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Date: 9/13/2003 10:42:19 PM Eastern Standard Time

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Breaking The Mold--TOXIC MOLD

Northeast Florida buildings are riddled with fungus

Mike Knight / Folioweekly

Aug 21, 2003

Top: Toxicologist Lipsey collects samples from contaminated sites. Bottom: Cannon stands in her deserted living room. She refuses to enter her moldy home without a filtration mask.

Dr. Lipsey is mid-story, tapping his fingernails against his desk. By profession, Lipsey is a toxicologist — a person who studies poisons. By nature, though, he’s a storyteller — and a very good one. Lipsey knows how to stretch a story into shape, and how to build it so when the crescendo comes, it hits you hard, right between the eyes. From his office in the shade of ville’s Acosta Bridge, he recounts the day of his “epiphany.†Lipsey was in Dunnellon, working for an insurance carrier. A local man died under mysterious circumstances, and it was Lipsey’s job to figure out what killed him. Lipsey’s investigation started at the home of the deceased. The basement floor was awash in a pool of Heptachlor, a powerful insecticide used to kill termites. Then he heard an unusual sound.

“I said ‘What the hell is that?’†he recalls. “Then I ripped the linoleum cover off the kitchen countertop.†Beneath the lino-leum, Lipsey found a buttermilk sea of writhing termites, busily gnawing their way through what was left of the dead man’s home. The ravenous termites created the rhythmic cadence Lipsey heard.

“The Heptachlor didn’t kill the termites, but it allegedly killed the homeowner,†Lipsey says. He called the owner of the now-defunct Tampa pest control company that hired him and related his discovery to the firm’s owner.

“She told me in no uncertain terms that it wasn’t my job to say their company didn’t kill the termites and may have caused injury to the family,†Lipsey says. “So I said, ‘I think I’m going to be hired by the family,’ and I was.†Lipsey’s testimony has been instrumental in eradicating unscrupulous pest control companies ever since.

Lipsey, relishing the story, dons the grin he seems to constantly wear. With 30 years of war stories about death and pestilence under his hazmat suit, Lipsey’s as confident as Dr. Phil wading through a throng of Oprah fans. He and the self-help guru share the same no-nonsense nature couched in a lazy Southern drawl. Lipsey is especially proficient in determining just how much of one substance or another it took to make someone sick — or die. His five-page résumé includes a full sheet detailing his “toxic chemical experience.â€

It reads like a recipe for death, and features a lengthy list of ingredients whose misuse is guaranteed to send the user to the other side. Chemicals like cyanide, cocaine, LPG gas, exhaust fumes, mercury and termiticides like Heptachlor are included. A few are emphasized by capital letters. One of them is mold. On the backs of the voracious wood-eating bugs came a realization and Lipsey’s raison d’être. Termites, he says, require constant moisture and are forced to build mud tunnels to make their way through life. The moisture they use causes mold in the buildings they inhabit. And mold is big business across the country. Lipsey says he is the nation’s one and only pesticide toxicologist with a Ph.D. in the field that will offer expert testimony about mold and its effects. It is the kind of testimony that locks up a case and sometimes leads to crushing financial settlements. The largest was for $10 million. He is alone at the top of his field, a legal expert in nationwide demand six days a week, 12 hours a day.

Mold, Lipsey says, doesn’t rely solely on thirsty termites. Any old leak will do. From plumbers who fail to lead condensation lines outside to poor construction techniques that let water seep into cheap building material, mold never sleeps. Spurred by low mortgage interest rates, the housing boom in the United States — specifically throughout Florida — worries Lipsey. In the past 10 years, housing construction in the ville area (Duval, St. s, Clay and Nassau counties) has mushroomed from 6,700 new homes built annually to 10,600, the majority of which are constructed by mass-production builders. In the rush to meet consumer demand, Lipsey says some homebuilders are choosing quantity over quality. The pennies they pinch show up in fake stucco that retains more moisture than its authentic namesake and in particleboard that acts like a sponge, eagerly lapping up any water with which it comes in contact. Windows and gutters aren’t installed properly, and the lots are incorrectly graded. Northeast Florida’s history of lax — or nonexistent — building and home inspections, coupled with shoddy construction techniques, are even more frightening. And Lipsey’s worst fears are being realized. A group of homeowners in Island, a five-year old housing development in ville, is filing suit for mold damage they say has destroyed their property — and their lives.

Lipsey’s reputation is such that lawyers call him to help prove the mold residing in their client’s buildings and homes is — or isn’t — toxic and harmful. In any given year, he represents the defendant 45 percent of the time, the balance for the plaintiff, and testifies in some 70 cases annually. He has spent his career preparing for the cases. Lipsey has a BS in biology and a Masters in entomology, the study of insects. He also holds a Ph.D. in toxicology earned from the University of Illinois. Its focus was fungicide poisoning.

