American Scandal - Three Mile Island | The Domino Effect | 1

Episode Date: September 22, 2020

On March 28, 1979, Bill Zewe hears an alarm at Three Mile Island. Something has gone terribly wrong at the nuclear power plant, in southern Pennsylvania. And now, the operators at the plant must move fast—before a crisis engulfs the region. Need more American Scandal? With Wondery+, enjoy exclusive seasons, binge new seasons first, and listen completely ad-free. Start your free trial in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts, Spotify or visit https://wondery.app.link/rUic7i1hMNb now.  See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

You're listening to the first episode of this American Scandal season. With Wondery+, you can binge the remaining episodes, listen to new episodes early, and explore more exclusive seasons completely ad-free. Start your free trial of Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify today. It's the morning of March 22, 1979. In Washington, D.C., spring has already arrived. The sun shines brightly on the nation's capital, and smiling couples stroll down streets near the National Mall.

A taxi door slams, and a 36-year-old man steps out onto the sidewalk. His name is Jim Creswell, and unlike everyone around him, he's wearing a dark brown suit and a grim expression. Today is supposed to be Creswell's day off. He's a regional inspector for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, the federal agency that oversees the nation's nuclear power plants.

Right now, Creswell would rather be at home with his wife and daughter back in Chicago. But Creswell has an important task, much more important than taking a day off. Today, he's going to meet with two commissioners from the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, and he's going to tell them something they have to hear. Creswell approaches a tall, looming building, the headquarters of the agency. He takes a deep breath and enters. But as he walks through the vast building, Creswell starts to wonder if this trip was a mistake. He's going behind his boss's backs, and that could land him in very hot water. But he doesn't feel he has much of a choice, not when so many lives might be at stake.

Soon, Creswell steps into the conference room. Two men are sitting at a large oak table, and on the table, Creswell spots a letter. He immediately realizes that it's his letter, which he sent to the agency, detailing a recent incident at a nuclear power plant in Toledo, Ohio. It's a letter that could make Creswell a hero and save lives from a nuclear meltdown. Or, it could end his career. down. Or it could end his career. Creswell closes the door, takes a seat. One of the men leans forward and picks up the letter. It's Peter Bradford, one of the commissioners who runs the agency. Mr. Creswell, we understand you have some concerns, but tell me, why exactly are we meeting

today? You work in the Chicago office. It's them who should handle everything you're worried about. Well, Mr. Bradford, if I can be blunt, no one in Chicago will do anything. And if they don't, we could be facing a catastrophe. People could die. Creswell sees the commissioner squinting at him. It's a look he's seen before, but he knows he has to plunge ahead. Sir, our regional office is stretched in. It's our job to watch over nuclear power plants, to make sure they're safe. But instead, we've just handed over all the responsibility. Now, the people making sure the plants are safe are the same people who designed them. And I believe they're cutting corners on safety. All we do

is look the other way. And you believe that's what happened in Toledo. That's exactly what happened. is look the other way. And you believe that's what happened in Toledo. That's exactly what happened. The plant was online when faulty pumps collapsed and a safety valve failed to shut. But here's the thing. The plant designers knew the equipment was an issue. The plant ended up spewing thousands of gallons

of nuclear reactor coolant. And the only thing that saved Toledo, the only thing, was that the plant was operating at 9% power. But the plant did follow safety protocols. Creswell shifts in his seat. He can feel his face starting to flush. He tries to stay composed.

Sir, it was luck that someone caught it, not protocols. And this defective equipment isn't just in Toledo. The plant designer is Babcock and Wilcox, and they're using this equipment, this same equipment, at all their other plants in the U.S. And it's not just the equipment. The operators at the plants aren't trained to handle a crisis. Soon enough, you're going to have the wrong person in charge,

and all hell's going to break loose. The two commissioners stare at Creswell, then look at one another. Finally, Commissioner Bradford nods and gathers his papers. All right, Mr. Creswell, then look at one another. Finally, Commissioner Bradford nods and gathers his papers. All right, Mr. Creswell, thank you for bringing this to the Commissioner's attention. I promise we will look into it. Creswell looks the two commissioners in the eyes. He wants to beg and plead with them to get them to understand the magnitude of this threat. But as the two men shuffle their papers and straighten their ties, Creswell knows there's only so much he can do. He's gone as high as he can up the chain of command. All he can do now is hope the commissioners will keep their

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The latest season of Business Wars explores how Boeing allowed things to turn deadly and what, if anything, can save the company's reputation. Make sure to listen to Business Wars wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American Scandal. American scandal. In the mid-1970s, America found itself gripped by an energy crisis. The country faced embargoes on its imported oil, and that sent the cost of gasoline and other petroleum products skyrocketing. These high prices exacted a huge toll on the economy, and soon the country began to push for alternative sources of power.

