Three years at Libby's vermiculite mine left George Chapman with a lifetime of health problems

George Chapman's breathing is laborious as he makes his way from the back yard into his house, stopping every so often to take a few hits on the inhaler that pumps momentary relief into his scarred lungs.

He didn't used to be this way, he laments.

"I was always very active. I was physically very strong," the 54-year-old Kalispell resident said. "My escapes were scuba diving and riding motorcycles."

That was before he began feeling the effects of asbestosis a decade ago.

Chapman's story is typical of the hundreds of miners whose livelihood depended on W.R. Grace at some point in their lives.

After completing a stint in the military, he started in the labor pool at the Grace vermiculite mine in Libby in 1974. Eventually, he became an ore assayer, picking up samples in the dusty dry mill during the three years he worked at the mine.

"I rode my Harley up there a lot, even in the winter," he recalled. "The issue of dust was not talked about. It was nuisance dust, that's what we were told."

He doesn't remember Grace offering him or other workers respiratory masks.

Chapman was born in Whitefish in 1950. Two years later, his mother moved to Libby to escape an abusive marriage. She worked as a nurse and he also intended to follow that career path. After completing hospital corpsman training in the military, he took a certification test in California that would have placed him as the equivalent of a licensed practical nurse. Montana wouldn't honor his credentials.

Even if Chapman would have been able to practice nursing in Libby, it was paying little more than $3 an hour at that time. A buddy of his had a construction company and offered him $10 an hour to drive trucks. At that point he veered down a blue-collar path.

The vermiculite mine was one of many places where he earned a living. He worked at the lumber mill, originally J. Neils Lumber Co., then St. Regis and later Champion, where Chapman was employed off and on for years.

Chapman dabbled in construction, ran poker rooms and had a commercial firewood business. Like many Libby residents, he led the jack-of-all-trades lifestyle it took to make ends meet. He moved his family to Kalispell 15 years ago.

In 1994, he noticed the first symptom of asbestos disease - diminished lung capacity. As his condition worsened, he sought help from Dr. Alan Whitehouse, a Spokane physician who specializes in treating asbestos-related diseases. Whitehouse diagnosed Chapman's condition in 1998.

"In 2000 the tests were quite changed, for the worse," he said. "There was more pleural thickening, more interstitial disease. Right now I have about 52 to 54 percent of total lung capacity."

The pleurisy creates a fluid buildup that's extremely painful. For more than a year, Chapman was able to get opium patches to ease the pain. Opium was a godsend. He qualified for free patches the first six months, then got them with his Grace pharmacy card.

"Then Grace quit paying, and I was up walking the streets at 3 and 4 in the morning, and taking hot showers because of the pain," he said.

Cheaper drugs, such as Percocet, caused him liver pain, so he settled on Oxycodone to accompany his muscle relaxants and anti-inflamatory drugs. He pays for his medication out of pocket, because the co-pay is considerably more using the Grace plan.

An inhaler is his best friend. So far, he's avoided having to rely on an oxygen tank.

"My activities are very docile. I don't snow ski, water ski or scuba dive," he said.

Chapman's days of hiking the Rocky Mountains to participate in state wildlife studies also are long gone.

Chapman and his wife, Shirley, married in 1971 in Libby. And like the dozens of miners' wives exposed to asbestos fibers from their husbands' clothing, Shirley, too, came in contact with the toxic dust.

She has symptoms of asbestos disease. Their daughter, Summer Lee, was born while Chapman was working at the vermiculite mine. A second daughter, Christina, was born two years later.

"I don't know if they worry about getting sick," Chapman said. "We don't talk about it. You can't do anything except treat the symptoms. There's no cure, no stopping it."

Life has been difficult for the Chapmans on many levels. Nine years ago, their oldest son, Tim, was struck head-on by a reckless driver and was rendered a quadriplegic with brain damage. Confined to a hospital bed, their son is at home with them and requires constant care.

Chapman sued W.R. Grace for his asbestos disease, and was approved for a $750,000 settlement two days before Grace filed for bankruptcy in April 2001.

He didn't get the money.

Angered by what he felt was a sellout from "the president down to our attorneys," Chapman wrote President Bush a letter.

"I want answers, but he never saw this letter," Chapman said. "It was intercepted by an aide who forwarded it to the EPA."

He was incensed by what he believes was Grace's financial maneuvering to squirrel away money in overseas corporations immune to bankruptcy proceedings. Those assets should have gone to asbestos victims, he maintains. Some $960 million was allocated by Grace for victims, "but the money went to creditors and law firms," Chapman said.

"I'm going to write to Bush again," he added, mentioning a statement Bush made during his re-election campaign to hold corporate America accountable. "I have a right for the president to read my correspondence."

Chapman has also contacted Sen. Max Baucus, D-Mont., and Sen. Conrad Burns, R-Mont., and has been disappointed with their lack of response to his concerns about Grace.

Driven to make a point, Chapman painted signs for his pickup that declare: "W.R. Grace: Legalized Murderers Protected by the U.S. Justice System," and "Legalized Terrorists sanctioned by the U.S. Government."

He drove his pickup to Libby for a meeting and the signs got people's attention.

"There was a lot of cheering and thumbs up," he said.

Chapman is worried the government will come ahead of victims and their families as the Grace bankruptcy proceedings are finalized. That wouldn't be right, he maintains.

"Not one dime has gone to the victims," he said. "I advocate for everyone. I focus on things that have been ignored."

Life is quiet for Chapman in his middle age. It's not by choice, but he deals with it one day at a time. He's still able to take his 12-year-old grandson Brock hunting, though he can't walk through the woods, and they go ice fishing together. There's no rough-and-tumble play, though, with any of his four grandchildren.

"I'm not able to do the things a normal 54-year-old can do with his grandchildren."

Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com