(This article adapted from one in the Fall 1999 issue of the National Institute for Chemical Studies (NICS) News and used here with permission)

In early December almost 15 years ago, a world tragedy gave birth to an activist group that has since helped weave the fabric of life in the Kanawha Valley.

The group, People Concerned about MIC (PCMIC), started agitating in the spring of 1985 for chemical companies to reduce their use of toxic chemicals. Their aim was to make chemical plants safer for those who live near them.

PCMIC confronted the companies after methyl isocyanate leaked from a plant at Bhopal, India, on Dec. 3, 1984. As the world knows, the gas killed thousands and injured thousands more. A plant in the Kanawha Valley also produced MIC.

PCMIC focused on getting the companies to share information about the chemicals they made and stored at plants along a 25-mile stretch of the Valley. The group also wanted to know the chemicals’ possible effects on public health.

At the time, chemical companies said little about their operations. The plants had employed thousands of people since the early part of the 20th Century. They also supported community projects, but people outside the plant gates knew almost nothing about what went on inside.

Today, the companies are more open, thanks in large part to PCMIC. The group’s effort helped shape current state and national community right-to-know laws. The effort also has led to greater trust, through better communication, between the public and chemical industry.

Four PCMIC members met one evening to reflect on some of the group’s accomplishments, the state of the organization and its future. They leafed through newspaper clippings and their memories to put events into perspective.

Present were: Pam Nixon, now the environmental advocate for the West Virginia Division of Environmental Protection; Mildred Holt, the group’s current cochair, a citizen, longtime human rights and environmental activist and a NICS board member; Dr. Paul Nuchims, the group’s secretary and professor of art at West Virginia State College, and William Anderson, longtime human rights and environmental activist and retired school teacher.

In the mid 80s, all lived at Institute, WV, near a major chemical production site. Today Rhone Poulenc, FMC Corp., Lyondell, and Union Carbide have operations there. In 1985, Union Carbide produced MIC at the site, as it did in Bhopal, but later sold the MIC unit to Rhone Poulenc.

Before Bhopal, the public cared more about dust from the plants and cancer-causing chemicals than it did about poisonous gas, Nuchims observed.

After Bhopal and a leak of aldicarb oxime from Union Carbide’s Institute plant in August 1985, PCMIC revved up its efforts. The group voiced public concern during a series of leaks, explosions and operating accidents. Various chemicals leaked, including MIC, although some of them were confined to plant sites.

Nixon had a very personal interest in the situation: she was one of those injured by the aldicarb leak.

Early in 1985, a group of Valley leaders formed the National Institute for Chemical Studies (NICS) to promote communication between the public and chemical industry.

"When we asked for information, the companies let us know that what went on inside the plant was none of our business," Nixon said. "They trivialized our concerns," Holt added.

Union Carbide became a favorite target for protestors, especially after the aldicarb leak. Employees and supporters marched in the company’s defense in August 1985. Many area residents said they accepted the risk of living near chemical plants. Besides, the plants had provided them with good jobs for decades.

PCMIC did much to raise community awareness about chemical safety. In the fall of 1985, the group called for a second escape route from Institute and nearby West Virginia State College.

The only way out of the area in case of a major incident at the chemical facilities next door was on the two-lane Rt. 25 which parallels Interstate 64. The group wanted the state to build another access ramp to Interstate 64. That one never got built, but an emergency escape route was built from Institute to Dunbar next door.

The group quickly learned the power of publicity and used it effectively. One target was a company in a residential area of West Dunbar that washed the insides of chemical tank trucks. Nixon organized a march to protest the activity as a danger to the neighborhood and alerted the news media about the event. The company elected to move its operations.

The first signs of dialogue between the public and Union Carbide began with roundtable discussions soon after the aldicarb leak. Even so, "They wouldn’t give us any details about the chemicals’ effect on the human body," Nixon said.

To learn about the health effects, PCMIC did a health survey of residents in Institute, Pinewood Park and West Dunbar. The results were inconclusive but indicated that residents suffered more health ailments than the national average.

Volunteer graduate students from Vanderbilt University in Nashville conducted the survey. "We surveyed every house in the area," Nixon said.

 "The community was very supportive, but the plants and college were not." Early on, the students were told they could stay in the dorms, but about the time they got here, the offer was withdrawn," Nixon said. They stayed in private homes.

In 1990, Nixon took her story to a Union Carbide stockholders meeting. With a proxy arranged by a group known as Bhopal Action Resource Center (BARC), she spoke about air quality issues in the Kanawha Valley.

The day before, she was on Wall Street with BARC protesting against the abuse of corporate power.

"The police had busses to carry people off to jail. We sat down in the middle of the streets and did all the protest stuff. They arrested several hundred people. They didn’t arrest me because they must have thought the woman I was with, who was white, and I, a black, must have gotten lost and strayed into the crowd. I guess they thought I was there looking after her," she chuckled.

PCMIC leveled other criticism at the chemical firms for stonewalling their information requests. "Every time a plant manager would become part of the community and support some of the community concerns, he’d be moved away," Holt said.

"One plant manager I remember became one of the best guys, and I was sick when they took him out of here. Once we began working together, we just naturally appreciated each other more."

PCMIC wanted independent plant safety audits with public participation. The companies didn’t want that for fear of having an accident that was caused by something they hadn’t fixed after it had been discovered in an audit, Nixon declared. They also claimed confidentiality, Anderson said.

