Flooded in Sludge, Fueling the Nation: Generating Power, Waste, and Change in East Tennessee
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Flooded in Sludge, Fueling the Nation: Generating Power, Waste, and Change in East Tennessee A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF UNIVERSITY OF MINNESOTA BY Melissa Sue Hatmaker IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Hoon Song May 2014 © Melissa Sue Hatmaker 2014 i Acknowledgements This work had been enabled by the generosity, support, and care of others. I would like to thank Hoon Song, Karen-Sue Taussig, Bruce Braun, David Pellow, Stuart McLean, and Kevin Murphy for offering intellectual guidance as I worked through the questions at the heart of this project. While at Minnesota, I also found support in the positive feedback and helpful insights of Carl Elliott, Rod Ferguson, Bianet Castellanos, and the rest of the faculty and staff of the American Studies department. I thank Lauren Shell, Elizabeth Ault, Benjamin Wiggins, Jesus Estrada-Perez, Mike Cheyne, and Nate Meyer for those friendships that went beyond collegiality and sustained me throughout this project, and will continue to do so long after. Teachers shaped the path that led me to this work. I thank Noreen Walton, David Serlin, and Valerie Hartouni for going beyond the role of a teacher to become mentors. I also greatly appreciate the diligence and assistance of archivists Cathy Keen at the Smithsonian, and Maureen Hill of NARA Atlanta. Thank you also to Kristan Cockerill at Appalachian State, for putting me in touch with Carol Babyak, Shea Tuberty, Keith Seramur, and Ellen Cowan. The Wenner-Gren Foundation provided support for this research project, both the ethnographic fieldwork in Tennessee and the archival research. The support of a University of Minnesota Doctoral Dissertation Fellowship helped me complete this project by providing for a year for writing. This work became personal because it is in honor of my family and friends. My mom, papa, and brothers are my heart, and my heart is in this work. This project brought me close to my Aunt Crystal, Lena and Joci, Grandad and Jackie, all of whom helped me tremendously during my time in Tennessee. Brad Roberts, perhaps more than anyone else, led me to new findings and helped me navigate the East Tennessee landscape during fieldwork. The stories I tell would not be possible without his help. Danielle, Christine, and Jan, you are all my family and I deeply appreciate your love and care during, before, and after this project. I thank all of the families and people of East Tennessee who agreed to talk with me about their lives. I thank Jessica Tracy for her friendship and support, and Beverly Daniel for helping me have fun and meet new people. Finally, it is with the love and support of Michael Levy that I have been able to find my voice, and use it to share my values and perspective. I thank you with all my heart. ii For Aunt Crystal. iii CONTENTS List of Illustrations iv Gray Matter 1 What Coal Ash Isn’t 11 The Grounding 15 Pilgrimages 39 Abstractions 71 Enrichment 104 Empty Little Sun 129 Dead Presences 158 Making a Living 184 Bibliography 218 iv List of Illustrations Figure 1-2 205 Figure 3-4 206 Figure 5 207 Figure 6 208 Figure 7 209 Figure 8-9 210 Figure 10-11 211 Figure 12-13 212 Figure 14-15 213 Figure 16-17 214 Figure 18-19 215 Figure 20-21 216 Figure 22 217 1 1. Gray Matter “… the viewer reads the landscape of his childhood in the evening news. The thin film of writing becomes a movement of strata, a play of spaces. A different world (the reader’s) slips into the author’s place.”1 Walls of dirt crumble in the night. Ash spills out from behind with the force of five decades. The slow incubation of its power shifts suddenly; it will attract attention. It will cause a stir. It will uproot people. It will alter the river. It will become a future immanent in its being. For a brief moment in time, the coal ash from the holding ponds at the Kingston Steam Plant will take the stage in a drama about human dreams and disasters. It will show us how power works, if we pay attention, and ask after its force. Gray coal ash sits in a gigantic pond, a dirt hole in the ground. The plan: keep it here. Fill land with it. Devote few resources to it. It doesn’t really matter. Production of power always creates remainders. The remainders must go somewhere. Here, in Kingston, in East Tennessee, there is more detritus than in most places, because the power dreams scaled up to world-shaping proportions. Built in 1955, the Kingston Steam Plant emerged biggest in the world.2 And this coal ash flood: the largest in American history. Tons of waste poured out within a landscape