OETA Story on End of A Town - Picher, Oklahoma aired on 07/01/09 - More related videos from Asterpix

Oklahoma’s Senior U.S. Senator, Republican Jim Inhofe Puts The Brakes On More Than $135,000.00 Of Federal Money

Editorial

July 15, 2009

According to an Ihofe aide, the Department of Housing and Urban Development agreed to hold $135,494 that was destined for the Picher Housing Authority courtesy of the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act.

In short, $135,000 of stimulus money was headed to the nation’s fastest-shrinking housing authority. Only 19 of the PHA’s 54 housing units have active water accounts with the city.

Picher, home to the Tar Creek Superfund site, has been under a $60 million voluntary buyout program to move residents out of the contaminated, undermined area. That program will conclude this year.

Sending capital improvement money to a town that’s trying to get rid of its residents is truly a case of throwing cash down a hole in the ground. A big one.

The Picher Housing Authority is trying to reinvent itself in the nearby Ottawa County town of Fairland, where there is a proposed $8 million housing project with 78 units. The authority’s director said none of the stimulus money was to be spent on existing Picher housing, but on other affordable units in the county.

The problem is that the PHA didn’t have a plan. The money came to Picher via a formula that gave stimulus money to public housing authorities across the country. That included Picher, even though the housing authority had no plan for the cash.

It would have been easy for Inhofe to look heroic if he spotted $100,000 going to a pointless project in another state, albeit a grain of fiscal sand on the stimulus beach. He could easily have blamed the ineptitude of the federal government, or the party in power or the White House gardener while taking bows for being the citizens’ watchdog. Meanwhile, his own constituents could have been enjoying the all-you-can-spend buffet.

Commendably, Inhofe didn’t do that. He took a more politically difficult path by cutting off cash that was headed to his home state.

The $135,000 isn’t much money in the scheme of the economic recovery plan. It won’t even cover one-fourteenth of the proposed development in Fairland. But credit is due to any legislator who is watching the purse strings, especially if he’s willing to blow the whistle on a bad expenditure that would benefit his own constituents.

We have no doubt that the Picher Housing Authority will find an appropriate use for the money and we hope Inhofe and the cooperative people at HUD will not hesitate to write the check when there is a practical plan in place. Until then, having our money where someone can keep an eye on it is a pretty good idea.

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He Was The Last Man Standing

“There’s not any point in thinking about it, because there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it"

July 15, 2009

If you’ve ever had to move, you know that it can be very expensive. Boxes, tape, packing material, help moving larger items, moving van rates, gasoline - it all adds up very quickly. Then there’s the deposit or down payment on a new place. You wouldn’t be alone if you have ever sought help from pay day loans and personal loans to deal with such an undertaking.

But what happens if you’re forced to move because your entire town is being condemned? That’s exactly what happened to Orval “Hoppy” Ray in Picher, Oklahoma. He was the last resident to leave the town in the wake of many years of lead and zinc mining that have left Picher, OK one of America’s largest, most polluted toxic-waste sites.

Poisoning generations

John Sutter eloquently reports for CNN that Picher, Oklahoma was a center of lead and zinc mining for many years (until 1970) before there were many environmental safety requirements that mines had to follow. As a result, children of Picher suffered lead poisoning as the local creeks coughed up orange water, a cocktail of heavy metals. Plus, homes were built atop mine shafts. Now those abandoned mines are in danger of collapsing. Orval Ray was the last resident to leave.

There were signs of things to come. Back in 2006, the federal government announced it was going to pay people to leave Picher, Oklahoma and the nearby Tar Creek Superfund Site. That would leave room for the government to execute its toxic-waste cleanup program. They told people that their homes could collapse into the stained earth.

Aiding the war effort

Bienvenidos a Miami, Oklahoma, Sr.Ray

Some were happy to take the money and run, but old timers like Ray, 84, wouldn’t leave without a fight. He claimed he’d die first. He’d worked the mines with his dad and brothers, mining lead that was turned into bullets for U.S. soldiers in both world wars. But once the wars were done and the last mine shut in 1970, Picher, Oklahoma began its slow slide into the grave. A recent tornado also played a significant role in making Picher what it is today.

“I thought it was important that people ought to know what Picher’s role was in two world wars,” Hoppy said. “Hell, to me, it was important. … Without the mines here in Ottawa County [Oklahoma], those wars would’ve lasted a lot longer.”

Time to go, dad

Ray’s son insisted that his father move to Miami, Oklahoma. It was only 10 miles south of Picher, but for Hoppy, it was like moving a world away. Unfortunately, there was no other option. The house he’d lived in for nearly 50 years had been slated to be condemned.

Sutter writes that “outside Picher, the mining town’s former residents are branded ‘lead heads’ and ‘chat rats.’ People wonder whether living in the polluted area made them stupid.” Hoppy has heard it all before.

Starting again

“There’s not any point in thinking about it,” he said, “because there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it — just break out, go someplace else and start all over again.”

Goodbye, Picher, Oklahoma. You served your country admirably. Unfortunately, it didn’t do the same for you. Now everyone has moved on, hopefully toward happier, healthier days. Days where you can get pay day loans and personal loans if you need them.