Lipsey has racked up nearly 5 million Frequent Flier Miles traveling across the country, looking for mold. Most of his time is spent en route from one building or home to the next. The inspection and sampling process at most locations lasts little more than an hour. Not all the mold Lipsey finds is toxic. In fact, most of it isn’t. “People don’t realize that 80 percent of mold won’t harm you,†he says.

The balance, though, can do some serious damage. Aspergillus, which includes 150 recognized species of mold, can lead to eye and ear infections, and bronchial problems including asthma. The toxins from several species are considered potential carcinogens. Penicillium, another species often found in carpet and wallpaper, can cause everything from skin rashes to asthma and, in severe cases, pulmonary emphysema. The worst of the lot, Lipsey says, is stachybotrys (stak-e-botrus). “Stachybotrys is the black mold known as ‘toxic mold,’†Lipsey says. “And it can only form if you have a constant source of water.†The species, he says, doesn’t grow well, in part because it’s not powerful enough to rob vital nutrients from other fungi. Too weak to kill off its competitors, stachybotrys can be deadly to human beings.

Like a roller coaster car about to drop, Lipsey launches into the havoc “stachy,†as he calls it, wreaks. “Stachy causes flu-like symptoms, diarrhea, headaches, fatigue, skin rashes, general malaise, eye irritation, respiratory problems, central nervous system problems that can be chronic, pulmonary hemorrhaging,†he says, catching his breath before the crescendo, “and it has been associated with the death of over 30 infants.â€

The deadly spore is often found in low-income housing, where building leaks are common and concern for the wellness of residents isn’t. Like other molds, stachy’s calling card, Lipsey says, is normally a spot on the ceiling or peeling wallpaper followed by a flu-like illness that just won’t quit.

For many homeowners, mold remediation is covered in their insurance policy — with one caveat. Homeowners who think they have a mold problem should contact their insurance agents immediately, Lipsey says. Chances are they’ll send in a plumber to fix the problem before it becomes a major issue. Most problems are simple to fix, and may include a new fixture along with the installation of a new wall once the old one has been torn down and the mold behind it killed. Left unattended, though, mold will grow — and so will the cost to make it go away.

“If you didn’t report it in a timely manner, and an $800 problem became an $8,000 problem, then the insurance company might tell you your policy wouldn’t cover it,†Lipsey says. “Then you would have to hire an attorney. And the attorney would try to convince the insurance company to do the right thing, to pay the $8,000 and get it remediated.â€

The “right thing†is often the subject of a months-long debate. And time is on mold’s side. “In the meantime, your $8,000 problem has turned into an $18,000 problem,†Lipsey says, “and pretty soon your children start vomiting blood.†That’s when the attorneys dial up Lipsey.

One call came from a lawyer representing Ed McMahon, ny Carson’s former sidekick. Unbeknownst to McMahon, the bar in the den of his Hollywood Hills home had sprung a leak, and in time, flooded the room. Lipsey says he’s contractually forbidden from speaking much about the case, but McMahon’s plight was widely reported in the press. The company McMahon hired to clean up the mess and fix the problem painted over the mold without telling him about it. It was a sickening mistake. The mold they covered up was stachybotrys.

First the toxic mold made the 80-year-old McMahon and his wife sick — then it killed their dog. McMahon filed a $20 million suit against the various contractors and insurance agents involved. Lipsey was flown in to identify the mold and to testify on behalf of the former Budweiser pitchman.

“He sued for $20 million but settled for $7 million,†Lipsey says. Part of the settlement included moving the McMahons into another home and paying their rent — $23,000 a month — while the mold was eradicated. From the settlement to the monthly rent allowance, Lipsey says McMahon’s case was one of extremes. The exception is how long the case took to settle. McMahon filed suit in April 2002. One year later he received an award of $230,000 from the last contractor named in the suit.

Unlike McMahon, most people fighting a dispute over mold in their home can’t afford to move into the mansion across the street. Few can retain a lawyer capable of fighting the well-staffed representation with which insurance companies arm themselves. Insurers know they’re fighting a war of attrition, one requiring deep financial resources, the kind few homeowners, and especially renters in low-income housing, have. Most people, Lipsey says, move in with families, move into a smaller place or just don’t hang around. Many are forced to watch as the value of their home deteriorates to nothing, and an investment they once thought secure is rendered worthless. Often at midlife, they must spend savings earmarked for college tuition or retirement on a battle over fungus, knowing they may never recoup the loss.

Cannon’s home is filled with nice furniture. An antique piano is pushed up against the wall of the living room and new leather sofas adorn the family room in front of well-stocked bookshelves. Hers is a spacious and airy home, a butter-yellow two-story stucco house in Island.

