Lessons of Rocky flats: three state and federal agencies set aside distrust to clean up one of America's dirtiest Superfund sites.

Hillside 881. It certainly wasn't the dirtiest spot within Colorado's 6,250-acre Rocky Flats plant--a Superfund site of epic proportions that had once been a nuclear weapons complex during the Cold War.

Eighteen drums of buried radioactive and chemical goop were leaking and needed to be excavated from the hillside. But the state Department of Public Health and Environment, federal Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the U.S. Department of Energy (DOE) disagreed over how to proceed. Bureaucratic red tape--writing reports, taking samples, analyzing results and doing it all again--tied the project up in a year-long knot.

But when the state and EPA reluctantly allowed DOE to dig up the drums without completing all the analyses they would have liked, it marked a tectonic shift in how these three agencies would approach the site cleanup from then on.

Instead of costing $50 million as initially estimated, the tab for removing the drums was $200,000. Crews finished the work over a long weekend.

That was a dozen years ago. Ever since, the state, DOE and EPA have set aside long-held mistrust, united behind a common vision and accelerated the largest nuclear cleanup project in world history. By adopting a bias for action--seeking to do the work rather than engage in endless studies--the $6.8 billion project will be $500 million under budget and a year under deadline.

The final cleanup stages of Rocky Flats will be completed by Halloween 2005, with hundreds of buildings decontaminated and demolished and tons of radioactive waste hauled out of state. Most of the site--except for 1,000 acres that will remain under DOE control for ongoing environmental and ecological monitoring--will be turned over to the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service to become a wildlife refuge.

By 2008, public hiking, biking and horse-riding trails will begin to traverse prairie land once sealed off by razor-wire fencing and protected by heavily armed guards.

Energy Secretary Samuel Bodman cites the "hand-in-glove cooperation" by local, state and federal authorities as the project's hallmark. He hopes to see it replicated elsewhere as DOE and other states undertake similar projects.

"It's truly remarkable what can be accomplished by hard work, cooperation and innovation," Bodman says.

The hope is that other states will benefit from Colorado's experience.

"The lesson of Rocky Flats is that it can be done," says Steve Gunderson, Colorado's Rocky Flats cleanup coordinator. "It isn't easy and you aren't going to please everybody. But if it can happen here, it can happen anywhere."

COLD WAR IN COLORADO

Located 16 miles northwest of downtown Denver, Rocky Flats hugs the Rocky Mountain foothills. Though the site is now almost vacant, the Denver skyline remains visible in the distance, a stark reminder that more than 2 million people live in close proximity to what once was a part of the nuclear weapons complex.

The federal government broke ground here in 1951 and started production in 1952, and for the next 37 years workers assembled plutonium detonators, or triggers, for nuclear warheads. They produced at least 70,000 triggers, essentially smaller bombs used to detonate larger warheads. Nearly every nuclear weapon in the U.S. arsenal passed through Rocky Flats.

Three radioactive ingredients dominated production: plutonium, uranium and americium. Other hazardous materials, including beryllium, PCBs, sulfuric acid and carbon tetrachloride, round out the list of toxins that ultimately polluted Rocky Flats.

The heaviest processing activity occurred within a 385-acre centralized industrial zone. Nearly 800 structures, ranging from mammoth buildings with 360,000 square feet of space and 4-foot-thick reinforced concrete walls to tiny guard shacks, once cluttered the industrial area.

The on-site environmental damage was devastating.

Glovebox fires in 1957 and 1969 released plumes of radioactive particles into the atmosphere. In 1967, crews discovered that 5,200 drums sitting outside in the open on the 903 pad were leaking plutonium-laced hydraulic oils. More than 360 separate potential spill areas were identified.

The site was home to 13 "infinity rooms," rooms so radioactive that instruments spiked off the scales when anyone took measurements. Building 771 was labeled the most dangerous building in America. A DOE Plutonium Vulnerability Study found Rocky Flats harbored five of the nation's most vulnerable facilities, including the top two. Public outrage ebbed and flowed. At times, protesters tried to form human chains around the entire facility, peaceful demonstrations in the global call for disarmament.

