Ch17 - Fort Hazard

CHAPTER 17 FORT HAZARD Late September 1980

Prior to marriage Joseph’s letters to Aimée described the town of

Kanza. Guinotte’s original enclave was landlocked by limestone bluffs to its south and the Missouri river to its north. His plan was to remove enough timber that he and Aimée could view the Dutch Harlem settlement on the Missouri’s north bank.

Aimée’s feminine pursuits included hospitality, culture and spirituality, frequently hosting stays for both luminaries and ordinary people. Guinotte hospitality generally created gezellig, an unmistakable, although largely indescribable warmth.

By the 20th century reaching the Missouri river from Preservation meant passing through a municipal dump, a smaller Valley of the Ashes. Given Fitzgerald had already used the Valley term for a Great Gadsby-related dump, local public works employees comically labeled theirs as Ft. Hazard.

Missouri-Pacific, KC Terminal Railway and Kansas City Southern tracks separated Preservation from Ft. Hazard and the south bank of the Missouri river. Prior to 1920-era US-numbered

highways, railroads shipped everything physically larger than a bread box.

Eisenhower 1950-era highway projects on the other hand converted farmland strips into double concrete ribbons termed interstate highways. Curiously spelled cloverleafs facilitated traffic mergers onto or away from these interstates. Construction of a single cloverleaf could sacrifice ten, sometimes even twenty acres and earlier structures.

Kansas City’s leaders envisioned few advantages to cloverleafs positioned in distant Bonner Springs, Kansas or even Blue Springs, Missouri, choosing instead to place twenty-three within six miles of city hall, near enough to downtown that an energetic walker could visit half a dozen by lunch. Even landmark homes such as those on Kersey Coates drive faced the wrecking ball, consequences of not only highway projects but others accompanying urban renewal and provision of less-segregated schools.

House-moving George Taylor dragged houses to available lots, favoring one-way trips on downtown’s wide streets. Preservation became a prime moved-house target for him. Taylor’s moving projects commenced Sundays at dawn, often benefitting from lightly-secured railroad jacks that were adapted to lower heavy houses onto cinder block piers.

Transfer finances originated in fees payable to Taylor who bid removals as if they were demolitions. Once dislodged, Taylor houses were either permanently relocated or squatted. George buzzcanned -N-O- on uprooted structures lacking permanent addresses; his backward-scrawled N’s suggesting he may not have benefitted from a formal education.

Cloverleaf casualties were towed behind Taylor’s Mack B-61, a powerful tractor, but one lacking doors, windows or lights. With George at the B-61’scontrols, he inched Kansas City real estate forward, if only one house at a time.

Sunday morning moves freed him for weekday banking tasks.

Bank patrons appreciated his friendly waves, noting George’s presence in bank lobbies as distant as Orrick or even Buckner, Missouri. Taylor respected federally-insured limits, choosing instead to max-out insured accounts in dozens of regional banks.

Similar to Speedway’s boards, Taylor-relocated structures scattered. Old-yet-new entries joined others along Prospect, Montgall, Chestnut, Nicholson and Agnes avenues in Preservation.

Preservation’s homes numbered about sixty, these spread eight blocks north-to-south and six east-to-west. Some were constructed on site while others were dragged there. Regardless, they were all located near Kansas City’s Ft. Hazard.

Kansas Citians had originally proposed a port at that Ft. Hazard site but the changing course of the Missouri River discouraged further port planning. Cruel overflows from both the Missouri and Blue rivers created a destructive flood triangle.

Rather oddly Kansas Citians tried to distance themselves from the Missouri’s tortuous flows by stacking debris along its south bank. Ahead of 1945 a large rotating steel blade also reduced waste solids to pellet-sized dimensions before jettisoning the mixture into the Missouri. Public works officials possibly theorized that Sni-ABar, Sugar and Rock creek outflows would dilute the fast-flowing mess.

