One month ago, on March 10, 2018 Sharon Helmus died from complications after colon cancer surgery. She was 78.
My husband and I visited Sharon three times in the hospital—our last visit was six days before she passed away. When we walked into her room, before we could talk about anything else, she pointed to a hand-written letter on her side table that she planned to give to her sister to type up and send to the Wisconsin State Journal as a letter to the editor. She insisted that we both read it. She told us she had been thinking about what to write for many days as she lay in the hospital. She was very proud of the letter, and anxious for it to be submitted. She said she would give it to her sister to submit right after we left.
The letter said (paraphrased), “I am Sharon Helmus and I have lived on S. Marquette Street for much of my life. I am now going through my third cancer. I love the beautiful children living on my street and do not want them to go through what I am going through later in their lives. I want the Public Health Department to do their jobs and clean up the pollution on my street.” She told us that she agonized about whether or not to write the letter, and how to word it, but ultimately decided she could not live with herself if she didn’t say something.
Sharon died six days later. As far as we know, her letter was never submitted to the WSJ. Her online obituary said she died “after a short illness.”
Sharon was a fighter
Sharon’s obituary was a nice commemoration of her life, highlighting her strong spirit, interest in East Side history and culture, and support for the Packers. It described her as an “enthusiast.”
Sharon was indeed an “enthusiast.” But she was also a fighter. I visited Sharon regularly for the last six years and shared countless emails and phone calls with her during this time. I got to know her fairly well. She survived two cancers (breast and uterine) since 2011, and congestive heart failure, before her recent colon cancer diagnosis. She repeatedly told me she believed her cancers were connected to the numerous probable or known carcinogens spewing from Madson-Kipp Corporation, just feet behind her house.[1] Though she kept her spirits up most of the time (remarkably so), she was sometimes understandably bitter, especially after the 2nd cancer diagnosis. Still, she took her walker out through the neighborhood nearly every day while she recovered from cancers, did her required exercises–and tried hard to eat a healthy diet (her love for Pepsi notwithstanding). She loved her neighborhood and especially the children living in homes next to hers, and wanted to live at home for as long as possible.
Sharon wanted people to know about her cancers, her belief that they were connected to Madison-Kipp, and her efforts to do something about Kipp’s pollution. On this issue, she was brutally honest; she did not mince her words. She included me on numerous emails—always with green text and many words in caps–she sent to public officials about Kipp’s pollution and how it was affecting her and the community, and demanding that public officials do more to address it.
She bristled when anyone suggested that if she was concerned about Kipp’s pollution, she should move away. “I shouldn’t have to move away. Kipp should stop the pollution—or better yet, Kipp should move away!” she would retort.
Photo below: Sharon’s home, on the right, with Kipp’s aluminum melting stacks looming behind it.
Since Sharon’s death a month ago, I have agonized greatly over how to honor her last words to me—her desire to say something publicly about her cancers and Kipp’s pollution, her demand that public health officials do more, especially to protect the children now growing up in her neighborhood. Ultimately, I am posting this because I decided I needed to honor Sharon’s last wishes in some way.
I know from decades of Kipp activism (including years living in the Kipp neighborhood with my family) that few in the neighborhood, including Sharon’s former neighbors on S. Marquette Street, are willing to speak publicly about Kipp’s pollution and health problems because of concern that their home values will drop if these issues are publicized. The neighborhood around Kipp is increasingly “hip” and “desirable,” home values are increasing, and new apartments and condos are being built adjacent to the Kipp factory. People do not want to burst this bubble, which they will benefit from financially.
Those involved in the 2013 class action settlement are also afraid to say anything because of a non-disparagement clause in the settlement document—and a statement they had to sign to get their settlement money saying that they do not have any health problems that they believe are connected to Kipp. This strategy, which served to self-muzzle most people in the neighborhood, was a huge victory for Kipp. The settlement money (likely all covered by Kipp’s insurance) was a tiny price to pay for it—a drop in the bucket for Kipp.
Based on my many conversations with her since the lawsuit ended, Sharon felt unsupported—and even betrayed—by the fearful attitude in her neighborhood. Like others, she signed the settlement statement (because she needed the paltry sum she received), but nevertheless in subsequent years she was not hesitant to state to me and other friends and family that she was convinced that her cancers were from Kipp’s pollution—and to write to public officials about this.
Now she is gone, and there are few on her street who will say anything publicly, or even raise questions, about Kipp’s ongoing pollution and how it could affect the health of the people near the factory, children who play on the PCB-contaminated public land along the bike path, Starkweather Creek, and neighborhood air quality. Even those who are concerned about this toxic pollution—I have spoken with several recently—are silent.
Sharon’s courage was inspiring and it will not be forgotten. For the last several years, I have been writing a book about the long Kipp saga. This writing includes more of Sharon’s story and her feisty statements and emails to public officials about Kipp. Now that she is dead, Kipp cannot come after her because of the settlement non-disparagement clause or the statement she was forced to sign about her health and Kipp.
Sharon reviewed several of the draft sections of my book that include her, and was very anxious to see it finished. I am so sad that she will never see the final manuscript.
I miss her.
[1] There is no question whatsoever that Sharon was exposed to Kipp’s carcinogens. Toxic tetrachloroethylene (PCE) and trichloroethylene (TCE), along with other volatile organic compounds (VOCs) that are probable or known carcinogens, were seeping into her home from below for decades before she was offered a vapor mitigation system (which may or may not have been working to reduce these chemicals to safe levels. See our previous post.) Kipp’s aluminum melting stacks spewed several carcinogens into the air just feet behind her kitchen for decades. Polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) are found at extremely high levels all over the Kipp site. Though other exposures in Sharon’s life could have contributed to her cancers, these long-term, 24-7 exposures to Kipp’s potent carcinogens clearly played significant roles. No scientific study will ever “prove” this connection—and no scientific study ever could do so definitively, especially since without monitoring and exposure data (which public officials here have refused to gather) it is impossible to quantify exposures precisely. But in this case, a scientific study isn’t needed. Again, Sharon was clearly exposed to Kipp’s toxic chemicals, including some potent carcinogens, for several decades of her life, including her childhood. To say that these exposures had nothing to do with her cancers—as some of her friends tried to tell her, which insulted and outraged her—is not only absurd, it is unscientific.
