By MIA TAYLOR
The Patriot Ledger

QUINCY - It arrives with the floods and remains long after the water has receded.

It clogs and destroys lawn mowers, snow blowers or weed whackers and permanently stains clothing.

There's a flurry of panic and activity as it approaches, and hours, days or even weeks of work before it's truly gone.

For years, a cluster of residents in West Quincy, on Sheldon, Unity and Ballou streets, have been overwhelmed by floodwater that comes with rainstorms, filling their basements and submerging their yards.

Neighborhood homeowners eat, sleep, work and even alter vacations based on the rain and the flooding that follows.

But in recent years, the problem on Sheldon Street in particular has been compounded by a new factor - a gray, claylike substance in the water.

By most accounts, the clay is coming from the construction of the nearby Quarry Hills golf course, which right now in some places is a giant mound of dirt.

Sheldon Street bears the brunt of the resulting clay runoff because the substance is typically filtered out of the water by the time it travels on to Ballou Street, local officials say.

Whatever the case, Sheldon Street residents are increasingly frustrated by the added hassle and more determined than ever to see it resolved.

"It makes the cleaning-up process horrendous," says Sheldon Street resident Donna Pasquantonio. "And the unknown health risks from the clay linger ... not just in the ground, but in our homes. We don't know what kind of dioxins or carcinogens may be in this."

Sheldon Street, just off the Southeast Expressway near East Milton Square, is a dead-end street lined with mostly Cape-style houses.

It's home to many young families. By one resident's count, there are 44 children living on the street.

Along Sheldon Street signs of the flooding and clay problem are everywhere. But because it hasn't flooded in about a year, you have to know what to look for.

Residents have altered their houses to get away and get above the clay-mingled water. They've added third floors so they can stop using basements as family rooms or for storage.

It's a rare basement on Sheldon Street that contains a clothes washer or dryer, or even a home heating unit. Most families have moved those items upstairs too, building enclosures in their living rooms to store such equipment.

"We'll be sitting in the living room watching television with company and the heating system kicks on and everyone just jumps," says Carol Kerin of 91 Sheldon St.

But these are middle class homes. They don't have an immense amount of storage space. So not everything can fit upstairs. Instead you pick and chose what will be protected from the floodwaters, says Kerin.

The resulting scene in some basements is everything hanging on hooks - golf clubs, extension cords, children's toys - all far over the flood line.

These are also homes where wedding albums have been destroyed by water and clay. And years worth of childhood moments - recitals, baseball games, first Christmases - all recorded on video, never to be seen again because the videos have been ruined too.

At Tom Delaney's Sheldon Street house, yard work has taken on a whole new meaning since the clay began showing up. After a flood, the top half of his hedges are green, the bottom half grayish white.

It takes weeks to fully clean the bushes of the residue.

"The water is frustrating and the clay just doesn't help," says Delaney, an MBTA employee who moved from South Boston in 1999 with his wife. "We had to power-wash our lawn three times after the last flood" to remove the clay.

The source of the flooding has been well documented by state and local officials. It's caused by inadequate drainage systems in the area and the overflowing of Furnace and Cunningham brooks. There have also been years of overdevelopment. Too many homes and apartment buildings have left smaller and smaller amounts of watershed to absorb rainwater.

The clay hasn't been quite so well documented. But residents and some local officials still have definite ideas about the root of the problem.

Former Quincy Public Works Commissioner David Colton says there's no doubt the clay is coming from Quarry Hills.

"It's pretty obvious. You can see the path it's flowing from. It's clear," Colton said.

Local environmentalist Tom Palmer has tracked the clay himself along stream channels draining the nearby Quarry Hills golf course construction site. Palmer says clay coats entire stream routes between the future golf course and the flood-troubled neighborhood. Although clay forms a significant portion of local soils, it doesn't normally erode in quantity, except where protective topsoil is cleared and removed, he says.

And there's only one place in the neighborhood where massive removal of topsoil is taking place - Quarry Hills.

"Where in the rather small watershed of Cunningham Brook is this massive erosion occurring if not at Quarry Hills?" Palmer says. "No one who has looked closely at the area has any doubts about where the clay came from."

Colton asked the state Department of Environmental Protection to require offsite mitigation studies from Quarry Hills.

Steve Lipman, a DEP special projects coordinator, said a study was submitted by Quarry Hills in late December and is under review. The goal, Lipman said, is to complete the review as soon as possible so that mitigation can begin.

Quarry Hills officials did not return calls seeking comment.

In the meantime, residents await with dread the next big rainstorm.

Pasquantonio has snapshots of life before the clay's arrival and after.

Her pictures show floodwaters covering her back yard. In some shots, the older ones, the water is crystal clear. The various shades of fall leaves coating her yard beneath the water are perfectly visible.

"Children would be enticed to play in that water," says Pasquantonio.

But there are also piles of photographs on her kitchen table of the murky gray water that fills the neighborhood. There are pictures of her neighbor Tom Delaney riding a canoe down the street during a flood and pictures of yards that look more like dirty lakes.

Flooding and homeowners insurance has covered a good portion of the damage these families have had to deal with over the years. But in many cases, deductibles are hefty and after a few

claims, the insurance premiums spike drastically or coverage drops off.

Last year, after one particularly harsh storm, former Mayor James A. Sheets promised that the city would reimburse residents for cleanup costs.

Kerin spent $1,600. Another resident, Margaret Greene, spent $2,700. Delaney spent $1,900.

The city has yet to come up with the money, they say. And now Kerin says the cleaning company is threatening her with court action for the unpaid bill.

For some, an end to their troubles may not be far away.

State Sen. Michael Morrissey, D-Quincy, said this week that a proposal to buy about two dozen of the homes may become reality.

A bill under review by the House seeks to expand the state Highway Department's power beyond simply taking land for roadway purposes.

The narrowly worded bill would allow the state agency to purchase homes, specifically in Milton and Quincy, to address flooding problems.

"We as legislators recognize the city doesn't have the wherewithal to finance this," Morrissey said. "So we're trying to convince the state to step in and solve this problem and we've tried to tie it into Mass Highway by saying the expressway (nearby) must be a factor in this (flooding) problem."

There is no money attached to the bill. The Highway Department has its own pool of money for aquisitions. If the bill is approved, the next step would be to budget the home purchases into the Highway Department's spending plans for the next several years.

Morrissey also cautioned that all the neighborhood residents must agree to a buyout in order for the plan to work.

And even then, the buyout may not a solution for everyone.

Pasquantonio and her husband bought their Cape five years ago as a starter home. They now have three children and would like a fourth. But the house is already cramped and they would prefer more space before another child.

The Pasquantonios can't add to their house, however, because that would eliminate ground space that absorbs floodwater. They would like to move.

But no one, she says, will buy a piece of property that comes with such hassles.

"I would love to have my house bought out," Pasquantonio says.

"However, I'm not on the buyout plan. My house falls on a fine line of the 50-year flood plain. Part of my property falls within it, but not enough to include me in the buyout. I'm stuck here."

Copyright 2002 The Patriot Ledger
Transmitted February 2, 2002