If garbage-to-river engineering was a norm to the city’s east, garbage-to-pork transitions predominated to the west. Kansas City’s George Bennett pioneered a more consumptive approach, one in which he fed table and restaurant wastes to more than eight hundred hungry hogs, producing a accurately labeled table-fed pork.

A curious cottage industry paralleled his garbage-to-pork scheme.

On a daily basis an elderly couple there risked pen crush injuries in order to retrieve discarded flatware, relying on monogrammatching to claim small cash rewards. Bennett once asked the pair why they didn’t settle for Social Security benefits. She responded her husband’s monthly Social Security payments were short of twenty-six dollars; they planned to continue collecting flatware.

By 1953 Kansas City engineers devised a fresh plan, abandoning both river jettisoning and garbage-to-pork schemes in favor of landfilling along the Missouri’s southern bank, planning to plow garbage and debris into a four-mile earthen ribbon.

Engineers divided the riverfront’s Ft. Hazard site into thirds: Area-1, west of the Chouteau bridge, Area-2, between the Chouteau

and Paseo bridges, and Area-3, east of the Chouteau. The landfill business plan was tied to tipping fees, calculated by subtracting the weight of an empty truck from its arrival or loaded weight.

Across nearly three decades nearly every type waste was tipped.

To combat illicit dumping, officials maximized waste acceptance criteria. Beyond residential refuse the Ft. Hazard landfill acquired both manufacturing and construction by-products and possibly even unidentifiable hospital wastes.

Human body parts, e.g., amputated limbs, however, were never landfilled there. But a similar reverence apparently did not apply to animal carcasses. Deceased, landfilled animals create enormous gas volumes, all of them flammable and most of them toxic.

To her neighbors, the seamstress, wife and mother they knew as Connie Guzman must have appeared an unlikely health advocate.

Her passion originated from a bedroom wall’s failure to muffle a child’s asthmatic wheeze.

For the two nights preceding Bill Joe had struggled to breathe, coughing and gasping as a stench filled bedroom air. With Capataz posted to Osawatomie, Kansas, she knew he wouldn’t be back until week’s end. While Consuelo worked the morning following the allnight cough session, the Nelly Don office notified her that a school nurse had called requesting she retrieve her coughing child.

At Bill’s school she joined other moms, retrieving a variety of coughing, wheezing or otherwise loose stool children. Returning home she and Bill encountered the same nasty odor, one whose origin had actually been purchased eleven years previously.

Unknown to Ft. Hazard’s supervisors, an employee there had earlier accepted a twenty dollar bribe to bury a mule in Area-2.

Plans to re-inter her enormous carcass at greater depth were either forgotten or perhaps abandoned.

If the mule’s burial space was limited to five cubic yards, her decaying flesh yielded thousands of cubic yards of gas, all of it replete with toxic hydrogen sulfide and an appropriately named chemical, putrescine. (Hydrogen sulfide is shorthanded as H–2–S).

Prior to Maude’s-the-mule’s burial and emissions, the Guzman’s Nicholson avenue home had served them well. But an adolescent’s

asthmatic wheeze triggered by an aggravating stench changed matters.

The following morning with Bill Joe at arm’s length, Consuelo joined other parking lot petitioners, all anticipating arrival of the Impala. By the time Funk’s right foot joined his left on the asphalt, Consuelo had summarized Bill’s symptoms. While he could have chosen to be annoyed, Funk admired her motherly resolve.

During the exam, Funk sat sidewise. his oxfords toe-to-toe against Bill’s sneakers, listening to breath sounds. The physician then switched places to conduct a more thorough exam, one featuring percussion and auscultation, more thumping and stethoscope listening. Noting raspy breath noises amidst wheeze, he tore a sheet from a Menorah prescription pad, scribbling the name of a popular cough remedy, Guaifenesin – Robitussin.