One shone brighter than all the rest, nuclear energy. Nuclear power promised a future of limitless, cheap energy. Its advocates also argued that it could be produced safely. So before long, nuclear projects began to boom across the country. Yet some in the public grew anxious about this expansion of nuclear power, with its echoes of atomic bombs and mass destruction. Others questioned what would happen if radiation ever escaped the power plants. These fears grew more intense with the release of the motion picture The China Syndrome, a film

that considered the prospect of a devastating nuclear meltdown. The film was released in March of 1979 and quickly became a hit. But just days later, the possibility of a massive accident became more than just Hollywood fantasy. In southern Pennsylvania, a nuclear power plant known as Three Mile Island began to suffer routine maintenance issues. Those issues quickly escalated toward an actual meltdown. The incident captured the nation's attention and set off waves of panic among local residents as plant operators and government officials struggled to prevent a disaster. In this three-part series, we'll examine what went wrong at Three Mile Island.

We'll explore how government officials responded to a mounting crisis that threatened the public's health. This is Episode 1, The Domino Effect. It's the early morning of March 28, 1979. Clouds of steam drift into the dark sky, rising from the towers at Three Mile Island. Far below, Fred Scheinman whistles a tune and heads toward the nuclear power plant's turbine. Scheinman runs a finger through his drooping mustache and smiles as he looks up at the gargantuan cooling towers and their billowing steam. Scheinman is a skilled nuclear engineer, but even after years on the job,

he still marvels at the sight of a nuclear power plant. The architecture looks like something out of science fiction. It's an unthinkable accomplishment of ingenuity and human imagination. Scheinman heads down the building's metal steps. A moment later, he hears the roars of pumps and the screaming whines of motors. The sounds echo through the vast concrete structure. To some, it might sound like chaos, but to Scheinman, it's a symphony in perfect harmony. Three Mile Island is operating at nearly 100% capacity. As they say in the industry, the reactor is running hot, straight, and normal. Scheinman descends past the massive turbine. That machine is powered by superheated steam from the nuclear reactor,

and the turbine spins a generator, which produces 900 megawatts of electricity. The entire western half of Pennsylvania, some 600,000 homes, is lit from right here. Scheinman continues toward the basement. He sees a fellow operator and shouts a joke. The man laughs and waves him off. Scheinman smiles and keeps heading down. The operators are a tight-knit group, friends who work together to keep this complex system humming both night and day. As Scheinman descends another staircase, he notices a few yellow maintenance tags hanging off some valves. He'll add those to the service roster when he

returns to the control room. Right now, his top priority is a gummed-up filter machine down on level 281. These filter machines clean the water that returns from the cooling towers. And water is everything for a nuclear power plant. Not only does it power the turbine of steam, it plays a vital role in keeping the reactor cool. But often, the filters get clogged with contaminants and have to be cleaned. When he reaches the basement, Scheinman heads for the huge filter tanks and sees another operator named Don Miller.

Miller's face is shiny with sweat, and judging by Miller's expression, it looks like Miller hasn't yet been able to clear the filter. Scheinman claps his friend on the shoulder and is about to make a joke, but suddenly everything goes dead quiet. The two men look up, scan a bank of filters.

Scheinman's heart starts to pound. Nothing in this plant is ever this quiet. He scans the whole wall, trying to figure out what just happened. It's not just one gummed-up filter machine that's now down. It's all eight of them. Scheinman turns to Miller and the two exchange nervous glances. It's critical to keep water flowing to the reactor building, and so Scheinman checks the device to see if water is being rerouted around the filters,

but then he sees something that makes his stomach drop. An important automated valve is not opening. Somehow, the emergency unit has failed as well. That means no water, no water at all, is coming from the cooling towers. The boilers are going to run dry, and if that happens, it'll be like turning the flames on high beneath an empty tea kettle. Except here, the kettle is 70 feet high and weighs 800 tons. The two men stare back at each other, their eyes wide.

