the city has been halted along with the leachate shipments themselves, environmentalists tell us hazardous materials have already made it form the treatment pond into Rice Creek. If that’s not bad enough, we have seen what appears to be photographic evidence of landfill workers in Uniontown pumping the sludge onto the ground right next to Chilhatchee Creek. Marion may get unscathed, but we wouldn’t bet on it. Phillips & Jordan can afford to pay whatever fines it may incur for whatever its employees may or may not have done. Can the city?
The investors who are taking the bulk of the $95 million generated by the coal ash contract will never have to set foot in our county again once the landfill outlives its usefulness. They’ll never drink our water, or breathe our air, or eat bream from our creeks. They can call the shots from offices with glitzy addresses, never get s speck of ash on their hands, and endorse fat checks until those pristine fingers need a latte break. Can you?
Our elected officials are, for the most part, already better off than anyone who will read this paper. They get power (a teensy little bit, but that’s enough to satisfy most people), they get to rub elbows with folks who have even more money and power than they do, and they get the feeling of knowing they have done something “good” for the people whose lives they govern: they got a smattering of cold, hard cash to spend on pet projects. Feeling warm and fuzzy yet?
This, if we must remind you, is the county where people were willing to sacrifice their livelihoods, their personal safety, even their lives in the struggle for the right to vote, the right to say, “In this small way, my voice matters. I have a say, and mine is worth as much as yours is, no matter who you are.” That voice is now all but drowned out by the sons of the men who fought to get it.
Do you remember the smirks the landfill investors wore as they sat in the bleachers of RC Hatch’s auditorium, a deafening cry directed right at them, telling them, “We don’t want this landfill?” We remember. It’s the same look our elected leaders get when we plebes dare to question their wisdom. It’s the look Franklin Hill gave us when he came to tell us how EPA was going to make sure nothing bad happened here. That look is the look of power, certain of its rightness. Or, if not of rightness, at least of the fact that it will get what it wants.
They get it all, we get their trash.
Or maybe not. Environmental lawsuits get filed one minute, leachate shipments stop the next. A few weeks after that, the owners of the landfill are asking for bankruptcy protection. Doesn’t mean anything’s going to change just yet, far from it. Every statement these fellows have released takes pains to reassure the public the landfill will press on even through these trying times.
Here’s what it does mean: somebody listened. John Wathen listened. David Ludder listened. When people, regular, good, voiceless people like Jackie Fike and Ruby Holmes pleaded for help, money clouded the judgment of anyone who could have. The fatcats saw money, as did your elected officials, and even ADEM. TVA and EPA saw a way out of that embarrassing little flap up in Tennessee.
Fortunately for us, someone looked at Perry County and saw something besides a poor, ignorant little county no one’s heard of, with cheap land and cheaper politicians for the taking. Someone looked down here and saw, of all things, people. Human beings, whose very quality of life had become a mere casualty of the quest to collect as many little green pieces of paper as you can before you die. And somebody realized that was wrong.
When we can step outside of the endless pursuit of more and see that all those things we’re knocking over to get at it have eyes and mouths and names and beating hearts like ours, we’re not so quick to leave them lying in our wake. It’s a lesson Perry County has come by honestly. Will this fiasco finally teach its leaders?
Landfill bankrupt?
Bankruptcy proceedings will halt pending environmental lawsuits against the two owners of PCA Arrowhead Landfill in Uniontown, but they won’t stop shipments from coal ash from coming to the Perry County facility. Two business entities that own the landfill, Perry-Uniontown Venture I (PUV) and Perry County Associates (PCA), began Chapter 11 bankruptcy proceedings Tuesday in Mobile’s U.S. District Court, Southern District.
Environmental lawyer David Ludder entered notices of intent to sue the two companies in December of last year on behalf of Perry County citizens living near the landfill. The notices allege violations of the federal Solid Waste Disposal Act and Clean Air Act following the disposal of what environmentalists say is potentially hazardous and toxic coal ash waste there.
“When a party files for bankruptcy, the law imposes an automatic stay against the filing of new litigation against that entity,” Ludder said Wednesday. As long as both companies’ cases remain in bankruptcy court, he said, the environmental lawsuits cannot proceed. “That doesn’t mean we are without options,” he said. Ludder said he could not yet elaborate on what those options might be.