where desire, belief, anxiety, fear, 1 Michel de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life, trans. Steven F. Rendall (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1984), xxi. 2 Originally named the Kingston Steam Plant, the official name of the facility was changed to the Kingston Fossil Plant. Locals call it the Steam Plant, which I use as well. 2 and hope swirled together among bodies, flows of water, and machines. Suddenly, a radical escape from order. For everyone who saw it, the coal ash flood of December 22, 2008 appeared strange. Surreal new landscapes of gray appeared late at night. People woke to startling views that disrupted the mundane regularity of daily life. Ashbergs, cenospheres, fish dead of suffocation with gills packed full of gray muck, water that shimmers gray-silver, houses broken and engulfed in mud, boat docks shifted to float in disarray behind the wrong homes.3 So much gray stuff everywhere, like the moon, or something. Huge chunks of the ash drifted downstream on a river current controlled by the Tennessee Valley Authority – the agency that decades ago dreamed up a plan to control the great river to make loads of power for the nation. An electrician from the Steam Plant recalls leaving work after the night shift, in the early morning hours of a new day, the day of the flood. The road to the right appeared to be blocked off by some kind of strange, gray wall. Tired, the electrician turned left and went home.4 The ash presented itself to me both very strange, and familiar. Sitting in San Diego, home with family for the holiday break during my first year of graduate school, we saw our rural hometown suddenly on the national evening news. The reporter told of a 3 “Ashberg” is a word that describes the large iceberg-like hunks of ash seen floating down the river. Cenospheres are the tiny silica particles produced when coal burns at 1500-1750ºC. These were seen floating along the river’s shoreline miles downstream after the flood. They were brought to my attention in an interview with biologist Shea Tuberty, who studies their makeup and impacts on various species. Shea Tuberty, interview with author, Appalachian State University (ASU), Boone, NC, May 20, 2013. 4 Kingston Electrician, interview with author, Kingston, TN, April 18, 2013. 3 coal ash spill at the Steam Plant – the most visible landmark of Kingston. What? What is coal ash? How? Why? Are our relatives ok? Is this a big deal? Will this matter? A resident of the small Swan Pond community, neighboring the plant, narrated for the news camera the appropriate distress and bewilderment at her sudden loss of home to the tsunami-like force of the flood. TVA officials guaranteed prompt and effective cleanup, to put it all back to how it was before, better even. In contrast, the woman whose home the flood had just shattered said, exasperated, “…the grass, it’s still gonna be there. It’s just wiped out.”5 This doesn’t make sense, and the news reporter did not follow up. The broadcast concludes with a melodramatic tone of grave seriousness – the performance of an environmental disaster news story. But beyond this moment of visibility, this disaster, unlike the “major” ones, does not seem to matter very much after this. Sense will not be made of it. This glimpse of where I grew up awash in gray waste shifted my thoughts and feelings. Attention turned to coal ash. What was it? Where did it come from? How long had it been there? These were the basic questions. Then later: Out of what movements and connections was the ash formed? How did this particular landscape change to accommodate its accumulation? What trajectories flowed into the pond, and what hidden memories sat buried in its mass? What does the force of the flood show us about power, agency, desire, change, production, becoming? 5 “Tenn’s toxic sludge spill,” YouTube video, 1:48, from a televised broadcast of CBS Evening News, posted by CBS, December 24, 2008, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtJVSwdfEZ0. 4 Questions about existence and time and the role of human beings in the shaping of the world flooded out with the surfacing – the appearance – of the coal ash. Suddenly, the material remains of future-oriented dreams and pasts long thought buried burst forth. The ordered landscape, the dyke wall, cracked open and let out this detritus. Out it flowed and gushed. Spreading through the water, moving the earth, dusting the air, altering life, painting everything it touched gray. An opening, a chance to know something about it, appeared to me mediated by news narration. I saw the ash on the television screen, and it appeared as irrational, open-ended, uncontained, fluid, messy.