Without saying a word, Scheinman turns and runs for the stairs. It's now 4 a.m. Bill Zeewee has just poured himself a cup of coffee. Zeewee's clean cut, with a square jaw, and stands in the doorway of his office, surveying the Three Mile Island control room. This is his domain, a 40-foot panel that's lined with countless gauges and indicator lights. Zeewee sips his coffee, noting the dials and displays. He's the only graveyard shift supervisor for Three Mile Island. Right now, the control room is calm and orderly, and that's just how he likes it. But without warning, he hears a high-pitched alert. Then a group of warning lights begin blinking along one of the walls. Ziwi sets down his mug and steps forward. He looks at the lights, trying to gather information about what's gone awry.

Strange, he thinks. Something has gone wrong with the water coming from the cooling towers. Then a new set of warning lights turn on. Ziwi glances at them. It's obvious what's happening. With no incoming water, a series of pumps are automatically turning off to protect themselves. Ziwi is about to pick up the phone when he hears another loud noise as more alarms come on. He curses and bangs his fist against a panel. All around him, automated safety measures are going into effect. Three Mile Island is shutting itself down, and that means it's about

to stop producing electricity. Bill Ziwi knows he has to take action quickly. He must get the plant back online as soon as possible, because Three Mile Island loses significant amounts of money for its owners every second it's down. Zewi lifts his chin and straightens his back. He was trained in the Navy, and he knows that soldiers want to see confidence in their commanders when they're under pressure. And so he turns to his men, and with steady resolve, he orders them to find the source of the problem. They need to fix it and get the plant back up right away. But suddenly, an operator calls out. There's a new issue. The gauges show the temperature in

the boiler is rising, and fast. Ziwi shakes his head. The auxiliary pumps are running, and so the system should be cool. Instead, it's getting very hot. Ziwi checks on a key valve, one that acts like a doorway from the emergency pumps to the boiler. That's when he sees something that makes his mouth go dry. There's a yellow maintenance tag covering the indicator light. He knocks it aside. The light is off. That means the valve was shut down for maintenance.

Ziwi feels a jolt of adrenaline. There's no actual water going into those boilers. They're dry. Ziwi spins around and shouts an order. They need to override the system and get water into the boiler and right now. An operator moves quickly and hits a release button. There's a moment's pause, then a blast of noise, like the explosion of a machine gun from far away. Ziwi knows that the cold water is now rushing into the superheated boiler and banging around as it turns into vapor. Ziwi clenches his jaw as more alarms sound. The pressure in the reactor is now spiking quickly.

Heat from the radioactive decay must be boiling the reactor's coolant. But then Ziwi feels a wave of relief. An emergency safety valve, the PORV, the PORB, smashes open. It vents off coolant steam and the spike in pressure begins to slow to a halt. Ziwi looks down at his hands and realizes he's been digging his nails into his palms. He relaxes them and takes a deep breath. Whatever comes next, he needs to be ready. He relaxes them and takes a deep breath.

Whatever comes next, he needs to be ready. Minutes later, Fred Scheinman bursts through the control room doors. Comes to a stop, breathing heavily after dashing up eight flights of stairs. He looks around the room and sees the alarm panels lit up like Times Square. Clearly, the filter shutdown is no longer breaking news. Bill Zwi hurries towards Scheinman, holding reams of computer printouts. Strain is visible on his face. Before Scheinman can ask what's happening, Zwi points toward a nearby bank of controls. Fred, I need eyes on the pressurizer coolant level. I'm worried we just burned some off. Roger that. Scheinman rushes to the console

and scans the meters. Coolant level looks good. I'm seeing 180 inches. Yo, what the hell's happened? The emergency feed water wasn't getting into the boilers. Reactor scrammed and the primary system started overheat. Been like dominoes falling, but I think we have it normalized now. Just then, Scheinman hears a loud banging. He whips back to the panel to see what just happened. The emergency coolant injection pumps are activating. The system is shooting coolant into the core. If the pressure's normal, then why the hell did the injection pumps turn on?

I don't know. Oh, God. Pressurizer coolant levels are going up, and real fast. I've got 200, 210. Emergency pumps are filling. Fred, what's going on? Scheinman shakes his head. The sweat is starting to pour off of him now. I don't know. It's 220. Oh, what's going on? Scheinman shakes his head. Sweat is starting to pour off of him now. I don't know. It's 220. Oh,

250. We're half full. 280. The pressurizer's spiking. We can't fracture it. It'll start spewing coolant. Why aren't the injectors shutting off? 300. 330. Request permission to shut down the injectors. Damn it. Do it. Cut them off.