Yet in his dreams, Hoppy envisions the old days when Picher was a vibrant place. Ghettos of ghost towns are all that remain now. For more of Ray’s recollections, read Sutter’s article. It grants a small glimpse into an America that is dying. The bones of small towns are everywhere. If that means something to you, read the article.

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Inhofe Places Hold On Funds Awarded To Picher Housing Authority

“What’s that going to stimulate... It doesn’t make sense to send over $100,000 up there to a place that we are closing down.’’

July 8, 2009

U.S. Sen. Jim Inhofe said Wednesday that he has placed a hold on $135,000 in stimulus funds awarded to the Picher Housing Authority because of plans to demolish the facility located in the Tar Creek Superfund site.

An opponent of the massive federal stimulus law that the Obama administration promotes as key to economic recovery, Inhofe sees the funds the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development provided the Picher Housing Authority as just another example of the package’s flaws.

“They are just cranking money out to different areas … without going through and seeing if it is money well-spent,’’ Inhofe said, adding he does not blame John Sparkman, the head of the Picher Housing Authority.

“It is almost like they had this pot of money they got to get rid of,’’ he said.

Inhofe aide Ryan Jackson said HUD verbally has agreed to honor the senator’s hold on the Picher money.

Jackson said HUD also placed a restriction on the funds to bar their use on existing housing units.

Inhofe said he wants that from HUD in writing but also expressed concerns over any plans to put the money in reserve for a future authority.

“You just don’t sit on a block of money and decide what you are going to do with it later,’’ he said.

Instead, Inhofe said, he would prefer an approach that identifies needs for future housing in the area followed by a new application to justify the spending.

“That’s how I hope government would work,’’ he said.

Picher Housing Authority was awarded $135,494 from the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act, said Patricia Campbell, spokeswoman for the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, Fort Worth, Texas, office.

The HUD funds are designated for capital improvements, but the Picher housing program gets smaller with each month.

Picher Housing Authority residents are included in a federal buyout of undermined homes and businesses in the Tar Creek Superfund site. The $60 million, voluntary buyout is expected to conclude this year.

Only 19 of the 54 housing units have active water accounts with the city of Picher, said city clerk Carolyn Elmore.

HUD awarded the money to Picher Housing Authority as part of a formula grant also used to dole out stimulus funds to public housing programs across the United States, records show.

Picher Housing Authority has until March 17, 2010, to determine how to allocate the money, Sparkman said.

“At this time the PHA does not have a plan in which to apply these funds,” the authority’s executive director said. “Any plan will need to have HUD approval. Please note that none of these funds will be spent on the existing Picher Housing Authority units. Our goal will be to apply these funds toward affordable housing units in Ottawa County.”

A tentative plan to move the housing program to Fairland has the blessing of HUD officials. The idea of relocating the program to Fairland was reported in March.

Picher Housing Authority has submitted a proposal to begin the process of shutting down the authority as a first step to opening a new housing complex in Fairland, which is also in Ottawa County about 15 miles south of Picher.

The $8 million project to relocate the authority’s housing complex will provide 78 environmentally friendly and energy-efficient housing units in Fairland. That is the same number of units that existed in Picher before numerous units were closed down due to undermining.

Fairland Mayor Andy Krebs said his town remains hopeful that the Picher housing program will be relocated to Fairland.

“We remain interested but there are details to be worked out,” Krebs said.

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Bill Would Buy Out Residents Of Treece

Contaminated Treece, Kan., begs for an Environmental Protection Agency buyout

July 8, 2009

Bingham Transportation of Baxter Springs, Kan., has a lease to haul mine tailings from an Oklahoma Indian reservation property southeast of Treece, Kan., for construction use across the U.S. (June 24, 2009)

Bradley Blake gives friend Trevor Lasiter a ride on his cycle past the Treece City Hall.

Mining history has left town changed forever

The fate of Treece, Kan., contaminated by heavy metals, may now be decided by Congress.

Rep. Lynn Jenkins, R-Topeka, has introduced a bill to spend $3.5 million in federal money to buy out and move the last 100 or so residents of Treece.

The top official at the Environmental Protection Agency may visit Treece to view the damage, an agency spokesperson said Tuesday.

The town, once a thriving center of lead and zinc mining, is now surrounded by hundreds of acres of contaminated waste, plagued with soil and water pollution and threatened by sinkholes from abandoned and flooded mines.

Jenkins said she became frustrated after she and Kansas' two senators, Pat Roberts and Sam Brownback, were unable to convince the EPA to fund a buyout for Treece from federal economic stimulus money.

"I'm urging them to use some of the $25 million (in stimulus money) that's already going to the area," Jenkins said.

Roberts said he applauds Jenkins' efforts in the House, and said he's also committed to pursuing all options to "help residents of Treece protect their families and move to a safe area, free from contamination and subsidence."

The EPA did buy out the adjacent community of Picher, Okla. While Picher and Treece are both part of the Tar Creek Superfund site and separated only by the state line, they lie in different EPA administrative regions.

The Dallas regional EPA office approved the Picher buyout, but the Kansas City, Kan., regional office has resisted doing the same for Treece.

Kansas City EPA officials say they removed most of the health risk to Treece nine years ago when they tested all the residential properties for lead and replaced the soil in about 40 contaminated yards.

Now, they say, Treece's problems are primarily economic and social, which are outside EPA's authority.

