Facing hog farms head-on: Scarlene Brock, right, and other worshippers at New Brown's Chapel Baptist Church in Browntown often have to cope with hog odor permeating their services. (N&O photo by Robert Willett)

At 11 o'clock sharp on a Sunday morning, the choir marched into the sanctuary of New Brown's Chapel Baptist Church. And the stench of 4,800 hogs rolled right in with them.

The odor hung oppressively in the vestibule, clinging to church robes, winter coats and fancy hats. It sent stragglers scurrying indoors from the parking lot, some holding their noses. Sharekka Leveston, 4, pulled her fleecy white sweater over her face as she ran.

"It stinks!" she cried.

It was another Sunday morning in Browntown, a Greene County hamlet that's home to about 200 people and one large hog farm. Like many of its counterparts throughout Eastern North Carolina, the town hasn't been the same since the hogs moved in a couple of years ago.

To some, each new gust from the south is a reminder of wrongs committed for which there is no redress. "We've basically given up," said New Brown's Chapel pastor, the Rev. Charles White Jr.

In scores of other rural neighborhoods down east, the talk is the same:

There's something new in the air, and people are furious about it.

Hog odor is by far the most emotional issue facing the pork industry -- and the most divisive. Growers assert their right to earn a living; neighbors say they have a right to odor-free air. Hog company officials, meanwhile, accuse activists of exaggerating the problems to stir up opposition.

"They're jealous because they're not involved, and they see their neighbors being successful," said Wendell H. Murphy, founder of Murphy Family Farms Inc.

The debate is about to shift to another level. New research just being completed is helping scientists understand exactly what it is people are smelling, how it spreads and how much of it is out there.

In a partial vindication for communities such as Browntown, the early results confirm what people's noses are telling them: The odors are real and sometimes quite powerful.

But the latest research also shows -- as farmers have long contended -- that the odors are intermittent, varying according to weather and wind. In some cases, odors are a problem only few times a week.

Dr. Susan Schiffman, a Duke University odor expert who has done extensive research on the problem, said odors tend to be less severe during the daytime, and on many days they aren't noticeable at all.

"Sometimes you don't find it at all. Other times you go there and it's just horrible," Schiffman said. "And that seems to bother people more than a constant odor."

One town's ordeal

In a village as small as Browntown, virtually everyone has their own "stink story" to tell. Lisa Hines' starts before dawn with a raspy call for help from her 10-year-old son, Jazz.

Jazz has suffered from asthma since age 4. Two years ago, when a large hog farm opened directly across the road from the family's home, his condition grew dramatically worse.

"There have been times when I've had to take him to the emergency room two or three times in a week," said Hines, 34. "I'll hear him call out, "Help me, Help me!' in a whispery voice, because he can't get his breath. He'll be on his knees beside the bed with his eyes rolled back in his head."

Hines' doctor says the boy's worsened condition is directly related to the odors from the hog farm. A new breathing machine and a humidifier have cut down on the number of attacks, but Jazz still has trouble on days when the odor is particularly bad, his mom says.

For other residents, hog odor has simply become an inescapable part of their daily routine. It's usually heaviest about 5 a.m., when Lisa Hines leaves the house for her factory job. It seeps into her car and follows her on her commute to work. It clings to her hair and clothes during the day. And it awaits her when she returns home in the afternoon.

"It makes me so mad," she said. "The owner lives miles away from here, and he can go home and smell apples and cinnamon if wants to. But we have no choice."

The owner of the farm, Billy Dail of Snow Hill, did not respond to requests to be interviewed. He was defended by some neighbors, including Lena Brown. She described Dail as "a real nice man" who has tried to keep the odor problem to a minimum.

"If a man owns property, he has a right to do whatever he wants," she said.

Other residents, though, say they are so upset they have considered moving.

Rev. White says he has presided over church picnics that were nearly wrecked by hog odor.

"If the odor was that strong all the time, I believe it would drive people away," he said.

On a warm December morning, retired farmer John William Brown shot the hog farm a glare from his usual observation post, a chair under an old oak tree in his front yard. The odor was mild enough for sitting outside, but a cloud of black flies buzzed around the yard and porch.

It's hard to imagine a type of development that could have a more profound impact on Browntown, a working-class community of blacks and people of mixed race that dates back to the Civil War era. The hog barns are a few hundred yards from the main thoroughfare. No one in Browntown works on the farm, yet nearly everyone is affected by it.

"This community is very old," said Brown, who has lived most of his 80 years in Browntown, "and that man has done messed it up."

New clues from science

It's hard to find neutral territory on the issue of hog odor.

