Nuclear arms, testing still imperil life on earth

The August Atlantic published a few select photos of nuclear tests by military photographers in Nevada amid a series of stories on nuclear arms.

Nuclear power plants aim to fire back up around the country and around the world. That's causing those of us who remember The China Syndrome and The Day After, not to mention real-life Three Mile Island and Chernobyl, to feel anxious. 

Our anxiety is fed by the additionally burgeoning risk of a new nuclear arms race. Like many people, I, and apparently the editors of The Atlantic, are thinking back on the Cold War, when a nuclear holocaust seemed about as likely as not.

I'll republish here in low resolution four photos The Atlantic featured from the era of above-ground nuclear testing. The photos are in public domain, as they are in the possession of the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA)—collaterally, a reminder of NARA's importance amid its recent, inimical politicization. The photos were published previously in a military-photo compilation edited by Michael Light, 100 Suns: 1945-1962 (2003) (cover inset above).

 

The Atlantic issue, captioned "Eighty Years on the Edge" (cover inset at left), is well worth examining in whole. Coverage ranged from the historical to the contemporary. Inter alia, Noah Hawley traced the origin of Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle (1963) to the advent of the atomic bomb. And Ross Andersen explained how American absence in world leadership is setting the stage for the new nuclear arms race. 

I spent two weeks in Nevada this summer and saw that its atomic history persists, for better and for worse. 

To my surprise, there is an active program monitoring ongoing radiological risk, and a federal program only recently ended to compensate people for radiation exposure that resulted in illness. 

The Radiation Exposure and Compensation Act of 1990 expired in 2024 and afforded modest compensation to persons made ill, mostly by cancers. Onsite participants in atmospheric tests were entitled to $75,000; "downwinders" of atmospheric tests, present in specified areas near the Nevada Test Site, now called the Nevada National Security Site (NNSS), were entitled to $50,000; and uranium miners working from 1942 to 1971 were entitled to $100,000. I picked up a pamphlet from an education program of the School of Medicine at the University of Nevada Las Vegas that encouraged claimants (pictured below).

The Desert Research Institute of the Nevada System of Higher Education, in collaboration with the National Nuclear Security Administration Nevada Field Office of the U.S. Department of Energy, maintains a network of air and groundwater monitoring stations surrounding the NNSS. The NNSS describes itself today as a government "enterprise of multi-mission, high-hazard experimentation facilities." The Community Environmental Monitoring Program watches for "manmade radioactivity that could result from NNSS activities" and publishes its data online with an interactive map. At right is a map of CEMP monitoring stations, and below (RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0), is one of two CEMP monitoring stations at Tonopah, Nevada.

Though nuclear testing has abated above ground and below, government test sites of all kinds abound still in Nevada. The sites encompass vast swaths of desert, and active sites are well cordoned off with fences and warning signs—including but far from limited to the famous Area 51. (All below photos, RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0.) 

A CEMP station in Tonopah, Nevada, monitors air quality and dispenses pamphlets for curious onlookers.

The U.S. Department of Energy shares and leases the Tonopah Test Range ("Area 52") with the Defense Department and contractors.

Signs warn of a U.S. Air Force test site between "Extraterrestrial Highway" Nevada Route 375 and Groom Lake "Area 51."

The U.S. Bureau of Land Management now preserves Lunar Crater, where astronauts once practiced moon landing.

Still operational, a small U.S. Defense Department installation near Lunar Crater affords a staging area.

Displays at the Nevada State Museum and even a bawdy show at the Venetian in Las Vegas highlight Nevada's nuclear history.

"Earth Station," on the Extraterrestrial Highway in Hiko, Nevada, near Area 51, stocks alien-themed souvenirs.

IP, business stories of Tupperware bankruptcy minimize female marketing pioneer, dangers of plastics

Brownie Wise on Business Week in 1954
via America Comes Alive; © fair use

The Tupperware bankruptcy has been much in the news, though the coverage has underplayed "the rest of the story" in regard to women in business and product liability.

