New Jersey Zinc
Updated July 14, 2022 | By Matthew Christopher
The New Jersey Zinc plant in Palmerton, Pennsylvania was built in 1898 and was the reason for the founding of the town. Palmerton was ideally located near both the anthracite coal mines and the zinc mines necessary for a large scale zinc smelting plant, and in 1917 the largest zinc research and technology center in the world was built there. By most accounts New Jersey Zinc's company town was beautiful and had better than average medical care and educational opportunities for the residents. The zinc the plant produced was used in a myriad of products ranging from galvanized steel, tires, and brass and it was used by the military in both World Wars.
In 1966 New Zersey Zinc merged with Gulf + Western and operated as a subsidiary, and in 1981 it was bought out and renamed Horsehead Industries after New Jersey Zinc's logo. Shortly thereafter it made the list of Superfund sites and a drawn out battle with the Environmental Protection Agency began over the terrible toll the plant had taken on the mountains and forests nearby. Conservative estimates reported over 2,000 acres were heavily polluted with lead, arsenic, cadmium, copper, manganese, and zinc. The nearby mountainside, located in an area otherwise known for lush forestation, had the blasted, lifeless look of an asteroid because the soil had been rendered sterile and unable to grow vegetation. Nearby forested areas had a dead, petrified look because the bacteria that decomposed the wood had been killed as well.
The New Jersey Zinc site was lifeless, even in spring no plants were growing.
The battle between the EPA and Horsehead drew in other companies that had a stake in the plant such as Viacom International and TCI Pacific Communications. Multiple settlements were reached and breached by the involved parties, and the town itself was sharply divided. Many residents were very loyal to the company and felt that the health and environmental concerns were exaggerated by the EPA. Horsehead Industries was one of the area's largest taxpayers and donated to local parks and libraries. Residents who took advantage of the EPA program to remove lead from their houses and yards were singled out and allegedly even threatened with lawsuits by Viacom and Horsehead, who claimed that the lead levels were due to the use of lead paint and not the plant operations. One thing I heard about frequently was the "gravel yards" the nearby houses had - no plants would grow in them.
While some studies did lend credence to the possibility that health claims regarding lead and heavy metal exposure had been blown out of proportion, the environmental damage was hard to refute. A 100 ft. high, 500-1,000 ft. wide waste pile that stretched 2.5 miles was leaking contaminants into a nearby creek and subsurface fires covering 25 acres had burned for years. While several measures were taken to mitigate some of the destruction, ultimately Horsehead Industries filed for bankruptcy in 2002 citing low prices for zinc, and its assets were scooped up a year later by Sun Capital Partners, who changed the name to Horsehead Corporation and continued zinc smelting operations elsewhere. The Palmerton plant sat abandoned until it was demolished in 2010. After years of hard work, remediation efforts by groups such as the Lehigh Gap Nature Center have had some success; plants are growing in several of the previously barren areas, but there is still work to do.
Inside New Jersey Zinc's abandoned buildings, it was quite and dark. This bag room was still covered with white dust.
I knew little of the history of New Jersey Zinc when I first visited the plant in 2009, but as I neared it I noticed the sharp difference in the environment. Before I even reached the town I could see the stark contrast where the verdant hillsides vanished and the areas oddly resembling a desert began. When I arrived onsite I found it eerily quiet and devoid of birds, insects, or other signs of life. The zinc buildings with their boarded up windows and doors looked like huge mausoleums. Trees and weeds that had clearly not been alive for quite some time yet had not seemed to decay peppered the property, and many of the interiors of the smelting operations were still coated with white dust. It was a surreal, eerie place, and even without a background on the site one could easily tell something was wrong. It was a feeling that was hard to shake during my time there.
I visited twice before the plant was demolished. When I returned shortly after the first trip, I noticed two police officers wandering the site, looking around. I went up to them and introduced myself and they mentioned that I would have to leave, but were glad that I didn't try to run from them. They turned out to be two of the nicest police officers I've met, and told me about the scrappers and teens they frequently had to chase away. One of the scrappers had hit a live wire once, and it had killed him. The officer told me that nobody would claim to own the site now "unless someone wants to buy it", and after a friendly chat he offered to drive me back to my car. In researching the article, I noticed that later another scrapper suffered the same fate in 2013.
The abandoned offices at New Jersey Zinc looked unhealthy, no doubt in part because of all the asbestos that appeared to be hanging off of the pipes.
Since posting the photographs taken here I've seen that the controversy still rages. Some people mentioned the health effects relatives suffered and the frighteningly blighted appearance of the plant and the nearby mountain. Others have related stories of their time working there and lamented the loss of the plant as an economic tentpole, benefactor for the town, and center of their community's identity. The debate continues, often with angry insistence that outsiders can't understand the significance of the plant and the good it did for the area, and that those who focus on the damage done are badmouthing the community. Maybe someone who isn't from the town truly can't understand what it meant, and it's easy to forget that the people who worked there lived in the very town the plant was polluting. It stands to reason that they were just trying to make a living, not poison their own homes.
Shortly after my visits the site was torn down. Efforts have been underway to mitigate the damage done to the area including dumping sewage sludge and fly ash, which is itself industrial pollution, to deal with the cadmium, zinc, and other heavy metals. When I was in the area last the mountains were still barren but hopefully someday the area can recover. Perhaps it is indicative of the era I live in, one where we are attempting to atone from the mistakes we made decades ago even as we perpetuate them elsewhere.
New Jersey Zinc is a chapter in my book, Abandoned America: Age of Consequences.
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