The Folks At Rita Ranch Fight A Losing Battle.
By Tim Vanderpool
BETTER A THOUSAND enemies outside the house, goes the Arabic
proverb, than even one inside. And that's a maxim Rita Ranch follows
like gospel: Sprawling unabashedly into Tucson's eastside desert,
the ranch is a typical, master-planned study in controlled alienation,
with walled yards fronted by identically bland homes, all trailing
down countless empty streets to puddle in squeaky clean cul-de-sacs,
a place where the infrequent pedestrian garners stares and residents
remain mostly anonymous.
All of which makes Rita Ranch a highly unlikely hub of collective
activism. But external threats can make for improbable subdivision
bedfellows.
The invader is Southwest Soil Remediation Inc., a company with
big plans to set up a miniature factory within shouting distance
of an elementary school, and little more than a stone's throw
from the nearest home. The site would clean toxin-laced dirt by
burning it, sending noxious fumes into nearby skies.
And while the amount of eventual emissions is probably negligible,
neighbors haven't let such niggling details get in their way.
They've packed public hearings denouncing the project, and pressured
their councilwoman into reluctant allegiance.
Regardless, it appears Southwest Soil has hunkered down for the
long haul, and people living around the site can't do squat about
it. That's despite the determined posturing of local officials,
with the city trying to yank the company's building permit, and
the county going through the public comment routine by rote.
Those same officials say the controversy points to problems with
industrial zonings adjacent to residential areas throughout the
county. They predict the problem will only worsen as Tucson continues
spiraling outward.
Rita Ranch was zoned industrial long before homes started sprouting
there. And since the remediation company appears to have a good
track record, and is expected to ace current permit requirements,
government apparently has little leeway to stop it.
"They've already had their air-quality permit since summer,
for storage of the soil only," says Richard Grimaldi, technical
services manager for the Pima County Department of Environmental
Quality. "Those air quality regulations specify what has
to be done before they'll be permitted to begin remediation operations.
Beyond that, if their permit meets the criteria, we really have
no discretion to deny it."
He says there are few state or federal air-quality guidelines
for soil clean-up plants--particularly those bordering residential
areas--beyond making sure companies install the correct equipment.
"It would be useful to have specific state and federal emissions
standards for facilities like this, standards to compare against.
But they're very slow to move at the state or federal levels.
"As it now stands, the standards are aggregate--based on
the number of tons of soil treated per year," he says. "And
once the company installs the control technology, that's about
it."
He also blames Arizona lawmakers for removing the county's ability
to impose stricter guidelines. "Formerly, our criteria was
more stringent," he says. "But in 1994, the Legislature
made it impossible for us to have more stringent standards that
those at the state level."
And while comments from residents might affect the permit's fine
print, "legally there is nothing else we can do. If there's
no legislative requirement stopping it, the facility will get
a permit," he says. "We can't just make up a requirement."
Rita Rancher Mary Ann Cleveland calls that a line of bull. She's
among the noisiest contingent of Southwest Soil opponents, and
labels the entire process a sham. "This whole thing has been
rushed through," she says. "Even after the county held
meetings to take comments, they simply reissued permits the company
already had."
Cleveland says the site is far too close to Desert Spring Elementary
School. "And other school properties are even closer, with
children being the most susceptible to toxic emissions."
Regardless, she suspects the soil treatment plant is already
a done deal. "I think the county is going to go ahead and
give them this permit--it won't be a good decision, but they're
probably going to slide this one through too."
Currently, only modular offices dot Southwest Soil's property.
But while the company--which operates mobile remediation units
around the country--already has permission to store soil on the
site, that green light exists only on paper. The city has reneged
on the storage building permit, arguing that may not be permissible
under updated zoning requirements.
Southwest Soil owner Trevor Johansen says he's taking the building
snafu to court, and denies his operation poses a threat. He says
he's struggled ad nauseam in addressing community fears.
"I guess the neighbors have a right to their opinion, but
every guideline we're following is from the EPA manual and our
experience operating in Arizona. These people get up at meetings
acting like knowledgeable experts, and there's no way for us to
get our point across when 400 people are shouting us down."
The county Department of Environmental Quality is slated to issue
an air-quality permit decision sometime this month. If granted,
those who registered opposition at the public hearings would have
30 days to appeal. If they do, the permit would be put on hold
for another month, until the matter is hashed-out by a five-member
air-quality hearing board.
Under the permit, Southwest Soil could pump more than 49,000
pounds of pollutants into the air annually, including up to 6,000
pounds of benzene, a deadly carcinogen. The facility would be
allowed to monitor itself, subject to spot checks by the county.
Regardless, Johansen says he plans to treat only a fraction of
the amount of soil allowed under the permit, with emissions "comparable
to a small gas station."
Councilwoman Shirley Scott admits the proposed plant may not
be the time-bomb her constituents claim. Still, "Folks have
said over and over they have deep concerns about health problems
there. That's why I plan to vote against it if it comes to the
council."
Ultimately, she says permitting procedures themselves may deserve
a second look. "I'd like to make sure that when there's a
development like this, that we have a handle on things, and lots
of careful analysis. If no ordinance is in place, then one needs
to be enacted."
Either way, once the dust clears--and short of some disaster--worried
Rita Ranch residents will likely beat a hasty retreat behind their
walled suburban fortresses, a brief moment of cohesion evaporating
like so many vapors in the Arizona sky. After all, it's a lifestyle
they've worked hard for.
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