Confirming emergency injection cutoff. Commencing throttle down override. Pump one down. Commencing throttle down on pump two. Scheinman wipes his forehead, feeling the glistening sweat as the pumps turn off. Then he glances at the needle in the pressurizer gauge. It comes to rest near the top of the scale. needle in the pressurizer gauge. It comes to rest near the top of the scale. Okay, okay, looks like we're steady at 360. Yeah, yeah, 360 confirmed. We're steady. Scheiman exhales deeply and then leans back with a relieved smile and turns to Ziwi. Bill, after this is done, I gotta go get a haircut. The boilers aren't the only things overheating at TMI. But Zeewee doesn't crack a smile. Instead, he stares at the consoles.

We need bigger eyes on this. I'm going to call Gary, get him to come in. You're going to wake up the plant supervisor? Bill, we got this. Look, everything's going to be fine. Maybe. But, Fred, I've seen a lot. And I've never seen this before.

Ever. Zeewee turns from the control panel. So just keep an eye on everything, okay? I'll be right back. Shyman nods. His eyes follow Zeewee, who walks into his office and closes the door. Shyman glances back at the gauges. He'd like to believe what he just said, that everything will be fine, that this is under control.

But he knows he needs to be honest with himself. He's never seen anything like this before, either. The meters are contradicting each other, or certainly not adding up. It's like there's not enough coolant in the core, even though it should be brimming. Scheinman shakes his head. There's not really a logical answer. Something must be very wrong. He was hip-hop's biggest mogul, the man who redefined fame, fortune, and the music industry. The first male rapper to be honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Sean Diddy Cone. Diddy built an empire and lived a life most people only dream about. Everybody know ain't no party like a Diddy party, so. Yeah, that's what's up.

But just as quickly as his empire rose, it came crashing down. Today I'm announcing the unsealing of a three-count indictment, charging Sean Combs with racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking, interstate transportation for prostitution. I was f***ed up. I hit rock bottom. But I made no excuses. I'm disgusted. I was f***ed up. I hit rock bottom, but I made no excuses. I'm disgusted. I'm so sorry. Until you're wearing an orange jumpsuit, it's not real. Now it's real. From his meteoric rise to his shocking fall from grace, from law and crime, this is the rise and

fall of Diddy. Listen to the rise and fall of Diddy exclusively with Wondery Plus. I'm Jake Warren, and in our first season of Finding, I set out on a very personal quest to find the woman who saved my mom's life. You can listen to Finding Natasha right now exclusively on Wondery Plus. In season two, I found myself caught up in a new journey to help someone I've never even met. But a couple of years ago, I came across a social media post by a person named Loti. It read in part, Three years ago today that I attempted to jump off this bridge,

but this wasn't my time to go. A gentleman named Andy saved my life. I still haven't found him. This is a story that I came across purely by chance, but it instantly moved me and it's taken me to a place where I've had to consider some deeper issues around mental health. This is season two of Finding, and this

time, if all goes to plan, we'll be finding Andy. You can listen to Finding Andy and Finding Natasha exclusively and ad-free on Wondery+. Join Wondery in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. It's the early morning of March 28th, 1979. Gray light rises over the rolling farmland of southern Pennsylvania. This early, the only sounds are the distant lowing of dairy cows. This early, the only sounds are the distant lowing of dairy cows. Then, from a distance, there's a low rumble. It gets louder and louder. It's an engine revving high. Suddenly, a gold-painted car comes roaring into view.

It flashes past, tearing down Pennsylvania Route 441. Driving is Gary Miller. Miller is Three Mile Island's plant supervisor. At 37 years old, Miller still has a baby face. Right now, his eyes are heavy with worry as they stare out the passenger window. He gazes past the dense tree line and the weathered ranch houses that line the Susquehanna River. Off in the distance, he sees the four massive cooling towers of Three Mile Island. For Miller, the eerie structures have always projected a sense of incredible power. But in this pre-dawn morning, what holds Miller's attention is the fact that no actual electricity

appears to be coming from the plant. There's no steam rising from the towers. The plant is down. Bill Zewi had broken this news to Miller just 20 minutes ago when he called and woke up Miller. Zewi hadn't sounded like himself on the phone. There was a manic energy in his voice, and he was talking rapidly about a clogged filter machine and how it somehow snowballed into a full reactor shutdown. Zeewee tried to get things running again, but the instrument readings didn't make any sense, so he asked Miller to come in as soon as possible. Miller grips the steering wheel as he races down the road. He knows that when the turbine doesn't spin, there are huge financial losses. His employer, Metropolitan Edison Company, loses a whopping $20,000 an hour.