"The place was just a mess," Gunderson says.

Suddenly, however, production halted.

Tipped off to alleged illegal dumping activity, 80 FBI and EPA agents raided Rocky Flats on June 6, 1989, and shut it down. "But it was a dirty shutdown because everyone expected production would resume," says Len Ackland, a University of Colorado professor who wrote a book about Rocky Flats in 1999. "Whatever was on the conveyor belts was just left there. It was a plutonium junkyard."

DOE's contractor at the time, Rockwell International, pleaded guilty to 10 counts of environmental crimes and paid an $18.5 million fine. Manufacturing of nuclear triggers never resumed, and the focus at Rocky Flats shifted, at least for the short-term, to worker safety, nuclear stability and site security.

CLEAN IT UP. CLOSE IT DOWN

For the next six years, no one could agree what the long-term goal should be.

Workers, their families and DOE pushed to resume production. Nearby communities wanted the plant closed for good. Anti-war, anti-nuke and pro-environmental activists wanted it sealed off and declared a "national sacrifice zone." Some wanted Congress to fund a Rocky Flats Cold War Museum. Developers proposed building houses and office-industrial space.

"It was extremely divisive," says David Abelson, executive director of the Rocky Flats Coalition of Local Governments. "There were those who wanted to close the site and those who didn't. There were those who wanted an expedited cleanup and those who didn't."

In 1992, the federal government declared that the site's nuclear weapons production mission was officially over, and in 1995 DOE hired a new Rocky Flats contractor, cleanup-specialist Kaiser-Hill, to dismantle the site. Kaiser-Hill would benefit from a new era that was dawning within DOE, one that provided financial incentives to contractors for completing projects early, safely and in compliance. Kaiser-Hill stands to earn more than $355 million for finishing before Dec. 15, 2006.

But there was institutional mistrust to overcome before any progress could be made. Citizens didn't believe anything the DOE said, nor did they trust that the state or EPA could actually get DOE to restore the 10-square-mile site to its natural state.

"And the state didn't trust that DOE would be fully forthcoming, and DOE didn't trust that we would be anything but obstructionist," says the state's Gunderson.

"The level of distrust was pretty hideous," agrees DOE's Rocky Flats project manager, Frazer Lockhart.

Early estimates put the cleanup cost at $35 billion, and the timeframe was measured in decades, not years.

In early 1995, then-Governor Roy Romer tapped his new lieutenant governor, Gall Schoettler, to get things moving. "There were too many parties with too many competing interests. No one was taking a leadership role," Schoettler recalls.

She met with every stakeholder and interest group, brought them all to the negotiating table and assigned them specific responsibilities. The coalition of local governments and the Rocky Flats Citizens Advisory Board played key roles in hashing out the long-term wildlife refuge vision and working with state and federal regulators and the DOE to establish cleanup levels.

The parties rallied around a new slogan: "Make it safe. Clean it up. Close it down."

Making it safe required nationwide cooperation.

The Savannah River site in South Carolina received all 21.6 tons of weapons-grade plutonium and uranium that had been left at Rocky Flats. Additional radioactive and hazardous waste went to facilities in California, Idaho, Nevada, Tennessee, Texas, Utah and Washington. Nearly 20,000 cubic yards of transuranic waste (created from processing of nuclear materials) were shipped in 40,000 containers to the Waste Isolation Pilot Project in New Mexico.

Crews decontaminated and then demolished buildings that had been sealed for years. They extracted plutonium from miles of air ducts and pipes. They decontaminated, disassembled and shipped 1,500 gloveboxes, where the delicate task of assembling plutonium detonators once happened.

Attention then turned to plutonium soil contamination. In 1996, DOE, the state and EPA adopted an interim cleanup level of 651 picocuries (pCi) per gram.

