Deer Park’s lessons ignored by too many

I was raised in Pasadena and attended high school in nearby Deer Park — the site of this week’s Intercontinental Terminals Company fire and origin of the black plume. I spent plenty of time on Center Street — the main drag — visiting friends’ houses, buying nail polish on Saturday nights from the pharmacy. I was the drum major of the Deer Park High School band. I graduated with honors and received a full scholarship to college. In that way, I think back with some affection on where I came from.

But there’s a real disconnect in Deer Park. Many programs at school were sponsored by a local oil or petrochemical company. They hardly needed to remind us that they were there — all we had to do was look over the school building, and we could see the chemical plants rising over everything. If we couldn’t see the structures themselves, we could see the billowing smoke. And if we couldn’t see that, we could smell the rotten air.

In 1989, I was in middle school at Deepwater Junior High in Pasadena. The Phillips 66 explosion was a major milestone in my understanding of this area. It registered a 3.5 on the Richter scale and killed 23 workers, injuring 314 others. The entire school shook. We were sent home early, and I can clearly remember the black plume from the explosion dashing the blue sky as we waited for someone to take us home safely.

I came to understand this area as a place I couldn’t trust. Small explosions and leaks became rote for us. I could see the flares burning nearby at night, brighter on holidays. It was our Southern Lights — a gray sky flashing with streaks of orange. Many believed the plants flared more toxic materials on holidays because regulators weren’t paying attention then.

Those who lived closest to these plants knew this best. But what could any of us do? These businesses funded the schools and employed the parents. The parents donated money to the student organizations and scholarships. You never spoke ill of the industries outside your door because they were creating prosperity for everyone.

Then, in many cases, you left high school and began working there, too. Or you went to Texas A&M University to become an engineer so you could manage the people who began working there after high school. This is how these businesses became community saviors. And this is how companies embed themselves among people who shouldn’t trust them.

You shouldn’t trust them because ITC poured cyanide at 10 times the legal limit into the San Jacinto River Basin. (Please ask yourself — why are there any acceptable levels of cyanide poured into a body of water?) ITC has also had at least 39 unauthorized air releases since 2003. It has been out of compliance with the Clean Air Act for nine of the past 12 quarters. And it still just keeps running, paying affordable fines when it needs to. Fines won’t stop this. The men golfing this week while the plume was clouding overhead — the subject of an incredible Chronicle photograph — represent a big part of the problem. I know those types of people. I grew up with them. They don’t see beyond the money that these plants provide the communities and their own complacent lives. Meanwhile, much of Houston is worried about breathing the air wafting in from an area of town most people rarely think about.

If no one has yet, let me introduce you to life in Deer Park: Houston’s petrochemical industry is the largest in the United States. There are real people who make the products, and there are real people who make sure the safety regulations are easy to bypass.

The workers here are creating plastics, rubber and resins. In doing so, they make our lives easier and meet our demand for everything from gasoline to paint thinner to nail polish remover. They are working with highly volatile materials and equipment that might not pass safety inspections.

I urge you to read the investigative reports that the Chronicle has done about the petrochemical industry, including the Chemical Breakdown series. Lax regulations are not just an annoyance or black mark across the sky — they kill people and they put millions of Texans at risk. When our state politicians repeat that line about Texas being “great for business,” they’re really saying, “our regulations are lax. You are welcome to come plunder.”

Stop buying this line. Stop allowing these companies into your communities until they stop polluting them. Fight for a strong U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. Fight for a strong Texas Commission on Environmental Quality. Vote for people who care about your interests as living people who have to breathe air, not the interests of companies that have proven that they can’t be trusted.

Lax regulations are not just an annoyance or black mark across the sky — they kill people and put millions of Texans at risk. When our state politicians repeat that line about Texas being “great for business,” they’re really saying, “our regulations are lax. You are welcome to come plunder.”