ALMOST ONE YEAR AGO, a furor swept through Boston City Hall. On April 24, 2001, more than 300 employees — roughly 30 percent of the building’s workforce — felt angry, frustrated, or worried enough to sign a petition charging that City Hall is a "sick trap" — a "toxic wasteland," rife with mold, bacteria, and other pollutants causing illnesses at a rate so startling that it cannot be chalked up to mere coincidence. The petition was circulated from department to department; its signers represented a broad base of employees from a number of agencies — including the Office of the Parking Clerk, Elderly Commission, Appeals Board, City Clerk, Boston Redevelopment Authority, and Retirement Board, to name a few — located throughout the municipal headquarters.

"Are you tired of working in a ‘SICK OFFICE’?" the petition began. It went on to blame the City Hall environment for causing dizziness, sore throats, lung infections, pneumonia, and even cancer. In a tone seething with anger, the petition declared that "the employees of City Hall refuse to cower any more" and "stand united in confronting" the increasingly apparent sick-building situation. It demanded that Mayor Thomas Menino and his administration respond, giving employees the "right to be included in the actions taken."

The appeal was delivered to Mayor Menino and the Boston City Council, where it managed to gain attention. On two occasions, councilors filed orders calling for public hearings so employees could voice concerns. Last December, some eight months after the petition surfaced, the council’s public-health committee convened its first hearing "to discuss concerns raised by employees about sick-building syndrome." Attendance proved scanty. "We didn’t have anyone from City Hall come," says City Councilor Mickey Roache, who chaired the health committee at the time. But Roache attributed the workers’ absence to the holidays; he filed a second order February 13, and another hearing was held on March 26. Again, the turnout was slim. Of the eight people who testified, only five were city employees. All but two worked for Boston Public Schools (see "Airing Grievances," page 22). After two hearings thus far, it appears that people, with just a few noteworthy exceptions, are afraid to speak out about this issue.

That virtually no one from City Hall has come forward to testify perplexes councilors, given that 300 people signed last spring's petition. City Councilor Chuck Turner, who sits on the health committee, admits he has been "awaiting testimony from City Hall employees." He adds, "It’s strange that people, by and large, didn’t respond."

Administration officials view the sudden quiet as par for the course, since, they contend, there isn’t a problem at City Hall. Basic City Services chief Michael Galvin, who oversees building maintenance for City Hall, defends the integrity of the structure, which was built in 1969. "This is not a sick building," he says. "If it were, I wouldn’t be here." Menino spokesperson Peter Nagle suggests the silence indicates satisfaction. "People are happy with the progress," he claims, referring to three city-funded environmental reports, all of which give the facility a clean bill of health. "That the city has undertaken three studies shows that it’s willing to address [employee] concerns."

Maybe so. But that’s not the impression you get from the few people who will discuss the issue. Privately, city employees and officials paint a picture of ongoing health complaints and structural issues. Today’s silence, they say, may mean many things. It may mean people didn’t know about the hearings. It may mean they doubt the council has the power to fix things. Or it may mean they’re afraid to criticize the Menino administration — particularly at a time of fiscal crisis, when budget cuts and job layoffs loom on the horizon. One City Hall insider even speculates that employees "just walked away from this issue" — not because their ailments abated, but because they "could be given a hard time" for blowing the whistle. The insider adds, "I can’t really blame employees. Who needs the grief?"

COUNCILOR ROACHE, now vice-chair of the city’s public-health committee, can’t quite shake his bewilderment over the silence at City Hall. Even before the petition circulated last April, Roache had received concerned visitors in his fifth-floor office. They came to him individually — past and current City Hall workers — often with folders full of medical documentation. Each was convinced that illnesses — running the gamut from sinusitis to nosebleeds to heart palpitations — can be linked to the municipal building.

"I thought the issue was important," Roache says. He set out to gather information and even conducted interviews with complaining staffers outside the City Hall building — so they’d feel comfortable. After several confidential meetings, Roache was convinced that "people have been sick for a long time, and their complaints have fallen on deaf ears." His suspicions were only confirmed by the April 2001 petition. But once the council took up the appeal, employees fell silent. "No one wants to talk now," Roache says.

Former city councilor Peggy Davis-Mullen puzzles over the conspicuous silence as well. Last spring, petitioners sought out the outspoken Davis-Mullen, who was then running against Menino in the 2001 mayoral elections. They urged her to tour City Hall. What she found there troubles her to this day. "Respiratory ailments, headaches, nausea," she recounts, ticking off a list of employee sicknesses. In the Parking Clerk office, workers agonized over the sky-high rate of cancer. Their counterparts in the Elderly Commission worried about nosebleeds. In nearly every division, Davis-Mullen claims, "People talked about symptoms." The tour inspired her to file the first order calling for hearings on sick-building syndrome. She adds, "There’s no way all these people could make this up" — or, for that matter, be cured.