PCA and PUV claim they are owed substantial amounts of money by Phillips and Jordan, a large regional contracting firm that has worked closely with the Tennessee Valley Authority for decades, and Phill-Con Services, an entity created by Phillips and Jordan to operate the Uniontown landfill. Phill-Con has also worked in waste disposal in northern New Jersey, and is one of the firms overseeing the cleanup of the Emory River following the Kingston ash spill. These two companies, though they have no apparent ownership in the landfill itself, were hired by PUV and PCA to operate the facility when it opened in 2007.
P&J and Phill-Con have a $95 million contract to dispose of coal ash from TVA’s 2008 Kingston Coal Plant disaster. Perry County Commission will receive about $3 million of that as part of a “host county fee.” The complaint says Perry County Commission is owed over $700,000 in fees that P&J has failed to pay.
Perry County Commissioner Brett Harrison said he knew money from the landfill was in fact coming into county bank accounts because he had seen printouts of the quarterly wire transfers. The last payment came at the end of December. He said the county had been paid close to $1 million in the agreement so far.
Harrison said had spoken with representatives from PUV since news of the bankruptcy broke. Based on what he had been told, Harrison said all landfill contracts should remain in effect, although he acknowledged the bankruptcy could slow down payments.
Jeffery J. Hartley is the Mobile bankruptcy attorney retained by PUV. In a statement released Monday, Hartley blamed the bankruptcy on “Phillips and Jordan’s refusal to turn over monies to ownership, to make payments they had agreed to make, or to provide a proper accounting of the funds.”
The release goes on to allege that P&J have received “more than sufficient funds” to make payments to PUV and PCA, but failed to do so. As a result, the owners “had no choice but to petition the court to seek Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection while it reorganizes,” Hartley said. Despite the bankruptcy proceedings, Hartley said his clients have “all the elements necessary to pay its obligations, to be profitable, and to ensure safe disposal of coal ash.”
Hartley’s release touted the landfill as a “public-private partnership,” saying it has created an “unprecedented economic boost” for Perry County.
Phill Con Services’ website lists Stuart C. Davis of Mobile as its “project executive.” When contacted by the Herald about the allegations against his company in the bankruptcy case Wednesday, Davis was mum, saying he was “on the road all the time” and had “no earthly idea” about the matter.
Besides halting legal action against the facility’s owners, the bankruptcy proceedings help to reveal the complicated nature of the landfill’s business organization. Rather than a single business venture, the landfill is the product of many large and small corporations and limited liability companies, along with a large group of loosely connected personalities whose level of involvement with the project at any given time is often murky.
Atlanta real estate businessmen Larry Matthews [by way of another corporation Matthews formed a year before, SKS International, Inc.], Charles Dinsmore, and Charles Bartenfeld formed Perry County Associates in 1999. Matthews became the public face of “the landfill” in Perry County years before construction even began on the facility. He attended several public hearings in Uniontown while working to gain a landfill permit on the 1113-acre Pitts property south of Uniontown.
That property, however, never belonged to Matthews. Another Georgia real estate developer, Brent Scarbrough, owned the parcel until 2006 when Matthews’ company finally gained the permit it needed to operate a Subtitle D landfill from Alabama’s Dept. of Environmental Management. Scarbrough then sold the land to newly created Perry-Uniontown Venture I for about $16.5 million. Under Alabama law, landfill permits are tied to a parcel of land itself, not the landowner or landfill operator.
At the same time, PUV purchased 231 acres from the Goodson family for $1.5 million. Mike Smith, an attorney in Tuscaloosa who married into the Goodson family, appeared at Perry County’s first public hearing on the landfill to speak out against the landfill. At that time, he said he was concerned over the potential harm it could cause to Perry County’s environment. After the land sale, however, Smith was retained by PCA and PUV as part of their team of attorneys. Since that time, Smith has often appeared at Perry County meetings speaking on behalf of the landfill owners.
It is unclear who currently owns Perry County Associates. Reporters from the Herald attempted to reach Matthews on his cellular phone, but were unsuccessful. Matthews is also a broker for ReMax realty in Georgia, and according to his website, sells real estate through his family company, the Matthews Group. A receptionist at S&D Associates, the ReMax office in Duluth, Georgia through which Matthews works, said she did not know how to reach him. “He’s probably only been in this office one time,” she said. The phone number on Matthews’ website redirects callers to an automated ReMax broker directory.