Jenkins said her bill would specifically authorize EPA to buy out Treece.

"Obviously, if it was good enough for the people of Picher, Okla., the same solution should be given to the residents of Treece," Jenkins said. "Picher and Treece are practically the same community.

"It wouldn't be so frustrating if we weren't caught in the limbo of two EPA regions," Jenkins added. "Having two different sets of rules just seems absurd."

EPA press secretary Adora Andy said the agency has no stance on Jenkins' bill, but "evaluates all Superfund sites on a case-by-case basis, with close coordination between the headquarters and the regional offices."

EPA Administrator Lisa Jackson recently visited Kansas City, but declined an offer from Roberts to take a tour of Treece.

Still, Roberts said he's had a "constructive dialogue" with Jackson and her staff.

"She has personally assured us that the situation in Treece is something she wants to learn more about and I hope she accepts my invitation to visit the area to see it firsthand," Roberts said.

Andy said Jackson's schedule was packed during her recent trip, but that she "would certainly consider such a visit in the future and understands the importance of viewing firsthand the impacts of environmental contamination."

'Kind of good news'

In Treece, Tonya Kirk — a longtime area resident who was recently elected to the City Council — called the introduction of Jenkins' bill "kind of good news."

Kirk spent the last week helping her sister-in-law, who got an EPA buyout in Picher, move to nearby Commerce, Okla.

Kirk said life has become increasingly difficult with Picher — the closest economic center — essentially shut down.

Kirk said her family would need enough of a buyout to pay off the $23,000 debt remaining on their mobile home, plus enough for a down payment on a home someplace else. The $42,000 her sister-in-law got would cover it, she said.

"We know we're not going to get rich off a buyout," she said.

Treece Mayor Bill Blunk said he watched the EPA spend about $12,000 trying to seal his niece's home in Picher against lead contamination. When it didn't work, the agency bought her out for $30,000 and razed the house anyway.

"To me, that (cleanup effort) was a waste of money," Blunk said. "I don't want to see that happen here."

Complicating matters is that, because of the pollution and the Picher buyout, banks won't lend money for people to buy, fix up or refinance a home in Treece. Blunk said that has forced the community into a rapid and unstoppable decline.

"I'm not trying to step on anybody's toes," he said. "I just want them (EPA officials) to come down here and see how we have to live our everyday lives."

EPA officials have said that there are some significant differences that justified buying out Picher but not Treece.

Both communities are surrounded by huge piles of gray contaminated mining waste known as "chat." But Picher's chat piles are much larger and were more interspersed with the community's living area, officials said.

In addition, unlike in Treece, the Picher chat is of a consistency that can be cleaned and used as gravel in asphalt and concrete. Emptying the town of people makes it easier to put in haul roads so the chat can be brought to a central area for processing and shipment, officials said.

In Treece, the plan is to relocate the chat from small piles to large piles that can then be capped with clay and topsoil. Areas cleared of chat will ultimately be usable for farming and ranching, and the capped piles will resemble native grassland, the agency says.

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Picher's Best Still Has Roots In Oklahoma

Yankowski starred at NEO, Kansas State before NFL career.

July 7, 2009

Ron Yankowski (left), a former football standout for Picher High School and the St. Louis Cardinals, played 10 seasons with the Cardinals after a college career at Northeastern Oklahoma A&M and Kansas State.Courtesy

Ron Yankowski slipped on a pair of boxing gloves and got the soup knocked out of him.

It's a feel-good story with a feel-bad start.

"I got beat up pretty good, and that was about the last time I boxed anybody," Yankowski said. "I said, 'This is not for me.' "

Yankowski found his niche in another sport.

He became a football All-American and national champ at Northeastern Oklahoma A&M, an All-Big Eight defensive tackle at Kansas State and a 10-year NFL player with the St. Louis Cardinals. He settled in the St. Louis area and was thrilled to see his old franchise — now the Arizona Cardinals — finally reach a Super Bowl.

Now you know the answer to a trivia question: Whatever happened to the most famous athlete Picher High School will ever produce? Applications are closed. Picher's last graduating class received caps and gowns in May.

"There are not a whole lot of people left in that little old place any more," the 62-year-old Yankowski said.

"It was kind of blown away with the tornado, and they've got other disaster stuff down there, but I am really fortunate. I went to a small school there and I'm really happy I got the chance to go to NEO. Going to NEO more or less jump-started my career, so I don't have anything but good things to say about them."

Yankowski was born in Massachusetts, where his father has roots. While in the service, Dad snagged a wife from Oklahoma. "The Oklahoma in her said 'I'm going home and you're coming with me.' That's what I was told," Yankowski said. "So they came on back home to Miami and lived there in Cardin."

Yankowski served in the Army Reserves after high school. He returned home and — why not? — decided to try Golden Gloves boxing. Meanwhile, former Picher quarterback Doug Matthews had moved on to NEO and told Yankowski the Norsemen needed linemen. A football coach showed up to watch Yankowski box.

Yankowski got decked a couple of times. The coach, impressed that Yankowski kept getting up, offered books and tuition if Yankowski would try out for the football team. He made it, plus some. On May 16, 2009, Yankowski was inducted in the NEO Athletic Hall of Fame.