Headlines about the bankruptcy of Tupperware suggest various takeaways for business and law. Most stories highlight the inevitable expiry of novelty in business, with the corollary imperative to innovate (Atlantic, Sept. 20). Legal angles complement coverage with intellectual property lessons on the limited life of patents (Slate) and the problem of genericization in trademark (N.Y. Times). The history and nostalgia of Tupperware is a consistent theme (Atlantic, Apr. 12).

Less often told is the story of women in business. The CBS Evening News Saturday night credited Tupperware founder Earl Tupper with having come up with the Tupperware party as a sales strategy. That's not accurate, except in a "buck stops here" sense. The role of the remarkable Brownie Wise is less often told (mentioned: Atlantic, N.Y. Times). Rachel's Vintage & Retro has the more nuanced inside story. The National Women's History Museum and Smithsonian have more. Wise, from Buford, Georgia, graced the cover of Business Week in 1954 (pictured, via America Comes Alive). PBS recounted:

While Earl Tupper hated the limelight, Brownie Wise loved it. With Tupper's blessing, the company's public relations staff promoted Wise extensively. Female executives were rare, and the strategy worked. As the company grew, Wise was on talk shows, quoted by newspapers, and pictured on the cover of numerous magazines (she was the first woman to make the cover of Business Week). But when the press suggested Wise was responsible for Tupperware's success, and that she could be equally successful selling any product, Earl Tupper grew jealous. Over time, Wise became increasingly high-handed, and she was less patient with Tupper's micro-management and unpredictable temper. In 1958, Earl Tupper unceremoniously and abruptly fired her, booting her from the multi-million dollar company she had helped build; she held no company stock and was given just one year's salary.

Journalist Bob Kealing published a book about Wise if you want to go all in. Life of the Party (2016) followed up Kealing's Tupperware, Unsealed (2008). The Takeaway at WNYC interviewed Kealing in 2016.

With regard to women in business, by the way, CBS Sunday Morning just featured GM CEO Mary Barra, who appears to be going strong in the role ten years on. I remember when Jon Stewart on The Daily Show made fun of GM's ham-fisted introduction of a first female CEO ("a car gal, an auto dame, a jalopy broad"). It seemed that Barra was practically set up to fail amid GM's embarrassing ignition-switch recall.

Phillip Pessar via Flickr CC BY 2.0

Further in the vein of product liability, another angle on Tupperware that gets little play lies at the intersection of tort law and environmental protection. Stories of Tupperware tend to hail Tupper's inventiveness in converting DuPont's wartime development of polyethylene to post-war market ubiquity. But in the last decade, revelations of risky chemical seepage from microwaved containers did untold damage to a business built on plastic food storage.

BPA is just one chemical contaminant from plastics. Its use in manufactured products has spawned EU regulation and American litigation over baby bottles and activewear, as well as consumer protection litigation over "BPA-free" green-washing. Tupperware stopped using BPA in 2010 and developed a purportedly microwave-safe line of products under the brand name "Tupperwave" (not to be confused with Australian musician Dean Terry). But the safety of any plastic in the microwave remains uncertain. And microwave ovens notwithstanding, there's plenty of justified public concern over microplastic waste in the environment, animals, and people. 

So maybe Tupperware was always destined for only finite fame. Or maybe it will reinvent itself like Teflon, another DuPont invention that seems likely to survive an accountability assault.

Remembering Professor Frances S. Fendler

Congregation B'nai Israel
Sunday, Sept. 15, 2024, RJ Peltz-Steele CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

At Congregation B'nai Israel in Little Rock, Arkansas, on Sunday, I joined in the celebration of the life of Professor Emerita Frances Shane Fendler.

A native of Blytheville, Arkansas, Frances was a faculty member at the law school at the University of Arkansas at Little Rock, and also an alumna of the school, '82. Always an intellectual, she wrote the top paper on the July 1982 Arkansas bar exam. She clerked for the late Eighth Circuit Judge Richard Arnold and then litigated for (now) WilmerHale in Washington, D.C.

