One of Sen. Frank Lautenberg’s last bills could represent the best chance to update the nation’s chemical safety regulations by requiring proof that a chemical is safe before it can be used.

But the legislation is drawing deep skepticism from some environmental groups and state officials who fear it could actually weaken safety standards.

Lautenberg, a New Jersey Democrat who died Monday of viral pneumonia at age 89, worked for decades on environmental legislation, including a 1986 law that created the Environmental Protection Agency’s Toxics Release Inventory, a database that allows members of the public to track pollution.

Lautenberg’s newest proposal, the Chemical Safety Improvement Act, was the product of a compromise with Republican Sen. David Vitter of Louisiana. Introduced May 22, it won the endorsement of nine Senate Republicans, along with the influential American Chemistry Council, a trade group.

 A council spokesman called it “a balanced, comprehensive approach to updating the law, which will give consumers more confidence in the safety of chemicals, while at the same time encouraging innovation, economic growth and job creation by American manufacturers.”

An earlier, stricter chemical safety bill — essentially unchanged from legislation Lautenberg had put forward in each Congress since 2005 — failed to draw Republican support.

Lautenberg’s latest bill has been referred to the Senate Committee on the Environment and Public Works, which has not yet scheduled it for a hearing.

Even before the film Erin Brockovich depicted the true-life plight of a California town with poisoned water, state scientist John Morgan was calling claims of a cancer cluster there pure fiction.

For the past 18 years, the Loma Linda University professor, who also works as an epidemiologist for the California Department of Public Health, has tenaciously tried to debunk the notion that families in the desert community of Hinkley were suffering from a high rate of cancer after Pacific Gas & Electric Co. dumped tons of a contaminant into an unlined wastewater pond.

Morgan has kept his research up to date and even today presents it at scientific conferences. His message is not subtle. At a conference in Maryland last year, he popped up one slide comparing Brockovich to a delusional Don Quixote and another mocking the Academy Awards for honoring the film “in spite of the absence of evidence of a cancer excess in Hinkley.”

Morgan doesn’t hide his disapproval of a recent ruling by the California Environmental Protection Agency that drinking hexavalent chromium, the rust inhibitor that PG&E dumped in Hinkley, can cause cancer. The agency based its ruling on rodent studies, but as Morgan says, “We’re not big rats.”

BATON ROUGE, La. — Shirley Bowman noticed the smell after 8 a.m. on June 14, 2012, her 61st birthday. In Baton Rouge, where the petrochemical industry dominates the landscape, foul odors resembling burnt rubber or propane are perennial. But this odor, caustic and potent, seemed especially foul — “like some sort of chemical,” she recalls.

Bowman found her daughter crying over a migraine. Her neighbors experienced headaches, dizziness, nausea. One family reported a toddler son coughing up phlegm; another, an elderly father collapsing on the floor. She soon suspected the cause: A leak of “steam-cracked” naphtha, a liquid mixture of volatile petrochemicals, occurring at the ExxonMobil Baton Rouge petrochemical complex a half mile away.

Four hours earlier, Exxon operators detected an odor in the East area tank field, and discovered a “bleeder” valve on Tank 801 dripping naphtha into a sewer. The leaky valve dumped 411 barrels into the underground system, company records filed with the state show. The liquid traveled a mile before pouring into a separator pit, vaporizing along the way, and releasing tens of thousands of pounds of benzene and other toxic chemicals into the air.

What happened that day in Baton Rouge is one thread of a larger story about the often toxic, sometimes hidden releases emanating from oil refineries, chemical plants and other industrial facilities along the chemical corridor of Louisiana and Texas. Those unplanned emissions — known in regulatory parlance as “upsets” — are occurring more often than industry admits or government knows, according to more than 50 interviews with regulators, activists, plant representatives, workers and residents, and an analysis of tens of thousands of records by the Center for Public Integrity.

Nothing in the law allows for the invisible danger from “upset” emissions to persist, but legislation and reality often collide.

On the contrary, the federal Clean Air Act was meant to reduce harmful emissions by requiring continuous pollution limits for industrial facilities. But since its passage in 1970, state and federal regulators have created loopholes involving accidental releases — loopholes that have for years been challenged, re-written and bogged down in bureaucracy.

Nearly from the start, regulators began waiving pollution standards when equipment unexpectedly malfunctioned and had to be shut down, started up and maintained.

By 2004, 29 states had devised what University of Texas-Austin researcher Kelly Haragan calls “a flat-out exemption” for such emissions. The Environmental Protection Agency offered similar immunity for those involving hazardous air pollutants.

“There is a big caveat here,” acknowledges Adam Kushner, who headed the EPA’s air enforcement unit until last year. “They didn’t necessarily count against your compliance picture.”

This murkiness began fading after environmental groups sued the EPA in 2003, alleging its exemption violated clean-air laws. By December 2008, a federal court agreed, vacating the language. The agency has lagged at fully closing its loophole; earlier this year, it unveiled a proposed rule that would require facilities in any state to follow pollution limits during periods of start-up, shut down and maintenance.

For anyone anxious about toxic chemicals in the environment, Sunday marked a dubious milestone.

It has been three years since the “chemicals of concern” list landed at the White House Office of Management and Budget. The list, which the Environmental Protection Agency wants to put out for public comment, includes bisphenol A, a chemical used in polycarbonate plastic water bottles and other products; eight phthalates, which are used in flexible plastics; and certain flame-retardant compounds called polybrominated diphenyl ethers, or PBDEs.

The EPA wants to highlight these chemicals because “they may present an unreasonable risk to human health and/or the environment,” the agency says.

But any such listing must first be vetted by the OMB’s Office of Information and Regulatory Affairs, OIRA.

