When residents protest Plum Island's geographic location as unfit, the USDA time and again points to the CDC. USDA officials say the CDC has been operating safely for years in downtown Atlanta—"CDC is immediately adjacent to a child care center in a very highly populated city," in the words of one official. By inference then, Plum Island, off the mainland in a less populated, immediate geographical area, should be acceptable. However, the USDA overlooks three important realities. For starters, Plum Island conducts its business entirely by itself on a private island off-limits to the public, where there is no opportunity for the slightest oversight of its activities, inside or outside the laboratory. The CDC's very location in downtown Atlanta under the public's watchful gaze keeps it honest, while Plum Island — out of sight, out of mind — is afforded ample opportunity for liberties when it comes to safety. Countless safety and security breaches go unnoticed every day because no one is watching. Second, what is now known about the USDA's privately contracted activities on Plum Island— poor biological safety and island security, a reprehensible attitude toward workplace safety, and a lengthy track record of polluting the environment — speaks for itself. Past events prove the USDA to be an unfit steward of the island's laboratories, bequeathed to it by the Army half a century ago. Finally, Plum Island is a Third World republic compared to the CDC and Fort Detrick in funding, in scientific talent, and in biological safety expertise. Neither of the other institutions has had a germ outbreak; Plum Island has had two verified outbreaks. Neither of them has been assailed for violations of environmental and workplace safety laws; Plum Island has repeatedly run afoul of such important laws.
The Plum Island task force surveyed the island's security, and found two I unarmed guards. "A bunch of teenagers were over there — just before September 11th — and [Plum Island officials] didn't even know it," remembers Acampora. "The kids came back and told us they went onto the island." Acampora, a Republican, teamed up with Democrat U.S. Senator Chuck Schumer to issue a bipartisan call for the federal government to refed-eralize Plum Island. "The federal government is the only agency [sic] that has the expertise and manpower to ensure that [Plum Island] will be monitored by electric sensors and patrolled by boats and helicopters," said Acampora. The time for talk was over. "The health, safety, and welfare of our community and the nation are at stake, and we will prevail." But their plaintive calls fell upon deaf ears. As of this writing, the only change the USDA has made is arming the two private security guards, one at Orient Point and the other on the island, who secure the entire facility. DHS claims to have added some security cameras. As for the other critical island functions? "I think federal oversight has to be there," Acampora says. "At least federal background checks to ensure we have the right people there, like at the airports."
The task force had tried in vain to bring accountability to Plum Island, and disbanded after the BSL-4 upgrade was stopped. While the task force remained active, management placed people at the Orient Point ferry dock to check identification badges, just like they had when the island opened for business in the 1950s. But Acampora found the ID check gone by January 2002. It had all been for show. "There we go again," she says. "They need to have someone with their thumb on them. I don't really think it's my job, but I helped get the ball rolling." If it's not the local assemblywoman's job, then somebody else needs to mind the store where Plum Island is con-cerned — which is the strongest argument yet for moving the USDA's facility from the creaky old virus laboratory onto a bustling, conspicuous downtown street on the mainland.
THE USDA'S MAGIC TOUCH
You may live three miles, three hundred miles, or even three thousand miles from Plum Island. In every case, the same central question may be asked: would you want Plum Island in your backyard? Remember — if it isn't in your vicinity, what happens there still has the potential to reverberate throughout the nation: the 1979 meltdown at the Three Mile Island nuclear power plant in Pennsylvania is proof of that.
Plum Island's future has never appeared more nebulous. As part of the emergency appropriation doled out in the wake of September 11, 2001, the USDA received $23 million for Plum Island, which is less than half of what the Ames, Iowa, domestic-germ laboratory received. Despite the smaller appropriation, the USDA maintains the funds are solely for implementation of security improvements — good news, because that kind of money can buy a lot of new air filters, armed security guards, and marine patrols.
In 2002, the Bush administration began the largest reorganization of the federal government since President Truman formed the National Military Establishment in 1947. The new federal reshuffling moved two federal laboratories into a new Department of Homeland Security: the small Environmental Measurements Laboratory in lower Manhattan, which protects against potential radiological and nuclear events, and Plum Island.
There remains speculation that the homeland security funds and the reorganization were a mere cover to upgrade the lab to BSL-4. New York's junior U.S. senator, Hillary Clinton, raised concerns that the upgrade will allow Plum Island to research deadlier germs and endanger millions of New Yorkers. Yet Plum Island already works on deadly germs that pose genuine dangers. Of course, there are a few supporters of an upgrade. "Plum ought to be the leading site in the country for animal disease defense against these foreign threats — accidental or deliberate — it should be the leading lab," huffs Dr. Roger Breeze. "If the county doesn't want us to have [a BSL-4 laboratory], we won't have the defense, that's fine by me — I just need to get on with my business." Breeze envisions the new improved Plum Island boasting "ten times as many scientists than are there right now."
Plum Island officially moved into the new Department of Homeland Security on June 1, 2003. At the time of this writing, Dr. Huxsoll packed up and left, and there is no director in place on Plum Island. All media or public inquiries about the island are referred to the DHS public relations office in Washington. The homeland security legislation included a provision that the president must notify Congress 180 days prior to any change in the island's biosafety level. The clause is eerily reminiscent of the 1952 Plum Island public hearings provision inserted by Senators Lehman and Ives— and we know how that one turned out. It's all too clear from the law that once 180 days expire, Plum Island may be upgraded to biosafety level four at the whim of the federal government, no matter how strongly the people and their elected representatives protest.
In March 2003, Plum Island Assistant Director Carlos Santoyo told the Associated Press that the transfer of Plum Island from USDA to Homeland Security would be little more than a "paper transfer." Nonetheless, moving Plum Island out of the hands of the USDA and into the DHS might raise the island's profile and could get it the funding it so desperately needs. Throwing money at the problem won't solve it, but in this case, spending large sums reasonably and responsibly may be the only way to resuscitate the moribund island. Knocking down Lab 101 and building a modern containment facility from scratch would seem to be a good start, but a wrecking ball may not be possible. Lab 101 has become so virus-ridden over the years it may have to be fumigated, locked up, and mothballed, like its older brother, the ghostly Lab 257, and its first cousin at Fort Detrick, the boarded-up 1950s-era "Anthrax Hotel."