Possibly, weather and geography are working against us, don’t you think, Consuelo. You should keep your son away from whatever is causing this. Before leaving Menorah that evening, Funk phoned Wozniak. Acting on those concerns Woz phoned Brooklyn who shortly passed the H–2–S air hunger issue to Racer, requesting his assistant perform an environmental air assessment.

Racer reviewed the case file, surprised by the name, Guzman, likely Capataz’ family. While the file suggested a Menorah doctor had examined a Billy Guzman, it omitted the exam’s location.

In preparation for the assessment Racer readied half a dozen length-of-stain indicator tubes. No All-Star event would brighten this visit, instead he found Consuelo waiting on their porch.

Having received a call that an unnamed chemist was on the way, she was delighted to see him. Recognizing Capataz’ absence, Racer addressed her as Mrs. Guzman. Amidst screen door pleasantries, it wasn’t clear who first exclaimed. What is that awful odor and where is it coming from?

While Racer was confident H-2-S factored in their problem, he also recognized pin-pointing a source could be difficult. Requesting permission to use her phone, he phoned Brooklyn to discuss a strategy. Overhearing their conversation, Consuelo questioned his use of the term rose-diagram, finding nothing rose-like in the Preservation air.

Following the call, Racer departed, indicating he when he would return. Two snoopy neighbors called to inform Consuelo the service man they had noticed on her porch was riding a bicycle on Nicholson avenue. Didn’t he used to work for M-O-W? Why is he lighting railroad Fusees?

While annoyed by their inquiries, she informed them Racer was performing an air quality check - Stench problem, you know. Snoops phonated through nearly identical OH’s.

It was late dusk when he leg-strapped an amber-front/ red-rear light and perched the leather air sampling case atop his handlebars. Bidding Consuelo goodbye, Racer rode slowly home.

The ride allowed him to conceptualize a rose-diagram, a plot featuring lines of equal H-2-S concentration, all originating from a single source. Halfway up Chestnut traffic way Racer dismounted to climb the stairs that connected noisy Chestnut traffic way with the solitude of Cliff drive.

He slept fitfully, nightmarish images of weed spray shortfalls merging into train derailments. Aware he worked late, Land Lady handed Racer a go-coffee cup the following morning. Racer shortly shared his freshly-prepared H-2-S rose diagram with Brooklyn.

While Maude wasn’t the only H-2-S gas source impacting Preservation air, her Area-2 landfill emissions dominated the diagram.

According to his measurements Preservation’s evening air contained about 3-parts per million of H-2-S, one third of an applicable industrial standard. But how relevant was that finding to a neighborhood that included frail elderly and babies. Recalling Mel’s aversion to H-2-S, Racer reasoned aesthetic issues factored, too.

After reviewing Racer’s rose diagram, though, Brooklyn shared their findings with Woz. Dr. Wozniak struggled to link exposures with geography and weather, questioning how a deadly blower flare incident in Poza Rica, Mexico resulting in twenty-two deaths, impacted Kansas City’s air hunger problem.

After thanking them for the assessment and report, Woz promised to place calls to Funk and Consuelo. During the Wozniak-Funk exchange, Funk shared his concerns that additional

exposures might convert Bill’s childhood, temporary asthma into a more permanent condition.

During the Consuelo call Woz struggled while trying to explain his misgivings regarding more toxic exposures. Sensing Consuelo’s frustration with a mostly muddled message, he abruptly suggested her family should relocate until Preservation’s air improved.

While most of his family lived within four subway stops, a similar proximity didn’t apply to the Guzman’s, scattered throughout Missouri, Kansas and Arkansas. Dr. Wozniak’s relocation suggestion likely coincided with the moment Consuelo initially contemplated a radically-different advocacy-based course.

Other Preservationists pursued their own inquiries. An amateur detective, aka True Crime, queried landfill workers, linking a name with a disgusting aroma - Maude, Servant of the fields. The Snoops remained active, pursuing comical sidewalk dialogues.

Consuelo reserved the St. Francis parish hall and ordered flyers.

