A richly detailed history traces the evolution of one of the premier mining and smelting corporations in the United States, from the discovery of the mine in 1885 to the company's closure in 1981, where it is now one of the EPA's largest Superfund sites.

Leaded: The Poisoning of Idaho's Silver Valley examines the origin, evolution, and causes of harmful environmental and human health effects caused by mining operations in Idaho's Coeur d'Alene Mining District, the "Silver Valley," from 1885-1981. It is a deeply researched account of one of the greatest environmental disasters in western American history. It belongs on the bookshelf of every student of environmental history, western U.S. history, mining history, environmental ethics, and environmental law.

The Coeur d'Alenes, a twenty-five by ten mile portion of the Idaho Panhandle, is home to one of the most productive mining districts in world history. Historically the globe's richest silver district and also one of the nation's biggest lead and zinc producers, the Coeur d'Alenes' legacy also includes environmental pollution on an epic scale. For decades local waters were fouled with tailings from the mining district's more than one hundred mines and mills and the air surrounding Kellogg, Idaho was laced with lead and other toxic heavy metals issuing from the Bunker Hill Company's smelter. The same industrial processes that damaged the environment and harmed human health, however, also provided economic sustenance to thousands of local residents and a string of proud, working-class communities. Living with Leadendeavors to untangle the costs and benefits of a century of mining, milling, and smelting in a small western city and the region that surrounds it.

Smelting is an industrial process involving the extraction of metal from ore. During this process, impurities in ore—including arsenic, lead, and cadmium—may be released from smoke stacks, contaminating air, water, and soil with toxic-heavy metals. The problem of public health harm from smelter emissions received little official attention for much for the twentieth century. Though people living near smelters periodically complained that their health was impaired by both sulfur dioxide and heavy metals, for much of the century there was strong deference to industry claims that smelter operations were a nuisance and not a serious threat to health. It was only when the majority of children living near the El Paso, Texas, smelter were discovered to be lead-exposed in the early 1970s that systematic, independent investigation of exposure to heavy metals in smelting communities began. Following El Paso, an even more serious led poisoning epidemic was discovered around the Bunker Hill smelter in northern Idaho. In Tacoma, Washington, a copper smelter exposed children to arsenic—a carcinogenic threat. Thoroughly grounded in extensive archival research, Tainted Earth traces the rise of public health concerns about nonferrous smelting in the western United States, focusing on three major facilities: Tacoma, Washington; El Paso, Texas; and Bunker Hill, Idaho. Marianne Sullivan documents the response from community residents, public health scientists, the industry, and the government to pollution from smelters as well as the long road to protecting public health and the environment. Placing the environmental and public health aspects of smelting in historical context, the book connects local incidents to national stories on the regulation of airborne toxic metals. The nonferrous smelting industry has left a toxic legacy in the United States and around the world. Unless these toxic metals are cleaned up, they will persist in the environment and may sicken people—children in particular—for generations to come. The twentieth-century struggle to control smelter pollution shares many similarities with public health battles with such industries as tobacco and asbestos where industry supported science created doubt about harm, and reluctant government regulators did not take decisive action to protect the public’s health.

For more than 100 years, the Coeur d' Alene River Basin has been known as "The Silver Valley" for being one of the most productive silver, lead, and zinc mining areas in the United States. Over time, high levels of metals (including lead, arsenic, cadmium, and zinc) were discovered in the local environment and elevated blood lead levels were found in children in communities near the metal-refining and smelter complex. In 1983, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) listed a 21-square mile mining area in northern Idaho as a Superfund site. EPA extended those boundaries in 1998 to include areas throughout the 1500-square mile area Coeur d'Alene River Basin project area. Under Superfund, EPA has developed a plan to clean up the contaminated area that will cost an estimated $359 million over 3 decades-and this effort is only the first step in the cleanup process. Superfund and Mining Megasites: Lessons from Coeur d'Alene River Basin evaluates the issues and concerns that have been raised regarding EPA's decisions about cleaning up the area. The scientific and technical practices used by EPA to make decisions about human health risks at the Coeur d'Alene River Basin Superfund site are generally sound; however, there are substantial concerns regarding environmental protection decisions, particularly dealing with the effectiveness of long-term plans.

