"It's happening all over the country," said Fred Newhouse, a spokesman for Valero Refining, a company that has bought dozens of properties in the Manchester area of southeast Houston over the past decade in an effort to create a 10- to 12-block buffer zone. "Heavy industrial activity is no longer compatible with residential activities. When you can create a buffer, you can live."

For many of these fence-line residents, whose homes are old and so close to the plant it makes them undesirable, taking the company's check is a good deal.

But those who have no choice but to remain find themselves living in communities on the brink of extinction.

"We've run out of people to gripe over here," said Don Hebert, Landry's neighbor.

Whole communities disappear

While there are no hard statistics showing how much property has been purchased since the early 1990s, when many of the buyout programs began, a Houston Chronicle review of industry documents and interviews with four companies in Harris, Jefferson and Brazoria counties show that more than 1,000 properties have been bought this way over the past decade, in some cases erasing entire neighborhoods from the map.

The consequences have been dramatic, not only in Port Arthur, where the Chronicle monitored at a few homes as part of its Port Neches investigation, but also in the other neighborhoods that were part of the paper's major air pollution study. The results showed that some people living near industrial plants are being exposed to concentrations of pollutants that over a lifetime would increase the risk of cancer.

From Freeport to Port Neches to Baytown to the Allendale and Manchester areas of Houston, empty foundations leave residential blocks looking like gap-filled rows of teeth. Driveways and parks slowly revert to open fields. Churches close for lack of parishioners. Couples divorce over the decision to sell.

When the buyouts begin, the houses closest to the plants are usually the first to go.

"We grow it bit by bit. We go to the community closest to the existing plant first," said Warren Dold, recently retired public affairs senior adviser for Exxon Mobil Baytown, which has spent $21 million over the past 12 years purchasing 400 homes in the area, most of them in Wooster, a community on the plants' west side.

The company plans to continue buying property until it is bounded by major roads — Bayway Drive to the west and south, Decker Drive to the north and Texas 146 to the east. It will take 15 to 20 years, Dold said.

"We are not going to go in with deep pockets and corporate elbows and divide communities," said Dold, who emphasized the voluntary nature of Exxon Mobil's program.

He emphatically denied the rumors of plant expansion floating around Wooster, a community that developed in the late 1930s and '40s at the same time as Exxon's adjacent synthetic rubber plant. In 1992, about the same time Exxon started buyouts, 60 residents sued the company over noise, odors and other nuisances.

Industry officials say they are establishing buffer zones between themselves and their communities to improve quality of life. Some residents contend they are being pushed out so the plants can expand. But plaintiffs' lawyers, armed with company documents, say properties are being bought to reduce the chance of lawsuits and stop complaints.

"Companies understand that even if you want to be a good neighbor, it's very hard on the fence line due to machine noise, odors and flares," said Don Maierson, a Houston attorney who provided company documents to the Chronicle.

Maierson obtained the documents in the discovery phase of a lawsuit in which he was representing residents suing a nearby industry. He provided the information to the newspaper on the condition that the company not be named, so in future cases the companies he sues would be forthcoming.

"With this constant threat of a lawsuit, if you establish a protective greenbelt it makes economic sense," Maierson said. "Let's say you have a leaky valve and it gets into the soil and migrates to the groundwater. Buying your neighbors buys the peace."

Also, the farther away residents are from the plant, the harder it becomes to legally prove the source of pollution.

The companies interviewed by the Chronicle denied any connection between their buyouts and liability.

Dow Chemical Co., for instance, started offering residents money in 2001 for property along Slaughter Road in Freeport, an area where groundwater contamination had been discovered coming from a massive waste dump on the company's property in 1994.

The company said its offer had nothing to do with avoiding lawsuits, although several residents in the area were suing Dow for lost property value.

"The interest (in buying properties) is not new, even though there are no known health risks to the residents," said Dow spokesman David Winder. "Those who wanted to leave were able to leave, and those who wanted to stay in the area stayed."

While Winder refused to go into detail about Dow's real estate transactions, appraisal district records show that the company has purchased 110 of the 241 properties in the area for an average of $50,000. The company even offered to buy the city's golf course, which also has groundwater contamination, but was turned down when its offer was millions of dollars less than the replacement value, Freeport Mayor James Barnett said.

Among those choosing to stay are the Warrens, one of seven families still party to the lawsuit seeking reimbursement for lost property values. Originally, 37 families had signed on as plaintiffs.

"A lot of people got scared that they weren't going to get anything. Some families took a buyout, others took a lifetime lease from Dow," said Margie Warren. "I think they are trying to break our lawsuit down. They try to divide and conquer."

Her husband, Ralph Warren, said he won't sell until the plaintiffs get their day in court.

