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March 7, 2003     
     Blow by Blow    Healing Music    Sound Art    One to Many    New Yawk Accent    Off Stage  

ill Mulcahy hates the noise the airplanes from John F. Kennedy Airport make over Rockaway Beach in Queens. He's hoping that he can make enough noise of his own to drown them out.

The 57-year-old retired firefighter has been battling the airport noise since he moved to Queens from Brooklyn in 1989. His section of Rockaway was selected as the preferential night flight path, meaning jets flew over his house starting at midnight.

Unable to sleep at night, he began corresponding with national noise-abatement groups such as the Citizen's Aviation Watch to try to stop the problem. But what he found was discouraging; noise regulations are vague and rarely enforced in the city, and the anger of one man was no match for the FAA.


Photo: Mark Mulcahy

The noise from John F. Kennedy
Airport in Queens makes activist
Bill Mulcahy feel like screaming.

"I call it the aviation cabal—the aviation industry, politicians and the airport operators," he said. "It's a three-pronged spear."

Mulcahy said that the routing of planes is a highly politicized process. Rich communities have enough sway over local politicians to force the FAA to keep planes far away from them.

"Instead of going over these wealthy, politically connected communities, they're going over minority areas or poor areas," Mulcahy said. He believes both politicians and environmental advocacy groups are being paid off to keep silent about the problem.

"Have you ever seen that movie Conspiracy Theory? I identify with that guy," he said, only half joking.

ealizing that anti-noise activists must organize at the national level to have more sway over Congress, he bought a computer so he could start contacting noise victims around the world. He started making his case on a public-access television show from 1992 until 1997. In 1995, he co-founded Sane Aviation for Everyone (S.A.F.E.), a coalition protesting the noise from both Kennedy and La Guardia airports. And for the last two and a half years, he has published an online newsletter on airport noise.

He wants to see more health studies on the detrimental effects of noise. "The only way to fight these people is to focus on the health problems," he said. He found a Cornell University report stating that children bombarded by aircraft noise don't learn as well. He wonders if the noise during his wife's pregnancy affected his nine-year-old child, who is in special education in school.

"That's the most intrusive noise, is when you're trying to sleep and a 747 comes screaming over your head every 15 minutes," he said. He bought a noise meter, which showed his family was regularly exposed to 95 to 100 decibels every day—a dangerous level.

Mulcahy wants every community—even ones with political clout—to receive their fair share of noise. He worries that the noise will get worse if things continue as they are now.

"As aviation grows, unfortunately, there won't be any quiet anywhere," he says. "There will be a plane going over every house."

His solution? More ground transportation for domestic travel. High-speed rails will lessen the need for airline expansion. He also points to solutions to airplane noise found by other cities: Chicago residents received hundreds of millions of dollars to soundproof their homes against the noise from O'Hare airport, while some Londoners are trying to ban night flights from Heathrow altogether.

Mulcahy has all the attributes of a good activist. He knows his stuff (he can reel off the decibel level of a firecracker—30—and a sports arena buzzer—120). He's done his research (he has the different runways at Kennedy Airport memorized). And he's badgered his local politicians (he called Senator Charles Schumer a "scumbag" in front of the Rockaway community).

Many people wanted to know why he just doesn't move.

"There's a lot of people who can't move," he said. "There's children, there's elderly people."

ut in 1997 Mulcahy finally did move. His health was suffering from lack of sleep and the stress of fighting the noise with no results. He relocated his family to New Paltz, a quiet community 75 miles north of the city.

"I was becoming brain-dead," he said. "I was becoming obsessed with it. It really started affecting me. I would lie there in bed and wait for one plane after the other."

Most people would stop fighting once they move away from the problem, but not Mulcahy. He believes he gains credibility as an outsider who isn't fighting from a self-interested motive. He also thinks he's more effective now because, in the quiet of New Paltz, he can think straight.

"I've brought this to a lot of people's attention," he said. "I try to act as a unifying force, since we don't have a good strong national or international organization . . . . At least I can show people how the worldwide fight against aviation expansion is going."

And even though his family sometimes kids him about it, Mulcahy has no plans to slow down. "I like to fight," he said, laughing. "Fires, noise. I try to channel my natural aggression into positive things."

So from his perch in New Paltz (which he says, laughing, is "too quiet") Mulcahy keeps fighting against the big guys.

"There are things happening," he said. "There are local governments suing the airline industry. If a town can get a few million dollars from an airline, other towns will start doing it, too. There's always hope."

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