News Archive 2002

Employees At Indian Pt. Back Safety Of Reactors
By WINNIE HU

05/28/2002
The New York Times
Page 1, Column 1 c. 2002
New York Times Company

BUCHANAN, N.Y., May 26 -- If something were to go terribly wrong at the Indian Point nuclear power plant here, Marie Gillman's pager would beep with a prearranged code, 222. Even as others fled in fear for their lives, she would have precisely 60 minutes to report to Reactor 3 to help contain the damage.

Of course, Ms. Gillman, 38, an Indian Point operations manager, could always pretend not to hear her pager, or find some other excuse not to respond. But she has vowed not to do that, not even if the plant is attacked by terrorists.

''I would look at it as a moral responsibility,'' she said last week during a break from training in a mock control room at the reactor. ''People who have these jobs are going to come to the plant. It's like a fireman's job.''

While nuclear power has never been exactly risk free, the potential dangers have never seemed greater at Indian Point, which is nestled on the Hudson River about 40 miles north of Midtown Manhattan. The Bush administration has issued a warning of a possible terrorist strike this summer on an American nuclear plant. Even before that, diagrams of American nuclear plants were discovered in Al Qaeda strongholds in Afghanistan.

Indian Point's 1,460 employees, ranging from secretaries to nuclear engineers, are coping with sharply tighter security, which includes members of the National Guard toting machine guns at the entrance. School and community groups are no longer allowed into the plant's training center, where simulations in a mock control room were once conducted in plain view. Plant retirees, who used to drop by unannounced to visit, have been turned away under the new restrictions.

But by and large, terrorism has not shaken the faith of those who come here day after day and, in many cases, raise their families within the shadow of the plant's concrete domes. In nearly two dozen interviews, current and past employees said that the plant's physical structure -- 3 1/2-foot-thick concrete reinforced with overlapping rows of steel rods in the domes -- and its numerous safeguards would prevent, or minimize, any damage from a terrorist attack or a major accident.

With visible frustration, they point out that some of the public's worst fears are simply not supported by science. For instance, they say -- and industry experts concur -- that the reactor fuel typically contains 3 to 5 percent enriched uranium, a tiny fraction of the amount needed for a nuclear bomb. (Spent fuel typically has less than 1.5 percent.)

So even if terrorists reached the reactors, these employees say, the reactor fuel would melt rather than explode. Ms. Gillman, a mother of three, expressed doubt that they would even get that far. She said the terrorists would have to disable multiple emergency systems that are designed to shut down the reactor at any intrusion. ''Yes, there could be sabotage at the plant,'' she said. ''But whether they could cause damage that would kill thousands of people -- no, I don't think that's possible.''

It is this almost overwhelming feeling of security at Indian Point that divides those inside the plant from those outside, and allows employees like Donna Pagliaro, 34, a senior clerk/typist, to feel safe at their desks. Her husband, Vincent, also works here, as a senior maintenance mechanic. ''No one would come here if they felt the plant was unsafe,'' Ms. Pagliaro said. ''The plant would be empty. I would not put myself at risk, or my family.''

Indeed, these employees say they are far less worried about terrorism than about the groundswell of opposition to Indian Point since Sept. 11. For years, antinuclear groups and others have assailed Indian Point's safety lapses, including a February 2000 radiation leak that shut down Reactor 2 for nearly a year and earned it the worst performance rating in the nation from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. But the terrorist attacks awoke new fears, and turned more politicians, environmentalists and others against the plant.

Indian Point employees have fought back in recent months, organizing a campaign to counter what they describe as misinformation, and participating in rallies in support of the plant.

For the most part, their efforts have not swayed hardened opponents of Indian Point. Michael B. Kaplowitz, a Westchester County legislator who has called for the decommissioning of Indian Point, acknowledged the passion and dedication of the plant's workers, but said he remained concerned not only about terrorism but also about potential problems caused by the aging reactors. ''I don't question the good faith of the employees,'' he said. ''But I think there are situations that can occur well beyond their capacity to control it.''

The intense criticism over Indian Point has affected many employees on a personal level, trickling down to their dinner and telephone conversations with friends and relatives. Willie Dodd, 61, a retired nuclear mechanic aide, said that his sister, Barbara, worried about a plane crashing into the domes. ''She overreacts to everything,'' he said with a shrug. ''I tell her not to worry about it. Are they going to shut down the airline industry because of this?''

Dean Shah, 55, a system engineer, said that his neighbor, a lawyer, recently came to him with concerns about the plant being used as a nuclear bomb. Mr. Shah explained that it could not happen, and then explained again to the neighbor's wife. ''I know the plant, I work here, so it's my job to explain to people,'' he said. ''In the beginning, they say, 'It's a disaster waiting to happen.' Then when they learn, they say 'I feel safe.' ''

Many of these employees view Indian Point not just as a nuclear plant, but as an integral part of their lives and communities. This spit of land on the Hudson was once a popular amusement park for local families and New York City residents who arrived on riverboats. Then, in the 1950's, Consolidated Edison acquired the property and built the first of three nuclear reactors (the first one is no longer active).

The new technology attracted a cadre of skilled technicians and engineers only too eager to earn better-than-average salaries and move their families out of cramped city apartments. ''It was some of the best years of my life,'' said Joseph Sarc, 76, a retired senior watch foreman.

Today, Indian Point remains the largest industry in the area and generates about $34 million in state, county and local taxes.

Christine Metzger, 68, an executive secretary who retired in 2000, said that she always had a ''good feeling about going to work'' because of the plant's emphasis on safety. Not even the radiation leak at Reactor 2 scared her. ''It was just like if you had a leak at home,'' she said. ''You fix it. It wasn't harmful. Our clothes, when we hang them outside, don't glow at night.''

For 19 years, Joseph Glickman, 78, a retired senior nuclear electrical technician, never hesitated to crawl underneath the reactor, or check other hot areas to calibrate and repair radiation instruments.

But he is not so sure about having his dentist take x-rays of his teeth. ''I'm more afraid there that I'm exposed to radiation,'' he said.

For his next checkup, he plans to bring along a radiation meter.

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