Blast recovery drags on
OA year after explosion at Watson plant, life is still far from normal for some residents By Dylan McGuinness STAFF WRITER
ne by one, residents of the Westbranch neighborhood in northwest Houston have sought to rebuild and move back into their homes, picking up the pieces of what for many has been a long recovery after the explosion at Watson Grinding & Manufacturing one year ago Sunday.
Leah Blok got back into her Bridgeland Lane home in July, Tracy Stephenson in August. Ronda Dotson moved back in September, and Ann Rawlinson was unpacking her boxes on Stanford Court on Tuesday.
Alfonso Santana was looking forward to the day he could return, as well, according to his neighbors. His children were help
ing restore his home. Santana, 85, replaced the dead grass with a manicured lawn himself.
He never made it back. Santana contracted COVID-19 and died just after New Year’s, his neighbors said.
“It’s just so unfair,” said Alicia Detamore, who lives across the street.
The Watson explosion rocked this neighborhood last January, a catastrophe that preceded the COVID-19 pandemic by about a month and a half. The result was a harrowing year for hundreds of residents and families, who were forced to navigate a recovery effort for one crisis while enduring another.
The blast killed Watson workers Gerardo Castorena Sr., 45, and Frank Flores, 44, along with resident Gilberto Mendoza Cruz, 47.
Hundreds of homes in the unusually dense neighborhoods around the business were damaged. Windows were blown out and doors jammed shut. Ceilings caved in and many homes were knocked inches off their foundations.
After the initial disaster response faded, the recovery effort effectively was left to insurance companies, splitting the neighborhood between haves and havenots. Those with responsive insurance policies and speedy adjusters are making progress on repairs or new homes altogether. They have moved back or plan to soon. Those without coverage are left to patch up their homes or take out loans to do the work, while waiting on lawsuits against Watson to wind through courts. Those recoveries likely will be measured in years.
“It’s so subjective. It shouldn’t be that way,” said Detamore, who credited her insurance adjuster with helping her return to her home in June, a few months after she and housemate Suzanne Slavinsky watched their roof collapse as contractors tried to repair it. “You shouldn’t have to fight with the company you’re paying. That’s what insurance is for.”
Jeff Creel, who lives two doors down from Detamore, has a large blue tarp hanging from the side of his house. Two weeks ago, a 6-foot chunk of stucco siding fell into his neighbor’s yard, a reminder almost a year after the explosion that he has not been able to fully repair his home.
“I’m still battling with my insurance,” he said. He has been meeting with contractors this month for quotes on how much it would cost to replace the side of his house and expects to spend between $7,000 and $14,000 out of pocket to do it. The ceiling of his garage collapsed, too.
“It’s embarrassing when people ask, ‘How did your renovation go?’ ” Creel said. “I say, ‘Well, I haven’t done it yet.’ I’m still haggling with the insurance company, and they’re back in their newly appointed homes. … I’m happy for them — the more they get, the better.”
‘This is home’
The neighborhood shows visible signs of progress from the months after the blast. There are far fewer dumpsters lining the streets, although discarded construction materials are still popping holes in car tires at a higher than normal rate. Residents say the pace of home reconstructions and repairs has picked up in recent months.
Still, it is far from normal.
At the corner of Bridgeland and Stanford — which the neighborhood calls “Ground Zero” for its proximity to Watson — residents say it feels desolate at night.
Two empty lots on that corner are a constant reminder of the explosion, as are nearby homes that remain boarded up. One of the empty lot’s owners sold the land and moved on, neighbors said.
Others near that corner still are rebuilding. Barbara Rogers and Christine Chuma were taking celebratory photos by their front door last week. They expect to move back in February.
“This is home,” said Chuma, when asked if they considered leaving.
The damaged buildings on Watson’s property loom on Gessner Road, with flowers marking the location where the two workers died. Debris still is scattered in heaps across the property, which has been put up for sale. The front gates are locked, with large banners displaying the real estate
agent’s phone number and warning that the property is under surveillance. The strip mall next door has been demolished, but signs still advertise a tire company and other stores that no longer are there.
The Houston division of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco Firearms and Explosives conducted an investigation into the blast and turned over a report to the Houston Fire Department. Chief Samuel Peña has said the report left the cause of the Watson blast as undetermined, although it pointed to a leak in a supply line that carried the highly flammable propylene inside to the coating shop. The Chronicle has submitted a request for that report under the Texas Public Information Act.
Residents say they are thankful the explosion occurred at 4:30 a.m. instead of later in the morning, when the leak would have allowed more gas to pool and resulted in a much larger explosion.
“We wouldn’t be here,” Detamore said.
‘A year out of your life’
The city has made some changes in wake of the blast, tweaking its ordinance governing the storage and use of hazardous materials. One of the changes directly inspired by Watson closed a loophole that failed to account for chemicals stored outside. The company’s storage tank was outdoors.
“That was a big deal. Hopefully it will prevent that from happening, or at least reduce the chances
that it happens again,” said City Council member Amy Peck, whose District A includes the neighborhoods around Watson. Much of the remaining response is out of the city’s purview, Peck said, but she still tries to guide Solid Waste to the neighborhood when it falls behind on trash pickups.
“We’re still trying to handle the stuff we can,” Peck said.
More than 2,000 people have filed lawsuits against Watson Grinding and Watson Valve, the two companies at the site of explosion. They declared bankruptcy soon after the blast, drawing the ire of a federal bankruptcy judge who said he would prioritize victims.
That judge recently sent those cases back to state court to proceed.
Attorneys for residents say they are eyeing each company’s $26 million insurance policy. They also are pursuing claims against thirdparty companies, such as manufacturers of the parts involved in the gas leak.
Frank Peters is among the plaintiffs. His insurance company denied his claim on the day of the explosion, leaving him to take out tens of thousands of dollars in loans and try to repair the house himself. He said time has only made it more difficult to get by. He used to rent out his house as his primary source of income.
“I had to make many loans, am in debt to my ears,” Peters said. “It’s been sad lately. … I am struggling to try to find acceptance.”
Even for those who have been able to return, the anniversary marks a distressing year.
“Picture yourself in your bed, asleep in your home one morning, and the whole thing collapses — literally — on you. Your life is changed not just for a year, but pretty much forever,” said Rawlinson, the woman who was moving back into her home on Stanford Court this week.
Rawlinson had recently retired at the time of the blast. Her ceiling collapsed, pinning her to her bed. A neighbor had to come get her out. She had planned to spend 2020 traveling.
“The fact that it takes a year out of your life and really just causes a lot of dismay and hurt, I hope down the line, that guy pays,” she said, referring to the owner of Watson, who made — and then rescinded — a promise to make residents whole after the blast.
The owners of the company issued a statement Friday, saying they have been working with state and federal agencies to investigate the incident and express “sincere condolences” for all affected.
“The men who were lost that day, along with their families, will always be in our hearts and prayers,” the statement said. “We also acknowledge the difficulties experienced by our neighbors whose homes and businesses were affected and whose lives were disrupted. We have been inspired by the community’s response.”
Castorena had a son and three daughters. Flores had a son and a daughter. His family said it wishes he was still here to watch them grow.
“We know you can see that now more than you ever could,” the family wrote. “You were an amazing man in every aspect of the word. You went above and beyond for your own and anyone else that your loving soul saw needed help because you were an angel on earth, just as much as you are now.”
At a recent board meeting for the homeowners’ association, Creel suggested the group hold some kind of commemoration to mark the anniversary.
“They said, ‘No, we don’t want to do it,’ ” Creel said. “I think they want to forget it if they can.”