The Cardinals have been less than a model NFL franchise, recording only three winning seasons from 1977-2007. But Yankowski, who played from 1971-80, contributed to good times. He played on Cardinal squads that won 10 or more games in 1974, 1975 and 1976.

Yankowski credits the success to draft choices rising to the occasion and coach Don Coryell laying down the law.

"One thing he said that I thought was good was, 'We've got about five pro ball players here that will make it every year. The rest of you guys are average or below. If we can get you to play up over your ability, we are going to win.'

"And that's what kept us going. To me, that was my whole life. I had to get better every year. No matter how good you think you are this year, next year somebody is going to beat you out. That was the one thing I thought was an inspiration for me and all my teammates."

Later, the Cardinals' coach was Bud Wilkinson, architect of 47 consecutive victories at the University of Oklahoma. Wilkinson had two losing years with the Cardinals and was let go.

"I think he didn't have all the people he really needed there at that time," Yankowski said.

"He had to pick up people that were there and we were not playing well and, coaching-wise, things just didn't work out. To me, you have to work hard, and our practices slacked off at that time. I'm not saying this was his fault, but it seemed like practice was easier and everything else. And football is not easy. You've got to work at it. I think that was more or less our downfall from then on."

Yankowski said owner Bill Bidwell treats old St. Louis players well and makes them feel like part of the family.

"I'm still a Cardinal fan," Yankowski said. "I haven't changed. Even though the Rams are here and I love to watch the Rams, the Cardinals are still my team and they always will be."

Once a Cardinal, always a Cardinal. And Yankowski also said he will always be a Gorilla and a Norseman and a Wildcat, too.

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Monday Marks The End For Picher's Post Office

Officials are working to keep water and utilities on for a handful of families that remain.
The last day for the post office was on Monday.

July 6, 2009

Picher will most likely stop all operations on September 1st

PICHER, OK -- After decades of lead and zinc mining, Picher, Oklahoma, is disappearing little by little. The nation's largest EPA Superfund site has rapidly decreased after the town suffered from pollution problems. Now, the few remaining businesses are closing their doors. On Monday, the United States Postal Service closed.

"I was born and raised here. Yeah, it's sad. It's very sad to go look at homes that some of your family lived in that have passed away and it's all rubble," said Donna Captain.

Picher was, at one time, a thriving small town. It is now virtually a ghost town. As one by one, people pack up and move due to a federal buyout of homes. The school graduated its last class this year. A tornado last year helped speed up Picher's demise.

After The Storms: May 10, 2008

"It's kind of a sad day, of course, because people are coming to realize that the town will cease to exist so it's kind of a sad day," said John Sparkman.

A few people came to check their post office boxes one last time on Monday. The post master kept the doors open through lunch as some came in to find out how they could continue to get their mail.

Picher residents will still be able to get their mail delivered to their house. But, Cardin residents will have to come over to the housing authority where they have the collection box units to get their mail and to send mail.

Jo Crossland has lived in Picher for 76 years as of July 5th, her birthday. She didn't realize the post office was closing.

"Not till today when I read the sign on the door," said Jo Crossland.

"It's terrible. It's a terrible way to say goodbye to Picher. It's very terrible," said Donna Captain.

So, as the American flag flies over the Picher Post Office for the last time, Picher residents say goodbye and hold on to what they can.

"What do you do? You just take it and you have your memories and that's all you can do," said Donna Captain.

Dave Lewin spoke for the post office and says the closure is difficult for them as well. He says because so much of the population has left, they are left with no other option.

The majority of Picher will have rural mail delivery and others will have to go to Miami or Commerce for post office services.

Lewin also says the Picher Post Office employees will be placed at other locations.

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Picher Packing It In

PICHER, Okla. — Hoppy Ray was surprised when he watched the story about his life in Picher on CNN’s Web site.
“It kind of surprised me,” Ray said. “I didn’t expect them to do all that. But it was nice.”

July 3, 2009

PICHER, Okla. — Hoppy Ray was surprised when he watched the story about his life in Picher on CNN’s Web site.

“It kind of surprised me,” Ray said. “I didn’t expect them to do all that. But it was nice.”

During a town reunion last month, a film crew with CNN visited Picher and filmed Ray, age 84, in his museum. A story, a timeline, photos and a video accompany John Sutter’s June 30 report: “Last man standing at wake for toxic town.”

The site is www.cnn.com/2009/US/06/30/oklahoma.toxic.town/index.html.

Also appearing in the video is Rebecca Jim, an environmental activist who has been involved with public-health issues in the Tar Creek Superfund Site for many years.

“They came down the day of the Picher reunion (June 13),” Jim said. “It was a sad story. And, they didn’t let me say the one thing I kept saying to them, and that is Congress needs to reauthorize the Superfund law so that the polluter pays for these cleanups.”

The story focused on Ray’s reluctance to leave Picher and how his son secretly moved him out of Picher into a dwelling 10 miles away in Miami.

David Ray, the son who moved him out, said: “I had to play dirty pool when he was out of town. I moved out everything while he was gone. When he came back to his apartment, I told him, ‘You moved.’

“Boy, was he pissed off... totally. I had two choices: It’s his way, and it’s his way. There was not much wiggle room on that.”

