What I recall of the “incident” at Three Mile Island (TMI) in March 1979 was the initial lack of any clear information as to what had happened. The operator of TMI, the news media and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania all referred to what happened as an “incident” or “accident.” Initially none of these entities referred to what had happened as a meltdown or partial meltdown.

she had been told to shut the doors and windows as a precaution

On the day of the “incident” at TMI, I was a twenty-five year old delivery driver working at United Parcel Service (UPS) in Harrisburg, delivering packages in the Elizabethtown area, less than ten miles southeast of TMI. Since I did not have a radio in my truck, I was not aware of what was happening at TMI.

One of my first deliveries in Elizabethtown was to what was then called the Masonic Home. At that time all deliveries to the Masonic Home were made to one loading dock. The woman who came to sign for the delivery stated that she had been told to shut the doors and windows as a precaution because “something had happened at TMI.” Neither she nor I had any idea of what had “happened” at TMI.

As I made my other deliveries in the Elizabethtown area, at each stop there was a brief conversation about what was happening at TMI. Each of these conversations added a little more information. There had been a “release” of some radioactive gas into the atmosphere. Hence, the warning to close windows and doors to keep the radioactive gas out. The warning was issued several hours after the release had occurred, so it was a little late.

What are you doing?  You need to get the hell out of here. We are all going to die!

In addition, my limited knowledge of radioactive material indicated that a person had to be shielded by lead in order to keep the radioactivity from harming them. It seemed unlikely that glass windows or metal doors would protect anyone from any radioactivity. In other words, whatever damage could be done by this radioactive gas cloud had already occurred. I figured that since I had already been exposed, there was no point in trying to protect myself. Others were not so sanguine.

At one of my rural residential deliveries, while I was talking to the customer, a car traveling at a high rate of speed away from TMI stopped in front of the residence where I was making my delivery. The driver, a middle aged woman, rolled down the window and yelled at us “What are you doing?  You need to get the hell out of here. We are all going to die!” She then sped off in the direction of Elizabethtown.

During the days following the incident, as more information about what had happened at TMI became public, UPS management had to address the concerns expressed by a number of the delivery drivers and the Teamsters Union concerning the health risks involved in continuing to deliver packages near TMI while conditions at TMI were uncertain. UPS management knew no more than the drivers or the Teamsters Union about what the health risks were. As I recall there was at least one driver who refused to deliver packages in the Middletown area during the TMI incident. He was not disciplined.

Would I end up the same way?

When it became more clear what had happened and the operator of TMI, the news media and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania began referring to the accident as a partial meltdown and began talking about the potential for evacuation, many people left. I continued to work and deliver in the Elizabethtown area.

If there was a meltdown, my limited knowledge of radioactive material was that it would remain radioactive and lethal for thousands of years. The idea that thousands of people could be permanently displaced by the TMI event was unthinkable. Yet it now was in the realm of possibility.

The idea that I might have to permanently evacuate the area raised questions. What friends or relatives who lived outside the area surrounding TMI would take me in and for how long? What would I take with me?

At the time of the 1972 flood, I worked with several people who lost all of their possessions in the flood and lived a mobile home supplied by the federal government for years after the flood. There were thousands of victims of the 1972 who lived in these mobile homes because they had lost everything and had no place else to go. Some of these people never returned to their homes. Would I end up the same way?

Nuke Party, 3 Mile Island, Spring 1979

People handled the stress of the event differently. Some became angry at the operator of TMI, the news media and the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. They demanded more complete information concerning what had happened and what steps were going to be taken to clean up the contamination at TMI.

Some people expressed concerns about the long term health consequences of the partial meltdown at TMI. Many were convinced that the partial meltdown was going to lead to increased incidents of cancer among the people who lived near TMI.

Some treated the TMI event as a joke and an opportunity to make some money. Some enterprising people did a brisk business selling “I didn’t die at TMI” tee shirts. One bar in Middletown, The Railroad House, sold tee shirts stating “I didn’t die at TMI, I got soused at the Railroad House.” I still have a tee shirt from the period which says “Nuke Party, 3 Mile Island, Spring 1979” showing a TMI cooling tower with a mushroom cloud coming out of the top.

In retrospect, what strikes me was how close we had come to a major disaster. Only after the Chernobyl accident in 1986 and the resulting deaths, contamination and evacuation, did I fully understand what could have happened at TMI. We were very fortunate. More recently, the disaster at the Fukushima Daiichi reactor in 2011 reinforced to me how fortunate we had been.

David