Nuclear survivor: Clark recalls 1958 accident at Y-12 and up-and-down life that followed
By Frank Munger, The Knoxville News-Sentinel, Tenn. | |
McClatchy-Tribune Information Services |
That was the date of the worst nuclear accident in
"It's not like getting hit with a bullet," he said. "You don't feel nothing."
A smell worse than rotten eggs
Clark remembers the flashes of blue light in the C-1 Wing of Building 9212, an area of the plant where scraps of bomb-grade uranium were chemically processed for recovery. At first he thought the light show was a welding arc. But he quickly realized nobody was welding, and workers were starting to run. Sirens were sounding, and there was an awful, awful smell.
"It was the worst thing I ever smelled in my life," he said. "It was a lot worse than rotten eggs."
He knew he was supposed to evacuate, but first the 25-year-old chemical operator took a moment to turn off his equipment -- an evaporator behind him, and three centrifuges in front of him.
"I should have just left," he said.
Clark didn't know a solution of highly enriched uranium had mistakenly been diverted into a steel drum about 50 feet from his work location. The unsafe configuration resulted in a fission reaction that lasted about 15-20 minutes and turned the workplace into a dangerous field of radiation.
He said it wasn't unusual for alarms to go off at
A man with a bullhorn was telling workers they needed to locate one of the trucks where men with Geiger counters were checking to see who had been exposed to radiation. Clark got in line to wait his turn, and when he got to the front -- even before he handed over his badge -- the needle on the counter hit the peg.
After that, events became a blur.
Clark said he was placed in a van and rushed to a changehouse. Those in charge were stripping away his work clothes even before they got there. Three or four other exposed workers were already in the showers, and Clark soon joined them for the scrubdown of his life, an urgent effort to remove any skin contamination.
While workers were scoured in the showers, plant officials looked for ground zero and tried to figure out what went wrong. Radiation experts pieced together information on worker exposures as it became available, and the early outlook wasn't good.
Figuring out who got what
Clark was the youngest of the radiation victims. He also was the farthest from the source at about
After the accident, the
"At about
The
Those estimates were scaled down later as experts used various techniques -- including a simulated accident using a burro -- to get the most accurate measurements possible. Clark's dose was originally estimated at 30 rems, well below what some of the other accident victims received but many times the safe limit for worker exposures. In 2002, his radiation exposure was re-evaluated by the
Medical and radiation experts from around the country were consulted on the treatments. Because of the unusual circumstances -- and some of the highest radiation doses in U.S. history -- the
Clark remembers a lot of loud groaning from his co-workers and fellow patients, and he wondered whether they were in horrible pain or just scared.
He was scared, too.
A man with many nicknames
Clark is a bit of a character, the kind of guy who always has a nickname.
When he was in the
He lives in the same
He swears he isn't an adrenaline junkie, but he seems to enjoy a good thrill.
Clark admits to a time not so long ago when a driver on the interstate tailed him annoyingly close. He put the pedal to the floor in his Jag and the speedometer soared into triple digits.
When he was 67 years old, he wanted to see what it felt like to be a
As he was getting out of the car, his knees buckled. But he said it was a heck of a ride.
Nowadays, he takes it a little easier. He drives up to
He has been divorced for many years. His favorite companion is 5-year-old Brownie, a chihuahua/terrier mix who likes to ride in the convertible and have his belly rubbed.
A bitter parting with Carbide
Clark never liked working at
He was cleared to return to work at
Clark didn't have a lot of seniority in his previous union job, but he had even less job security in his salaried position. He felt he was treated poorly, never given a raise, and thought he was targeted for a layoff at the earliest opportunity. That came in 1965. He remains bitter toward Carbide.
The layoff came with his wife pregnant, and he soon was taking any job available, no matter how menial, to put food on the table and support his two daughters. It seemed that nobody wanted to hire him once they found out he'd been in the big radiation accident -- and word got around. He couldn't get insurance. There was too much fear and uncertainty.
The turnaround came when U.S. Sen.
He loved his time at
The victims go to court
Ever since the accident, the government and its contractors have protected the identities of the victims. In accident and medical reports, the men are typically referred to by letters of the alphabet, A through H.
In
The lawsuits were ultimately settled out of court for what today would seem like paltry sums. The payments varied according to the radiation dose received.
For instance, Clark received
Delayed compensation
Based on follow-up reports, it appears that most, if not all, of the
Both Clark and Wilburn spoke out when the government began implementing the Energy Employees Occupational Illness and Compensation Act, which was passed by
They felt they should be compensated even though their earlier financial settlement included a promise not to seek additional money from the government.
"I think if anybody deserves it, we do," said Wilburn, who had more than a dozen cancerous lesions removed from his face and in the early 1980s had to have his penis amputated because of a malignant growth there.
It's not known if all families of the
He had surgery for colon cancer in 1975 and later developed multiple skin cancers.
All's well that ends well
Clark still goes to the Radiation Emergency Center/Training Site in
ORAU confirmed there is only one surviving member of the accident group and said there are plans to produce an updated study within the next year. The last one was published in 1980.
"Since 1958 ORAU physicians and medical staff have been involved in the medical monitoring and care of the eight
Clark said he's a pretty happy guy, although he thinks his health has gone down in the past couple of years.
In an odd way, he said, things have probably worked out for the best. If the accident hadn't happened, he likely would have rejoined the
"When you're sliding down a hill, like I am, and your life's about over, at some point you had to be on top to slide down," he said. "So, it's OK."
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