Jim said: “Hoppy, well, he saved face. He did not do it. Someone else moved him. That was the kindest way to do that. His son just did it, and that was it. But, he was still the last man standing.”

Said Hoppy Ray: “I went to pay the utilities. I was gone for a couple of hours. When I turned the door key, there wasn’t a damn stick of furniture left in the apartment. That teed me off for quite some time.”

Ray’s museum remains in Picher.

The ever-defiant Ray said: “It’s not going anywhere if I can help it. There’s too much history there.”

Picher is continuing to shut down as the state, with federal money, buys out the last remaining residents. The population may be under 50. A couple of years ago, the town had a population of more than 700 people.

A spokeswoman for the Picher post office said the office will close Monday. Plans call for the closing of city offices in September.

And on Tuesday night, graduates of the Picher-Cardin School District marked both the end of the school system, which closed Tuesday, and the return of Bobo, a concrete statue of the school district’s gorilla mascot.

The statue was sold to a Conway, Mo., resident last month when the school district put much of the remaining property up for auction. Local residents rallied to buy the gorilla back, and it was returned Tuesday. It ultimately is to be donated to a museum.

Treece proposal

U.S. Rep. Lynn Jenkins, R-Kan., has introduced federal legislation that would authorize a buyout of Treece, Kan., because of dangers posed to residents from past mining operations.

“One hundred years of mining near Treece has left the approximately 100 residents with toxic soil, dangerous conditions and no hope of rebuilding,” Jenkins said in a news release. “While I appreciate the Environmental Protection Agency’s efforts to clean up Treece, I am convinced cleanup is not sufficient.”

Treece is just north of Picher, Okla. Jenkins said in the release that residents of Treece and Picher were victims of virtually the same circumstances.

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Picher-Cardin's Gorilla Statue Is Back Home

Former Picher-Cardin cheerleaders Christina Long (top) and Lauren Harding celebrate the return of their school's mascot after Dave Marlin (left), who bought the gorilla statue last month, returned it to the community Tuesday.

July 3, 2009

PICHER — About 1,000 former Picher-Cardin High School students and friends turned out Tuesday night for a bonfire and rally to welcome their school mascot back home, even as they bid their school goodbye.

"It's just like an old high school football bonfire that we would have had before the Commerce or Quapaw games," said Kyleigh Garrett, a former cheerleader who graduated in 2001.

The 90-year-old Picher-Cardin school district graduated its final class of seniors in May. Its remaining 50 students will go to the Commerce and Quapaw school districts next year.

"Families from all across the country that previously lived in Picher were at the bonfire," Garrett said. "There were people here from Dallas, Illinois, all over."

The 20-foot-tall bonfire, made up of logs and wooden pallets, was at the four-way stop downtown. Those in attendance were wearing red and white Picher Gorillas T-shirts.

The gorilla statue, which had stood at the school as the athletic teams' mascot until it was sold in a school auction June 14, was returned to Picher just before the event

Dave Marlin of Conway, Mo., bought the statue for $2,500 but decided to return it to the community after learning how important it had been to the students.

He sold it to Jodi Morgan, a 1994 Picher graduate, for an undisclosed amount.

Emotions ran high and tears flowed when Marlin pulled up with the statue in the back of his truck.

Along with the gorilla, he brought a huge ice cream freezer and gave homemade ice cream to the crowd.

A cookout had been held before the bonfire was lit. Former band members played the school song and other pep rally songs, and cheers were chanted. Former coaches and players, including Willie Ng, who was the quarterback for the 1984 football team, which won a state title, made speeches.

Morgan said she bought the gorilla statue for her husband for Father's Day and that the couple plan to find a permanent place for it in Oklahoma.

Residents voted 55-6 in April to dissolve the Picher-Cardin school district.

The combination of a federally funded buyout of Picher residents and businesses and last year's tornado, which killed seven people and ravaged 20 blocks of the town, led to the demise.

Picher officials say they expect the town itself to close by about the first of September.

Picher — along with North Miami, Commerce, Quapaw and Cardin, in northern Ottawa County — is part of the Environmental Protection Agency's Tar Creek Superfund site.

Tests in the 1990s showed that Picher children had lead poisoning, and a 2006 Army Corps of Engineers study showed that the abandoned lead and zinc mines underneath Picher, Cardin and Hockerville had a high risk of caving in. That led to the buyout.

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Jenkins Introduces Legislation to Fund Treece Buyout

Congressional Documents and Publications/ContentWorks via COMTEX

July 2, 2009

WASHINGTON - Congresswoman Lynn Jenkins last week introduced legislation to authorize the federal government to buyout Treece, Kansas, due to dangers posed to local residents by the Cherokee County National Priorities List Site.

"One hundred years of mining near Treece has left the approximately 100 residents with toxic soil, dangerous conditions and no hope of rebuilding," Jenkins said. "While I appreciate the Environmental Protection Agency's (EPA) efforts to cleanup Treece, I am convinced a cleanup is not sufficient."

In April, Jenkins joined Kansas Senators Pat Roberts and Sam Brownback sending a letter to EPA Acting Administrator Lisa Jackson asking the agency to direct economic stimulus funds to help Treece residents relocate. EPA responded saying instead of using stimulus funds for a residential buyout, the agency instead plans to use them for remediation of mining wastes and cleanup efforts.

