Energy: Legacy off Three Mile Island

(2 of 3)

And not just in cleaning up what had happened in Unit 2. Arnold concedes Met-Ed still has a long way to go to regain the public confidence it lost because of the accident. During the crisis, Met-Ed was severely criticized by local and state officials for not forthrightly admitting the scope of the problem. A series of investigations of what went wrong in Unit 2 has shaken confidence even more. A special presidential commission found that during the accident plant personnel misinterpreted their instrument readings, overrode automatic safety systems and shut off the reactor's emergency core-cooling system too early. A report sponsored by the Nuclear Regulatory Commission delivered another blow by suggesting that Unit 2 came closer to melting down than anyone even the Met-Ed officials in charge on the scene realized at the time. Nor has Met-Ed helped its own cause. An increase in the incidence of thyroid problems in babies born in the area around the plant since the accident was quickly dismissed; medical authorities found nonnuclear explanations for most of the cases. But when the company twice released small quantities of radioactive krypton gas from the damaged reactor in February, people in the area were angry. Though neither of the releases was large enough to require reporting under federal regulations, local officials and citizens thought they should have been told. "Public attitudes are improving," said Arnold, "but we still have some image problems." Economically, Middletown appears to be in good condition. There was no mass exodus of frightened families. The local real estate market is about what it was and, reported an agent, would probably be a lot better if mortgage money were more readily available. Retail business in the community has actually improved, at least in part because of the influx of well-paid plant cleanup crews. "Sales have never been better," said Jack Baker, manager of a Middletown haberdashery. "There are a lot of people with $50 bills around town."

The souvenir business is booming.

Baker's store carries an assortment of T shirts bearing legends like "Happiness is a cool reactor" and "Hell no, we won't glow" that are selling well. Joyce Yinger has an even bigger stock of nuclear memorabilia. In addition to T shirts, she has ceramic lamps shaped like cooling towers, T.M.I. belt buckles, and even a gag T.M.I. vasectomy kit. "Business was just great last summer," she said. "It'll pick up again when the tourists start coming." And once the weather starts to clear, visitors should be descending upon the area, if what happened last year is any indication. They will stare at the power plant from Met-Ed's observation center, a modernistic facility for tourists built before the accident on a knoll across from the installation.

A year ago, Mayor Robert Reid received high praise from the residents for coolly doing what he could to cope with the emergency. Today he is worried about what has happened to his town. Said he: "This used to be a pretty unified community. Now it's divided between pro-nuke and antinuke. There's a tension here you can cut with a knife."

The evidence of the split is abundant. Gone are the nuclear doomsayers who stood on street corners a year ago and, like the Ancient Mariner, stopped one out of three people with their harangues.

But no one needs such direct reminders. At the time of the accident, Governor Richard Thornburgh recommended the precaution of evacuating pregnant women and pre-school age children from within five miles of the crippled plant, and thousands of people heeded his advice. "It was awful," said Mrs. Clare Wright, 30, who took her daughter Amy, then 3, to a refugee center set up in a hockey arena in nearby Hershey. Mrs. Wright carried along some clean clothes and a couple of blankets stuffed into a duffel bag, and left behind on the kitchen table a note to let her truckdriver husband know where to find her. She recalled: "We spent three days at that place and two weeks with relatives before we decided that it was safe to return. I'm still not sure that it is."

Others are sure that they are not safe.

"I think that thing is a menace," declared Jeanne Start, gesturing toward the towers from the doorstep of her house. "It ought to be shut down before it kills somebody."

But some residents are equally vociferous in support of nuclear power. "Cowards making a big deal over a little accident," is how a burly fellow who identified himself only as Pete described the antinuclear people. Pete reinforced his views by removing his jacket; on his bright red T shirt was a representation of the famous cooling towers and the words "T.M.I. Staff We Stayed BEHIND . . . to save yours."