And MetEd doesn't want to lose a single dime. Miller's job is to keep that turbine spinning by any means necessary. Miller knows that, despite his background in the Navy, many still consider him a rookie. Operators like Bill Zewi seem to respect him, but there are many more that still call him Kid. This is his chance to fix whatever is paralyzing the plant, and to silence his doubters. He takes one last look at the cooling towers of Three Mile Island, and jams his foot on the gas. Three Mile Island and jams his foot on the gas. It's now 5.15 a.m. Bill Zewies stands in the small bathroom outside the Three Mile Island control room. Zewies stares at his own reflection, trying

to clear his head and figure out a plan. The main filter system isn't working. The reactor temperature is slowly increasing, and worst of all, the instruments are contradicting each other. This isn't a question of saving dollars anymore. It's about preventing a crisis. Ziwi shuts his eyes and leans against the cold wall. All his years of military training were in preparation for this exact kind of moment. He knows that fear is his worst enemy. He can't panic. He needs to stay calm to accept the facts of the situation, and then make the most practical choice. Ziwi opens his eyes, his head suddenly feeling clear.

He needs to keep the coolant in the reactor moving. That way the heat won't build up too quickly. So he's found his answer. That's what they have to do. Ziwi exits the bathroom and hurries back into the control room. But right when he enters the room, he hears a new sound underneath all the blaring sirens. It's a distinctive thumping. Ziwi looks up at the monitors and sees that the reactor coolant pumps are starting to shake violently. They're in trouble. And with the temperature rising, they could soon tear apart.

That can't happen, because the pumps could start to gush coolant. That might even uncover the core, causing the temperature to shoot up like a rocket. There could even be a meltdown. Ziwi feels his chest grow tight. He has to make a decision. He has to make it now. He takes a deep breath and then calls for the coolant pumps to be shut off. It's a horrible risk, because this may cause the temperature to rise in the core faster. And even if it works. It's a horrible risk, because this may cause the temperature to rise in the core faster, and even if it works, it's a temporary fix. Still the best one at his disposal. Zui slumps into a chair. His whole body feels numb with worry. He feels like he just lit a fuse. How quickly will that fuse burn? He doesn't know, but one thing is certain. They've

got to solve this thing for good, and very soon. Later that morning, the sun is finally rising over a three-mile island. But as plant supervisor Gary Miller picks up a phone, his mood is still dark. He's in the control room and taking charge, but so far he hasn't been able to contain this growing crisis. That's why he's glad to hear the voice on the other end of the line. It's a representative from Babcock and Wilcox, the designers of the nuclear plant. Miller gathers his thoughts as he stares across the rows of blinking lights in the control room. This morning has been a nightmare,

but hopefully the representative can explain what exactly they need to do. Miller cradles the phone against his neck while gathering readings on coolant levels and temperatures. He relays the information over the phone, and the Babcock and Wilcox representative says he has an idea. He suggests checking the pore of emergency valve, which should have opened automatically, and relieve pressure in the overwhelmed system. The representative then pauses as he weighs his next words.

Miller can tell that he's not saying something important. So Miller snaps, telling the representative that now is not the time to withhold information. The man sighs and says he needs to explain something. This emergency valve, the pore of which releases the pressure, it has a troubled history. Miller lowers his voice and turns away from the other operators. And he asks the representative what he means. What kind of troubled history have they seen with this crucial device? The representative sighs again and says that unfortunately, this valve has a history of sticking open. It's a known defect, but it's only been a problem in the rare cases of high-pressure

emergencies. Metropolitan Edison's view of the problem was, lightning wouldn't strike. Typically, nothing like this ever goes wrong. Miller is stunned. He wants to interrogate the man, find out why on earth they would use equipment with a known track record of failure. But he knows there's no time for an argument. Instead, he looks up and orders a runner

to go check on the valve. For a moment, Miller stands with the phone still cradled to his ear, waiting. Maybe this is the answer. Maybe once they fix this valve, the whole crisis will be over. But soon, the runner returns with a sullen look on his face. He tells Miller that the valve is closed. It seems to be operating normally. Miller shakes his head in disbelief and calls for the block valve to the port to be closed just in case. Then he speaks into the phone and tells the company representative what he's just learned. There's a long silence. Finally, the Babcock and Wilcox representative admits that he isn't sure what's going on. He suggests they begin checking

other valves. Miller's face reddens with frustration and he pounds on the wall. Then he hangs up the phone and holds his face in his hands. His throat is dry and his whole body feels wracked with nausea. Miller knows that the clock is ticking. They have to figure this out soon. There's not much time. It's now 6.23 a.m. Bill Zwi stands in front of the control panel, surveying the red and green warning lights.

