Bowers was furious when DEQ refused to settle with Alsco. In a nearly incomprehensible January 1996 letter to Rhoades that was copied to Symington, Bowers blasted Maroney's for "abysmal" handling of chemicals, and said it was a "travesty" for the state to go after Maryatt.
Bowers wrote: "Government may not have to worry through hundreds of nights about what is going to happen to one's life's work, but people do! [Emphasis his.] Here those who show responsibility relative to the implementation of 'clean' work practices are still held hostage to rumor, treated with disrespect and used as fodder in the gamble for larger settlements which, I feel, will be no more secure from court challenge than what we fear with Alsco, a never ending cycle of accusation, response and non-resolution, pending other litigation in the future--the very heart of the cancer that Superfund has become nationwide. The never ending limbo into which we put people is abhorrent." By then, under Bowers' leadership, the Superfund law had been changed to make it easier for companies to force the state to accept "de-minimis" settlements.
On July 10, 1996, legislators friendly to Alsco heard that the state might sue Alsco for cleanup expenses before the new law preventing such lawsuits took effect on July 24.
This time, Bowers and state senators Tom Patterson and Stan Barnes interceded, writing to Rhoades, "It would seem an incredible, and a bald-faced act of bad faith that in spite of the Legislature's actions giving new direction and hopefully fair resolutions to Arizona's aquifer pollution problems, you would file a CERCLA [Superfund] lawsuit against Alsco before the . . . deadline so you can slip under the legal wire."
DEQ backed off, and on the day the new law took effect, July 24, 1996, Alsco asked to settle with DEQ under the new, less restrictive, law for $750,000. Alsco claimed it had already spent $250,000 on the problem, bringing its total settlement offer to $1 million--less than one tenth of the anticipated cleanup expense.
(Maroney's also formally requested a small settlement, but did not name a settlement figure. That request was denied.)
Rhoades wouldn't relent to Alsco. In October, he wrote to Maryatt, noting that Alsco had probably used 42 tons of PERC at the site, which means that "Alsco could be responsible for all of the contamination measured at the site by losing less than two fluid ounces of PERC per day, even if Maroney's released nothing."
"The stakes here are high," Rhoades said. "The risk to the environment is high because carcinogenic PERC and other carcinogens are loose in the groundwater moving off towards public wells."
Rhoades also noted that Maroney's would be "unduly prejudiced" if Alsco were to pay only $1 million of the $10.5 million cleanup tab. "The state would be at risk . . . in the event Maroney's estimated net worth of approximately $1 million did not cover 96 percent of the remedy."
Alsco appealed Rhoades' decision on a legal technicality.
At a January 1997 hearing, assistant attorney general Roger Strassburg said Alsco's appeal was a ploy to buy time for SB 1448--Bowers' new bill exempting Alsco--to wind its way through the Legislature. If passed, Strassburg reminded the hearing officer, the bill would force the state to settle with Alsco for $250,000.
Alsco won its appeal, and the hearing officer remanded the whole matter to Rhoades, who has once again opened settlement negotiations with Alsco. Those negotiations are expected to conclude in two weeks.
And Strassburg was right. Vieregg did buy more time. The Bowers bill awaits a committee hearing in the Senate. And even though Bowers insists he will not push for the bill's passage, the legislation is still not dead and could be resurrected if the settlement negotiations between DEQ and Alsco break down again.
Even today, Charlotte Walton is reluctant to criticize Russell Bowers. Rather than carp about SB 1448, which could drive Maroney's out of business if it were passed, she remembers how relieved she was in 1995 when Bowers began trying to amend the state Superfund law. In those days, Walton saw Bowers as a hero.
After all, she believed she was the quintessential small-business owner who faced financial ruin under the old law. It seemed at the time that Bowers was the only politician who "understood" the fix she was in.
She was so gratified that Maroney's donated $100 to Bowers' campaign.
