There was no reply from Secretary Bergland. Incensed, Klein felt that come hell or high water, Plum Island would not start this project without his direct input, whether it meant a federal lawsuit or a local picket demonstration. He fired a final warning shot by way of telegram:
TELEX CABLE U S
SECRETARY OF AGRICULTURE BERGLAND
REPEAT REQUEST OF MY LETTER OCTOBER 26 FOR PROMPT MEETING WITH YOU RELATIVE TO PLUM ISLAND LAB EXPERIMENTATION STOP IT IS ESSENTIAL THAT DIRECT AND PERMANENT MECHANISM OF COMMUNICATION BETWEEN USDA AND SUFFOLK COUNTY RESPECTING PLUM ISLAND BE ESTABLISHED IMMEDIATELY STOP THE PEOPLE OF SUFFOLK ARE ENTITLED TO NO LESS THAN FULL KNOWLEDGE OF THE NATURE AND SCOPE OF EXPERIMENTATION WITHIN SUFFOLK COUNTY AND WITHIN ONE AND ONE QUARTER MILES OF INTERSTATE FERRY TO CONNECTICUT STOP PLEASE RESPOND PROMPTLY WITH DATE FOR MEETING WITH YOU STOP
JOHN V N KLEIN
Days after the telegram, Klein received a Washington-ordered phone call from Dr. Jerry J. Callis, director of the Plum Island Animal Disease Center.
"Come on over," said Dr. Callis in a low Georgia drawl. "Come see how safe we are over here."
BEYOND THE GATES
Minutes before 7:00 a.m., Klein's entourage drove through the barbed-wire checkpoint at the Orient Point lot to board the ferry. It was the dreariest of Mondays — gray skies, rainy, and bone-chilling cold. Klein's group included township supervisors, the county health commissioner, the county attorney, and ten reporters, including newsmen from the New York Times and News-day. In the guard building, they took turns reading and signing the visitor affidavit required to board the boat. With their signatures, each acknowledged they might be detained in the event of emergency, and promised to obey the safety officer and not come into contact with animals after leaving Plum Island. Two burly, gray-haired security officers called the group to attention. "There are no cameras, no tape recorders taken to the island," warned the older of the two. "I know you can have these little things in your pocket…we'll make sure on the boat you won't have one on you."
The journey took about thirty minutes through the bumpy chop of Plum Gut. Awaiting them at the harbor guardhouse was the muttonchop sideburned Callis, in a dapper checked suit and dark tie punctuated with shimmering lodestars. He greeted the landing party warmly, then shepherded them onto the bus, which roared away toward the old Army parade ground. On the way through the woods, past the marshy wetlands, Callis lectured the group on the island's three-hundred-year history. With impeccable timing, he brought his story to a close as the bus pulled alongside the double doors of the old white Army chapel. The heavenly spire and the pews and crucifix had been removed long ago; the smell of frankincense and myrrh had given way to a deep musty odor. Inside the brown-paneled chapel were the laboratory chiefs, assistant director Graves and safety officer Walker. Shades were pulled down over the long rectangular windows, and a staffer dimmed the lights and turned on the projector so Callis could begin the presentation.
Klein and his team shifted uncomfortably in their folding chairs in the dark as Callis narrated a colorful slide show. As Callis clicked away, he informed the group about the current breadth of America's livestock ("136 million cattle, 25 million swine, 25 million sheep, 25 million goats, 8 million horses"); the history of foot-and-mouth virus outbreaks in North America — two-thirds of it anyway ("Mexico outbreak 1948, Canada 1952"); the USDA's careful, thoughtful selection of Plum Island in 1952 ("a coastal island separated by deep navigable waters"); and so on.
"I want to talk about biological warfare," said Callis. Everyone perked up. A dozing reporter in the back row stirred. "We don't do any of it on Plum Island." He clicked the slide button again, and large black-and-white headlines emblazoned across the chapel walls:
U.S. TESTS GERM WARFARE OFF L.I.
THE VIRUS HUNTERS OF FORBIDDEN ISLAND
ANIMAL DISEASE DETECTIVES WORK ON ISLAND OF NO RETURN
PLUM ISLAND FOR MANKIND, OR AGAINST IT?
"I solicit your assistance in dispelling these very unfortunate errors," appealed an unhappy Callis. "It's not good for the United States to have these perpetuated." Finally, facing the spin control head-on, the dam broke. A reporter asked about Karl Grossman's AP wire story seven years before in which Plum Island admitted a hand in biological warfare.
"I'm not knowledgeable about defense," said Callis, mindful that the Rift Valley fever project — the reason for his slide show — was a joint affair with the Army's Fort Detrick biological warfare facility, a fact unknown to his audience. Klein stood up. He'd had enough.
"Dr. Callis, please explain this Rift Valley fever program to us. Can we put into place a program to know what you are working with that poses a risk to humans and discuss your safety measures? We cannot continue to learn of your work by accident," Klein scolded.
Rift Valley fever was spreading through Africa into the Sinai Peninsula, Callis replied, focusing his answer not on safety, but on an urgent need for research. "Last week we heard it was in Nigeria." One look at the expressions on the local officials' faces told their response.
Nigeria? Who cares? they thought. Nigeria is the other side of the world! In Africa! What about our people — the people RIGHT HERE? Not acknowledging the nonverbal clues, Callis continued on, noting that Plum Island had a distinguished advisory board. He even extended an olive branch: one county health official would be permitted to attend their annual meeting on Plum Island. This, thought Callis, was a generous offer from an island unaccustomed to sharing its activities with anyone. He clicked quickly through several more slides until he reached one of selected zoonotic diseases. Some of these, he casually mentioned, had been investigated on Plum Island in the past. Though Callis attempted to gloss over this, Klein and the reporters sharply interrupted.
"Which germs did you work on? Which ones affect humans? What types of illnesses? Are any of them fatal?" Five of the diseases — virulent influenza, Coxsackie B-5 virus, louping ill, Venezuelan equine encephalitis, and Rift Valley fever — were lethal to humans. Five more — Newcastle disease, vesicular stomatitis virus, contagious ecthyma, foot-and-mouth disease, and Nairobi sheep disease — caused human illnesses. No mention was made of the other viruses and bacteria studied or the scope of the vast Plum Island germ library.
"Has anyone been infected in the lab?" Six had taken ill from accidental exposures, Callis said. Three people had contracted Newcastle disease, two caught vesicular stomatitis, and one caught foot-and-mouth disease. There were no fatalities to date.
Discussion turned to the outbreak. Sounding all too rehearsed, Plum Island officials assured the group that every effort was being made to test systems and ensure virus agent containment.