Not good enough, said the community. While some community members wanted virtually no trace of contamination left in the ground, everyone in the community agreed that the action level set in the Rocky Flats Cleanup Agreement was too high, and an independent, community-selected contractor should be brought in.

So, outside scientists were hired to review cleanup levels and test the government's numbers. Eighteen months of community meetings were held, often with outside facilitators to keep the sessions from becoming too contentious.

"We had to answer questions like, 'What is clean? How clean is clean?'" Gunderson says.

Ultimately, a unique compromise was reached: Contamination levels within the top 3 feet of the soil must be extremely low, 50 pCi per gram, which provides a one in 500,000 chance that a wildlife refuge worker would be at an increased risk of cancer. Levels can increase up to 1,000 pCi from 3 feet to 6 feet, and there are no limits below 6 feet. Two structures--the basements of two buildings--will remain 40 feet beneath the surface, their plutonium-tainted walls buried forever. In August, an independent final review--or double-checking--of the cleanup found 13 spots where the radiation levels exceeded the agreed upon standard. After initially calling the findings "statistically insignificant," DOE has agreed that they will re-clean those areas.

"We agreed to allow more subsurface contamination to remain behind in exchange for cleaner levels on the top 3 feet," Abelson says. "You have to pick your battles and establish your priorities."

LESSONS LEARNED

How can other states benefit from the experience at Rocky Flats?

"The absolute first step to our success was developing a unified vision and a common set of goals for what the site's end-state should be," says Kaiser-Hill spokesman John Corsi.

That vision was shared by citizen groups, local governments, state agencies and federal authorities, and it was spelled out in the preamble to the 100-page Rocky Flats Cleanup Agreement. State and federal lawmakers also gave bipartisan support, which was crucial to establishing a steady, reliable and protected funding stream, Corsi says.

Kaiser-Hill, state, DOE and EPA project coordinators met weekly as part of a formal "consultative and collaborative approach" to communications and problem-solving. Problems were aired and resolved on the spot, which cut down on one agency writing a report, distributing it to the others, waiting for written feedback and then negotiating a resolution.

Dan Miller, the assistant attorney general who safeguarded Colorado's legal remedies and regulatory authority, said the first 1991 cleanup agreement was heavy on process. "The state and EPA virtually had to approve every single DOE decision," he says.

The second agreement, signed in 1996, accelerated the work by focusing more on results and less on paperwork. "We loosened up on the milestones, particularly on milestones for completing feasibility studies and other reports, in order to do the work and get things cleaned up," Miller says.

The state also took over regulatory control of the heavily polluted industrial area and ceded day-to-day authority for the buffer zone to EPA.

In addition, Miller helped create the 2001 Colorado Environmental Covenant Act. The act provides for long-term land-use, environmental and ground-water restrictions for hazardous waste sites such as Rocky Flats. Far into the future, the act will continue to limit the use and development of former hazardous waste sites.

The state maintains a registry and Web site of properties that have received final cleanup approval from the state under the act--there are 17 in Colorado--and the law has served as a model for other states.

Under the federal Resource Conservation and Recovery Act, states typically serve as the lead regulator for non-radioactive wastes. EPA also serves as the lead regulator under the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation and Liability Act, but at Rocky Flats it has agreed to hand authority for oversight of long-term stewardship to the state.

Despite all the successes, not everyone is eager to see Rocky Flats become a wildlife refuge. Wes McKinley was the foreman of the grand jury that investigated Rocky Flats 15 years ago. Today he's a state representative.

"Calling it a 'wildlife refuge' or a 'wilderness area' makes it sound like it's clean," McKinley says. "I just don't think it will ever be safe."

Gunderson acknowledges that subsurface contamination will remain. But there's no denying that Rocky Flats is a success story, he says.

"It's really just unbelievable that the cleanup is nearly finished, and finished within 10 years," he says. "No one would have predicted it--especially not me."

ROCKY FLATS TIMELINE

1951: Federal government breaks ground at Rocky Flats.

1952: Production of plutonium detonators for nuclear warheads begins.

