A Chemical Catastrophe Shakes a Mill Town's Core: 11 Dead in Longview Tank Collapse

By Emily Carter|Business & Economy Reporter
A Chemical Catastrophe Shakes a Mill Town's Core: 11 Dead in Longview Tank Collapse

LONGVIEW, Wash. — From his living room window, State Sen. Jeff Wilson can see the paper mill where a chemical tank collapsed this week, killing 11 people. He once worked at the site himself, running an environmental cleanup company, and when the first sirens ripped through the morning, his mind went straight to his son, who works in a neighboring industrial facility.

“I’ve been inside that tank and next to it more times than I can count,” said Wilson, a 56-year resident of Longview. “Let me tell you — everyone here knows someone who worked there. The people we lost are our neighbors, our friends, our family.”

The tank, holding more than 500,000 gallons of a caustic chemical mixture used to break down wood for papermaking, ruptured Tuesday morning at the Nippon Dynawave Packaging Co. plant. The force of the release flipped pickup trucks and battered buildings, leaving a scene of industrial devastation.

It stands as one of the deadliest workplace accidents in the United States in recent decades — and it has struck at the very heart of a town whose identity is welded to the mills. Longview was carved out of timber country by a 1920s lumber baron named Robert A. Long, who built the city specifically to house mill workers. Over the last century, the fortunes of the town and its people have risen and fallen with the pulp and paper industry.

In the immediate aftermath, the focus is on supporting grieving families. But there is also growing anxiety about what this disaster means for the plant’s future. The mill provides hundreds of well-paying union jobs in a region where the timber industry has been in steady decline for decades. Tokyo-based Nippon Paper Group, the parent company, said it is evaluating the accident's financial impact — a statement that has done little to calm nerves.

“At the vigils last night, mill workers told me they’re proud of what they do, and they don’t want to lose it,” U.S. Rep. Marie Gluesenkamp Perez, whose district includes Longview, told reporters Wednesday. Her comments resonate in a town where even a waitress, a teacher or a grocery clerk often has a direct connection to the mills.

Cindy Stiebritz, a volunteer at a downtown antiques store, said her husband’s parents met while working at the lumber company founded by Robert A. Long. “If you’re a waitress, a grocery store worker, a teacher, a paraeducator — every walk of life here knows somebody tied to these mills,” she said. “Those mills are the backbone of this town. You feel like you’ve lost part of your family.”

Longview’s industrial corridor hugs the Columbia River, home to timber, paper and chemical operations. Many of the city’s nearly 40,000 residents can see the plants from their homes, smell the distinctive sulfuric odor of pulp processing, or watch steam rise from the boilers. The city’s downtown bears the imprint of its mill history: R. A. Long Square serves as a central gathering place, where a vigil was held after the disaster.

Authorities have not yet determined the cause of the tank’s collapse. The facility, which opened in 1953 and employs roughly 1,000 people, produces material for tissues, printing paper, cups, plates, cartons and other goods — everyday items that make the tragedy feel even more intimate for the surrounding community.

Fundraisers organized for victims’ families have begun to paint a heartbreaking picture of those lost. Among them: a grandfather known for always lending a hand; two brothers, one of whom was the sole breadwinner for his partner and three children; a husband who left behind two children and a pregnant wife.

Brianna Pesio, a server at Mill City Grill, said her father has worked at the plant for more than 30 years. Tuesday morning, her brother — who works next door at a lumber mill — told her he couldn’t reach their dad. “I just didn’t know if I’d lost him,” Pesio recalled. “I drove to his house and pounded on the door until he woke up. He’d just gotten off shift at 5 a.m.”

At Country Folks Deli, longtime server Gayle Leavitt noted that her in-laws also worked at the mill for decades. “That’s how this town has survived,” she said.

The incident has also reignited conversations about industrial safety and regulatory oversight. State Rep. Jim Walsh, speaking at a news conference at the plant Tuesday, acknowledged the inherent risks of heavy industry but stressed the need for better management. “Real people make real things here,” he said. “This is not the virtual world. Real industry always carries risks — but it’s our job to make sure those risks are controlled and managed as well as possible.”

Stiebritz, fighting back tears, said she hopes the investigation reveals the root cause “so it never happens again. If anything good can come out of this, I want it to be that lives are saved.” She paused, thinking of the children who lost parents. “This town is family. It’s one big family. But we’ll make it through. We’re strong. We’ve got a lot of love.”

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