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A former low-level radioactive waste dump in Newburgh Heights is now a park and playground. It was named in honor of former Mayor Kathy Edwards, pictured here at the May 18 dedication ceremony.

(Plain Dealer file)

NEWBURGH HEIGHTS, Ohio -- It's always been a playground.

Tucked into a residential neighborhood in Newburgh Heights, the five-acre property for decades had a magical appeal for local children who played in the 50-foot-deep ravine with a swamp at the bottom and the brightly colored, steaming waste chemicals that were regularly dumped there.

Nearly everyone who lived nearby has a story about playing in the Bert Avenue dump, which in 1975 became a low-level radioactive waste dump after a local company dismantled a building contaminated with depleted uranium and dumped the rubble there.

Today, the site has earned a new distinction. It's the only one in a residential neighborhood to be cleaned up by burying the low-level radioactive waste safely on site, federal officials say.

The former dump is now a village park with shiny new playground equipment. It sits on 40,000 cubic yards of contaminated waste entombed in a clay-lined cell and covered with 16 feet of topsoil. Extensive testing shows radiation levels at the playground are at about what occurs naturally outdoors.

"I feel really proud that it's a park," said Kathy Edwards, a former council member and mayor who pushed for the cleanup of the site in the 1990s. Earlier this month, the park was named in honor of Edwards in a ceremony that drew residents and officials involved in the dump's cleanup.

A basketball court, playground equipment and swings stand just feet from a grassy field (background) that tops a clay-lined cell holding low-level radioactive waste.

Edwards, who lives just doors from the property, acknowledges that the idea of a park with a playground sitting above a cell of low-level radioactive waste might seem odd at first, but she maintains it's the best use for the property.

"It restricts development," she said. "I didn't want someone building there -- and there were people who wanted to.

"I think the most important thing is that it's all about the kids," Edwards added. "We had to clean it up because of the kids.

"It was no danger to me where I lived," Edwards added. "But the point is it was an attractive area for the kids. Kids have always played there. My 90-year-old mother played there. I played there. And the kids of today were playing there.

"Now, it's a safe place and a very positive place for the kids to play."

Chris Trepal, an environmental activist and expert on nuclear waste, said she has "some comfort" with capping low-level waste of this type. "But for complete comfort, I wouldn't ever let my children or grandchildren play there.

"As we learn more in 50 or 100 years, is it going to be OK for children to play on top of a radioactive waste dump? I don't know," added Trepal, who recently retired as co-director of Cleveland's Earth Day Coalition after more than 20 years. Trepal was among those who pushed for the cleanup in the early 1990s.

"Some of this material we just shouldn't mess around with or we just don't know enough about to make decisions, even though we have to make them," Trepal added.

U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission Chairman Ivan Selin, foreground, tours the Bert Avenue dump in Newburgh Heights in June 1993 with several other state and federal officials. The low-level radioactive waste was covered by tarps, the "Blue Ridge Mountains" as residents called the piles, while the property was cleaned up.

Contamination of the Bert Avenue dump held the national spotlight through much of the early 1990s, in large part due to feisty Mayor Edwards, who didn't hesitate to point her finger at government regulators and corporate executives for allowing the cleanup to drag on.

Ohio's U.S. senators, Democrats John Glenn and Howard M. Metzenbaum, along with Republican U.S. Rep. Martin Hoke, took up the cause, forcing an investigation by what was then known as the General Accounting Office and repeated visits by top government regulators.

The cleanup of more than $7 million was paid for by appliance maker Sunbeam-Oster Co., which inherited the mess in 1990 when it acquired the parent company of Chemetron Corp., the Newburgh Heights company that contaminated the dump.

U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission Chairman Ivan Selin speaks with U.S. Rep. Martin Hoke during a tour of the Bert Avenue dump in June 1993.

Chemetron, which owned the Bert Avenue dump, used depleted uranium to manufacture a chemical catalyst at its Harvard Avenue facility. It stopped production of the catalyst in 1972 and three years later dismantled the building and improperly disposed of rubble at the Bert Avenue dump, U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission records show.

NRC officials didn't learn of contamination at the dump until they received an anonymous tip in 1980. They later ordered a cleanup.

In the years that followed, the site underwent three separate cleanup attempts, all of which failed because officials now say it proved impossible to isolate and remove radioactive hot spots. After each cleanup effort, NRC officials found scores of new problem areas.

In the early 1990s, Sunbeam hired a new consultant who developed an approach that had not been tried elsewhere -- entomb the contamination and the earth that holds it. It was a plan that would address the problem of having to sift through the tens of thousands of cubic feet of soil, according to the consultant, Barry Koh.

But the geology, politics and community sentiment had to be just right, Koh said.

The NRC released the property for unrestricted use in November 1998, declaring it safe for the public and opening the door to the playground that was dedicated May 18. NRC records show that the agency's commissioners personally reviewed the release report at the time.

Computer modeling done then estimated that after the natural decay of the clay cell there would be only slight radiation exposure. The maximum dose of radiation received by those spending most of their time on the property thousands of years from now would be 2.9 millirem a year, slightly more than what a person receives on average from watching television.

"It's breathtaking," Koh told the 75 people who had gathered under a pavilion at the dedication ceremony. "I did the maps and dug the dirt. Kathy [Edwards] provided . . . the leadership to get this done. She had the vision that something beautiful could come from this area of old tires, washing machines and nuclear waste."

Sharen Biada grew up a few homes away from the dump and spent her childhood playing there with her sisters. "It's a miracle we're all healthy," said Biada, 66. "This is really something to see after all these years."