1957: Major glovebox fire erupts in Building 771, later dubbed the most dangerous building in America.

1967: Crews discover leaking 55-gallon drums sitting in the open on 903 pad.

1969: Second major glovebox fire erupts on Mother's Day in Building 776-777.

1989: FBI raids Rocky Flats.

1992: Federal government declares Rocky Flats' production mission officially over.

1996: State, DOE and EPA sign Rocky Flats Cleanup Agreement.

2001: Congress adopts legislation to convert Rocky Flats to wildlife refuge.

2003: All weapons-grade plutonium shipped to Savannah River site in South Carolina.

2005: Last of highly radioactive transuranic waste shipped to Waste Isolation Pilot Plant (WIPP) in New Mexico. Cleanup expected to be complete in fall, one year ahead of schedule.

HELP FROM NCSL 

NCSL staff can assist legislators, legislative staff and other state officials in oversight of nuclear waste cleanup and help them become knowledgeable about nuclear waste issues. The NCSL Environmental Management Program is funded by the U. S. Department of Energy's Office of Environmental Management. For more information contact Linda Sikkema ([e-mail]), Sia Davis ([e-mail]) or Andrea Wilkins ([e-mail]) at NCSL, 7700 East First Place, Denver, CO, 80230, [phone].

OTHER STATES GRAPPLE WITH CLEANUPS OF THEIR OWN

From coast to coast, states around the country are struggling to eliminate radioactive waste left behind by the federal government's Cold War nuclear-weapons complex. Many are looking to Colorado's successful Rocky Flats cleanup for guidance.

"Rocky Flats gives me a lot of hope and confidence," says Senator Karen Fraser of Washington, home of the 560-square-mile Hanford site. "There's always going to be some legacy contamination. But these terribly polluted sites can be cleaned up and we can figure out the technology to do it."

In Washington, Hanford often is a central character on the state's political stage, in both candidate and issue elections. "The Department of Energy hasn't always been as forthright about the cleanup," Fraser says. "The federal government wants to ease off whenever they can, but we keep the pressure on."

Fraser has visited Rocky Flats twice, including earlier this year as part of a program sponsored by the National Conference of State Legislatures. She and lawmakers from other states say they have learned several lessons from Rocky Flats:

* All stakeholders--including the state, DOE, contractors, environmental regulators and citizen groups--must share a unified vision for the site's future.

* The technology and funding do exist to remediate radioactive waste sites. Local and state governments should never give up.

* Community and citizen watchdogs are crucial to the cleanup process.

* Colorado's Environmental Covenant Act is a superb national model to help states protect themselves.

Cleanup at Rocky Flats has been different than efforts at Hanford, Savannah River in South Carolina and other places. There, high-level radioactive waste is being left onsite. At Rocky Flats, it was all shipped out-of-state.

Also, unlike Rocky Flats, the communities surrounding Hanford and Savannah River are holding strong to their Cold War heritage--particularly to jobs and economic stability. The word "cleanup" often translates into "unemployment" in the minds of local workers, their families and civic leaders, Fraser says.

For now, Savannah River maintains a healthy workforce, and the site has been mentioned as a candidate for the nation's first new nuclear power plant in 30 years.

"There are definitely crazy people in this world who will do anything for money," says South Carolina Representative Robert "Skipper" Perry. "But I don't think we'd have 10,000 people working out there if they thought it was unsafe. The safety record is incredible, and the more they clean up, the safer they are."

Perry says he's proud of the way his state regulators keep tabs on DOE as it cleans up the Savannah River site, where the United States produced plutonium and tritium during the Cold War.

"Our guys definitely aren't being led around by the nose," he says. "Trust, but verify."

In New Mexico, there are 16 DOE-related cleanup sites, including the Los Alamos and Sandia national laboratories, where nuclear-weapons research also continues.

At both sites, "environmental cleanup is a secondary consideration, and it's very frustrating," says Representative John Heaton, vice chair of the New Mexico Legislature's Radioactive and Hazardous Materials Committee.

