By Karen Elias
Back in 2013 Energy Transfer, a partner of Sonoco, began laying the groundwork for what would become the Mariner East II pipeline. The pipeline would travel west to east, carrying natural gas liquids from the Marcellus fields of western Pennsylvania to Marcus Hook, near Philadelphia, where the gas would be exported to Scotland to make plastics.
Early on, the company was able to secure buy-outs from property owners whose land lay in the pipeline’s path. When buy-outs didn’t work, the company invoked eminent domain and claimed the land as their own, arguing that such confiscation was justified in the name of the “greater public good.” Neither strategy could persuade the Gerhart family to comply. After they bought their original property in Huntingdon County in 1982, they entered a statewide conservation program to make sure their 27 forested acres would never be developed.
Now they were in the direct path of the Mariner East II pipeline.
Ellen Gerhart, a retired public school teacher, did her research and began voicing concerns. The natural gas liquids to be transported were essentially a mix of ethane, butane, and propane. Because they would be placed under pressure, these highly volatile chemicals could explode if a pipeline leaked. She knew there had been numerous fatal accidents over the past several years involving natural gas pipelines that had ruptured, and that residents had died. What would that mean for families like hers, where the pipeline was only feet from their front door?
Ellen also learned that Energy Transfer, a company with one of the worst safety records in the industry, was involved in building and operating the Dakota Access pipeline and was responsible for the violence and human rights violations leveled against activists at Standing Rock.
In 2016, Energy Transfer was granted the right of eminent domain by a local judge, which gave the company permission to come onto the Gerhart’s property and begin clear-cutting. Given the attachment they felt for their land and the concern for their neighboring communities and the larger environment, Ellen and her daughter Elise decided, when the men appeared with chainsaws, that they had but one choice: to challenge the pipeline construction on their property.
Inspired by the resistance at Standing Rock, the Gerharts sent out a call for help, and soon a number of activists from around the country had responded, turning the property into Camp White Pine, a resistance site in the ongoing battle against fossil fuel encroachment and extraction being waged across the country. By February of that year, tree-sits in the form of sturdy, protective platforms had been built into a network of connected pine trees and were being occupied on a regular basis. The tree-sits successfully prevented construction for several years.
Although Energy Transfer began clear-cutting on the Gerhart’s property in 2016, the DEP did not grant the permits allowing them to begin construction until the next year. In the interim, the company secured Writs of Possession that essentially made the Gerharts “renters” on their own land, with Energy Transfer serving as their landlord. Thus, in one fell legal swoop, the Gerharts lost their rights as homeowners and became potentially criminal “trespassers” on their own property.
During the time that Camp White Pine was in operation, the protesters became targets of surveillance, harassment, and infiltration; they were also subject to frequent threats of murder and rape. Energy Transfer’s security detail, with apparent permission from the police, used intrusive surveillance tactics to intimidate the activists. Helicopters and drones would conduct frequent fly-overs; once a helicopter came so close the plane shook the tree-sit that a protester was occupying. Elise and her fellow activists were followed and had photos of themselves, as well as personal information, posted on Facebook.
When Ellen warned the workers that they were getting too close to the tree her daughter was sitting in, she was arrested, ironically, for “creating a hazardous situation.” In jail, because she refused to answer the intake questions (thinking she had the right to remain silent), she was placed in solitary confinement on “suicide watch” (even though she wasn’t suicidal) and denied access to a phone, to legal counsel, and to medical care; it wasn’t until three days after her arrest that she was finally given access to an attorney. The next day, her family posted bail and she was released.
Later, during pipeline construction, Ellen was again arrested, charged with violating the injunction to stay off the easement, and with preventing the workers from being able to work. She served two months of a seven-month sentence at the Centre County Correctional Facility. This time, she declared a hunger strike and was again placed in solitary, under 24-hour video surveillance, and denied access to her attorney. “Medical care” was provided in the form of a psychiatrist who was convinced she was anorexic. She finally agreed to eat in exchange for being allowed to see her attorney. When it came time for parole, she was asked to adhere to a list of prohibitions, including a hand-written sentence added at the end that read, “Will not interfere with pipeline construction.” When she asked what constituted “interference,” she received no answer. Ellen didn’t know if attending protests, doing interviews, or writing editorials could be considered “interference,” and she refused to sign.
Energy Transfer completed the pipeline while she was in jail.
Ellen recalls, “There was also a time, when I was on my way home from Harrisburg after a rally, that I got a call from the Huntingdon Area Agency on Aging. When I went in, one of the consultants told me they’d received a call from someone who was concerned about my mental health, because I was seen wandering around in the woods. I asked her if the call was from Energy Transfer, but she said she couldn’t reveal who made the call. I told her we were challenging the pipeline construction on our property, and besides that, ever since 1982, when we bought the property, the family would often walk through the 27 wooded acres we owned. Me being in the woods was nothing new.”
Despite finding herself facing a formidable opponent, Ellen was steadfast in her resistance. Even after the trees had all been cleared, she sat down next to the easement where the pipeline was being constructed and read Shakespeare’s Macbeth to the workers. She wanted them to hear the part about how the trees of Birnam Wood rise up in the end to ensure the king’s defeat.
***
In August, 2022, Energy Transfer was convicted of 48 “environmental crimes against our natural resources” committed in the construction of Mariner East II. The company pleaded no contest to charges that they had repeatedly contaminated Pennsylvania’s lakes, rivers, streams and groundwater with thousands of gallons of drilling fluid and had repeatedly failed to report these spills.
According to recent reports, Energy Transfer generated $15.5 billion in adjusted earnings in 2024. The company continues to build pipelines.
In summing up, Ellen cautions homeowners to be wary when faced with companies claiming eminent domain and insisting on the signing of Non-Disclosure Agreements, and she advises seeking legal support to help read contracts and resist being pressured. She came away from the experience largely feeling grateful to have been able to work with people who are truly concerned about protecting the environment.
“I can understand,” she says, “why people choose not to fight, though. Fighting takes a toll, physically, mentally, emotionally, and financially. To this day, I dislike the sound of construction equipment and chainsaws. If I hear a helicopter or low-flying plane, I feel the need to go outside to see where it’s going. I know that it’s affected Elise also.
Rural Progressive Voices 