In 1986, Frances joined the faculty at Little Rock, where she taught courses such as business organizations, sales, and contract drafting for more than 30 years. She authored or co-authored articles and books, including a business organizations casebook and the Arkansas practice manual, Private Placements and Limited Offerings of Securities (2010). She served as a member of the bar, twice chairing the state association section on securities law, and she occasionally served as an arbitrator for the Financial Industry Regulatory Authority.

Most importantly, of course, Frances was a dear friend. When I struggled with the academic politics at Little Rock, she was steadfastly personally supportive, even if she did not have the bureaucratic sway to redress the situation. I did my best to be supportive, in turn, of Frances, when she battled breast cancer in the 20-aughts. I say this more because she often thanked me for it than because I deserve any credit; my recollection is rather frustration at my helplessness to do anything for her at that time. Upon her own remarkable strength, she prevailed in that first fight with cancer.

China Doll
Photo © RJ Peltz-Steele

Frances was a passionate dog lover. She was the first guest to visit my first dog, Rocky, when he came home to me, a puppy, in 2001. At the time, she had her precious China Doll, also an Australian shepherd. Frances remained always a trusted adviser on training and caring for Rocky over his nearly 18 years, right to the painful decision to end his life. My wife and I were plan B if a home in Arkansas could not have been found for Frances's beloved Honey Bear. When I visited Frances at her home in Arkansas one last time in October 2023, she gave me her cherished ceramic Aussie, a remembrance of China. The statuette, literally a "china doll," now stands guard over the ashes of my Rocky.

When we were together in 2023, we talked of all things big and small while organizing the papers of her father, the renowned Arkansas attorney Oscar Fendler. Most of Oscar's papers already resided at the archives of the library at the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville (UAF). But Frances had held back some of the more personal items, such as photographs and handwritten notes. She entrusted me with one treasure in particular: Oscar's unpublished memoir. With the help of research assistants, I am in the process of editing the book for publication, in accordance with Frances's wishes.

Many people helped to organize Frances's affairs in the last weeks. I express my especial gratitude to Linda, who took in Honey Bear; to Susan, who, with help from Melissa and Jessie, saw to the final dispatches to UAF; and to Tom and Suzy, who visited Frances often.

When Frances was young, from ages 19 to 21, she lived and was treated for depression at the Austin Riggs Center, a residential facility in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. She long kept that part of her life a secret, she explained to me in 2023, because of the stigma attached to mental illness. But in recent years, and especially contemplating her own end of life, she recognized that there need be no stigma. She had no shame in it, she told me; in fact, she said, those years, when at last she learned how to manage the darkness that had dogged her, and she made friends who understood, were the best two years of her life. She wanted people to know about her experience in the hope of inspiring others who struggle with depression to seek treatment.

Soon after her retirement from teaching, Frances was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Having gone ten rounds with cancer before, and not having been given a hopeful prognosis, she chose to eschew treatment in favor of home hospice. Some weeks ago, the pain management in Arkansas became ineffective, and Frances relocated to Celia's House Hospice in Medford, Oregon. She was blissfully happy at the beautiful property when I spoke with her by telephone the week before she died. When the cancer reasserted itself, she declared, "Give me the pills," as she told me she would. At age 70, she availed of medical aid in dying (MAID) under Oregon's Death With Dignity Act. As her eulogizer put it Sunday, Frances lived and died on her own terms.

My life is richer for Frances Fendler having been in it.

Mass. court affirms big verdict against Big Tobacco

Autodesigner via Wikimedia Commons CC0 1.0

Last week, the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court affirmed a lung cancer victim's verdict against Marlboro maker Philip Morris (PM).

Arising from verdict in a $37m case against PM and co-defendants, including R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Co. and Star Markets, the decision broke no new ground, but might be instructive for students of product liability.