The major investor behind Perry-Uniontown Venture I, and an as-yet unused entity formed in 2007, Perry-Uniontown Venture II, is Atlanta real-estate heir John K. Porter. According to unsubstantiated reports, Porter may also now own Perry County Associates in its entirety. Porter was the single largest contributor to former Perry County Commission Chairman Johnny Flowers’ failed bid for re-election in 2006, and his only public visit to Perry County was during that election cycle.
At that time, Porter and Matthews held a press conference on the Perry County Courthouse lawn expressing their support of Flowers’ candidacy. At that time, Porter also announced plans to build what he called a “waste-to-energy” plant at the [at the time, proposed] landfill site. He and Matthews claimed that very little of the waste sent to the facility would actually be put in the ground, and most would be processed and burned to generate electricity for the region. As yet, such a facility has yet to materialize. A prominent member of the Atlanta business community, Porter works for international commercial real estate brokers CB Richard Ellis, Inc.
CB Richard Ellis, which often works with Phillips and Jordan, was one of the firms PUV hired to develop the landfill site in 2006. Ellis employee John Delvac took the lead in developing the site and emceed the landfill’s “grand opening” in 2007. When the Herald contacted him last year regarding the coal ash contract, Delvac said his involvement with the project had ended when construction ended and the landfill was open. On Wednesday, however, Delvac contacted the Herald and forwarded Hartley’s press release to its newsroom. At that time, Delvac said he was “still involved” with the venture. He directed any further questions on the matter to Guy McCullough, who he called “our PR guy.” McCullough owns an advertising firm based in Birmingham.
Perry-Uniontown Venture I’s bankruptcy filings also reveal the creditors holding the 20 largest unsecured claims against it. While PUV’s complaint claims Phillips and Jordan and Phill-Con Services are withholding large sums of money they owe the landfill owners, filings reveal that P&J and Phill-Con are also two of the firm’s largest creditors. According to filings, Phillips and Jordan holds a $4 million lein against PUV, and Phill-Con Services is owed $2.5 million in trade debt from the landfill owners.
PUV also lists two other companies owned by its owner John K. Porter as major creditors: it owes nearly $2 million in trade debt to Porter’s corporation Team Porter, Inc. and has a $600,000 loan from Briarcliff 55 LLC, another Porter concern.
Insurance giant Metropolitan Life loaned PUV about $1.25 million, as did Ensign Peak Advisors Inc, a Utah investment firm affiliated with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
Perry County Commission is listed as a major creditor; with PUV claiming it owes the county around $780,000 in hosting fees. The company also says it owes Alabama’s Dept. of Revenue around $11,000 in sales tax. Filings also say PUV owes a $10,000 loan to Seagull Consulting II, an information technology firm based in Naples, Florida; a $7,695.54 trade debt to First Insurance Funding Corp.; a $5,395.24 loan to Georgia law firm Hartman Simons, which incorporated both Perry Uniontown Venture I and II; a $4,112.30 trade debt to Sadat Associates, a Trenton NJ environmental engineering firm; and $242.25 to Smith & Staggs, Mike Smith’s Tuscaloosa law firm.
The filings list the firm’s unsecured debts, but its largest creditor by far is the mortgage holder on the Uniontown landfill property itself, a Florida-based private equity firm known as Palm Beach Multi-Strategy Fund, to which PUV mortgaged the property for its $16.5 million purchase price in 2006. Palm Beach is part of a group of around 25 business entities affiliated with Palm Beach Capital Management. That bank itself filed for bankruptcy protection late last year following fallout from its participation in a multi-billion dollar Ponzi scheme headed up by Minnesota businessman Tom Petters.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Why all the blogging all of a sudden?
Compson Sartain's take on coal ash
…but I’m learning more about coal ash than I ever wanted to know. First of all, we’re pretty sure now that the coal ash from the now famous TVA spill is coming to the Perry County Landfill. We’ll likely be giving a home to all three million tons of it. Now, the $1 per ton tipping fee the county gets from the landfill would help out our general funds considerably—especially now that the county is considering making good on its promise to split the money with Marion and Uniontown, if, that is, they play ball—but there are still some concerns. Despite some reports that such material is not hazardous, we’re pretty sure that it is. Why would you need to clean up a spilled anything if it wasn’t hazardous? If this isn’t enough to alarm y’all alarmists out there, consider the report from independent scientists from Duke University, who tested this particular coal ash for its dangerous content. Most alarmingly, they found a considerably higher percentage of arsenic and radium (which is radioactive) than one normally finds in coal ash. Now, we’re reassured that if things are done properly, if the plastic lining of the landfill doesn’t rupture, if the underlying layer of chalk does in fact help safeguard the ground water, if the coal ash remains securely covered to prevent toxic airborne dust, if we never ever ever have a torrential rain that overflows the landfill, and if every person along the long chain of people who have to do everything just right does in fact do everything just right, we should all be fine with nothing to worry about. But how often does that happen in Perry County, or in the world anywhere? If everything was being done just right, this stuff wouldn’t have been spilled in the first place.
