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Even in the adjoining auxiliary building, separated by four feet of concrete and a stainless steel shield from the deadly gases, the radiation in some spots exceeded 1,000 rems, twice a lethal dose. Yet Edward Houser, a chemistry foreman at the plant, had put on his antiradiation gear, including three pairs of coveralls and a full-face respirator, in order to draw a vital sample of contaminated water to help his colleagues figure out what was happening. He absorbed only four rems during his mission; a total of five is the limit set by the plant for a year. "It's not the kind of thing you want to do," he explained later, "but you have to."
While praising the courage of his coworkers, one of the plant's engineers told TIME Correspondent Peter Stoler that he was not at all sure that they were fully competent to handle their high-stakes responsibilities. "We really don't have enough in the way of scientific people," he said. "There are a lot of technicians, but very few engineers and even fewer nuclear scientists." He claimed that the lobster shifts in the control room were especially inexperienced. "They are usually kids, guys in their twenties who took a course on reactor operation and still have to look in the instruction book all the time," he said. "You should have at least one cool head around."
What was more, the engineer said that Unit 2 had been plagued with glitches during its shakedown phase. "Nothing serious, but enough to suggest that both the reactor and we needed to get to know each other better." Instead of thoroughly studying the cause of the malfunctions, the engineer maintained, the plant "went commercial too quickly." The multiple problems should have been a warning, he said. "If the lights in your house blow out every time you turn on your toaster, you know something is wrong. You call the electrician." Questioned about the engineer's statements, Harold Denton, the Nuclear Regulatory Commission's operations chief, said there were enough qualified personnel in the control room to meet federal requirements.
Metropolitan Edison, which operates the Three Mile Island plant, had pressed Unit 2 into regular service last Dec. 30. By meeting the year-end deadline, the utility qualified for $17 million to $28 million in 1978 tax investment credits, plus $20 million in depreciation deductions. It also got approval for a $49 million rate increase. "There was no question that there was strong incentive for the company to get that plant on line fast," contended David Barasch, an attorney for Pennsylvania's state Consumer Advocate office.
The debate about the culpability—and venality&3151;of Met-Ed was just beginning. In its defense, the utility insisted that the problems with Unit 2 were all routine. Before the reactor could begin operating commercially it also had to be approved by the NRC. Added Denton: "We don't issue licenses to operate plants until our people tell us that all tests have been completed."