But if people like Estrella and Long, who both live only steps from the site, are healthy, isn't the community safe? Isn't the EPA justified, as it claims, in directing funds to more dangerous areas?

Not necessarily. Craffey argues that Atlas Tack shouldn't fall through the cracks simply because other sites might be more contaminated. The site, he argues, poses a present and future danger. The fact that nothing has been done for so long only increases the possibility of harm: Buildings are closer to falling down, and the public is not as cautious as it should be. Some people don't even seem to notice that the area is poisoned. "We saw evidence of people with plates and forks over there by the water [within a hundred yards of the poisoned area]," Craffey says.

Fairhaven kids may be the ones most at risk. They are fascinated by the site -- many go there as a matter of local tradition. Even Brandon Estrella, who had been warned repeatedly by his mother about the site's dangers, felt the need to sneak in. He was 12 or 13 at the time, which is when most kids have the urge, he says. "It's a Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn sort of thing," he says. "Something you look back on and say, 'Wow, that was kind of stupid.'" Stupid, but incredibly easy to accomplish.

Some residents now believe, perhaps justifiably, that the site will only be reconsidered for cleanup if someone dies. The smokestack will eventually come down through the powers of decay, so will the buildings. Macomber, whose 16-year-old granddaughter lives within a few hundred yards of the site, hopes that no one will be trespassing when they do. "It's a real danger for the kids," he says.

And then there are the potential health risks, which might only begin to show after years of exposure to the toxic chemicals. Once people begin to die or become ill or detect birth defects, cleanup might come, but obviously too late -- at least for Fairhaven residents. When one begins to consider future harms, Craffey says, the site begins to look like an onion -- "There are several layers and the more you pull, the more it makes you cry."

The suffering now is mostly related to fear and frustration -- and a sense of betrayal from a company that locals served well for decades. "It makes me mad because the government said they were going to clean it up," Macomber says. "We" -- the nation, government and especially big businesses like Atlas Tack -- "lived high off the hog for years; it should have been cleaned up by now."

Now that the EPA pressure is off, however, it is unlikely that the company will foot the bill for cleanup simply because it is the right thing to do. Great Northern and Atlas Tack have rarely paid for the cleanup or safety measures that weren't court-ordered and first covered by Superfund or state funding. In fact, the company already has a large bill outstanding. Along with the tax bill, there's the costs of cleanup activities already completed that haven't been paid. According to Craffey's estimates, the EPA has spent more than $4 million assessing the site and doing initial cleanup -- not a dime of it has been paid for by Lewis, Atlas Tack or Great Northern.

Some companies take responsibility for their property: AVX, Aerovox, Belleville Industries are just a few of the companies that have agreed, with little argument, says Craffey, to help clean up their polluted Superfund sites. The area that these particular companies are responsible for -- in New Bedford, only a few miles away from Fairhaven -- is still on the Superfund list and may never leave but the companies continue to contribute funding.

Whitman emphasized this point in her New York Times editorial, noting that 70 percent of Superfund cleanup costs are paid for by polluters. But what she failed to mention is that many of these polluters only paid because they had no choice. The Superfund -- as a pool of money that allows the government to complete massive cleanups, regardless of corporate stonewalling -- was the EPA's greatest weapon. It was the proverbial big stick used to beat the worst corporate polluters into submission. Without the guarantee of funding from corporate taxes -- which expired in 1995 -- and without a steady commitment from Congress and the White House, the cuts to Superfund create a vacuum of authority. Not only is there no real penalty for contaminating the environment, there is also an incentive to fight any demands to be clean.

The lesson here is that if a company delays long enough, it will get a break from the government. There is also an implied promise of laxity for future polluters. Why should a company spend money on clean and sustainable production if it is cheap to pollute for a profit?

The message in the Superfund cuts frightens and depresses people like Estrella. She's appalled by the prospect of inaction, the possibility of more families being poisoned and the inability -- now enforced by the government -- of communities to hold a local company responsible. But ultimately, it comes down to what she sees every day. Back in her car, under a summer New England sun, she still thinks about what the site might have looked like if it were already cleaned up.

"It shouldn't be left with all these shitty fences," she says. "This could be bird sanctuary."

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