"We are at a critical crossroads . . . when people need to make decisions about what they want for their children and grandchildren," said veteran activist Steve Erickson of Utah Downwinders. "For them, we have to reverse a legacy we have allowed to take place on this land for 50 years."

Vitro's legacy

Ironically, it may have been the massive cleanup of one Cold War mess that precipitated Utah's current status as one of the nation's premier dumping grounds.

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In the late 1970s, Utah lawmakers were grappling with how to remove millions of tons of radioactive soils from the defunct Vitro uranium mill in South Salt Lake. After years of political wrangling, politicos decided to remove them to an isolated parcel of state land in Tooele County where they were capped in clay cells, out of sight and out of mind.

"I tried to tell people at the time we didn't want this stuff, that if we agree to it (accepting Vitro wastes) we will get it all, all the Superfund wastes, everything," White said.

At the time, White, a state lawmaker representing Tooele County, found little sympathy among her legislative colleagues or the governor.

In fact, she had little support for her opposition among Tooele County residents. "They didn't know a lot about it, but they had lived with germ warfare depots and military depots and incinerators, and these provided good jobs."

During the time Vitro wastes were being shuffled to Tooele County, one small hazardous-waste company was already in operation and at least six other commercial waste companies had taken out options to buy or lease properties in the western desert. Most of those projects never got off the ground after Tooele County decided to restrict waste disposal to a zone around the Vitro tailings.

"A lot of the options those companies had were on lands outside the zone," White said. "We could have had every waste company in the world out there if we had just made the zone bigger."