Treece is located approximately one mile north of Picher, Oklahoma, which received federal buyout assistance due to similar dangerous conditions caused by the Tar Creek Superfund Site. After receiving a letter from the Kansas Department of Health and Environment asking for support and assistance securing federal funding, Jenkins introduced legislation to fund a similar buyout for the Treece community.

Jenkins continued, "Treece and Picher are victims of virtually the same circumstances, and the residents in Treece should have the same relocation assistance as those in Picher. I will continue to work with folks in Treece, and I am hopeful the House will consider this critical legislation."

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Man Holding Onto Picher History Featured On CNN.com

84-Year-Old Orval “Hoppy” Ray... Picher had left him behind... It was time to go... He was moving to Miami, a town just 10 miles south.

July 2, 2009

PICHER, OKLA. - If the world is trying to forget Picher, Oklahoma, it first needs to get by Orval "Hoppy" Ray.

Hoppy says he never wanted to move out of Picher. But one day while he was eating at his favorite restaraunt his son moved all his belongings down to Miami.

But you can still find Hoppy in Picher nearly everyday.

In his half museum-half pool hall, Hoppy can recount the entire history of Picher, Oklahoma.

The good:

"So many people on the streets we could barely walk up and down the sidewalks. You would have to turn sideways to get up and down the crowd."

The bad:

"From 1912 to 1917 the Klu Klux Klan were the top dogs."

The heroes:

"We had just hundreds of men give their lives for the war effort here in Picher."

Hoppy's knowledge of Picher is so outstanding, for a short time on Tuesday his story made the front page of CNN.COM: 'Last man standing' at wake for a toxic town

"Well, the phone rang and it was a lady that I eat breakfast with on Sundays - and her sister had called her and told her that CNN had picked up the story. And they picked me up and I went over and looked at it. Oh it was alright. It didn't bother me too much."

Hoppy says he enjoys the noteriaty but simply hopes the memory of Picher continue on even after he is gone.

Hoppy focuses on the good times Picher had: "it was the lead and zinc captial of the world" and "it had the best school system in the state of Oklahoma."

He ignores warnings of the city's health hazards.

Asked if he thinks chat is harmful, he simply answers "no".

However, many disagree and have moved on.

But Hoppy hasn't.

"Well, I don't have any friends left. All the guys I run around with, gee whiz - every time I pick up the obits and my name is not in there it just makes my day. 'Cause the rest of them are gone."

Covered in foreclosure and condemnation, standing alone is Hoppy's museum featuring pictures and old mining gear from the community's history.

Hoppy says he acquired some of the historic memorabilia, by trading them for free games of pool.

"They have already killed the town. It's done. But the least they could do is put up some sort of monument."

But with no monument in sight Hoppy will have to do for now.

"It will be around for years for people to see what was here and how they worked and what they looked like."

He'll be keeping the memories and the music of Picher, Oklahoma alive.

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Hoppy Ray... Last Man Standing’ At Wake For A Toxic Town

84-Year-Old Orval “Hoppy” Ray... Picher had left him behind... It was time to go... He was moving to Miami, a town just 10 miles south.

July 1, 2009

Wearing powder blue pants and a plaid fedora, 84-year-old Orval “Hoppy” Ray arrived fashionably late to a celebration in Picher, Oklahoma, a vacated mining town at the center of one of the nation’s largest and most polluted toxic-waste sites.

Former residents, bought out by the government because their town was deemed so dangerous, gathered in Picher’s elementary school to say farewell to a place where kids suffered lead poisoning, where homes built atop underground mines plunged into the Earth and where the local creek coughs up orange water, laced with heavy metals.

A toothpick dangling out of the corner of his chapped mouth, Ray greeted several old friends as if he were in any other small town in America.

“Hello there, Hoppy! How the hell are ya?“ one called out.

Gray mountains of toxic gravel loomed behind the school, just out of sight, as Hoppy hobbled past a bundle of balloons and through the front doors, cane in hand. He tipped his hat as he entered.

“Looks like a good crowd,“ he said. “Everybody seems to be havin’ a good time... That’s the main thing.“

In a town this tragic and for a person as stubborn as Hoppy, that’s a big statement.

As his abandoned town fades to dust, Hoppy has gone into the business of memories. He wants to remind townspeople, and the world, that a person’s home should always be loved... no matter how toxic.

Hoppy didn’t understand what all of the fuss was about.

It was 2006, and the federal government announced it would pay people to leave Picher and the Tar Creek Superfund Site, which is part of the government’s toxic-waste cleanup program. A report had found that much of the area was at risk of collapsing into the extensive lead and zinc mines.

The buyout plan was seen as a blessing by some scared families.

But not Hoppy.

Hoppy swore he wouldn’t leave his hometown, that he would die before he’d leave Picher, even if his electricity and water were turned off.

He’d grown up there, worked in the mines alongside his father... and all three of his brothers. But Picher was more than a place to make money. It was a place of patriotism and purpose: The metals they dug out of caves deep in the ground were processed and turned into bullets that armed U.S. soldiers in both world wars.

The wars ended, though, and so did the world’s interest in Picher. By 1970, the last mine shut down.

Hoppy’s family stayed.

They couldn’t leave a place that had threaded itself into their lives so deeply.

