Jorge Barón and his wife, Tyler Crone, say they don't really care whether the Seventh Church of Christ, Scientist next door to them on Eighth Avenue West is demolished or not.
But the couple is deeply concerned about how the church is torn down. Their concern is based on neither the usual worries about dust and noise from demolition projects, nor the historical value of the 1926-era building (see sidebar).
Instead, Barón and Crone appealed the demolition permit to a Hearing Examiner because they have two young children and are worried about exposing Joaquin, 16 months, and Isabella, 4, to lead contained in paint on and inside of the church.
The couple won their appeal on May 15, although on minor technical grounds, but their battle with the Department of Planning and Development (DPD) may have a more far-reaching impact in Seattle and maybe in the state.
They hope so. Barón and Crone are Yale Law School grads; the family moved to Queen Anne from Connecticut last summer. Being from the East Coast, the two are aware that health officials there "automatically screen children for blood-lead levels," said Crone, who also has a master's in public health.
Part of the reason for that, she said, is that the East Coast has more dilapidated houses built before 1978 - when lead paint was banned - than Seattle has. Lead paint and lead gasoline were both banned because lead can cause severe neurological damage - especially in young children, according to the Center for Disease Control. "There's just no doubt about the health impact," Barón said.
Deputy Hearing Examiner Anne Watanabe noted in her ruling that the federal Environmental Protection Agency regulates the way lead-based paint is treated for federal projects, but Washington state doesn't have much to say about the issue.
"The state Department of Ecology regulates lead when it is classified as a hazardous waste, but demolition materials from this [church] site are not expected to trigger any hazardous waste regulations on handling and disposal," Wata-nabe wrote in her decision.
Crone said a public-health official testified at the hearing that the state has no policy or money for screening children for lead exposure linked to demolition projects - or for anything else, for that matter.
As far as Barón and Crone are concerned, the lack of regulations for demolition projects needs to be corrected. "There are a lot of old houses here," Crone noted.
Barón said he had a colleague who remodeled an old house and discovered later that his young children were exposed to significant levels of lead. "The point is, people don't talk about the health hazard," he frowned.
Crone finds a certain irony in that. Seattle is positioning itself as a green city, she noted, but the city is ignoring a major environmental hazard. "As our experience showed," she added, "the city didn't protect us."
Whether Watanabe's ruling ends up protecting the couple and their children remains to be seen. The demolition permit had already been issued to the church when Crone and Barón appealed.
The project received a Determination of Non-significance (DNS), meaning no major mitigation measures were required. The DNS was based on an environmental checklist, but the DPD erred in coming to its conclusion, according to Watanabe.
Her decision notes that a survey last July confirmed the existence of asbestos in the building. However, the environmental checklist the church submitted last August failed to mention that "and did not disclose the presence of any other toxic materials at the site," according to the ruling.
The church wasn't planning to take any protective measures before Barón and Crone appealed the demolition permit decision, the couple said.
But once their appeal was launched, two things happened, Crone said. The church was tested for lead and chromium in the paint and high levels were found in some places, she said. In addition, the church decided to put up an 8-foot-tall fence around the north side of the church next to their home and another fence of the same size on the west side next to the house of another couple who joined in on the appeal, Crone noted.
The church also proposed wetting down the dust during demolition, she said. Plus, the church said the demolition wouldn't take place when there were high winds, said Barón, who added that a high wind wasn't defined.
That's not good enough, according to the couple, who note that the church is much higher than 8-foot fences and that two sides of the building will be exposed to surroundings that include the sidewalk.
What they'd like to see is scaffolding covered in plastic sheeting set up around the building, Barón said. The Department of Housing and Urban Development also requires that plastic sheeting be placed on the ground to catch dust from such projects. "The point is, if the federal government requires that [ground covering], why should the city not require that?" he asked.
Using plastic sheets is an important step because children could pick up lead-paint chips or get paint dust on their sneakers, Crone said. "It doesn't take much [exposure]."
Watanabe ruled that the DPD should have included information about the lead and chromium in the threshold determination before the DNS was issued.
But the core of the matter, the lack of local regulations about lead paint remains unresolved; the church and Crone and Barón all agreed there really aren't any regulations that apply.
Meanwhile, Barón and Crone said they were going to seal their windows during the demolition project and test their children for lead exposure afterwards. The couple said they've already had their children tested to obtain a base line.
Crone worries that other demolition projects in Seattle might pose the same kind of hazards the church project does. "Do we really know what is happening all over the city?" she wondered. "People need to know."
Staff reporter Russ Zabel can be reached at rzabel@nwlink.com or 461-1309.
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