He shakes his head at what he's seeing. Impossibly, the computer seems to be attempting to restart the reactor. Somehow, the core's radioactivity has gotten high enough to confuse the system. Ziwi catches Gary Miller's eye. He asks the plant supervisor if they could step outside the control room to talk. Miller nods, and together, the two walk toward the heavy steel doors. Miller nods, and together, the two walk toward the heavy steel doors. The two men buzz themselves out and walk down a nearby stairwell. Once they're far enough away, the sound of the alarms grow muted. It's at that moment the Zeewee realizes just how impossible it's been trying to think with the relentless noise and flashing lights.

It turns to Miller and grimaces. I don't get it. We've looked at everything. I think we should call the auxiliary building. See if we can get eyes on a broken pipe or something. I just can't understand. There must be something we've overlooked. Something. Some tatters. Zeewee isn't able to finish the thought because right then there's the unmistakable sound of radiation alarms going on. Both men immediately hurry back to the control room. Once they step inside, an operator approaches them, saying that there are high levels of radiation in the auxiliary containment building.

They're getting elevated readings from water that's now seeping up from the floor. Miller turns back to Zeewee. Call Unit 1, Bill. Tell the men over there to secure. I think we need to secure everything. It's time. We should declare a site emergency. Miller looks off into the distance, purses his lips, and he turns back to Zeewee. Do it. Zeewee steps to the intercom. He stands there for just a heartbeat, feeling frozen. There's no coming back from this decision, but he knows

there's no choice, so he hits the talk button. This is Unit 2, Three Mile Island, Unit 2. We are declaring a site emergency. This is not a drill. We are declaring a site emergency. Bill Zewi clicks off, not quite believing the words he's just spoken. Within seconds, klaxons and warning horns pierce every room and stairwell of the nuclear power plant. Alarms blare at ear-piercing levels, and right away, Ziwi's heart starts to pound uncontrollably.

He imagines the alarms reverberating over the complex and traveling out toward the nearby townships. For those still sleeping, it will be the sound of nightmares. And Ziwi knows that this is only just getting started. On January 5th, 2024, an Alaska Airlines door plug tore away mid-flight, leaving a gaping hole in the side of a plane that carried 171 passengers. This heart-stopping incident was just the latest in a string of crises surrounding the aviation manufacturing giant, Boeing. In the past decade, Boeing has been involved in a series of damning scandals and deadly crashes that have chipped away at its once sterling reputation.

At the center of it all, the 737 MAX, the latest season of business wars, explores how Boeing, once the gold standard of aviation engineering, descended into a nightmare of safety concerns and public mistrust. The decisions, denials, and devastating consequences bringing the Titan to its knees and what, if anything, can save the company's reputation. Now, follow Business Wars on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge Business Wars, the unraveling of Boeing Boeing, early and ad-free right now on Wondery Plus. It's 8 a.m. on March 28th, 1979. Mike Pintek steers a bright yellow Camaro into a parking spot

and rolls up his window. He turns off the radio and steps out of the car. Pintek smooths down his mass of brown hair and smiles as he gazes at the headquarters of WKBO. WKBO is a radio station in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Pintek may be only 27 years old, but he's ambitious, and already he's worked his way up to be the station's news director. That's how he's gotten this Camaro. It's the station's idea of a company car.

As Pintec walks toward the station building, he notices that the bright yellow Chevette that WKBO uses to cover traffic isn't in its spot. Well, that's good, he thinks. That means his traffic reporter, Captain Dave Edwards, is already out on the job. Not that Harrisburg is known for traffic. It may be the capital of Pennsylvania, but the city is more of a historical point of interest than a thriving metropolis. And yet Pintek has high standards. He wants WKBO to operate with true professionalism, like any of the stations in