After making a quick stop in the crowded school cafeteria, Hoppy found a more suitable post on the sidelines of the reunion, in a narrow hallway.

He sat in a chair with a smirk on his face, using his cane to ping friends in the shins, or sometimes in the groin, to get their attention.

“This here’s the last man standing,“ one man said, chuckling, as he stopped by Hoppy’s seat.

Hoppy’s son and grandson arrived with several cardboard boxes of books, pulled from the bed of the old miner’s pickup. With the help of another local-history buff, Hoppy has self-published three books. The latest, “Just Call Me Hoppy,“ chronicles his memories of a pre-toxic Picher, a time he believes everyone else has forgotten.

The book begins in 1925, when the mines were at their peak... and the year Hoppy was born.

At 17, he left Picher to fight in World War II. After he was injured when his Navy ship was hit by a suicide bomber, Hoppy returned home to finish high school and go to work in the mines.

In those years, Picher was a bustling town with neon signs “like Las Vegas,“ Hoppy recalled.

When the mines slowed down and money was tight, Hoppy hustled billiard tables at a pool hall downtown. When the mines shut entirely, he bought the pool hall and hung on its walls some of his dad’s mining gear: a kerosene lamp, a helmet.

The items puzzled kids who came into the Pastime Pool Hall. What were the mines like? they asked Hoppy. What did they mine for, anyway?

Shocked by the younger generation’s ignorance, Hoppy became a collector. He asked the kids to bring in mining memorabilia. In exchange, he’d let them shoot a few rounds of pool for free.

“I thought it was important that people ought to know what Picher’s role was in two world wars,“ Hoppy said. “Hell, to me, it was important... Without the mines here in Ottawa County [Oklahoma], those wars would’ve lasted a lot longer.“

Hoppy’s book details Picher’s patriotic spirit, its sense of purpose during the wars. But it mentions the Superfund buyout only in passing and never explains that the town is toxic. It doesn’t say that four of Hoppy’s great-grandchildren tested for high levels of lead in their blood. They are among the victims of Picher’s toxic legacy.

Hoppy figures the world hears plenty about all that. He’d rather focus on the Picher he loves. The walls of his pool hall... the sign in the window says “Hoppy’s Museum” ...are now papered with photos and artifacts.

Neighboring buildings are boarded up, their windows broken, the paint peeling. Tree-size weeds crack the sidewalks.

Hoppy’s pool hall breathes life into this abandoned place, where only a few people still live. On Monday nights, he opens the doors to local musicians. When he goes home, he leaves a single bulb lit over the door.

It’s the only light on the street.

One morning, about two weeks before Picher’s June 13 reunion, Hoppy’s son moved his dad out of town while Hoppy was at his favorite restaurant eating breakfast.

Hoppy was furious.

“I unlocked the door ... and I didn’t have a stick of furniture,“ he said. He stood in the entryway in disbelief.

David Ray showed up behind his dad, bearing the news that Picher had left him behind. It was time to go. He was moving to Miami, a town just 10 miles south.

Hoppy remains bewildered by the situation. He lies awake at night in his new home. He tunes the television to a country-music station and blares familiar songs to try to lull himself to sleep.

On the rare instances when that has worked, Hoppy has dreamed of a pre-toxic Picher. He sees packed movie theaters and bar fights.

He sees the people from the photos on the walls of his pool hall, all of whom are gone.

Some mornings, Hoppy leaves breakfast and drives to his old home instead of his new one in Miami, as if he’s on autopilot.

His house in Picher, the one where he lived for nearly half a century, is tagged with yellow spray paint: TBCD.

To be condemned.

Why is moving just 10 miles away so devastating?

Outside Picher, the mining town’s former residents are branded “lead heads” and “chat rats.“ People wonder whether living in the polluted area made them stupid.

Like any downtrodden group, Picher residents once found strength in numbers, in their insulated community.

Now they must find their way in a larger world... a world they don’t fully understand, one that understands them only as the products of a toxic town.

It’s no wonder they seek solace in memories.

From his post in the hallway at Picher’s wake, Hoppy sold $300 worth of books... not enough to cover costs but enough to leave him satisfied.

His night was cut short when the muscles in his chest seized up.

He had two heart attacks in recent weeks, and doctors said the stress was getting to him.

Hoppy’s son told his dad he was “out of gas.“ It was time to go.

Hoppy’s family loaded his unsold books back into the bed of his pickup, and the old miner drove down empty streets to a still-unfamiliar home.

He says he moved to Miami “under protest.“ But he’s easing to the idea a bit.

“They told me they were gonna move me to Miami,“ he joked, “and I said, ‘Over my dead body, you will!‘ “

He continued, changing tone: “ ‘Oh, well,‘ I said, ‘I’ve been dead from the waist down now for 10 years anyway.‘ “

He has found purpose by resurrecting Picher’s untold story... at the pool hall, at the reunion and through his books.

He’s not happy about having to leave his home. But he’s no longer the stubborn man who couldn’t dream of the world beyond Picher.

“There’s not any point in thinking about it,“ he said, “because there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it... just break out, go someplace else and start all over again.“

The walls in his new living room are still bare. But he has ordered two 6-foot-long murals of Picher, photographs of the town in its heyday.