But Heaton says DOE still deserves much credit for hastening cleanups nationwide and entering into true partnerships with host states. "The political, engineering and technical barriers that have been overcome in the last 10 to 15 years are astounding," he says.

DOE also has taken the lead in finding repositories for the nuclear-weapons-complex waste stream. Heaton's district includes the Waste Isolation Pilot Project, where as of mid-2005, 20 percent of all of the country's radioactive "legacy" waste has been shipped since the facility opened nearly six years ago. That includes 20,000 cubic yards of highly radioactive transuranic Rocky Flats waste.

While WIPP is vital, adding additional paths for the disposal of nuclear wastes will be just as important, especially if the proposed Yucca Mountain repository in Nevada does not come to fruition, Heaton says.

Heaton values the benefits and freedoms the nation's weapons program has afforded the United States.

"But we also need to clean the mess we've made," he says.

WORKING HIMSELF RIGHT OUT OF A JOB

Like everyone else at Rocky Flats, Frank Gibbs is working himself out of a job. "It's a little sad," says the 43-year-old processing engineer turned cleanup supervisor. "But we'll all be just fine. There are a lot of other cleanup sites around the country."

From 1952 to 1989, Rocky Flats employed as many as 30,000 workers. The everyday workforce peaked at about 8,000 when Rocky Flats was at full production. Today's labor force numbers about 1,200, with cleanup nearly complete.

In large part, the engineers, metallurgists and steel workers who assembled plutonium detonators at Rocky Flats became the heart of the decontamination and demolition crews.

Gibbs started at Rocky Flats in 1984 at age 22. A Wyoming native, he had just graduated from the Colorado School of Mines when he signed on as an engineer on the plutonium fabrication line. He designed, cast and--with his arms shoved inside a glovebox each day--built plutonium weapons triggers.

"It was about the coolest job you could ever have," he says. "There was pride in defending the country and excitement in working with dangerous materials."

Then came the 1989 FBI raid that shut down the plant because of illegal dumping activity. "There was a lot of uncertainty," Gibbs says. "We didn't know what the devil was going on."

The uncertainty cleared up a little in 1992 when the federal government declared that Rocky Flats' production days were over. And in 1996, the first Rocky Hats Cleanup Agreement called for a range of uses for the site's industrial area and buffer zone. In 2001, Colorado's U.S. Senator Wayne Allard and Representative Mark Udall co-sponsored legislation that would convert Rocky Fiats to a wildlife refuge.

Gibbs kept working, but the federal government also helped him go back to school. He earned a master's degree in applied mechanics and a Ph.D in metallurgy in 1998.

He left Rocky Flats for the Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico. But he returned to Colorado in April 2000 to assist with the cleanup.

"The cleanup was as challenging as the fabrication," says Gibbs, a decommissioning manager for the uranium- and beryllium-contaminated south side of Rocky Flats. He's overseen the demolition of about 350 buildings.

State and federal authorities, along with Department of Energy contractor Kaiser-Hill, say retraining the workforce and unifying employees behind a new mission were key to the success at Rocky Flats.

Kaiser-Hill and DOE have provided months of notice before each wave of layoffs, and every Rocky Flats worker is eligible for $10,000 in educational financial aid under the federal "Cold Warrior" act.

As Gibbs puts the finishing touches on the Rocky Flats cleanup, he's helping his bosses at Kaiser-Hill prepare a bid for the operation of the Los Alamos National Laboratory, which includes cleanup and remediation.

"It's been a remarkable thing to be part of taking down Rocky Flats," he says. "And soon we'll be headed to another job site."

ROCKY FLATS WASTE FACTS

14.2 TONS of weapons-grade plutonium.

7.4 TONS of weapons-grade uranium.

292 TONS of depleted uranium.

20,000 CUBIC YARDS of highly radioactive transuranic waste.

337,450 CUBIC YARDS of low-level waste.

Shipped off-site via truck and rail.