Toxins Destroy Mohawk Reservation’s Fishing Waters

Mohawk fisherman Francis Jock, his livelihood at stake, listened stoically to the mind-numbing array of toxic chemicals found inside the big fish he caught on reservation waters.

A high reading would make the 58-pound sturgeon, worth up to $700, dangerous to eat and unconscionable to sell. Instead, Jock donated it to the wildlife pathology lab and waited two months for the results.

“It looks like you could have eaten it, but just barely,” said Department of Environmental Conservation pathologist Ward Stone, pointing to a line on a computer printout.

Jock’s business has dropped off with Mohawks at the Upstate New York reservation wary of the catch from once-pristine waters now in the shadows of industrial plants.

At times, the only business Jock can drum up is from white tourists, who hire him as a fishing guide.

“Since the pollution scare, it’s destroyed my business, my way of life,” Jock said.

The Mohawks have relied on Stone since 1985, the year they invited him to their reservation to analyze the litany of dibenzofurans, dioxins, polynuclear aromatics, PCBs and other deadly compounds poisoning their food supply.

Most of the chemicals are poured from ALCOA, Reynold’s Metals, General Motors Central Foundry and a fourth now-bankrupt aluminum dross reprocessing plant. On the Canadian side, the Domtar Paper plant pours mercury into these waters.

Myrex, which Stone found in the sturgeon, may have come from Occidental Chemical, about 200 miles upstream in Niagara Falls.

Stone has waged a controversial, often lonesome campaign to amass data on compounds flowing from industrial pipes and landfills into reservation waters.

In one striking case, Stone found Reynolds pouring PCBs into the St. Lawrence River by way of an unnamed creek he dubbed Biphenyl Creek.

The name took hold. Reynolds’ discharges cause the creek to stay 90 degrees hot, even in winter.

Reynolds disputed Stone’s data through June, 1988, contending PCBs had worked up the creek from the St. Lawrence. His superiors at the state Department of Environmental Conservation initially backed Reynolds.

Stone remains bitter at the experience. “For decades we had people on the scene who should have been on top of the situation and missed it. It took me an hour and a half and about $1,500 in tests to prove they were polluting the river.”

For Stone, famous for his tenacity and 20-hour workdays, the bureaucratic inertia spurred him to conduct countless field trips to spot pollution being missed by everyone but the Indians.

Confronted by reams of Stone’s data and bad press, Reynolds admitted wrongdoing and has since taken steps to reduce discharges.

“The whole thing had wider ramifications. If you miss a PCB problem at a place like Reynolds, how about the rest of the state? And if you miss PCBs, how about other toxic chemicals?” Stone asked.

ALCOA, he said, continues to have the worst record among industries he tests near the reservation.

Stone and Mohawk environmental scientist Ken Jock--a distant relation to Francis Jock--boarded a small motorboat and headed for the coves along the river to visit the PCB hot spots.

The first stop was GM’s “Contaminant Cove.” On one side, golden cattails reflect the sun. On the other, an 8-acre industrial landfill contains possibly 1 million tons of contaminated junk.

“Can you believe putting an industrial dump right on the banks of a river?” Stone said.

Nearby, Mohawks once found a turtle whose PCB count measured 800 parts per million. “If it were a chicken, only 3 parts per million would be allowed,” Stone observed.

Stone, wearing a blue surgical gown that afforded little protection against toxins, and Jock searched for a “sweet” smell that defines concentrations of PCBs.

The boat pulled alongside a dry cement discharge pipe belonging to GM.

Nothing appeared to be flowing from it, but Stone heard something. He crawled 20 feet inside, where he found a large crack. The effluent was flowing to the point of the crack, then worked its way through small boulders into the St. Lawrence--a source of pollution that could easily have been missed.

The sample showed PCBs at 4,203 parts per trillion being discharged, way above the state’s detection limit of 65 parts per trillion.

The boat next stopped at a Reynolds pipe pouring a stream of yellow, foaming matter into the river. Stone stepped off the boat and took more samples.

His last stop--this time in a car--was a Reynolds discharge pipe that flowed into the Raquette River.

As Stone got out of the car, armed Warrior Society thugs, protecting the reservation’s illegal casinos from police and Indians opposed to gambling, stopped him for questioning. He said he was on the reservation looking after their environment.

“The environment--that’s the real violence that’s happening to the reservation,” Stone said.