Mistrust reared its ugly head when a bill came before the West Virginia Legislature. The Self-Audits Bill would have allowed companies to audit their environmental operations and not put themselves in legal jeopardy by having to report their findings. "It was what we called the ‘Dirty Secrets’ bill" Nixon said.

People who supported the bill "were working behind our backs, promoting a concept that went to the very heart of what we had been working for," Nixon said. "It showed again the mistrust and lack of confidence between us and the companies."

The tide seemed to shift in favor of PCMIC in 1991. Because of her demands for information about worst-case scenarios, Nixon came under fire for creating a bad image of the Kanawha Valley. "They said I would cause the plants to shut down, people would leave and no businesses would locate here," Nixon noted.

"I explained that if they could work these plants safely, it would be a plus for the Valley, not something negative," she said. "Well, the LEPC at the time said I would have to submit my demands in writing before they’d consider them. Some friends at the plants helped me make sure I had the wording just right."

On January 2, 1992, Nixon sent her letter asking for the information. Two days earlier, on December 31, 1991, an explosion at Union Carbide’s South Charleston plant killed a worker in a unit said to be nonhazardous, Nixon said.

At the next LEPC meeting, Nixon expected a fight over her demands. On the contrary, "they got religion," she stated. "They just couldn’t figure out why anyone wouldn’t agree with what I was asking. Yes, they would definitely consider giving a worst-case scenario report to the community," she said. "However, they were concerned about causing a panic or bad community reaction to the information," she continued.

Two years later, in 1994, area chemical companies voluntarily disclosed their worst-case scenarios to the public at an event called Safety Street. NICS played a key role in organizing the event. "Of course there was no panic after the disclosures," Nixon said.

Chemical companies had no federal guidelines to follow in 1994 for disclosing accident scenarios. The legacy of Safety Street and Nixon’s persistence show up in disclosure rules in today’s community right-to-know laws. The chemical industry itself has adopted a Responsible Care policy which calls for greater openness with communities.

Even with the progress, PCMIC remains alert to cases where it perceives the industry to be less than forthcoming. The two sides regularly discuss issues at community-industry meetings. NICS was a driving force in getting the meetings started.

During efforts to open the information gates, Nixon says she feared for her personal safety at times. "People wouldn’t get in my car with me because they thought it might explode, "she said.

"There were times when I would go home and be afraid to go in my house. I had a cat that came to the window when I came home.

"I figured if my cat didn’t come to the window, someone would be in the house," she said. "I’d always tell someone when I was going into a plant or somewhere else. People tried to intimidate me."

Fifteen years and events have changed PCMIC. For example, Nixon is in a job that keeps her from organizing community groups, and she is no longer a PCMIC officer. "We do not make as much noise as we used to because we’ve seen some progress," she said referring partly to fewer leaks in recent years.

The group no longer holds annual remembrances for Bhopal victims.

 PCMIC is still the group the news media calls for comments after a chemical accident or on chemical safety issues.

"Things have changed, but not our commitment," says Holt. "I think we are as dedicated now as we were then."

Fifteen years from now, the group would like to see reduced amounts of highly toxic chemicals stored at the plants, Nuchims says. "We would also like to see plants use their products as they produce them," he said.

"We’d like to see West Virginia and the Kanawha Valley with safe air, cancer rates better than the national average and no major accidents," Nixon said.

The group agrees that as long as there aren’t a lot of major accidents, public concern about safety issues will remain low and there is less need for everyday activism. PCMIC still provides active leadership and citizen views when specific issues arise. For example, last spring it invited plant managers to meet with the public at Institute and discuss their Y2K readiness. NICS facilitated the meeting. A follow up meeting is to be held this fall.

Today’s PCMIC members got inspiration from their first chairman, Edwin Hoffman, a professor at West Virginia State College. They also admired Estella Chandler, Holt said. "You talk about somebody holding your feet to the fire. She was so intelligent, so intelligent. She always questioned. Activism of this group created threads of change that are still ongoing."

But there are no young members for the current leaders to inspire or to become future leaders. Not to worry, says Nuchims. "We don’t really have the next generation of People Concerned. But we are causing a greater awareness throughout the Kanawha Valley, especially in the school system. Teachers pick up a lot from us, and I get a lot of calls from them asking for information.

"Interestingly enough, children have brought a change in attitude in the corporate structure in the Valley. The kids say ‘Hey, mom, hey dad, we live here don’t we? Shouldn’t we be concerned?’"

Says Holt: "I think someone will come out of the communities, maybe not only from the Kanawha Valley but from other states, and take up the cause. Children are much more aware about environmental issues than before. I really think somebody will step in."

Nixon sees hope, too. "It takes something to personally impact you before you become involved," she said. "Several students who have interned at the West Virginia Citizen Action Group were very outspoken on environmental issues while their fathers or mothers worked at the chemical plants."

"What bothers me," Anderson said, "is that people are apathetic. They come out when something big happens at a plant, but where are they in the meantime?"

Nixon thinks people aren’t apathetic about environmental issues, they’re just too busy making ends meet to be personally active. The interest is there, she said, citing feedback she hears after news reports quote her on an issue.

Getting people fired up takes a lot of work. "I’m going to tell you, I don’t have the energy to do it," Holt says. She defers some work to her PCMIC cochair, Dr. Gerry Beller, a professor at West Virginia State College, and to Nuchims. "Paul is really the heart and soul right now."

As she stuffed precious clippings and other papers back into a folder for the trip home after a long day, Holt said: "We’ve made progress, but there’s more to do."