A window beside the neighborhood boot legger’s drive-through shortly announced.

PRESERVATION NEIGHBORHOOD MEETING ST. FRANCIS PARISH GYMNASIUM TUESDAY EVENING 7 -9 PM, REFRESHMENTS.

The following Saturday she and Capataz walked Preservation, posting flyers at K-L-W, Joes’ barbershop and Monteil’s Grocery. TJ thanked Consuelo for stopping-by while his crew finished another Saturday’s 100-ton haul out. At K-L-W, Consuelo’s flyer joined an older entry describing the theft of a Belgian shepherd at Harold’s drive-in.

When Consuelo called to ask if Racer could attend, she asked if he would be willing to address the neighbors’ health concerns.

Consulting neighbors she had emphasized his scientific and railroad backgrounds: One of us, educated, too. While Brooklyn generally shunned social occasions, he surprisingly indicated he would attend.

Fr. Jacob stood near the refreshments window watching Rosary circle ladies brim-fill coffee cups, likely futile attempts aimed at thwarting whiskey supplements. The gymnasium’s stage belonged

to Brooklyn, Consuelo and Racer. A Crucifix above her chair persuasively attempted to steer unedited speech past profanity.

While invited, city officials did not attend. Calls to the KC public works department had proven equally unhelpful. Sylvia Bolognese was hardly impressed by a return caller who comically asked to speak to Mrs. Bol-Own-E-Knees. Call etiquette dipped lower when another call returner attempted humor at the expense of Belgianderived Lotte D’hoore.

Calling the meeting to order, Consuelo faced neighbors seated in uncomfortable stackable chairs. Capataz’ stretched but did not cross his legs, the seated pose of a standing worker. Consuelo allowed everyone a chance to speak, scribbling minutes.

While the H-2-S odor may have been less obnoxious that evening, it was detectable. Brooklyn rose to explain why gas collector lines were needed. Data from Racer’s rose diagram data were distributed but he did not speak. They all knew who he was anyway, a stand-up weed spray guy.

Three individuals spoke in favor of additional groundcover and an injunction to prevent further carcass drop-offs. Early evening’s coffee-fueled enthusiasm was quickly replaced by fatigue in a bluecollar audience.

Forty-five minutes in, Consuelo politely informed Call and Northeast News reporters that her group was about to enter closed meeting status. In fewer than fifteen minutes neighbors finalized a roadside protest, one that would interrupt landfill-bound trucks.

After Mass the following Sunday, Consuelo rang a Call reporter and one from the Northeast News. They passed the location and hour of the planned protest to counterparts at radio stations WHB and KMBZ. At eight that Monday Consuelo and Brooklyn blocked the landfill road, preventing further truck travel. Met by a brown flannel suit lady and a Mr. Wizard look-alike, the garbage scow pilots were flummoxed, stopping short of the odd pair joined there by about forty neighbors.

Brooklyn held an all-in-one microphone, freeing Consuelo to read from her script. We will get out of your way but we want to know how the city plans to correct this odor issue, one choking our children.

Recollections are mixed regarding Brooklyn’s words; his comments about ground cover seemed reasonable but his use of the term asthmagen defied everyone’s understanding. Police Chief Norman Carroll had reviewed Consuelo’s flyer, perhaps accounting for the presence of two rattled public works officials.

An asthma sufferer, Carroll appreciated breathing challenges.

Plus, neither he nor the mayor were anxious to disperse an angry, coughing crowd. He instructed his media spokesman to ask her to wrap-up, to inform Consuelo he would speak on her behalf to public works officials. Fifteen-minutes into a no-permit demonstration, the chief’s assistance constituted good news so Consuelo wrapped-it-up.

We are leaving and appreciate Chief Carroll’s concern. Thank you for attending.

Weeks later, neither the Snoops nor True Crime rationalized an out-of-season lilac aroma that had briefly perfused the Ft. Hazard landfill protest site.