"It's not that we don't need the money," he said. "But let's get it to the courthouse so everybody knows what they are doing and how they operate."

Praise for buyouts

Supporters of buyouts, including attorneys who have represented fence-line residents, say removing neighborhoods near industry is a good solution for nearly all concerned — including the cities, which are often stuck supplying services to dying communities where the houses don't bring much in taxes. Green zones are also seen by city planners as a way to boost quality of life.

Buyouts also allow companies to continue operating as they do, with intermittent but inevitable releases, odors and noise. Nearby residents, whose property values are already low because of their proximity to industry, receive good prices and are no longer exposed to the pollution that wafts through their streets.

"I have to say they did give fair prices," said Stephenie Shapiro, an attorney who sued Exxon in the early 1990s on behalf of 60 residents in Wooster, claiming the company was creating a nuisance.

"It'd be impossible for me to bad-mouth them on this one," said Shapiro. "I would if I could."

Bobby Rountree, Baytown's city manager when the buyouts began in 1992, said the company's buying up property "is a dad-gum good idea for Exxon. . . . They can continue to do business with lights, noise, traffic in and out 24 hours, flares from time to time."

But the handful of people too old to pack up and leave, or too proud to sell, say there's another solution: The company could do better.

"We just want them to clean up their act so we can live together," said Loretta Hebert, one of the few left in Port Arthur's Fairlea subdivision, where nearby plants are extending networks of underground pipes beneath some of the abandoned lots. "That's all we want."

For others in neighborhoods targeted for a buyout, even a good sale price won't cover a new mortgage with an income of only Social Security and a pension.

"Honey, at our age, it's just too hard to move," said Harold Norton, whose numerous neighbors along Sycamore Street in Port Neches have taken the offer from the nearby Huntsman chemical plant. "Our home is paid for. Everything we have is here."

Prices differ

Regardless of the locale, the modus operandi for company buyout programs is much the same. Starting with the blocks closest to processing units, the purchasing spreads out in circular waves, moving farther and farther from the plant like ripples in a pond. Every couple of years, letters are delivered to properties the company is interested in buying, but in nearly all cases acceptance is voluntary. Sometimes meetings are held, with local citizens as liaisons.

In most cases, the companies give people their houses back to move them where they wish. Otherwise, the structures are demolished. Once a block is cleared, the cities often sell the road to the company.

Where the programs differ is on purchasing price. While some companies like Exxon Mobil correct for the devaluation of land that results from a location near an industrial plant, other companies, such as Huntsman, give market value for an industrial address.

A recent Texas Supreme Court decision may settle the debate over why companies are buying out residents.

In October, the court clarified the murky case history on the temporary or permanent nature of industrial nuisances. It said most plants are a permanent nuisance, even if odors, debris and other disruptive events occur only occasionally.

The practical effect is that residents will have only two years from the date they move into a neighborhood to sue — the statute of limitations on a permanent nuisance.

Legal experts say the decision greatly diminishes a company's liability and thus removes what some say is the impetus behind buyout programs.

"If their motivation is really being a good neighbor, the decision shouldn't affect it at all," said Lynn Blais, a professor at the University of Texas School of Law.

Nor should the decision affect some residents' choice to leave.

When Matt Zavodny left Wooster two years ago, he said, it was based on a choice between his daughter's breathing on her own or using an inhaler.

"I wanted to get out of that pollution so she could breathe a little easier," said Zavodny, who moved to Caldwell, a small town near College Station, from Arbor Street, the latest frontier in Exxon Mobil's buyout program. "Ever since we moved, she has no inhaler anymore."

Zavodny reflects the change in attitudes about living next to a chemical plant, even in a company town like Baytown. More than 50 years ago, his grandfather built their house with wages made from working at the plant. He rode his bike to work.

Over the years, as the plant grew closer, the successive generations who inherited the family home didn't see the benefit of living so near.

"I never wanted to live that close," said Matt Zavodny's father, Gordon, who grew up at 421 Arbor, which he rented to his son before selling it to Exxon Mobil last year.

The elder Zavodny said the refinery kept expanding until it was within 600 yards of his home, "so close I had no use for it anymore."

Others will remain, regardless of how the recent court decision affects buyouts.

Instead of playing dominoes, Leeroy Landry takes care of a garden he planted in the 5-foot easement the company gave him after it bought out his neighbors. While he may be one of the only residents left, he says, he is not going to stop calling the company to voice his concerns when a flare lights up the neighborhood or the wind blows an odor his way.

"They get to know your voice," he said. "They say, 'Is this Leeroy again?' "

"This was before they talked to us about buying their home," said Don Olsen, a spokesman for Huntsman, of the company's actions.

