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Despite decades of abuse, the Merrimack River flows on, and things could be getting better By Dan
J. Szczesny She's 180 miles long, and passes through more than 200 towns and cities. The whole watershed of the Merrimack River ranges over 5,000 square miles, with 75 percent of the watershed-meaning the river's tributaries and drainage land-existing inside New Hampshire. She's been dammed, torn down, built up, and taken for granted and advantage of since the first settlers came to the Manchester area. Nearly everything has at one time-and in some cases still is- been dumped into the Merrimack, particularly along Manchester's banks. In fact, some of the city's raw sewage continued to be dumped directly into the river until 1991. As a result, particularly after a hard summer rain, the Merrimack River can still smell sick. The river is at the mercy of old mill towns-not just Manchester, but Nashua, Lowell, Haverhill, and others. Once openly dirtied by chemicals, textile mill dyes, heavy metals and a variety of industrial wastes, the biggest problem is now human waste.
"All those old cities, when sewer systems were put in, they were combined together with drainage systems," said Paul Barresi, Southern New Hampshire University environmental politics professor. "So during heavy rain and snow melt, the amount of drainage water going through the pipes exceeds capacity of the sewage treatment plant to treat it and it flows over and you get a combination of untreated sewage and drainage going into the river or into the groundwater." Further complicating the matter is urban development, which provides what's called non-point pollution. "The river picks up pollutants from parking lots-old cars, oil leaks-and lawn fertilizer and chemicals that come from the land and enter the tributaries," said David Ramsay, a program manager at the Merrimack River Watershed Council. And that's not all. "In
Manchester, there's another problem," said Barresi. "We're
increasingly discovering that a lot of these old industrial sites
have hazardous waste problems and that stuff ends up in the river
as well." Off Brown Avenue, down near the airport, the city's only wastewater treatment facility processes 20 million gallons a day on average. The plant went online in 1976. Before that, everything-drainage and sewage alike-went directly into the Merrimack. Even after the plant was built, it took a while to get the whole city plugged in.
"When the plant came on line, only about half the city connected in," said Tom Segal, the Highway Department's chief sanitary engineer. "Sewage on most days came to the treatment plant, but all the lines weren't completed until 1991." The plant helped, but the city's infrastructure itself hampers further clean ups. City officials and environmentalists alike call it combined sewer outflow (CSO). As the city was built, its sewer and drainage lines were combined. When it rains hard, or when there is a hard winter, the lines overflow and the river or the groundwater is saturated with untreated overflow. Further, Segal said that when the treatment plant was built, engineers actually took CSO into account. But since the cost of essentially redesigning the city's infrastructure would have been tremendous, they simply built overflows into the system-over 20 "relief points" around the city that overflow periodically. "Old cities in general have this problem," Barresi said. "They are working on it, but it's an expensive problem." The price tag for eliminating the CSO problem in Manchester is startling-between $90 and $130 million, according to Segal. But the city has no choice, according to federal laws enforced by the Environmental Protection Agency. Work has already begun on the project, which is expected to take decades to complete. "Manchester has negotiated an agreement with the EPA to do phase one of the CSO remediation," Segal said. "A lot of separation work has already started on the West Side." The process
involves evaluating the condition of the pipes-some of which are more
than 100 years old-with internal TV cameras. If the pipes are good,
crews keep them as sewer lines and build new drainage lines. If the
pipes are bad, they have to build both and relay them. Phase two is more difficult. The EPA wants the city to spend another $70 million to build two large overflow storage facilities near Singer Family Park. The city doesn't think it's necessary. Instead, the EPA has agreed to allow the city to participate in a $2 million study-along with several other towns including Nashua-to determine just where the pollutants in the river are coming from. Each city in the study is contributing $210,000, with $1 million coming from a U.S. Army Corps of Engineers grant. Segal said the study should be complete by next summer. Despite the problem, Segal said the river is healthy. "My understanding is that the river is in good shape in this vicinity," he said. "You just have some bacteria that's being attributed to the CSOs and that's part of the study by the coalition-to show just where it's coming from." Another issue specific to urban spaces like Manchester