On appeal, PM did not "dispute that the plaintiffs introduced sufficient evidence of agreement between it and the other cigarette entities to deceive the public about the dangers of smoking.... Further, [PM did] not dispute the evidence of medical causation, i.e., that smoking causes the type of cancer from which Greene suffered."

Rather, PM asserted that the plaintiff failed to connect causally her choice to smoke to specific misrepresentations. The court wrote that PM viewed the evidence too narrowly, and that the plaintiff sufficiently "met this requirement by introducing evidence of her detrimental reliance on the conspiracy's misrepresentations regarding filtered cigarettes. [PM] represented that such products, including Marlboro Lights, delivered lower tar and nicotine and were a healthier alternative to regular cigarettes."

The plaintiff also met the burden of proving causation on a count of civil conspiracy. "The conspirators expressly misrepresented to the public that they would not have been in the business of selling cigarettes if cigarettes were truly dangerous," the court reasoned. Consequently, "the jury could have found that [the plaintiff] would have smoked less, or quit sooner, absent the conspiracy's campaign of fraud and deception."

PM also pointed to the court's 2021 adoption of the Third Restatement approach to causation (on this blog) to argue that the jury was erroneously instructed on "substantial causation." The court ducked the question by finding that counsel had not preserved their objection to the jury instructions.

Finally, the court upheld the award as against PM challenges to the trebling of damages under Massachusetts consumer protection law and the commonwealth's 12% judgment interest rate.

The case is Greene v. Philip Morris USA Inc., No. SJC-13330 (Mass. May 9, 2023). The unanimous opinion was authored by Justice Scott L. Kafker, who also wrote the opinion in the 2021 causation case.

Public records make $363m toxic-tort verdict possible

Condensed ethylene oxide, a carcinogen.

102% Yield via Wikimedia Commons CC BY-SA 4.0

Public records made possible a $363m verdict in a toxic tort case in September.

For the ABA Journal, attorneys Jennifer M. Cascio, Lance D. Northcutt, and Patrick A. Salvi II wrote about how they won the verdict in an Illinois jury trial (limited free access). They explained:

In August 2018, a federal report revealed that a small community southwest of Chicago had an elevated cancer risk due to emissions of a carcinogen from two innocuous buildings situated between a Target and a Denny’s. Those buildings were operated by the medical device sterilization company Sterigenics, which had been releasing a colorless, odorless human carcinogen [ethylene oxide] since 1985 without any warning to the surrounding community that included homes, schools, businesses and parks—all within a mile.

Bringing such a case is easier said than done; I know because I saw it in Erin Brockovich and A Civil Action. Seriously, though, even at the pleading stage, showing evidence of proximate causation between a toxic substance and specific plaintiffs' illnesses is a towering hurdle, much less the proof that would be needed to win a trial. And a plaintiff that cannot get over the pleading hurdle cannot get discovery.

It's noteworthy, then, that, as described, this case started with a public federal report and proceeded thanks in part to the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA). Especially burdened by a dearth of relevant epidemiological evidence, the plaintiff lawyers wrote that they amassed the necessary evidence of causation by "gather[ing] documents via Freedom of Information Act requests and digging through state and federal databases."

We like to think that our not insubstantial regulatory state is using the resources that it itself produces to safeguard public health. For whatever reason, and there are many reasons, that's the exception to the rule. America rather relies heavily on the tort system as a first-line accountability mechanism. FOIA is vital to bridge the gap between public and private enforcement. 

The case moreover shows the importance of affirmative disclosures of scientific information through publicly available databases. Here, fortunately for affected persons, plaintiff lawyers were on the hunt for evidence. No doubt, though, some victims did not know they were victims of pollution, a colorless, odorless gas, no less, until they saw an attorney's ad. FOIA without affirmative disclosure is useless when people don't know there's a reason to be asking questions. Cancer sufferers might have other things on their minds.

The case, one of more than 700 of its kind against the same defendant, is Kamuda v. Sterigenics, U.S. LLC, No. 2018-L-010475 (Ill. Cir. Ct. verdict Sept. 19, 2022).