This past summer, son David Ward flew from Florida to negotiate with the company, asking for $100,000 — enough to move his mother into a nursing home and relocate the house. But Huntsman says it will pay only the $52,100 listed for the four-bedroom, two-bath house by the local appraisal district.

Ward says it's worth more, but she's running out of options.

"Nobody else is going to buy it by this plant," said Ward. "I spent $78,000 on it."

Since 1989, Texaco has purchased 16 houses in the area and Huntsman seven more; the average price was $35,000, according to records.

"Texaco's desire was to establish a greenbelt around the facility," Olsen said. "We've continued it. All of these properties have been purchased as they've become available."

The family has since lowered its asking price to $75,000, enough money to move their house and start a new life far away from industry.

But Huntsman says any deal is muddled by the death of Venus Ward's husband to lung cancer on Aug. 3.

"Before we do anything, we have to wait until the estate is probated and we know in whose name this property is," said Olsen.

Meanwhile, Venus Ward spends her days in her wheelchair in her crowded living room, with the front door that opens to a view of the chemical plant.

Every couch in the four-bedroom house pulls out into a bed. At least one car is always parked in the driveway. And on most days, there isn't a spare seat, since the nine people who live here like to gather and talk — often, all at once.

But in the quiet moments, Ward often wonders whether she'll end her life on the same street where she lived most of it.

"I guess they want me to stay here until I die," she said. Without enough money to move her family, she added, "That's what I'm going to do."

Solutions to the pollution

Experts weigh in on how to reduce air toxics in Texas

By DINA CAPPIELLO
Copyright 2004 Houston Chronicle

Buyouts aren't the only solution to the problem of toxic air pollution that plagues communities near the state's industrial plants. Interviews with numerous experts over the Chronicle's six-month investigation unearthed a variety of suggested fixes:

• Clearly determine what levels are unsafe. Develop enforceable standards.

"You got to fix the agency. What has to happen is that the regulatory agency has to take this stuff seriously. They are in the business to say what is an unhealthy situation. They have to make a decision," said Jim Tarr, president of Stone Lions Environmental Corp.

• Improve the system for evaluating air permits. Include background concentrations of air toxics, emissions from multiple sources and accidental releases to prevent high concentrations of dangerous chemicals in neighborhoods.

"So much of our money has been based on treatment. So much of that money would have been better spent if we looked at ways of preventing exposure. More money has to go into prevention," said Marvin Legator, professor of environmental toxicology at the University of Texas Medical Branch in Galveston.

• Clarify the Texas Clean Air Act to clearly define a condition of air pollution, so it can be enforced when high levels of air toxics are found.

"They are exceedingly reluctant to determine that any amount of toxics in air is a condition of air pollution," said Thomas McGarity, a professor who holds the Konzer Chair at the University of Texas School of Law. "I think it would be better to amend the act."

• Base company "buffer zones" on science.

"It would also be possible to use detailed spatial monitoring data to establish health-based buffer zones around major sources of air toxics, such as petrochemical plants and highways," said Thomas Stock, an associate professor at the University of Texas School of Public Health in Houston, who supervised the analysis of the Chronicle's data. This information could be used to site schools and other facilities.

• Document how the Effects Screening Levels are derived, and submit them to external peer review. (The Texas Commission on Environmental Quality is already in the process of doing this.)

"The first six months after I became section manager I put together a group of my folks, and we are documenting a procedure," said Michael Honeycutt, manager of the TCEQ's toxicology section. "We are taking that procedure and putting it through external peer review."

• Share the data collected by the state monitoring network with local officials and the public.

"It's not a matter of pointing fingers, it's a matter of fixing the problem," said Jerry Baugher, co-chairman of the Corpus Christi Community Advisory Council and the coordinator of the Long Term Health Work Group, a subcommittee of the council. By reviewing the monitoring data from the state, his group has worked to reduce benzene in Corpus Christi.

• Collaborate with health officials and public health specialists. Pair health data with air pollution data.

The Texas Department of Health has a cancer and birth defects registry. "We are going to try and work together," said Honeycutt.

• Initiate more research in fence-line communities to better document sources of exposure and to determine if links exist between air toxics and health problems.

"It's a constant question," said Maria Morandi, assistant professor of environmental sciences at the UT School of Public Health. "When you find a particular component poses a health risk, you replace it with a different one. This kind of information is useful for that."

• Install more widespread, real-time monitors, so the state can know when people are being exposed before they breathe dangerous levels of chemicals and where the chemicals are coming from.

"Sometimes when you have a lot of plants and you know there are problems in the area, you need to set up stationary monitors and lots around the plants so you catch it as the plume shifts," said McGarity.

• Have the federal government set standards.

"I can't tell you which (state's level) is more valid," said TCEQ Commissioner Ralph Marquez. "This is a thing that the federal government should be looking at. You cannot expect states to come up with a number."