…but even though I’m not very good at math, my wife is, and she checked my numbers on this one. If even a very small amount of this coal ash is hazardous, say one-one-thousandth of one percent—which sounds tiny—of this stuff that is what we’d call bad stuff, that would still be 300 tons of pure bad stuff in our back yards. Sounds like a lot to me.
…but several of our leaders flew in a private TVA plant to negotiate with TVA officials to dump the coal ash in our dump. I think it matters who went: Commissioners Albert Turner, Tim Sanderson, Marion Councilman Corin Harrison, and Uniontown Mayor Jamal Hunter all took the trip, but so did Commissioners Fairest Cureton and Clarence Black, who won their commission seats on campaign promises to fight the landfill. Looks like the fight is over, and we’ve established the dollar value of a campaign promise.
…but I wonder, what with all the improvements being made to Vaiden Field—our own airport—and with the fact that the more use that airport sees, the more grant money it will be able to get—and with all the commission’s talk of what a good and useful economic tool the airport could be for the Black Belt, why all of these people chose to fly out of Craig Field in Selma, probably driving right past Vaiden on their way out of town. I think every one of us should ask them. A lot.
June 18, 2009
…but I’m sorry that we’re becoming Coal Ash Weekly around here, but this stuff just won’t go away. As a matter of fact, it’s coming. Ever since the TVA spill of this stuff, officials have been looking for a place to put the mess once it gets cleaned up. Despite EPA tests that have revealed highly toxic and even radioactive substances in said coal ash, TVA—the people who spilled the ash—and the EPA—the people who have to negotiate with the needs of large organizations and who in so doing have never ever lied to any member of the public ever under any circumstances in the history of its existence—say the coal ash is as safe as mother’s milk. I suppose that depends on the dietary habits of said metaphorical mother. If she lives on a steady diet of arsenic and radium, then I guess the analogy might hold up. Hypothetically toxic teats notwithstanding, I have to return to my persistent question: if this stuff is so safe, why bother cleaning it up when it spills? I won’t feel comfortable until I see a delegation from EPA and TVA standing on the courthouse square, each member stirring a heaping spoonful of this coal ash into a glass of Tennessee river water this stuff has already fallen into, and gargling with it. Go ahead. Put our money where your mouth is.
…but if this stuff is so safe, why don’t we give that away for free as fill dirt and mobile home pads? Why not pile it all up on the courthouse square for people to come get as they please? We’ll never have to buy cat litter again. Fill your kids’ sandboxes. A spoonful will probably kill whatever parasites you have troubling you. Maybe it’ll make a dandy ice cream topping. According to Marion Councilman Corin Harrison, TVA and EPA promise that this coal ash contains fewer toxins and in less quantity than dirt from your own back yard. I’m not comforted by this, and you shouldn’t be either. Maybe they’re right. After all, these are two groups who probably know what was dumped here back before we had a landfill to put it in.
…but it’s possible that not all of the coal ash is coming to Perry County. Some of it may going to Cumberland County, Tennessee, where the locals are just as upset about this as we are. What a way to make a sister city. I hereby challenge Cumberland County to a duel. Whoever has the most birth defects in ten years wins. Or maybe we should use an elaborate points system I devised. Extra toes and fingers are worth one point. Siamese twins are worth two points (three for triplets and so on for each additional attached little person). Less obvious physical conditions will be awarded points on the severity, and let’s give a respectful twenty points for every child born with an organ on the outside of its body.
…but I look for Hollywood to make one of them lawyerin’ movies about us here in another decade or two. I bet they won’t shoot it here, though.
