It's not easy to make a molehill out of a 90-foot mountain.
But because of some prickly family politics, Gov. Rod Blagojevich has managed to overshadow sweeping environmental legislation that would shutter illegal dumps, including the giant mound of bricks, concrete and dirt that looms large in Ford Heights, one of Chicago's poorest suburbs.
Blagojevich and his estranged father-in-law Dick Mell, a longtime Chicago alderman, have a much more personal dump dispute. Holiday cheer turned to family feuding this winter after the governor heard that a second cousin on his wife's side might have been brazenly accepting unacceptable materials at his Joliet landfill.
Blagojevich ordered the state Environmental Protection Agency to inspect the site, in which he believed his father-in-law had a financial interest. Inspectors found construction debris the dump was not licensed to accept. The landfill cleaned up its act and reopened, but not before the family rift widened.
Mell told the Chicago Sun-Times his son-in-law would "throw anyone under a bus" and charged Blagojevich with trading state appointments for $50,000 campaign checks, an allegation that prompted a still-pending investigation by the state attorney general and the Cook County state's attorney.
Mell recanted. And Blagojevich countered with legislation cracking down on dumps.
For all his self-proclaimed courage, the governor doesn't stand nearly as tall as the pile of dirt and debris that towers over a section of south suburban Ford Heights.
The legislation is a veritable wish list for the Illinois EPA. But it also prevents family members of state officials, including fathers-in-law, from having financial interests in landfills. That provision stole the spotlight, especially after Blagojevich boasted of the "testicular virility" he had shown in standing up to Mell.
But for all his self-proclaimed courage, the governor doesn't stand nearly as tall as the pile of dirt and debris that towers over a section of south suburban Ford Heights.
State environmental officials insist that their legislation, Senate Bill 431, does not target a single dump. But the Ford Heights site certainly stands out.
"It is absolutely gigantic. That's the best technical term I could find," says Mike Nechvatal, manager of the Illinois EPA's Division of Land Pollution Control. More precisely, the dumpsite spans almost 40 acres or roughly half of one square city block.
"Hundreds of trucks show up a day," Nechvatal says. "You can imagine the mountain that has been made there. The neighbors testified against it — that it's hurting their property values."
But one man's heap of debris is another's economic development. Ford Heights has been fighting the state. That's because the dump, which opened in 2002, generates cash for the impoverished suburb. And the operator promises to deed the property to the village when he's done dumping, saying the site will become a snow ski hill in a few years.
"Ford Heights is the poorest community in the United States," Chicago attorney William Harte testified on behalf of the village. "They do not have money for police. They do not have money for fire. They do not have money for the necessities."
Ford Heights now gets $5 for every truckload the dump takes in. That's meant about $250,000 so far and could bring another $500,000 in the next three years.
The village and the dump operator unsuccessfully tried to exempt themselves from the EPA's landfill legislation. But a majority of their proposed amendments could not swing a single "yes" vote from the 22 members of the House Environment and Energy Committee.
The final vote drew laughter from the panel. This after one supporter compared the dump's economic impact to that of riverboat casinos stationed in less desperate suburbs.
For Ford Heights, it was a second failed attempt at protecting its cash cow. Last summer, Blagojevich vetoed legislation excluding the Ford Heights dump from a number of environmental regulations.
The veto came just days after Illinois Attorney General Lisa Madigan filed suit against dump operator John Einoder and two of his companies, Lincoln Ltd. and Land of Lincoln Development Company. The complaint charged Einoder, his companies and the landowners with operating a dump without a permit.
The EPA temporarily sealed the facility in January. But a judge ruled that the state had not proved there was an "emergency condition" that was creating an "immediate danger to health." Since then, the state has sought permission to test the soil and groundwater for contamination. But the two sides have been haggling through pretrial motions.
The dump's supporters argue Senate Bill 431 unjustly bypasses the courts. It would lower the bar for the EPA, requiring the agency to prove "an imminent and substantial endangerment to public health or welfare or the environment" rather than an immediate danger.
"All we want is to be reviewed under the existing law," Harte testified. But for the EPA, the governor's family feud has provided an opportunity to beef up existing regulations.
"People have been looking for loopholes in this law since the early '90s," Nechvatal says. "The best example of someone using a loophole to drive a semi through is what had been known as Silver Shovel sites in Chicago."
Less than a decade ago, a federal corruption probe known as Operation Silver Shovel brought down six Chicago aldermen who had helped developers illegally dump mounds of construction debris on vacant lots in poor city neighborhoods. Hauling construction waste to legitimate landfills can be quite costly. The illegal dumps were conveniently located within Chicago, and the price was right.
Senate Bill 431 deals with "clean construction and demolition debris," which includes concrete, bricks, rocks, stone and soil that is uncontaminated and free of protruding metal.
The concrete, for example, can be ground back into smaller particles and recycled. Or clean debris can be used to backfill a mine, quarry or other excavation.
Illinois does not allow such materials to be dumped above ground without a landfill permit. But the state doesn't regulate clean debris sites. That allows operators to claim they just haven't gotten around to recycling an ever-growing pile of concrete. In Ford Heights, the ski hill proposal takes the place of a promise to recycle.
Senate Bill 431 would give the EPA authority to regulate clean fill operations. The agency likely would use the legislation's enhanced seal-order authority to close the Ford Heights facility. And because it already protrudes 90 feet above ground, the site would not be granted a permit to reopen.
Harte says he expects that's what will happen shortly after Gov. Blagojevich signs the bill. It would cost Ford Heights roughly $500,000 plus any revenue from the planned ski hill and recreation facility. Harte says the village has a contract stipulating that the dump operator keep funds in escrow to build the park once the last load of construction debris has been dumped.
"The assertion that we would put the landfill up and then walk away from it is absurd," he says.
Einoder, operator of the Ford Heights site, is locked in another legal battle with the state. In 2002, the state charged Einoder and two of his companies with operating an illegal dump near Lynwood, a few miles from the Ford Heights site.
In 2003, a state EPA survey said the dump near Lynwood held more than 700,000 cubic yards of waste, a 16-acre pile measuring more than 80 feet tall.
The case is pending. A Cook County judge originally found some EPA rules unconstitutionally vague. But the Illinois Supreme Court reversed that decision, and felony criminal charges are pending in Cook County.
The dump, meanwhile, is still there. Other individuals are responsible for smaller sites throughout Illinois, most often in poor communities. Nechvatal says one is visible from Interstate 55 traveling north out of Litchfield.
"I'm sure there will always be people looking for a way to avoid the cost of legitimate waste handling. There always has been," he says. "As long as there's money to be made someone will try to do it."
Senate Bill 431 also gives the EPA authority to clean up abandoned couches, car tires and other discarded items that litter roadsides, ravines and vacant lots. The state budget includes $3 million to clear up such eyesores.
Cleaning up the Ford Heights dump could cost $30 million, Harte told lawmakers. Similarly, the city of Chicago spent more than $22 million remedying Silver Shovel sites, according to the Chicago Tribune.
The EPA says Senate Bill 431 should allow them to go after the molehills before they become much more costly mountains.
"We'll be able to close more sites before they get out of hand," Nechvatal says. "If there is dumping going on, it needs to be stopped. If you argue about it for a year, then the dumping just gets out of hand."
The same might be said for family quarrels. Blagojevich's boasting certainly overshadowed Einoder's actions. And when the operator of a troubled landfill moves down the road and sets up another while facing prosecution on the first site, perhaps it's not the governor's mettle citizens should behold.
Pat Guinane can be reached at capitolbureau@aol.com.
Illinois Issues, July/August 2005
