Video interviews

Jim Lynch / The Detroit News

Republic

Upper Peninsula mines have called the fathers, brothers, sons and, eventually, the mothers and daughters of the region’s families to work for more than a century.

Days spent in the dark and the dirt searching for copper, iron and nickel put food on the table and carved out a rugged identity for Michigan’s northernmost territory.

Only two mines still operate — a far cry from the industry’s heyday. The loss of that economic cornerstone, coupled with the national financial crisis, hit the region hard and pushed unemployment levels far above average.

Mineral companies are once again looking to the Upper Peninsula for a “new era in mining,” which could begin with the opening of a new nickel mine this spring. Their interest has risen with commodities prices, and the value of nickel reached record highs just two years ago partially because of its value in new battery technologies.

Company officials are approaching communities with the promise of new jobs, investment and money to aid governments and schools. Companies are buying and leasing mineral rights in anticipation of a new wave of mines. The first such project, Kennecott Minerals’ proposed Eagle mine near Marquette, is getting its share of support from elected leaders and citizens and providing the first test of state mining laws enacted four years ago. At least two other companies are investigating mine projects.

Environmental groups find the rush to bring in mining projects alarming. Mining can harm streams and groundwater and the effects could be felt for decades. The risk of long-term damage, they say, is not worth the short-term economic gains, particularly in an area as unspoiled as the Upper Peninsula.

Mark Onkalo of Republic, 30 miles west of Marquette, isn’t so certain. The 50-year-old Onkalo is part of a long line of men who made their living in the mines, including a great uncle who died in a cave-in. Onkalo is going on his 14th month without work.

“There are so many people out of work right now, millwrights are a dime a dozen,” said Onkalo, who hopes to land a job at the Eagle mine if the project goes ahead. “It’s terrible for me right now. I’m down to my last (unemployment) extension check.”

Those are the factors environmentalists are trying to overcome in their opposition to not only the Eagle project, but also the wave of mines that could follow if Kennecott is successful.

“Places like the Upper Peninsula are rare now to find,” said Joe Saari, a retired history professor and president of the Upper Peninsula Environmental Coalition. “And if we let them go because we think like we did in the 19th and 20th centuries — that you can never exhaust these resources or ever pollute this water so much that it won’t be usable and healthy for us — we’re wrong. We’ve seen that it can happen.”

Company pitches the pluses

Somewhere underneath the ground out here on the Yellow Dog Plains — roughly 30 miles northwest of Marquette — is a chunk of ore worth anywhere from $3 billion to $6 billion or maybe more. It’s exactly the kind of high-grade nickel and copper lode Kennecott hoped to find when it began explorations in the Upper Peninsula a decade ago.

Yet it sits in amid land held dear by those who enjoy the outdoors as well as the Keweenaw Bay Indian Community. The entrance to the mine would be at the base of Eagle Rock, a place where Keweenaw community members go for celebrations and contemplation.

To drum up support for the Eagle Mine venture, company officials tick off a list of benefits to the community:

• 500 jobs for construction of the mine and the redevelopment of a mill site in Humboldt.

• As many as 200 full-time jobs once the mine and mill are online.

• Tax boosts for local government, school district and more than $100 million in revenue for the state.

• Construction of a $50 million 22-mile road through western Marquette County.

In a place like Marquette County, where the unemployment rate is 10.6 percent, or in neighboring Baraga County, where that number soars to 24.5 percent, such investment is water in the desert.

“Generations of families have been supported by the mining industry and had a great life in the Upper Peninsula,” said Lois Ellis, vice president of economic development for the Lake Superior Community Partnership. “So a lot of the population views the project positively as something we’re good at and something that can contribute positively to the economy.”

If work on the Eagle project gets under way this spring as the company plans, it will likely be the first of many new mines. Kennecott has identified 150 sites for potential operations in the Upper Peninsula and the company is spending as much as $5 million a year on exploration.

Two other companies have contacted Michigan’s Department of Environmental Quality about potentially filing for mining permits. Orvana Minerals is looking at a copper ore body south of White Pine. Canadian company Aquila Resources announced this summer it intends to open a gold and zinc mine near Stevenson, possibly as soon as 2012.

Acid mine drainage feared

There is nothing subtle about the mining process. At the most basic level, it’s tearing minerals from the ground for processing and, environmentally speaking, it’s a process with a spotty history.

Kennecott’s owner, London-based Rio Tinto, is the second-largest mineral company in the world and has experience mining on six of the seven continents. Many of those projects have stirred up controversy over harm caused to the surrounding areas.

Company mines in places like Alaska and Utah are at or near the top of the federal Environmental Protection Agency’s lists for toxic releases in those states. Environmentalists are threatening a lawsuit against Kennecott over pollution at the Flambeau Mine in Ladysmith in northwest Wisconsin.

For conservationists in the Upper Peninsula, the worry is acid mine drainage — sulfuric acid created by digging for metals like nickel and copper working its way into local waters. And the area targeted by the Eagle project, they argue, is particularly vulnerable.

“Ninety five percent of mines — underground sulfide mines that occur near surface water or groundwater — pollute,” said Michelle Halley, an attorney with the National Wildlife Federation who has challenged the state permits issued to Kennecott’s Eagle project in court.

“That’s a risk that’s just too great to bear for the Yellow Dog Plains, the Salmon Trout River and the Yellow Dog River. In a worst-case scenario, as our experts predict, the roof of the mine caves in and takes the river with it. There is no contingency plan adequate enough to deal with that problem.”

In addition, Eagle’s critics point out that the jobs created are short-term — up to eight years before the mine is expected to play out. The money that comes along with the mine, they said, will only be a temporary boost.

And finally, they point to the state’s compensation. If Kennecott stands to reap billions from the Eagle mine, they ask, why is Michigan only getting $100 million from it?

Firm touts safeguards

Not surprisingly, company officials have a different take. Their mine in Salt Lake City ranks second on the national toxic release inventory simply because it moves more material than almost any other mine in the nation — as much as 500,000 tons of rock a day.

And the Flambeau mine, they argue, is a model program that received no environmental violations from the state during its operation in the mid-1990s or afterward.

Jon Cherry helped Kennecott remediate its Utah mine site before coming to Michigan as the Eagle project manager.

He said he is confident the company’s investment in the latest environmental safeguards — including liners to prevent drainage, and water treatment plants at the mine and the mill — make the mine a safer bet than those that came before.

“One hundred years ago they just started mining and you ended up with what you ended up with,” he said. “Today, it’s much more (protective) environmentally with a lot more rules and regulations, which I think is a good thing.”

Halley and others, however, want the company to put its money where its mouth is.

“Those same Kennecott people have been challenged under oath to guarantee that the mine will not pollute and the technology they propose will operate as planned,” she said. “And they won’t guarantee it.”

Asked if it’s fair for any company to be expected to issue a guarantee like that, Halley responded: “It’s fair when you have the world’s largest freshwater resource at stake.”

jlynch@detnews.com (313) 222-2034