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The Price Of Whistleblowing
At Salem Nuclear Plant

By Jerome Montes
Staff Writer
Press Of Atlantic City.com
11-21-4
 
Dr. Kymn Harvin's pulse raced as she slipped a tape recorder under a file folder on her office desk.
 
In the corridor next to her office she could hear the footsteps of Larry Wagner, a director at Salem's nuclear power plant, as he walked toward her.
 
Moments before he walked in, Harvin hit the record button on the hidden device.
 
"What did you mean yesterday when you said this place is 'dangerous?'" Harvin asked after Wagner sat down in front of her desk. "Is it the decision-making ... like muddled?"
 
Wagner had spoken to her about company officers nearly deciding to restart an offline reactor without repairing a malfunctioning bypass valve.
 
"Yes, I meant it from a nuclear-safety standpoint," Wagner replied. "When I say dangerous, we almost talked ourselves on Monday of just starting right back and not going into the bypass valve."
 
Wagner said he was shocked company officers would even consider such an action.
 
"If we had done that ... that would have been grounds for taking the keys away," he said. "That would be grounds for 'You guys aren't safe.'"
 
Moments after Wagner left her office, Harvin began trembling. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
 
"I felt awful, feeling I was betraying someone I cared about, someone who was confiding in me," she said.
 
***
 
The taped conversation took place March 20, 2003. Eight days later, Harvin left Public Service Enterprise Group, the Newark-based company that owns the Salem County nuclear plant.
 
The plant in Lower Alloways Creek Township is the second-largest in the country. Two reactors are located on the plant's Salem facility; another is located on the adjacent Hope Creek facility.
 
About 1,800 employees work on the 292-acre site. The plant provides electricity for about 60 percent of PSEG's 2 million customers.
 
Harvin, who has a Ph.D. in organizational development, had worked for AT&T and Pennsylvania's government and was running her own consulting firm when she came to work for PSEG in 1998.
 
The 48-year-old Watchung resident was given the role of manager of development, quality and culture transformation at the Salem nuclear plant. Harvin said employee morale was low because of harsh working conditions and the perception that upper management did not value workers.
 
Harvin coached Salem plant executives on leadership and worked to improve communication and accountability throughout the site. She said the resulting boost in employee morale helped generate millions of dollars in cost savings and revenue.
 
But things unraveled after she stood up for a group of employees concerned about an improper repair action taken by an operations manager in late 2002 at the Salem plant.
 
Harvin said there was a growing perception that senior leadership valued production over safety and would go to dangerous lengths to keep the plant running. Over the next several months, she frequently urged senior leaders to address employee safety concerns.
 
Harvin was given her 45-day termination notice Feb. 26, 2003. The notice said her position was eliminated in a force reduction.
 
She consulted an attorney, who advised her that it was legal in New Jersey to tape conversations without another party's consent.
 
At first, she wasn't sure about secretly taping conversations with colleagues, especially those she respected.
 
It took a conversation with Wagner on March 19, 2003, to convince Harvin that someone had to gather evidence about the plant's safety practices.
 
The facility's Hope Creek reactor had been offline. When Wagner complained to Harvin about the company officers' push to bring the reactor online prematurely, she decided to get his comments on tape.
 
Harvin taped Wagner on March 20, 2003, and went on to record conversations with other colleagues.
 
The recordings are now evidence in a whistleblower lawsuit she filed against PSEG in September 2003. Harvin has alleged that PSEG retaliated against her for raising safety concerns.
 
Harvin said she felt less guilty about a tape she made directly after Wagner's.
 
After her conversation with him March 20, Harvin walked into the office of her direct superior, then-PSEG Chief Nuclear Officer Harry Keiser.
 
She had butted heads with Keiser over safety issues and was convinced that he had betrayed both her and the site. But Harvin also wanted a final chance to relay Wagner's concerns to him.
 
"The message that's being sent, whether intended or not, is that production and getting the Hope Creek unit back online is more important than nuclear safety," Harvin told her boss that day.
 
"Yeah, I appreciate that feedback," Keiser replied. "I don't believe it, but I appreciate it, right?"
 
"So when the guys with the licenses say that they are being pressured to start the unit back up and don't believe it is safe, I owe you that feedback," Harvin said. "The word that got spoken to me this morning is 'dangerous.'"
 
"It's a bunch of (expletive)," Keiser said. "I mean, you've got an operator who doesn't know (expletive) ... saying he's being pushed, right? And he's not putting out the effort to begin with."
 
The next day, PSEG informed Harvin that her termination date had been moved up to March 28, 2003.
 
The message stung, but it made her even more determined to gather as much evidence as possible before her final day as an employee.
 
On March 27, 2003, Harvin taped a heated, tearful conversation with then-PSEG Vice President Timothy O'Connor, a colleague she respected.
 
"Are they after me?" Harvin asked O'Connor.
 
"They are after you and they are after others," he replied. "And it is only a matter of time and I will be in the same position."
 
PSEG officials said O'Connor left voluntarily after Harvin's termination; O'Connor could not be reached for comment.
 
***
 
Harvin said she made no more recordings after she left PSEG, but won't comment on the number of tapes in existence.
 
In her civil lawsuit, Harvin contends that she was fired because of her refusal to keep silent on issues of industrial and nuclear safety. Such expression is protected under the state's Conscientious Employee Protection Act.
 
Harvin said she contacted PSEG Chairman of the Board Jim Ferland to request an independent investigation into the Salem facility's safety and her termination.
 
But she felt the result was a whitewash. That convinced her to approach the federal Nuclear Regulatory Commission in September 2003 and to file her own lawsuit against the company that month.
 
NRC officials said Harvin's testimony helped launch recent investigations into general working conditions at the plant. The commission also is investigating Harvin's specific allegations that she was retaliated against for raising safety concerns.
 
Since her dismissal, the PSEG plant has drawn criticism, citations and calls for corrective action from federal regulators and independent consultants on issues ranging from faulty equipment to workers being reluctant to report maintenance problems.
 
Federal investigators are looking into an Oct. 10 steam leak that prompted the shutdown of the Hope Creek reactor. The reactor has remained idle since then for repairs and refueling.
 
Hope Creek suffered other mishaps after the leak. A Freon leak Oct. 28 temporarily restricted access to the building's second floor. On Nov. 3, a worker was hospitalized after fracturing his fingers and suffering slight radiation contamination.
 
PSEG spokesman Skip Sindoni said Harvin's termination had nothing to do with retaliation.
 
"Her position was eliminated in a company reorganization," Sindoni said.
 
Calls to Keiser, who is no longer with the company, and Wagner, who is now manager of plant support at the Salem facility, were not returned.
 
Harvin returned to consulting after leaving the company, and is in the process of writing a book about leadership. She wants to return to the nuclear industry but believes she has been blacklisted.
 
And she continues to pay an emotional price for speaking out.
 
Harvin said former co-workers phone and e-mail her, fearful that they have been caught on tape.
 
When she plays the tapes she took so much trouble to conceal, she can't help breaking into tears.
 
"I thought I might be a doctor or a senator when I grew up," Harvin said.
 
"I never thought I'd be a whistleblower."
 
http://www.pressofatlanticcity.com
/news/cumberland/112104NCRITIC_N20.cfm
 
 

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