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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

End of an ugly era


The Spokesman-Review Jackie Stepro  stands outside her Burke, Idaho, home, which now has a new septic system largely paid for by federal and state grants.
 (Kathy Plonka / The Spokesman-Review)
Erica F. Curless Staff writer

BURKE, Idaho – When Jackie Stepro washes the dishes in her chipped yellow sink, the soapy water no longer flows down the drain, within seconds shooting into the middle of Canyon Creek.

And it’s the first time in decades that a toilet flush doesn’t send raw human waste – toilet paper and all – directly into the chilly surge of Bitterroot mountain water that runs 45 feet from Stepro’s front window.

“It’s been a yucky joke since I was a kid,” Stepro said recently, while stirring a hamburger skillet mix for her husband, fuel before a night shift at Sterling Mining. “It’s not proper to be dumping waste into the stream. It’s not a good feeling for anyone.”

This summer, the Stepros and 30 other residents got septic tanks and drainfields, a “miracle” paid for with $220,000 in federal and state grants administered by Shoshone County.

That makes Burke the last town in North Idaho to dump its household waste and sewage directly into a creek. Perhaps it’s the last town in the entire Gem State to have such Third World disposal.

The final system was hooked up Nov. 7. In the end, homeowners had to pay about $50 to $100 for a chunk of PVC pipe not covered by the grants, which ranged from about $3,500 to $19,500 per house depending on the geological difficulty of each lot.

It’s a gigantic accomplishment, especially in this mining county that includes a 21-square-mile federal Superfund site and a common opinion that government is the enemy.

All of the residents cooperated, even though at first some people feared it was a ploy to kick everyone from their homes and kill Burke, officially putting another mining ghost town on the map.

Panhandle Health District, which issued the permits and helped contractors find the best places to locate the tanks and drainfields, is so proud that Director Jeanne Bock bragged to Idaho’s governor earlier this month when he visited Wallace.

Gov. Butch Otter nodded in approval and said more government agencies should duplicate the cooperation.

The direct discharge of sewage and household waste into the creek was a humiliating reality for many residents in the steep, dark canyon northeast of Wallace that once cradled 5,000 people and numerous lead and silver mines. The once-prosperous town, with a free public swimming pool and several movie theaters, dwindled to about 70 homes and poverty took over.

Just a mention of Burke in the Silver Valley ignites jokes and crude slang names for the creek that runs into the south fork of the Coeur d’Alene River and eventually into Lake Coeur d’Alene.

Travelers on Interstate 90, the freeway that slices through Shoshone County, likely have no idea about Burke or its lack of sewer or septic tanks. They don’t know that it’s too expensive for anyone – a mining company, developer or government – to run sewer lines up the snaky canyon.

The few snowmobilers, hunters and hikers who leave the main road for the backwoods playground probably don’t realize the canyon floor is so narrow and the hillsides so sheer that it’s difficult to build a house, much less find enough flat ground for a septic tank and drainfield.

Burke’s lack of sewage treatment was more than just an embarrassment, said Dick Martindale of the Panhandle Health District.

“It’s a very fundamental public health care concern in the world,” he said. “One of the greatest causes of serious disease and death is human waste getting into the water.”

That doesn’t include the environmental concerns, such as the impact of phosphorus and nitrogen on surface water.

So far, no celebration is in the works to recognize what took more than 30 years – and countless disappointments – to become reality. Yet county Commissioner Jon Cantamessa isn’t opposed to the idea.

“We look for every excuse to have a party up here,” he said.

Though raw sewage is no longer mixing in the river, the new septic systems aren’t perfect, and PHD and the Idaho Department of Environmental Quality wouldn’t allow them in other areas unless they had the same geological challenges.

But in Burke, they are exponentially better than pipes draining directly from toilets into Canyon Creek. At least the septic tanks and drainfields provide some treatment for the effluent before it mixes with the creek or groundwater, said environmental health specialist Jason Peppin of PHD.

A septic tank is basically a concrete reservoir that fills up with household wastewater and sewage. The solids settle to the bottom of the tank and greases float on top. The water then leaves the tank and flows into the drainfield, which is a large strip of land, often 300 square feet to more than 1,000 square feet, where the water filters through the soil, which acts as a cleaner. Organic solids remaining in the septic tank are eaten by bacteria, which provide another level of natural treatment.

In Burke, the canyon doesn’t allow for such spacious drainfields and that’s why the systems aren’t ideal or even up to normal permitting standards. Peppin said one site was so challenging that the septic tank was put under the abandoned foundation of a neighboring old house.

Another challenge was digging in an old mine town, where installers hit everything from an abandoned shaft and mining waste to a dog carcass.

Stepro’s husband, Fred, was so excited in July when their septic was complete that he ceremonially cut the pipe that ran from his house to the middle of the creek.

“We didn’t open champagne or anything, but we were really happy,” Jackie Stepro said. “It was like, ‘Yahoo!’ “

Both Fred and Jackie Stepro are Burke natives, descendents of mine workers. They raised a daughter and four boys in the modest house on the west side of Canyon Creek that they’ve owned for 34 years.

When their oldest son was a teenager, he entertained friends by turning on the kitchen faucet and then racing to the creek, counting the seconds for the kitchen water to shoot out of the pipe. Jackie Stepro hid in embarrassment.

Today, there’s no reason to hide. She’s proud of the septic tank buried in her lawn, all evidence of the excavation work now covered by snow.

Stepro’s septic project was challenging because the crew had to relocate the water line so the new tank wasn’t too close, causing another set of potential health-related and environmental problems.

That meant digging up almost the entire yard and cutting down trees, a fair price for having the ability to get home improvement loans and do all the projects that were on hold until the family knew for sure the government wouldn’t force them to abandon their home, Stepro said.

Now she knows her three young grandsons who live up the canyon won’t have to endure the heckling of having a Burke address. And she hopes that the improvements might attract more young families with children to the canyon.

“We need to let these (government officials) know we really appreciate their help,” Stepro said. “To me it was an answered prayer.”