Fire safety remains an important issue. With a single dedicated fireman and a bucket brigade of employees (performing other responsibilities) who are supposed to sprint to the firehouse at the sound of an alarm, the ability of Plum Island to control laboratory fires seems dubious at best. According to workers now on strike, the contractor was essentially forcing workers to be part of the fire brigade. "The sad part about it," says one worker, "is that we don't want to — and we never went to school to — fight a fire! And fire training today is a fifteen-minute confined space rescue drill." On top of that, it appears that crucial mutual aid from nearby Long Island in the event of an out-of-control blaze is a nonstarter. Many firefighters, all community volunteers, privately admit they will not go to Plum Island to fight a fire, fearing biological infection, regardless of any mutual aid agreement. Trained to chop holes in roofs to put out fires, the Long Island fireman would have a far different task inside a biological containment laboratory that must remain sealed to the outside world. There was to be comprehensive fire training on Plum Island — possibly the first of its kind — for the Long Island fire departments. But the training was canceled after the strike. "Even if they went to the fire," says a former Plum Island fire brigade member of the local fire departments, "how long would it take to get to the island? At full steam that's still about forty minutes in response time." At the very least, then, the bucket brigade should be disbanded and the professional fire department reinstated.
My interview with Dr. Huxsoll in his Plum Island office — before he departed, leaving no one on site in charge of the Plum Island helm for months — adds further weight to the vision of chaos that surrounds the island. Our meeting was conducted in stifling heat because, as luck would have it, there was a power outage that morning, forcing the evacuation of all nonessential personnel. I entered Lab 101 to a commotion: workers arguing about how to safely store the arriving boxes, loaded with live biological samples, that had traveled across Plum Gut on the same ferry as me. Because of my meeting with Huxsoll, I was spared from the evacuation and rushed up to his office. We sat there speaking while sweating profusely, both pretending nothing was wrong. We did our best to ignore the loud piercing beeps that periodically blasted from the hallway, reminding us that something was going very wrong, again, on Plum Island.
The safety office should also check employees regularly for exposure to pathogens and provide assistance with medical diagnosis if exposures occur. Plum Island must adhere to the 1982 outside safety review committee report issued in the wake of the virus outbreak: "[I]n the event of active suspected laboratory-associated infections, however, it is recommended that diagnostic examinations be conducted at a facility other than [Plum Island]….Examinations of active cases should be conducted with the knowledge and concurrence of the USDA Medical Officer and the employee's private physician." Two decades later, the edict remains ignored. Instead, the Plum Island safety office turned its back on Phillip Piegari, Pete Swenson, Shine Mickaliger, and others.
Biological Security—Plum Island needs to be guarded around the clock by a platoon of trained, armed guards, like the thirty-four-man department it used to have in the 1950s. The current force of retired NYPD cops guarding Orient Point and Plum Island isn't even a start. Since his first visit in 1971, reporter Karl Grossman has seen more of Plum Island than anyone not connected the government. "In my earlier visits," recalls Grossman, "it looked like what you would expect out of a James Bond movie, with armed federal agents who patrolled the beach constantly. Later they had privatized the security, and you were walking past the kind of people you would see in front of a convenience store in a bad neighborhood." Regular helicopter and marine patrols, proposed by Senator Schumer and Assemblywoman Acampora, are also imperative.
Plum Island is more vulnerable to enemy and terrorist attack than it was prior to September 11, 2001, though the USDA strongly disagrees. "It's really no more a terrorist target than the local federal courthouse," says spokeswoman Sandy Miller Hays. "It's just not that attractive a target." I suggest that Hays relay the USDA's viewpoint to Bashiruddin Mahmood, c/o Islamabad, Pakistan, and to his unsavory cohorts. Security needs to be on par with Steve Nostrum's armed paramilitary unit that protected Shore-ham, the nuclear power plant. Thanks to the discovery of Mahmood's cache, there is proof that Plum Island is as vulnerable a target as a nuclear power plant, and in many ways a far greater one.
After the terrorist attacks, the American public called for increased security at airports, focusing particularly on private companies that hire minimum-wage workers to X-ray baggage and run the passenger metal detectors. By federalizing airport security — placing guards under federal control — better trained and equipped people will vastly improve lax safety measures, say supporters. Plum Island is an installation as vulnerable as any airport and arguably far more exposed. The federal A-76 privatization program stated that the private enterprise system, "characterized by individual freedom and initiative, is the primary source of economic strength." But wherein lies the primary source of national security strength? Or the strength required to protect the public from biological and environmental harm? That lies with the people's government, not in the private sector, where the "governing" is motivated by profit. Still, Plum Island's support functions and its paucity of island security remain in private hands. If there is strength in numbers, then Plum Island is exceptionally weak. From a support staff high of 156 employees before privatization, the workforce was trimmed from 156 to 100, and then pared to 80 — half of its original size. In some instances, workers are assigned job tasks once performed by three separate individuals. This is a recipe for disaster, evidenced by this one sewage plant worker who kept a private log:
[We] proved the problem can be kept under control by concentrating more operator time running the plant. Due to the lack of manpower, we could only do this for a short time by ignoring other island operations, which contributed to the old plant being out of compliance this month…. Requested covers be installed to avoid freezing problems during winter. Request denied due to "Who will pay?" syndrome. Systems around the island that we have been ignoring are beginning to fail. Still no extra manpower as promised. High temperatures shutting down pumps. But EQ tank full. Must let go through plant HOT (100 degrees F[ahrenheit])…. Bad storm blew polypumps and plumbing apart…. Some days with no operator at all! During this time, a major plant spill occurred due to this lack of manpower. Plant is undersize for current and future needs of island…. Plant requires much more operator manpower to overcome design problems…. Budget cutbacks have wiped out availability of normal maintenance.
During my personal visits to Plum Island, I noticed that the gates leading into the Lab 101 compound were left open all day, and utility vehicles and box trucks (presumably carrying biological samples and animals) freely moved in and out. The laboratory building itself needs to be better guarded. "Take the new lobby," says Dr. Carol House of Lab 101, who's been there a few times since her retirement. "They built that nice brand-new lobby, but the staircase blocks the doors into the lab, and there was no pass card to get into the lab for years. There is now, maybe installed a month ago. Anybody in that building can walk into those laboratories at will. Just look at the physical setup — the [security] guy sitting at reception is flush with the wall, and if he's sitting down, he can't see the entrance to the lab because the staircase is in the way. All you have to do is slip in — I mean, c'mon!"