June 25, 2009
…but how about that other happy goodtime job and revenue generator down in Uniontown—the landfill. I’m sure you know by now that we’re going to get a large amount of probably hazardous coal ash that should go to the landfill. Even though the county does stand to make quite a bit of money from allowing that stuff to be dumped here, most people I’ve talked to and read about don’t like the idea of toxic material being dumped in their communities. Some arguments say that coal ash isn’t toxic, despite the mountain of evidence to the contrary. A recent article in Scientific American said that coal ash actually releases more radiation into the environment than nuclear waste . This makes sense because nuclear waste spends most of its radiation before becoming waste, and because of the strict standards one has to follow in disposing of it. The standards are obviously not so strict on the more radioactive coal ash.
…but I suspect the security of our landfill might compare to the security of our prisons, and the Department of Homeland Security apparently agrees. The federal watchdogs have even refused to disclose a complete list of coal ash dumping sites around the country because they are worried about terrorists attacking these sites to release the toxic material on the surrounding communities. This doesn’t sound like non-hazardous waste to me. When the fed puts a substance in a similar category to anthrax, I’m less inclined to listen to Albert Turner when he tells me I don’t need to be worrying about it.
…but Little Al isn’t opposed to coal ash. As a matter of fact, he wants us to have as much coal ash as we can get. He even wants to waddle down to Montgomery and pass some laws that secure our entitlement to accept everybody else’s toxic waste. He even says that he wants us to accept coal ash from TVA ash ponds around the state. Little Al wants them shut down and all the waste to come here because—get this—THEY ARE HAZARDOUS TO THE SURROUNDINIG COMMUNITIES.
..but I know Jesus taught us all about self sacrifice, but I don’t think this is what he had in mind. I don’t think Little Al’s quite thinking this way either, though he seems to say that we should take in everybody else’s toxins so they don’t have to suffer from them.
…but the a certain Marion politico wanted us to know that a lot of little old ladies found last week’s headline offensive, due to the clever implied rhyme about Marion becoming the “ash hole” of the region. Funny. Nobody called me except to tell me how funny they thought that was. And this is yet another example of our backward priorities. You think the offensive thing would be all the toxic waste we’re about to have to live next to. And if your tender little ears are offended when I don’t write the word “ass,” then your heart’s probably too weak to take such unpleasant truths about the world anyway. I’m tired of us coddling one another. Let’s speak plainly for a change. If I have to live in a toxic waste dump, I at least want to live in an honest one.
…but maybe we should join Little Al in his effort to toxify Perry County for profit. I’m sure the rest of America produces a lot of dirty needles and other medical waste it would pay handsomely for someone to take off their hands. And those corpses of homeless people have to go somewhere. We could turn all of North Perry into a Potter’s Field. We could fence off hundreds of lowland acres and create an internment camp for the criminally insane. Maybe have a camp annex for the elderly people whose children don’t want to care for them anymore. Why don’t we get into the refugee business while we’re at it? Anybody set to be ethnically cleansed could just be sent here. Same for all those prisoners in Gitmo who don’t have anywhere to go. Yes, send us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses. Send us everything you’ve got that’s toxic or infectious. For a quick, short-term profit, we’ll take it all.
…but during the county commission meeting this week, Commissioner Clarence Black looked up from the spot on the table he’s apparently been assigned to stare at and said he was maybe kind of opposed to bringing coal ash among his constituents. This is a convenient position for him to take at this point, because all of the other commissioners are so adamantly in favor of it that his vote and voice won’t make a difference either way. If he were really that concerned, we’d have heard his position much sooner, and he’d have at least tried to convince someone else of his position. I appreciate the token gesture, but come on. As is, he can look like he opposes the coal ash import without actually having to engage in politics or protest. But he never talks too loudly anyway. I can’t decide whether his problem is in his tongue or in his spine.
…but Black and the other commissioners took issue with our reporting on their jaunt to meet with TVA officials last week. They said the trip to Tennessee on a TVA jet was a “fact finding mission,” nothing more. They certainly weren’t going to lobby TVA to send the fly ash here. Never mind that they were accompanied by executives from the landfill, or that after that meeting, the ash’s final destination became quite clear. Calling a trip a “fact finding mission” makes it much easier for politicians to accept free stuff without getting into trouble for it.
…but Little Al dropped some more revealing illogic on us. He said that we shouldn’t worry about the coal ash because there’s an ash pond near Demopolis that nobody has complained about for fifty years. That so? Well, now’s a good time to start asking questions about it. I never thought to ask before, because I never knew it was there. Just because nobody has been complaining about it doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous. Thanks for bringing it to my attention, Little Al. Now go back and write another argument that doesn’t make any sense. I’ll take that one apart next time.