The EPA proposal arrived at OIRA on May 12, 2010. There it remains — a symbol, some say, of a broken regulatory system.

“It’s far past time for the OMB to conclude its review of the EPA’s proposal to list chemicals of concern,” Sen. Frank Lautenberg, D-N.J., said in a statement to the Center for Public Integrity. “Americans deserve access to information about the chemicals found in products throughout their homes that might pose a risk to their health.”

In a statement, OMB spokeswoman Ari Isaacman Astles wrote, “The Administration is committed to chemical safety and when it comes to complex safety rules, it is critical that we get them right.”

The Environmental Protection Agency announced new safeguards Friday to prevent conflicts of interest or bias from tainting its science, including efforts to assess the dangers of toxic chemicals.

The reforms, targeting scientific review panels selected for EPA by outside contractors, follow a Center for Public Integrity-PBS NewsHour examination revealing ties between scientists and industry on a panel reviewing hexavalent chromium, a compound commonly found in drinking water that may cause cancer.

In that case, three panelists who urged the EPA to delay potentially stricter drinking water standards had been expert witnesses for industry in hexavalent chromium litigation. The scientists denied any conflict and said their input was based on research, but the case study revealed how the EPA is unaware of potential conflicts on its own panels.

Under its own process, the Center reported, the agency turns over the job of selecting panelists to private companies, which handle conflict-of-interest reviews in secret. All information the vendors collect, including financial disclosure forms, is “considered private and non-disclosable to EPA or outside entities except as required by law,” the EPA policy says.

The changes announced Friday add more layers of review — and provide more public disclosure — to the process.

Environmental watchdogs, who had questioned EPA's existing process, say the steps are overdue.

“It brings transparency to a process that wasn’t there before,” said Francesca Grifo, a senior policy fellow and expert on scientific integrity at the Union of Concerned Scientists.

The Texas fertilizer plant that blew up on April 17, killing at least 15 people, appears to have been claiming an arcane exemption that allowed it to avoid targeted workplace inspections and safety requirements and enter a “streamlined prevention program” with environmental regulators, a government spokesman confirmed.

The owner of the facility near Waco, West Chemical and Fertilizer, apparently determined that the exemption — a few words advocated by industry groups, including The Fertilizer Institute, as part of a 20-year-old regulation — applied. In the wake of the deadly blast in West, Texas, last month, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration is investigating whether this claim was justified, an OSHA spokesman said.

By claiming the exemption, the company became subject to other, less stringent requirements and avoided certain OSHA and Environmental Protection Agency rules.

West Chemical and Fertilizer did not respond to requests for comment.

The interlocking web of company-claimed exceptions has implications beyond a small town in Central Texas. Sites across a host of industries housing large amounts of dangerous chemicals could claim they sell primarily to end users and avoid stricter regulation, though the number of facilities invoking this exemption is unclear. A representative for a company storing toxic chlorine gas, for example, wrote to OSHA in 2005 to clarify that the exemption applied to the site.

“It’s a major flaw,” said Bryan Haywood, an Ohio consultant who advises companies on the safe use of dangerous substances. “This incident’s going to get a lot of people’s interest into how people are squirming out of [stricter requirements].”

Federal regulators today announced new measures to protect 2.5 million temporary workers in America amid evidence such laborers are hurt more often than regular employees.

In December, the Center for Public Integrity and WBEZ/Chicago Public Media highlighted the case of temporary worker Carlos Centeno, who was badly burned in a Chicago-area factory in November 2011 and died three weeks later. Occupational Safety and Health Administration records obtained by the Center concluded that Centeno’s bosses refused to call 911 as his skin peeled and he screamed for help.

OSHA said today it had sent a memo to regional administrators “directing field inspectors to assess whether employers who use temporary workers are complying with their responsibilities” under the law.

“Inspectors will use a newly created code in their information system to denote when temporary workers are exposed to safety and health violations,” the agency said in a press release. “Additionally, they will assess whether temporary workers received required training in a language and vocabulary they could understand.”

As the Center/WBEZ story noted, recent research indicates temporary workers are more prone to injury than permanent ones due to often-subpar safety training and the feeling among some employers that temps are expendable. Last year, for example, researchers who studied nearly 4,000 amputations among workers in Illinois found that five of the 10 employers with the highest number of incidents were temporary staffing agencies.

As investigators unravel what caused a Texas fertilizer plant explosion last week that killed 14, the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reported today that 4,693 workers died on the job in 2011, three more than in 2010.

The fatal injury rate for 2011, the most recent year with complete data, was 3.5 deaths per 100,000 full-time equivalent workers. That is down slightly from 2010.

According to the BLS, 1,937 workers died in transportation incidents; 710 through “contact with objects and equipment”; 681 from “falls, slips [and] trips”; and 419 from “exposure to harmful substances or environments.”

“The Texas plant explosion is the kind of catastrophe that really grabs the public’s attention,” said Tom O’Connor, executive director of the National Council for Occupational Safety and Health, an umbrella organization for a network of nonprofit groups around the country. “But that’s about the same number of people who die every day in the U.S., in ways that are much quieter and hidden from public view.”

On average, 13 workers a day are killed on the job in the United States and many more are injured. On April 17, the same day the fertilizer plant blew up in West, Texas, a dozen contract workers  were injured when a fire broke out at the ExxonMobil refinery in Beaumont, about 300 miles to the southeast; seven suffered severe burns.

This year, for the first time, the BLS fatality report has a separate category for contract workers, who may not be afforded the same protections as regular employees. Five hundred forty-two died in 2011, the bureau found, accounting for 12 percent of all fatal injuries. Texas had the highest number of contractor deaths – 56 – followed by Florida (51) and California (42).