south of Reich Farm and just a few hundred feet west of the Parkway well field, at levels as high as six parts per million. By now everyone knew the drill: The thirteen wells were ordered closed, and the National Guard dispatched a water truck to the area (filled with water from the Parkway wells), while water mains were extended to serve the two affected streets. Was Reich Farm, a mile to the north, to blame for the newly discovered contamination? There was no proof, insisted the state and the water company. Was it finally time to add carbon filters to the Parkway wells, which were just a few hundred feet from the newly discovered contamination? No, that would not be necessary; continued monitoring was sufficient.
Whatever had happened in Pleasant Plains was over, as far as the guardians of Toms River’s water were concerned. The state DEP, which had sued Union Carbide and Nick Fernicola in late 1975, quietly settled the case in 1977. Union Carbide agreed to pay $60,000 to reimburse the state for its groundwater testing costs. Fernicola agreed to pay just $100 and stay out of the chemical waste business for good.In return for the minuscule payments, the state dropped its pollution charges against both without requiring either Fernicola or Union Carbide to admit guilt.
No one had done anything illegal, and there was nothing to worry about. The water was perfectly safe.
During the first trimester of Linda Gillick’s pregnancy in the summer of 1978, the Parkway wells were the source of 25 to 50 percent of the drinking water the Toms River Water Company pumped to her neighborhood, which was known as Brookside Heights. Another 10 to 25 percent of the neighborhood’s water came from the Holly Street wells, which were still being used ten years after the Toms River Chemical Corporation had secretly contaminated them. Other neighborhoods in Toms River, especially in the more northerly parts of town, got at least 90 percent of their water from the Parkway wells, while some of the areas to the south got almost all their water from Holly Street. The Gillicks lived near the geographic center of Toms River, so their water was a mixture of many sources, with the Parkway and Holly well fields supplying the lion’s share. Linda Gillick, of course, did not know any of this at the time. No one knew, including the water company, which operated the interconnected system without knowing which wells supplied which neighborhoods. Those facts would not be established for another quarter-century, and even then, no one would be sure what any of it really meant.
Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, unless they were unlucky enough to live in Pleasant Plains and to rely on a backyard well, few people in Toms River knew or cared where their drinking water came from. They turned on the tap, and it was there. Certainly Linda Gillick’s concerns lay elsewhere. The health of her youngest child was the focus of her life, and when Linda Gillick focused, she was like a magnifying glass on a sunny day. A fierce, formidable protector of Michael’s interests, she knew more about the intricacies of his condition than most of the doctors and nurses who treated him, and she was not reluctant to say so. She also made a point of trying to bring as much pleasure as she could into the lives of both of her sons. When the local papers started publishing stories about Michael, she became savvyabout how reporters did their work—a skill that would later be crucial. By encouraging or at least tolerating publicity, she discovered, she could be an example to other families while also making it possible for Michael to have some unique experiences. The Gillicks got to visit Yankee Stadium, where Reggie Jackson gave Michael one of his bats, and then Giants Stadium, where Michael pretended to lift weights with star running back Joe Morris. They even got to watch the Giants win their first Super Bowl in 1986, meeting actor Michael J. Fox there and attending the victory
Whatever had happened in Pleasant Plains was over, as far as the guardians of Toms River’s water were concerned. The state DEP, which had sued Union Carbide and Nick Fernicola in late 1975, quietly settled the case in 1977. Union Carbide agreed to pay $60,000 to reimburse the state for its groundwater testing costs. Fernicola agreed to pay just $100 and stay out of the chemical waste business for good.In return for the minuscule payments, the state dropped its pollution charges against both without requiring either Fernicola or Union Carbide to admit guilt.
No one had done anything illegal, and there was nothing to worry about. The water was perfectly safe.
During the first trimester of Linda Gillick’s pregnancy in the summer of 1978, the Parkway wells were the source of 25 to 50 percent of the drinking water the Toms River Water Company pumped to her neighborhood, which was known as Brookside Heights. Another 10 to 25 percent of the neighborhood’s water came from the Holly Street wells, which were still being used ten years after the Toms River Chemical Corporation had secretly contaminated them. Other neighborhoods in Toms River, especially in the more northerly parts of town, got at least 90 percent of their water from the Parkway wells, while some of the areas to the south got almost all their water from Holly Street. The Gillicks lived near the geographic center of Toms River, so their water was a mixture of many sources, with the Parkway and Holly well fields supplying the lion’s share. Linda Gillick, of course, did not know any of this at the time. No one knew, including the water company, which operated the interconnected system without knowing which wells supplied which neighborhoods. Those facts would not be established for another quarter-century, and even then, no one would be sure what any of it really meant.
Back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, unless they were unlucky enough to live in Pleasant Plains and to rely on a backyard well, few people in Toms River knew or cared where their drinking water came from. They turned on the tap, and it was there. Certainly Linda Gillick’s concerns lay elsewhere. The health of her youngest child was the focus of her life, and when Linda Gillick focused, she was like a magnifying glass on a sunny day. A fierce, formidable protector of Michael’s interests, she knew more about the intricacies of his condition than most of the doctors and nurses who treated him, and she was not reluctant to say so. She also made a point of trying to bring as much pleasure as she could into the lives of both of her sons. When the local papers started publishing stories about Michael, she became savvyabout how reporters did their work—a skill that would later be crucial. By encouraging or at least tolerating publicity, she discovered, she could be an example to other families while also making it possible for Michael to have some unique experiences. The Gillicks got to visit Yankee Stadium, where Reggie Jackson gave Michael one of his bats, and then Giants Stadium, where Michael pretended to lift weights with star running back Joe Morris. They even got to watch the Giants win their first Super Bowl in 1986, meeting actor Michael J. Fox there and attending the victory
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