Pittsburgh or Philadelphia. Pintek opens the door to the office and enters the newsroom. Right away, he's greeted by his favorite sounds of the morning, the clacking of his co-anchor's typewriter, and a phone that's already ringing. In mere seconds, he adds the receiver to his ear. It's his traffic reporter, Dave Edwards. Pintek begins joking with Edwards, asking him whether he's pulling 90 down the highway. But Edwards interrupts him, his voice sounding serious. He says that something odd is happening at Three Mile Island. There's all kinds of clatter on the police scanners. Sounds like fire trucks and emergency vehicles are already mobilizing. Pintek frowns as he mulls this over. Three Mile Island is only about 10 miles south of Harrisburg,

and Pintek hasn't heard anyone say a word about the nuclear power plant. But Edwards is always good for a story lead, and so Pintek thanks him and hangs up. Then he begins flipping through his Rolodex. If something is happening at the nuclear power plant, he wants to get right to the heart of it. Pintek dials the main number for Three Mile Island. After a few rings, an operator picks up. Hi, good morning. This is Michael Pintek with WKBO. I'm calling to get a status update.

Pintek has to stop himself for laughing. Getting scoops is usually not this easy. Yes, that's correct. About the situation with Unit 2. Pintek grabs his notebook and quickly flips it open to a blank page. He clicks his pen and scribbles Unit 2. Finally, someone answers. Hi, this is Mike Pintek with WKBO. What's the status over there?

No, WKBO. Is everything okay? Michael Pintek. I'm the news director at WKBO in Harrisburg. A general emergency? Pintek knows a general emergency means an incident with the potential for serious consequences for public safety. He was about to ask if there was a release of radiation when he hears a click and then a dial tone. The man on the other end of the line has hung up. Pintek sits holding the phone. Finally, he replaces the handset back in its cradle.

He feels the tingle of a big story. Something is going on, and he's going to get to the bottom of it. Pintek turns back to his Rolodex and starts spinning through numbers. It's time to start making more calls. Twenty minutes later, Mike Pintek sits behind the large plate glass window in WKBO's broadcasting studio. He's surrounded by audio equipment, and much of it looks like it was left over from the early 50s. A huge clock dominates one wall. Pintek cues up the reel-to-reel background music and sound effects for his news report. His co-anchor, Michelle, waits just outside the glass.

She raises her hand to give him the lead-in countdown. Pintek checks his microphone one last time as Michelle counts him in. Pintek then introduces himself on air and calmly explains that he's just learned about an incident at the Three Mile Island nuclear facility. He tells the listeners that after speaking directly with the plant control room, he placed a call to Three Mile Island's parent company, Metropolitan Edison. The company's director of communications assured him there was nothing to be concerned about. Pintek says that the company did acknowledge that there was a slight malfunction. Pintek pauses to let this sink in. Then he adds that there was a minor release of radiation on site. Pintek notes that

according to the communications director, it was all contained. No radiation escaped the plant. A general emergency was called more as a procedural requirement of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. The company's explanation had sounded fishy to him, and it still does. As a journalist, he's come to rely on these kind of gut instincts. But right now, the company's story is all he has to go on. Still, his instincts say that something more is happening here, and he wants to get to the bottom of it.

It's the kind of scoop that could put WKBO and his reporting on the map. Pintec is almost certain the governor's office will hold a press conference on this. And when he does, Pintec is going to be there, front row. does, Pintek is going to be there, front row. At 10 a.m., Lieutenant Governor Bill Scranton III stands at a dais in the Pennsylvania State Capitol in Harrisburg. He's only 31, but he's a commanding presence in his power suit and tie. Scranton reaches out and adjusts a microphone. Scranton isn't surprised to see the room is packed with reporters. They're clearly buzzing from an earlier report by WKBO's Mike Pintek. Scranton got the news, too. He was at home this morning when he got word from the Pennsylvania Emergency Management Agency,

which said that there was a general emergency at Three Mile Island. So with the governor's support, Scranton immediately scheduled this press conference. As Scranton looks out at the sea of reporters, he feels a buzz of energy coursing through him. Scranton is the son of former Pennsylvania Governor William Scranton, but he's also known for paving his own way in politics. And Scranton knows that high-profile incidents like this can define a political career. As he stands on the dais, Scranton knows that this is his chance to be bold, to capture the public's attention. But Scranton also knows that in moments like these, he has to be perfect. That's why he looks over at Bill Dornsife, a nuclear engineer from the Pennsylvania Bureau of Radiation Protection. Scranton wishes he could

have one last word with Dornsife to get any updates, but Dornsife is still on the phone with state inspectors. Scranton knows he can't wait any longer, so he signals that he's starting the press conference. Scranton begins addressing the crowd. He confirms that there has been an incident at Three Mile Island. Metropolitan Edison, the nuclear plant's parent company, has assured him that there was no off-site radiation. Scranton looks across the room and makes eye contact with as many of the reporters as he can, and then he tells the room that everyone is safe. Suddenly, though, Scranton notices Dornsife out of the corner of his eye. The nuclear engineer looks like he's trying to get his attention. Scranton pauses, but then continues relaying the message that there is no public danger of any kind.