Cannon hasn’t lived in it for months. The home is still filled with belongings left in a suspended state of use, as if Cannon and her family simply evaporated. In fact, less than three years after Cannon and her husband bought the house, she refuses to set foot in it without an air filtration mask. They left almost everything behind, she says, in an effort to leave the mold along with it. Today she, along with her husband and three kids, live in an apartment less than a mile away.

Island is a 5-year-old housing community near Belfort Road on ville’s Southside. Arvida, a subsidiary of St. Joe Company, a massive landholder headquartered in ville, developed the community, which includes more than 250 homes. All told, Arvida and its subsidiaries have built 15 such communities in North Carolina, Georgia and Florida. When Cannon bought her home in December 2000, she says, none of the problems were apparent. She didn’t have to wait long for them to show up.

The first sign was moisture seeping into the stucco on an outside corner of the home. That was in July 2001. There was no indication on the inside of the house that mold was forming, however, and she thought nothing more about it. Then along came the spiders. “I noticed we had an incredible spider population,†Cannon says. She tried to eliminate the arachnids — “I sprayed them real hard,†she says — but it only forced them indoors and out of harm’s way. After finding the spiders in her living room, Cannon says she started inspecting the outside wall, particularly the foundation. The home’s exterior sections, covered in stucco, were too large for the foundation. Cannon says she stuck her hand inside the gap and pulled out pieces of soaking strands peeling away from the OSB (oriented strand board).

Alarmed, Cannon called Arvida. Their solution, she says, was to seal the gaps. The cure turned out to be worse than the disease. A tropical storm rocked Northeast Florida in September 2001, and with no escape route, the water channeled its way down the walls, under the baseboards and onto the carpet. Arvida, Cannon says, came out and re-caulked the windows, corrected the cement flashing around them and replaced the baseboards, padding and carpet. Other homes in the neighborhood were receiving the same fixes, along with fresh paint over rusting exteriors. Cannon watched in disbelief as the repairmen painted over the mold.

“As a homeowner, I know you put bleach or something on mold to kill it,†she says. “You don’t just paint over it.†Gradually, Cannon developed ear and sinus infections. Her son broke out in hives. Then she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Cannon and her family moved out of the home in December 2001. They’d lived there for exactly one year.

Last year Cannon joined nine other Island homeowners in suits filed against Arvida and St. Joe. Her suit, which seeks the costs of repairs to the homes, or the loss of value, charges all have defects in “the building envelope.†Included are charges that the stucco wasn’t thick enough and that moisture and air filtration barriers were inadequate due to exposed OSB sheathing along with the foundation’s sill or base plate. In short, the suit says the homes were built using the very construction techniques Lipsey warns against.

Representatives from Arvida chose not to comment for this story. In March 2003, Arvida began sending letters to Island homeowners stating that homes in the subdivision were built with window installations and stucco that “may differ in some ways†from state-mandated requirements. In 2001, the company was found in violation of the Florida Association of Building Inspectors code of ethics because it allowed private home inspectors to buy their way onto a “preferred†inspector list for $4,000. The list of preferred inspectors was given to homebuyers. Besides the obvious conflict of interest — private inspectors are supposed to provide an independent assessment of a home’s construction — inspectors also paid Arvida a fee or commission for every home they evaluated.

Originally filed in February 2002, the case is due to be heard in October 2003. In June 2003, attorneys for Arvida requested permission to inspect Cannon’s home and to take samples of the mold. Attorney Jim , representing Cannon and the other litigants, expects the trial to last a while, especially if the parties can’t come to an agreement. Lipsey hasn’t been called in for a deposition — yet.

Armstrong doesn’t know Cannon, but she’s well acquainted with Lipsey. He’s taken two samples from Armstrong’s home in the last three years. Armstrong’s, he says, is among the worst cases of stachybotrys he’s ever seen. “’s got millions of spores,†he says.

Unlike Cannon, Armstrong can’t afford to move. Instead, she’s sealed off the worst room in her home with thick plastic sheets taped tight to the floor and walls. Inside, she says, are nearly 300 million colonies of aspergillium mold.

Armstrong bought her home in Waterford Estates, on ville’s far Southside, back in 1998. A builder’s spec home, it seemed like a great deal — until she found out it was built too low. Armstrong closed on the house before a city inspector came for a final inspection.

“He asked for a copy of the survey, and told me there was no elevation on it,†Armstrong says. One of the first homes built in the area, the surrounding land was covered in a thick blanket of weeds. The lot, she says, sloped downward, channeling drainage directly to her home. Worse yet, Armstrong says the exterior envelope of her home was built too close to the earth, creating additional avenues for moisture penetration.

Not long after, she noticed the base of a brass lamp in the living room was rusting. The room had a musty odor, too.

