RENEE MONTAGNE, HOST:
We're spotlighting tour guides this summer in stories we're calling The Nickel Tour. Today, NPR's Martin Kaste introduces us to a man who enjoys showing tourists around his old workplace - and telling them not to worry about the radiation.
MARTIN KASTE, BYLINE: August, 1945, and the world finds out America has a new weapon.
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UNIDENTIFIED MAN: The natural power of the universe is harnessed in the new atomic bomb.
KASTE: People tend to remember that the bomb was developed at Los Alamos, New Mexico and Oak Ridge, Tennessee. But they often forget about a third site.
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UNIDENTIFIED MAN: Two billion dollars went into research and plants such as this one at Richland, Washington.
KASTE: The Hanford site, almost 600 square miles in southeastern Washington state. This is where they built the world's first full-scale nuclear reactor. The B Reactor: it's a windowless cinderblock hulk out in the middle of nowhere, and you might mistake it for an abandoned cement plant. But inside, it's a lovingly preserved time-capsule of the Atomic Age. If you're lucky, your guide will be one of the people who worked here when the place was still new.
PAUL VINTHER: I'm Paul Vinther, and I came to work at the plant in June of 1950.
KASTE: Vinther's a physicist, and his first job here was helping to fine-tune the nuclear reaction that turned uranium into the highly radioactive plutonium that went into the bombs - bombs like the one that fell on Nagasaki. He got here at the start of the Cold War, and the B Reactor was churning out the raw material for America's growing nuclear arsenal.
VINTHER: OK. We're going into the control room right now.
KASTE: The control room is very mid-century. It's government-issue green, and the walls are filled with hundreds of analog gauges. No computer screens here. A vintage, hand-lettered sign warns you against bumping into things.
VINTHER: Well, the idea is that if you bump it, you might cause the electrical connection of this thing to vibrate, it might activate. And you don't want to shut the reactor down because you bumped it.
KASTE: Did that ever happen?
VINTHER: It must have, at one time, because they wouldn't have said that.
VINTHER: But people were very careful of that very thing.
KASTE: Vinther seems torn. He knows tourists want some stories of hair-raising near misses. But he insists his co-workers did their jobs safely. Still, there's no getting around the fact that what makes this place interesting is the potential danger. It's a point made by the hacksaw hanging on the wall in front of the reactor. The hacksaw has a very long handle.
VINTHER: That shows, when the people was working on something hot that had to be cut, they could stand quite a bit of distance away and still do the job, that sort of thing.
KASTE: Hot meaning radioactive or hot meaning hot?
VINTHER: Well, radioactive.
KASTE: Sometimes the tourists will ask Vinther why he participated in the production of such frightening weapons. For him, the answer is simple. He says the A-bomb saved American lives. But when he's asked about all the radioactive waste that was produced here, he sighs. He calls it a sad situation.
VINTHER: Here we were, worried about Germany and Japan. And then we were worried about Cold War situation with Russia. The idea was, well, we'll just put the waste into tanks and handle it later when we have time.
KASTE: Later is now. Hanford no longer makes plutonium; the alphabet soup of reactors that followed B have been shuttered and sealed up. And now the Hanford site has become synonymous with a giant remediation effort. They're billions of dollars into the process, with no end in sight. In fact, when it comes to cost and sheer technical complexity, the reactor is actually less impressive than the modern-day cleanup. And they offer tours of that, too. Martin Kaste, NPR News.
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