A comprehensive history of a major American mining company For nearly a century, the Bunker Hill Company of Idaho was a leading U.S. mining and smelting corporation that played a key role in the nation's industrial development. At the same time, it was the catalyst for unprecedented labor strife and environmental desecration. In this richly detailed history, Katherine G. Aiken traces Bunker Hill's evolution from the mine's discovery in 1885 to the company's closure in 1981. Throughout the company's long history, management's relentless pursuit of profit and the labor-management conflicts that often resulted were nothing short of legendary. Often a tale of strife, Bunker Hill's history is at the same time a story of cooperation, dedication, and ingenuity. People literally gave their lives for the production of lead, zinc, and silver. In the end, however, environmental destruction, aging facilities, and mineral shortages, as well as foreign competition, crippled the company's economic viability. Aiken offers an in-depth profile that illustrates major trends in American corporate culture.

The descent into Idaho from the Montana border down Lookout Pass on Interstate 90 largely follows the trail Capt. John Mullan blazed over 150 years ago. The Silver Valley is home to Shoshone County's seat, the historic silver-mining city of Wallace, which has been something of a phoenix rising out of the ashes of two great fires. Along with Wallace, the valley encompasses many other small mining towns, such as Mullan, Silverton, Osburn, Kellogg, Smelterville, Pinehurst, and Kingston, with diverse histories that are both humorous and heartbreaking. It also surrounds the Cataldo Mission, Idaho's oldest standing building, built by the Jesuits and the Coeur d'Alene tribe in 1848.

Smelting is an industrial process involving the extraction of metal from ore. During this process, impurities in ore—including arsenic, lead, and cadmium—may be released from smoke stacks, contaminating air, water, and soil with toxic-heavy metals. The problem of public health harm from smelter emissions received little official attention for much for the twentieth century. Though people living near smelters periodically complained that their health was impaired by both sulfur dioxide and heavy metals, for much of the century there was strong deference to industry claims that smelter operations were a nuisance and not a serious threat to health. It was only when the majority of children living near the El Paso, Texas, smelter were discovered to be lead-exposed in the early 1970s that systematic, independent investigation of exposure to heavy metals in smelting communities began. Following El Paso, an even more serious led poisoning epidemic was discovered around the Bunker Hill smelter in northern Idaho. In Tacoma, Washington, a copper smelter exposed children to arsenic—a carcinogenic threat. Thoroughly grounded in extensive archival research, Tainted Earth traces the rise of public health concerns about nonferrous smelting in the western United States, focusing on three major facilities: Tacoma, Washington; El Paso, Texas; and Bunker Hill, Idaho. Marianne Sullivan documents the response from community residents, public health scientists, the industry, and the government to pollution from smelters as well as the long road to protecting public health and the environment. Placing the environmental and public health aspects of smelting in historical context, the book connects local incidents to national stories on the regulation of airborne toxic metals. The nonferrous smelting industry has left a toxic legacy in the United States and around the world. Unless these toxic metals are cleaned up, they will persist in the environment and may sicken people—children in particular—for generations to come. The twentieth-century struggle to control smelter pollution shares many similarities with public health battles with such industries as tobacco and asbestos where industry supported science created doubt about harm, and reluctant government regulators did not take decisive action to protect the public’s health.

"Coeur d'Alene, Idaho is where people go to hide. Neo-Nazis. Corrupt politicians. Mining men with buried secrets. Finally, one man is digging deep into the labyrinth of lies, and finding out what really happened when ninety-one men died in the 1972 Sunshine Mine disaster. He has the chance to uncover his own family's dark secrets, and destroy everything he holds onto in Coeur d'Alene."--Page 4 of cover.

Drawing on years of research and firsthand interviews with both American and Japanese survivors, Maxwell Taylor Kennedy draws a gripping portrait of men bravely serving their countries in war and the advent of a terrifying new weapon, suicide bombing, that nearly halted the most powerful nation in the world. In the closing months of World War II, Americans found themselves facing a new weapon: kamikazes--the first men to use airplanes as suicide weapons. By the beginning of 1945, facing imminent invasion, Japan turned to its most idealistic young men and demanded of them the greatest sacrifice. On May 11, 1945, days after Germany's surrender, the USS Bunker Hill--with thousands of crewmen and the most sophisticated naval technology available--was 70 miles off the coast of Okinawa when pilot Kiyoshi Ogawa flew his plane into the ship, killing 393 Americans in the worst suicide attack against America until September 11.--From publisher description.