For the first time in more than three years, Marsha Jackson shed tears of joy outside her southeast Oak Cliff home.
On Friday, she sat in a folding chair on the dirt road in front of her house of 25 years, flanked by her daughter, granddaughter and supporters.
Jackson, 62, bobbed her head and briefly wiped an eye hidden behind dark sunglasses as a live piano rendition of Bill Withers’ “Lovely Day” filled the air.
A pop-up concert of mostly classical music staged on a converted box truck was held in the neighborhood, which residents had long felt was forgotten by the city.
It was to celebrate the eviction of an unwanted neighbor behind Jackson’s house: an estimated six-story-tall pile of abandoned, ground-up roofing debris widely known as Shingle Mountain.
Removal of the toxic waste, which totaled nearly 139,000 tons, began in December and had been expected to take until March.
But Jackson got an early gift. Quincy Roberts, owner of Roberts Trucking, which the city hired in the fall to haul off the debris, removed the remaining shingles right before the area was hit by the winter storm that left many without power and water.
Environmental testing, such as air monitoring, is continuing there.
Crews worked up to 12 hours a day to move the waste to a city landfill less than a mile away, Roberts said. During the work, he said, it was common at the site to see glistening in the air akin to glitter because of fiberglass from the shingles.
Roberts said his and his employees’ skin itched, and at one point after working at the site without a mask on, the owner said, he temporarily lost his voice — which he attributes to his inhaling the particles in the air.
Those are the same symptoms Jackson and her immediate neighbors, a total of three households with residents of color on a dead-end road off South Central Expressway, had said they had experienced for years.
Former pile, future park?
Shingle Mountain dates to 2017, when Cabe Chadick, from CCR Equity Holdings One — the company that owns the land — leased it to Chris Ganter of Blue Star Recycling as a place to grind shingles into asphalt.
Jackson started raising concerns with the city in January 2018 as the shingles piled up behind her home, violating city and state law for being placed in a floodplain. But it wasn’t until The Dallas Morning News reported on the shingles almost a year later that public officials took notice.
Blue Star Recycling filed for bankruptcy last year, leaving behind the shuttered recycling operation and the shingles. By the time work began to remove the debris, Shingle Mountain could be seen by drivers half a mile away on Interstate 45.
Lawsuits against Blue Star Recycling, the company that leased the site, have been filed by Jackson, the company’s insurance provider and the city of Dallas. Jackson is also pressing a lawsuit against the city.
A state court approved a settlement in December in a joint suit from the city and state against the landowner that called for payouts of $55,000 to the state and $1 million to the city.
A judge ordered the city to start removing Shingle Mountain within 60 days after getting its settlement money, court documents show. The city also is required to do an environmental assessment of the site within six months of the removal of the roofing debris.
The city has the option of reclaiming the site for free, according to the settlement.
Jackson, who has since created her own environmental nonprofit, Southern Sector Rising, said she and her neighbors hope the city acquires the site and turns it into a park.
Playing a part
Jackson said it was Roberts who called her Thursday to say the shingles were gone.
“I just felt relieved,” she said. “There were days when I never thought it would happen.”
Roberts then asked for an hour of her time the following day.
The trucking company owner is from southeast Dallas and his business is based there.
He also happens to be a classically trained opera singer and an executive board member of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra.
Music can often bring about healing, he said, and the neighborhood needed it.
Roberts said he asked the symphony president, Kim Noltemy, for help providing musicians. Two violinists were chosen to perform for Jackson and her neighbors.
The 16-foot box truck that acted as a mobile stage is called the Concert Truck and is the brainchild of two Baltimore-based pianists who were in the middle of a three-month residency with the symphony orchestra. They also joined in Friday.
Three of Roberts’ friends, two of whom are also pianists and a third who is also a trained opera singer, signed on as well.
What happened in Jackson’s neighborhood was “a real injustice,” Roberts said. He said he was glad to play a part in healing the residents.
“I just wanted to see a smile on her face,” Roberts said of Jackson. “And I got that today, and it means a whole lot to me.”
After Lawrence Brownlee, Roberts’ fraternity brother, sang “All Night, All Day (Angels Watching Over Me),” Jackson rose from her seat, hugged Roberts and thanked him.
He’d done more for her and her neighbors than the city had, she said.
“You deserve it, Ms. Jackson,” Roberts said.
Jackson said she was looking forward to being outside her house more often without worrying about her health.
She said she was also still waiting on a personal apology from someone at City Hall.
