The Tale of Two Rivers

A success in Britain, but a nightmare in California

Along its shores stand the Houses of Parliament and the Tower of London. Only a few miles upriver are the meadows of Runnymede, where the barons extracted the Magna Carta from King John. The Thames is indeed England's Royal River, but it has not always been treated royally. Long a favorite garbage dump, the Thames' tidal waters near London had become so foul by the 17th century that James I threatened to move his court to Windsor. Then came two events that turned the river into what Victorians called a "monster soup": the Industrial Revolution and the closing of London's cesspools (following the introduction of the flush toilet). By 1859, wastes had made the Thames so ripe that disinfectant-soaked sheets were hung in the windows of Parliament to protect the members from disease and the stench.

Though turn-of-the-century sewage control projects provided temporary improvement, they could not keep pace with the swelling population. After World War II, efforts at purification were set back further: detergents and other chemical effluents left the lower Thames covered with foam, literally choking the river to death. Deprived of oxygen, one fish species after another vanished. River passengers became ill from the rotten-egg aroma of hydrogen sulfide rising from the polluted waters.

Now, after a long, patient battle that could serve as a model for river cleanups everywhere, the waterway is again becoming the "sweet Thames" of British poets. No fewer than 97 varieties of fish have resumed residence there. Back too are the famed swans, as well as less common birds such as the pochard, a type of duck, and the dunlin, a sandpiper. In March, the Thames Water Authority will begin restocking the upper reaches of the tidal Thames with what the agency's boss, Hugh Fish, calls the "most persnickety offish"--the Atlantic salmon.

The tide slowly began turning for the Thames in 1951. That was the year of the Festival of Britain, a national celebration marking the centennial of the Great International Exposition of 1851, which gave hundreds of thousands of visitors to London a whiff of the gamy river. Properly embarrassed, the government appointed two study committees. The result: a comprehensive plan for pollution control that recommended, among other things, a halt to the use of nonbiodegradable detergents and to the dumping of industrial chemicals into the river. The planners also urged the construction of private treatment plants by factories producing wastes that could not be handled at municipal facilities.

The 1964 Rivers Pollution Act made compliance with many of these recommendations a matter of law, calling for fines of -L-100 (now about $200) for violations. Few businessmen felt intimidated by that paltry penalty, but industry cooperated. Besides the $400 million spent by the water authority for pollution control, private firms have paid out upwards of $200 million for their own treatment plants. Is there a reason for this extraordinary and costly cooperation? Says a water authority spokesman: "The fortuitous thing about the Thames is that it runs beneath the nose of Parliament."

Some waterfront residents feel that official claims about the cleanliness of the Thames are somewhat overblown, but even they acknowledge that the river is less polluted than at any time within memory. Betty Potts, who lives aboard a houseboat, notes that when a workman fell into the river three years ago, he was quickly rushed to a hospital to have his stomach pumped out. Now, she says, "I don't think the water could do you in."

While the Thames cleanup is cheering British environmentalists, the case of California's New River is becoming something of an international scandal. When it crosses into the U.S. from Mexico at the town of Calexico, it is so loaded with filth, ranging from parts of animal carcasses to human feces, that even hard-nosed health officials are sickened by the sight and odor. Says Dr. L. Lee Cottrell, health officer of California's Imperial County: "It may not be the dirtiest river in the country, but I can guarantee you there is none dirtier."

The root of the problem is Mexicali, just across the border from Calexico. In only a generation, it has grown from 25,000 to a city of 700,000 people. But its municipal facilities have not kept up. Mexicali uses the New River as well as the nearby Alamo as all-purpose sewers for everything from toilets to slaughterhouses. After the New River leaves Mexico with its vile cargo, it meanders for about 55 miles through California's agriculture-rich Imperial Valley before emptying into the Salton Sea, center of a popular recreation area.

Fearful of the possible spread of such diseases as hepatitis, typhoid and dysentery, California officials have been pressuring the Mexicans through the U.S. State Department to begin treating the raw sewage. But so far little effective action has been taken, and the frustrated Californians have posted warning signs at the rivers: WATER POLLUTED and AGUA CONTAMINADA. That is hardly news to local residents. Says Cottrell: "Our people here stay away." But he is worried about the illegal aliens who regularly cross the rivers as well as the increasing number of visitors from San Diego, Los Angeles and other areas who come to ride dune buggies in the desert and sometimes --unwittingly--risk their health by wading in the foul water.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.