is what non-point pollution does to groundwater. About 60 percent of the water entering the Merrimack comes from groundwater. According to Barresi, the proliferation of impervious surfaces such as parking lots or buildings create two problems. "One, you have run-off from surfaces which ends up as non-point or point pollution and it can have all sorts of things in it-oil drips, anti-freeze, the organic chemicals in asphalt itself," he said. "The other negative is that it reduces ground water recharge." During wet periods impervious surfaces cause flooding. During dry periods, it has the opposite effect, he said. "If you're preventing precipitation from ending up as groundwater, it reduces the buffer against drought," Barresi said. Solutions to this type of non-point pollution are clear, but not easy to implement. "We have to be concerned about maintaining greenways and reducing sprawl," Barresi said. Further steps could include planting greenery or gardens on the roofs of buildings. "If you cover rubberized or asphalt roofs with grass, that creates a different sort of dynamic," he said. The city is beginning to address some of these issues by creating an inviting Millyard space for both business and for tourists, he said. Cities such Lowell, Mass., have pioneered the concept of heritage parks on their waterfronts, like Lowell's American Textile Museum. "What they do is capitalize on the city's industrial heritage to attract tourists and the city's heritage is what it is because of the river," Barresi said. Manchester Planning Director Bob MacKenzie said that it's likely just a question of time and economics before the city's Millyard also becomes a prominant tourist attraction. "Just the massing of buildings and its location near the river will attract people into the Millyard," he said. "In Lowell's case, they received a massive amount of federal funds and were able to get a urban park designation which is unusual. There's no reason to have two urban national parks like that, but Manchester can have good mix of businesses and attractions in Millyard." In the end, the Merrimack River remains amazingly resilient and most officials express cautious optimism. "The river is alive. Whether it's well or not is a matter of opinion and a matter of what your agenda is," Barresi said. "One hopeful sign is that people are beginning to talk about it. It's becoming an issue." Dan Szczesny can be reached at hippo@hippopress.com.
By Jeff
Rapsis Not long ago, it was the last place any employee of Public Service Co. of New Hampshire wanted to go. The old brick building was full of lead paint, asbestos insulation, and a witch's brew of industrial contaminants. The roof was falling in, and the place was home to hordes of urban pigeons. "You held your breath, came in and did whatever you had to do, and left as quickly as possible," said Bea Hebert, a PSNH environmental remediation specialist. "Then you'd go home and take a shower." But today, after a three-year reconstruction effort, the old Amoskeag generating station at the northern end of Manchester's Millyard has been reborn as the site of the utility company's new corporate headquarters. Earlier this year, more than 200 PSNH employees moved into the renovated power plant at 780 Commercial St., which has been refurbished to honor the company's history and provide a more productive environment for employees. In addition, the land around it, rechristened "Energy Park," is intended to help reconnect the community to the Merrimack River. "This is clearly intended to be a statement for others to follow," said Gary A. Long, president and chief operating officer of PSNH, the state's largest utility company. "We hope others, as they develop the river, will be able to see what's possible with quality development." Staying in Manchester It's a remarkable turnaround for the PSNH-owned plant, originally built by the Amoskeag Manufacturing Co. to provide power to the mills. PSNH acquired the property in 1937 and used it to generate power until 1981. After being shut down, the structure came close to being torn down several times until circumstances-mainly the expiration of PSNH's long-term office lease downtown-made its recent rebirth feasible. More remarkably, company officials say that even with the huge costs of cleaning up the site (including the removal of an underground 640,000-gallon concrete oil storage tank), transforming it into a public-spirited modern office park was still the best deal for ratepayers and shareholders. "Of all the options we considered, this is the one that will actually cost us and our customers less money," said Martin Murray, PSNH director of corporate communications. Among the factors: the utility already owned the property, and at some point would have to pay for the clean-up costs anyway. Company officials report the project cost $12 million. In addition to financial motives, PSNH officials-including former CEO Bill Frain, who envisioned the move in the mid-1990s-saw redeveloping the power plant site as a way to recycle a historic property, continue the company's long-term commitment to the city, and not contribute to urban sprawl.