Then he notices Dornsife shaking his head. Reporters turn and pick up on Dornsife's body language. One of them asks specifically what the radiation hazard is. Are they sure that no radiation was released off site? Scranton is just about to answer when Dornsife steps up. Scranton's eyes go wide and his mouth hangs open. This is not how the press conference was supposed to happen. Dornsife looks like he wants to speak and make an announcement of his own. Scranton knows it would be a disaster to stop him, but judging by the engineer's face, he also gets the sense that Dornsife has bad news. News that's about to make Scranton look like a fool.

Dornsife leans forward and announces that he has just hung up the phone with on-site inspectors at Three Mile Island. And, in fact, a small amount of radioactive iodine has been detected in Goldsboro, a community across the river from the plant. The atmosphere in the room abruptly shifts, and Scranton feels like his voice is now stuck in his throat, that he's frozen in place. The reporters begin peppering Dornsife with questions. All Scranton can do is stand and watch as Dornsife takes command of the press conference. Scranton's jaw clenches. So much for a bold political moment. He's furious that Met Ed lied to him and made him look like the liar. But it's bigger than that, he thinks.

If Met Ed denied the radiation had been released, what else are they covering up? Scranton pictures Goldsboro in his mind. It's a tiny hamlet, maybe 500 people living in the shadow of Three Mile Island. But just a couple of miles away, there are multiple towns with thousands of residents. At 10 miles out, there are cities like Harrisburg, York, and Lancaster. The area surrounding Three Mile Island is home to hundreds of thousands of people. Scranton looks out at the reporters scribbling furiously in their notebooks. In no time at all, the news of the radiation will spread across Pennsylvania like a terrible contamination.

It'll sow confusion, maybe even panic. Scranton knows this could be a disaster. But it's also a chance to step up and lead the state during an unprecedented crisis. And that is exactly what Scranton intends to do. is exactly what Scranton intends to do. Next on American Scandal, the operators at Three Mile Island struggle to tame the runaway nuclear plant. As their efforts fail and evacuation orders begin,

it becomes frighteningly clear that the catastrophe is bigger than anyone imagined. From Wondery, this is episode one of Three Mile Island for American Scandal. This is Episode 1 of Three Mile Island for American Scandal. You've just finished Episode 1 of Three Mile Island, but the crisis has only just begun. As the series unfolds, you'll follow the harrowing decisions of Pennsylvania Governor Dick Thornburg as he grapples with whether to evacuate hundreds of thousands of people in the face of a looming nuclear disaster. Meanwhile, a nuclear expert sent by President Carter races against time to prevent a meltdown.

As the situation spirals, powerful players from government officials to utility executives scramble to manage the growing catastrophe, while engineers on the ground fight to keep the plant from total collapse. Will they avert disaster, or will Three Mile Island become America's worst nuclear nightmare? To listen to the rest of this season of American Scandal, start your free trial of Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. With Wondery Plus, you can listen to other incredible history podcasts like American History Tellers, History Daily, Tides of History, and more. Download the Wondery app today. Download the Wondery app today.

A quick note about our reenactments. In most cases, we can't know exactly what we said, but all our dramatizations are based on historical research. Our consultant for this series is J. Samuel Walker. He's the author of the book Three Mile Island, A Nuclear Crisis in Historical Perspective, which contains many more rich details about the nuclear accident. And if you'd like to learn even more about Three Mile Island, we recommend the book The Warning by Mike Gray and Ira Rosen. American Scandal is hosted, edited, and executive produced by me,

Lindsey Graham for Airship. Audio editing by Molly Bogg. Sound design by Derek Behrens. This episode is written by Charles Olivier, edited by Christina Malsberg, produced by Gabe Ribbon. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lara Beckman, and Hernán López for Wondery. written by Charles Olivier, edited by Christina Malsberg, produced by Gabe Riven. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens, Jenny Lauer Beckman, and Hernán López for Wondery.