An inspector told her there was a leak in the home’s slab. Worse, the home’s moisture barrier was two feet too short. The home’s sieve-like construction made it the ideal habitat for cultivating mold. The soil it was built on was icing on the cake.

“Our home was built on highly organic soil,†Armstrong says. The peat-like ground won’t support the weight of the house, which is slowly sinking. A drunken spider web of cracks mars Armstrong’s concrete driveway, and the home lurches on its foundation, like it was carelessly dropped into place. The increased contact with the soil’s moisture exacerbates the mold problem. It’s only a matter of time, she says, before the pipes in the slab start cracking.

Armstrong’s lawyer didn’t contact Lipsey — she did. She’d heard Lipsey speak at an environmental law seminar before she knew she needed his help. Later, while looking for a toxicologist, a professor in Seattle told Armstrong to look no further than her own backyard. “He said, ‘You’ve got a great expert right there in ville,’†Armstrong says, referring to Lipsey.

The plastic sarcophagus that is now her living room was constructed at Lipsey’s suggestion. The mold has caused respiratory problems and allergies for both Armstrong and her daughter. It has also spread along the windowsills, into one of the bathrooms and other areas of the home. Though contained, it continues to grow unabated.

Armstrong is suing the builder of her home, Renex Homes. She says Renex owner Rene Dostie’s lawyer refused to enter the quarantined living room due to the mold. Asked to buy back the decrepit building, both refused. “Mr. Dostie’s lawyer said he didn’t want to buy the home back because he may not be able to resell it,†Armstrong says. Dostie and his lawyer, Tod Eiken, had no comment about Armstrong’s allegations or the case. Armstrong’s suit is ongoing, a grinding process that began in October 2000.

Perhaps the only thing more prolific than mold is the number of insurance claims demanding its removal. Insurance companies know a loser when they see it — some are now writing mold exclusion clauses into their homeowner policies. Like Armstrong, Cannon’s complaint isn’t with an insurance company that won’t cover the cost to remediate the mold problem. It’s with the homebuilder. Neither plan-tiff is eager to have the builder make repairs since they were responsible for the original construction.

Armstrong says the cost of suing forces her to live in her poisonous home. Cannon hopes somehow to salvage her home. It’s her family’s biggest investment. Should it become worthless, its effects will be felt until the day she dies. That Cannon no longer lives in her home doesn’t mean she’s free from the mold’s grasp.

“I think about my house constantly. It’s on my mind when I wake up, and it’s on my mind when I go to bed,†she says, “I just can’t live there.†Of course, not every new home is poorly built. “I’m just saying to builders that they should do a better job,†Lipsey argues. Homebuyers in the area should be prepared to do battle with fungus — and know that in most cases, it’s a winnable war.

“If moisture gets in the house in Northeast Florida, you’re going to have mold,†he says. New or old, check for cracks in the foundation, or the home’s “exterior envelope.†Because mold thrives in moist, hot air, keeping thermostats at 72 degrees, and the humidity at 50 degrees or less, will stem its growth.

At the first sighting of wallpaper buckling, water spots on the ceiling or black spots along the baseboard, call an expert. Lipsey says a bustling reme-diation industry has sprung up in Northeast Florida coinciding with increased media coverage of the fungus and its potential effects.

“Make sure it’s a real expert,†Lipsey says, “not somebody [who] used to be [with] a carpet cleaning company that’s going to sell you an ozone generator.†Such generators, he says, actually make matters worse. Costs to eliminate mold do vary, but unscrupulous companies, preying on ignorance and fear, are only too happy to charge exorbitant fees to make the mold go away. Sometimes, Lipsey says, remediation isn’t even necessary or can be as simple as unplugging a clogged condensation line.

As a child, Lipsey says he used to read the encyclopedia, delving from the tombs of Egypt to the heights of the Himalayas. He’s always been inquisitive and still is. What he really enjoys is figuring out what’s causing people to become sick — and how to help them. Armstrong says Lipsey is one of the few professionals she knows who’s truly concerned. Her struggle with spores led her to become an outspoken advocate against poor-quality construction and lax home inspections in Northeast Florida. Today Armstrong is well known to others around the country battling the fungus. “Dr. Lipsey will post his whereabouts on toxic house chat boards so people will know where he’s going to be,†she says. By doing so, homeowners desperate for help, and often for money, can save paying him travel expenses to investigate their homes.

For a time in the early ’60s, Lipsey served in the Peace Corps and worked as a journalist at the Borneo Bulletin. The reporter in him says there is hope in the battle against mold. Some kinds of mold pose a very real threat to people, he says, but that’s only half the story. “What the media needs to do is to tell everybody that there’s mold everywhere,†Lipsey says. “But only 20 percent of the mold species found in Florida homes can be harmful.â€

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