Farmers will stand up at meetings and deny that their farms are causing problems. Many hog producers believe the odor problem is more perceived than real, and that farmers are victims of a kind of mass hysteria.

Neighborhood groups, for their part, have occasionally indulged in theatrics -- wearing surgical masks around the house, for example -- as well as hyperbole. One story popular among hog producers involves a community that complained loudly about the stench from a new hog farm -- only to learn that the farm hadn't yet been stocked with animals.

A referee is about to step into this fray. Scientific studies from Duke and N.C. State universities are helping sort out the facts about an issue in which measurements are inherently difficult.

Much of the new data comes from Duke's Schiffman, who used sophisticated equipment to capture, measure and analyze odors from hog farms. Other findings were compiled by NCSU's Swine Odor Task Force, which was appointed by the General Assembly in 1993 to find solutions for the odor problem.

The reports show that odor doesn't necessarily disperse as it leaves hog barns; in fact, depending on weather, it can be just as potent at 1,500 feet as it is just outside the barn. That's significant because most regulations aimed at protecting residents from odor are based on minimum buffer zones -- in North Carolina's case, 750 feet.

The Swine Odor Task Force, in its preliminary report, suggested that buffer zones be site-specific, taking into account prevailing winds and other factors.

"In many locations," the report said, "this will mean situating lagoons and buildings at least one mile from communities, businesses or schools."

Odor and mood

From the moment retired tobacco farmer Thomas "Pick" Robbins first pokes his head out of the house in the morning, he knows instinctively what kind of day he's going to have.

If the wind is blowing from the north or west, Robbins' morning is likely to go just fine. But if a southerly breeze picks up the odor of the 4,800 hogs upwind from his farm -- well, let's just say you might want to reschedule your visit.

"It just makes him kind of ill," says Robbins' wife, Eunice. "You can see how it changes his mood."

For Robbins, it was irritating enough to have a hog farm move in across the field from the small brick house he built in 1956 in Sharpsburg. Now research shows that hog odor itself can have a powerful effect on mood.

One of the goals of Schiffman's research was to learn whether exposure to hog odors affected mental health. After two separate studies involving scores of test subjects of all ages and backgrounds, the answer is a resounding "yes."

People living near large hog farms experienced "more tension, more depression, more anger, less vigor, more fatigue and more confusion" than their counterparts who weren't exposed to hog odor, said Schiffman, who plans to publish her data this spring.

One explanation for the odor-mood connection, Schiffman says, is that the part of the brain that processes odor is also closely tied with emotion. Odors, both pleasant and unpleasant, evoke powerful emotional responses in people.

Hog odor, a byproduct of hog manure, evokes a particularly strong, visceral response, she said.

"It's not just that it's an odor," she said, "it's a taboo odor."

A search for solutions

The swine industry already possesses the technology to virtually eliminate the odor problem. The problem is the cost.

The industry has spent large sums of money to define the problem and discover practical, affordable solutions. The N.C. Pork Producers Association has agreed to pay Schiffman about $350,000 over two years to find ways to elminate or reduce hog-farm odor. A joint industry-NCSU project also evaluating a number of products designed to reduce odor.

They include feed additives, lagoon covers, filters, mist-sprayers and a range of deodorizing chemicals that are added to lagoons.

The Swine Odor Task Force, which spent nearly two years researching the issue, is completing a report that will include dozens of recommendations on curbing odor, from keeping barns cleaner to possibly increasing the buffer zone between farms and houses at some sites.

"There is no silver bullet in this report," said Neil Cauddle, a research editor who helped compile the report, "and no guarantee that we can eliminate odor at every site."

Murphy, chairman of Murphy Family Farms, said that while the hog industry is extremely sensitive to the odor problem, he thinks the industry's economic importance should be considered in the equation.

"Should we expect the odor to never drift off the site to the neighbor's house? If so, then we're out of place," he said. "We all have to have inconvenience once in a while for the benefits that come with it."

Other industry officials say they're confident that a solution will ultimately be found. In the meantime, they're concerned that governments will force them to adopt costly measures that may or may not be effective.

"There are a lot of bright people working on this, and the momentum is moving toward a solution," said W. Robert McLeod, corporate agronomist for Carroll's Foods. "That solution may be something we haven't even thought about."

But Pick Robbins doesn't have time to wait.

About two years ago, the Sharpsburg farmer was diagnosed with bone cancer and given six months to live. The disease appears to be in remission, but whatever happens, Robbins now faces the very real prospect of smelling hog odor for the rest of his life.

"People don't know what we go through," Robbins said. "Some days I can't even walk out to my barn without feeling like I want to vomit.

"It ain't fit for a dog to live like this," he said.

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