"We really wanted to stay in Manchester, and we liked the river. Creating a new building out in some cornfield wasn't the right thing to do," Murray said. "And the reaction we've gotten was more than we've ever expected. Everyone is ecstatic that we've been able to save the building and renovate it." A depressing to-do list But saving the building was more than a simple rehab job. It was a complex engineering challenge that involved keeping some parts of the structure intact, eliminating others, and in some cases taking sections apart and putting them back together again. The clean-up job was massive. Before anything else could be done, PSNH had to tackle a depressing to-do list that included removing 16,215 tons of oil-contaminated soil, 15,940 square feet of asbestos, 12 tons of lead-sheathed electrical cable, and that massive underground concrete oil tank. All of it had to be disposed of according to strict regulations. The 77,000-square-foot structure, while sturdy, had its quirks. For example, the original roof wasn't designed to hold snow because the heat of the generators would always melt it. So the structure had to be reengineered in places to support a modern load-bearing roof. Also, massive brick arches framing the big windows were built at varying levels on either side of the building. Among the consequences: the need for engineers to construct a self-supporting two-floor structure inside the main hall. In several places, areas of masonry had to be taken apart and rebuilt. In some cases, the building's old industrial infrastructure aided its reconstruction. A massive 90-year-old crane designed to lift the original turbines for maintenance work was brought to life and used again before finally being retired and preserved in the ceiling. More productivity Since
moving in last March, employees find it a great place to work. It's a big change from the former PSNH headquarters, which since 1972 had been eight floors of the Hampshire Plaza office building on Elm Street. There, employees were isolated from each other and rarely saw anyone other than their immediate colleagues. "It's very definite. People's morale and good feelings have gone up. People really enjoy coming to work," said Gary Long, PSNH president, while standing on the riverside deck outside the building's airy ground floor lunchroom. With the river rushing by, employees swapped stories of wildlife drama they've witnessed around the building-baby red-tailed hawks, minks and mallards, and an occasional otter. "I think everyone is much more connected to the river and to nature than they were before," said Bea Hebert, the remediation specialist who's also become the on-site wildlife expert and is always being asked to identify this or that creature out the window. "It just kind of makes you better able to go back in and deal with whatever you have to deal with," she said. Long said that's just what he hoped for. "People feel like they're not in the city, but like they're in the wilderness. It's just a very enjoyable place to be," said Long, his voice rising just a bit to be heard over the rushing water. More than just a building But the new headquarters is more than just a building by the water. In reengineering the five-acre site, PSNH made efforts to help reconnect the community to its industrial heritage and the Merrimack River that powered it. Though much of the land around the building is now covered by a multi-tiered parking lot, efforts have been made to celebrate the property's historic elements as well as provide improved public access to a dramatic stretch of the river. Near the traffic circle in front of the building's main entrance lie two parallel rows of granite blocks that at first glance resemble curbing for an unfinished road. They're actually the original stones lining the last remaining section of the canal system, though now separated by a wide expanse of grass, not water. Plans call for eventually re-excavating the canal section, filling it with water, and possibly using it as a skating rink in the winter, Murray said. It's surrounded on one side by a steep slope that forms a fine natural amphitheater. The property's northern end is home to a large wooden deck that offers sweeping views of the Amoskeag Dam and the area of rapids below it. PSNH built the deck and access ramps five years ago, before the decision to renovate the nearby generating station. "It's very popular," Murray said. "Those that find it really appreciate it, and now it's an integral part of Energy Park." Partly visible from the deck is the Amoskeag Dam's fish ladder, a series of pools built into the western side of the dam to allow fish to get beyond the massive barrier. Originally built to help restore the river's formerly abundant marine life, the ladder and the accompanying Amoskeag Fishways visitor center have now grown into a healthy tourist attraction. An average of 25,000 people now visit the center each year, executive director Helen Dalbeck reports. Also visible from the deck are the river islands below the dam-two large ones and a scattering of smaller patches of rocky ground that sometimes disappear in heavy water. Owned by PSNH, the islands are densely wooded but offer no public access. Some designers have envisioned using pedestrian bridges and landscaping to transform the islands into a unique urban park, but Murray said that's not on the drawing boards at PSNH. "There are no formal plans for the islands," Murray said. "We know there's an interest in them, but there are environmental problems." The islands were home to massive oil storage tanks destroyed during the 1936 floods and in an earlier era formed the long-time dumping site of waste oil sludge that couldn't be burned in the generating plant. For the immediate future, PSNH officials are in informal discussions with the state branch of the Audubon Society about designating the islands as a wildlife refuge. Walking paths, public art Back on shore, Energy Park also contains walking trails that offer glimpses of the river as it rushes by below. The paths help fill in a portion of the long-planned Heritage Trail, which follows the Merrimack River through much of the state. "There are still gaps in the city, but this helps make it much more complete," Murray said. Art plays a role, too. In the traffic circle looms what seems to be a large piece of brutal modern sculpture. Closer examination reveals it to be a massive industrial gate valve salvaged from the site during its transformation from abandoned power plant to corporate headquarters. "During the reconstruction, we found a lot of stuff," Murray said, including the large and intricately crafted gate valve half-buried on the property. The valve was apparently fabricated during an abortive attempt to expand the power station in the early 1940s. The project was canceled after the U.S. entered World War II, and a new generating turbine was never installed. According to company legend, the turbine was diverted to serve allied war efforts in Russia, but the ship carrying it across the Atlantic was sunk by a German U-boat. No one knows for sure, but the gate valve was set aside and "the shifting sands of time covered it up," Murray said. Jeff Rapsis can be reached at hippo@hippopress.com. |
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