The mountains of gravel waste were smaller then... and growing. For Hoppy, the photos capture a town on the upswing.

He went to Picher’s wake expecting it to feel like a funeral.

He left with a sense of relief.

And afterward, for the first time in weeks, he slept through the night.

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Dying Town's Residents Hoping For Buyout

Our Town Is Dying...Help!

Jun. 28, 2009

TREECE, Kan. (AP) -- Almost everyone who lives in the tiny southeast Kansas community of Treece knows there's not much of a future here. With help from Sen. Pat Roberts, the 100 or so residents are hoping the federal government will buy them out like it did for Picher, Okla., just over the state line.

But the Environmental Protection Agency believes problems in Treece can be fixed and there's no need for the government to move anyone.

Treece is a former mining community that experienced decades of prosperity before taking a steady path toward becoming a ghost town.

The ground beneath the town has been undermined for metals, and its landscape is dotted with cave-ins and uncapped shafts that are filled with brownish water that is unfit for human consumption.

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Contaminated Treece, Kan., Begs For An Environmental Protection Agency Buyout

TREECE... Mining history has left town changed forever... And you know the sun's settin' fast... And just like they say, nothing good ever lasts... "Our Town"

Jun. 28, 2009

With a shining past and a troubled present, just about everyone agrees this town has no future. A century of mining that built this southeast Kansas town and brought decades of prosperity is long since over, leaving a legacy of heavy-metal-tainted water and soil, surrounded by a lunarlike landscape of gray mine waste.

Even the ground beneath the town can't be trusted; the tiny city was extensively undermined for the metals and the landscape is pocked with cave-ins and uncapped shafts filled with brackish, brownish water that's unfit for human contact.

About 100 survivors hope the federal government will buy them out and settle them elsewhere, as it did with neighboring Picher, Okla.

They have a powerful ally in Sen. Pat Roberts, R-Kan., who is prepared to file a bill in Congress if the Environmental Protection Agency won't spend stimulus money to buy out Treece.

But EPA officials say they've removed most of the environmental hazards from the residential area.

While they sympathize with the plight Treece finds itself in, they say they're not legally empowered to address what are now primarily economic and social problems.

• • •

I'm leaving tomorrow but I don't wanna go.

I love you, my town, you'll always live in my soul ...

Most of the people here are descendants of the miners and have lived with the pollution all their lives.

Many would probably have been willing to ride it out while the EPA conducts a 10-year cleanup. But the desertion of Picher has been a body blow to Treece.

The Picher school district laid off almost all its employees and auctioned off everything -- chairs, desks, football uniforms -- two weeks ago. The Post Office closes July 6; City Hall on Sept. 1.

The loss of Picher's jobs, shopping, recreation and public services has rendered Treece unsalvageable, said Mayor Bill Blunk, who has been in office nearly 10 years and expects to be Treece's last mayor.

"If I could afford it, I'd move tomorrow," Blunk said. "I see no future. If they don't buy us out... my term will be up in 2011 and I don't think we'll be incorporated at that time."

The average Treece home is worth $10,000 and the city budget has dwindled to $25,000. City Hall is open only six days a month so residents can pay water bills.

Ask just about anyone here what the last good thing to happen in Treece was and the answer is a long pause and an are-you-kidding-me look.

The mayor's no exception. Finally, he recalls the pumping of the city's sewage lagoon in 2004.

For the past decade, Blunk has been holding things together as well as he can. When the City Hall yard needs mowing, he mows it. Ditto for the banks of the sewage lagoon.

It's a labor of love, more than anything else. He's paid $1 a year.

"You try to get residents to help out by cleaning their own alleys," he said. "Some do, some don't. If we get hit with a hard, heavy repair bill, something I can't do myself, we'll be in trouble."

• • •

Now I sit on the porch and watch the lightning-bugs fly.

But I can't see too good, I got tears in my eyes ...

Treece sits atop what was once a rich body of lead and zinc ore stretching beneath the corners where Kansas, Oklahoma and Missouri meet.

From 1850 to 1950, the 2,500-square-mile mining region provided half the zinc and 10 percent of the lead produced in the United States, according to a 2008 Cherokee County Restoration Plan.

The big mining companies primarily used a process called "room and pillar," which involved digging out room-size holes underground and leaving similar-size pillars of ore to hold up the roof.

That created huge piles of spent ore covering hundreds of acres surrounding Treece and Picher.

Most of it is called "chat," crushed, contaminated rock ranging from face-powder-fine to gravel-size particles.

Eventually, the ore began to run out and the big mining companies moved on.

Around the 1950s, they were replaced by "gougers," who would go underground to scrape out the last of the ore, much of which was in the pillars.

The mines were generally below the water table and had to be pumped constantly to keep from flooding. The last of the pumps were turned off in the early 1970s.

Now, no one knows exactly what is beneath Treece and how many of the pillars have been compromised.

And the flooding created another hazard.

Where shafts were uncapped or mines caved in, the water came to the surface.

One large cave-in northwest of Treece became a popular swimming hole. Kids would return from swimming with reddened skin, usually assumed to be sunburn.

"What it is is the chemicals in the water.... Those kids didn't have any idea what they were swimming in," said Denny Johnston, a longtime resident and local expert on sinkholes who recently guided Roberts on a tour of the town.