Environmentalist Susan Collins was delighted when she learned New York is looking to expand its nickel-deposit law to include plastic and glass bottles containing juice, coffee and tea concoctions, plus sports and energy drinks. A redemption reward would ensure more of the materials are reused, she said.
“Coca-Cola, Pepsi and other big beverage companies have committed to using more recycled plastic in their bottles, but they need an adequate supply, and New York would be an important source,” said Collins, president of the Container Recycling Institute, a nonprofit advocacy group. “You’re talking about billions fewer bottles ending up in landfills or oceans.”
As a bonus, recycled materials from the city are of unusually high quality. That’s because plastic, glass, metal and paper products must be separated from regular trash before they’re carted away, Collins noted. The result is less contamination—which makes it easier to find buyers of the raw materials.
“It’s a big change,” Collins said of the expanded bottle-deposit bill that Gov. Andrew Cuomo introduced last month as part of his budget proposal. “New York is to be commended for taking this step.”
It’s fair to say Avi Kaner doesn’t share her enthusiasm. The co-owner of the Morton Williams supermarket chain isn’t relishing the thought of folks bringing in a lot more bottles and cans to his West 57th Street location, where he spent $10 million to turn the ground floor and basement into retail space.
“We keep this place nice and clean, in fitting with the neighborhood,” said Kaner, whose store is across the street from One57, a Billionaires Row apartment tower. “The last thing we need is people bringing more of their garbage here.”
At Kaner’s store, people bringing bottles and cans to redeem the deposit wait in the checkout line with other customers. Their returns—a maximum of 240 items per person daily—are stored near a street-facing window before they’re stashed in the basement for up to two weeks. It’s not an optimal use of space in a store where rent is $200 per square foot and every inch of shelving counts. Moreover, Kaner’s cost to pay the workers who handle returnables soared as the minimum wage jumped from $7.25 per hour six years ago to its current $15.
“Anything that can be done to prevent waste and help the planet is a good thing,” Kaner said. “But the economics of recycling don’t work for a business like ours.”
A battle pitting the likes of Collins against Kaner is playing out in Albany. Cuomo says expanding the number of containers covered by the state’s bottle- deposit law “will reduce litter in our communities, protect our water and create a cleaner and greener New York for all.” But such measures tend to face opposition in the Legislature, which is why the state’s recycling efforts have grown in fits and starts during the past 40 years.
More than 5 billion bottles are redeemed for deposit every year in New York. Industry experts say adding those for orange juice, energy drinks and the rest will add about 2 billion. That would total $350 million worth of redemptions, plus $250 million in fees for retailers and redemption centers, which are paid a state-mandated handling fee of 3.5 cents per container by beverage distributors. (Some are pushing Albany to increase that fee to keep pace with rising labor costs.)
Billions of nickels
The gusher of small change dates back to 1982, when the state first imposed a refundable nickel deposit on every carbonated beverage’s bottle or can. Plastic bottles of non- carbonated beverages were added 10 years ago. But that environmentally friendly move unleashed an unanticipated boom in street collectors digging through curbside garbage cans and bags. Such rummaging is illegal because at that point, recyclables belong to the city.
“Scavenging went up dramatically after water bottles were added, and it became a serious problem in the city,” said Robert Lange, former director of the Department of Sanitation’s Bureau of Waste Prevention, Reuse and Recycling.
Lange said he worries that Cuomo’s bill will undermine curbside recycling because scavengers would make off with even more containers before the Sanitation Department can collect them and bring them to Sims Municipal Recycling, which sorts and sells the material as a commodity. Glass has little value, but Sims’ sales of plastic and aluminum result in it charging the city less than it otherwise would.
The city last year paid $22 million to the vendor, which has a multiyear agreement to process recyclables at a Brooklyn facility. Under the contract, the city’s cost would rise if it brings Sims less valuable material.
Sims estimates that expanding the bottle bill would boost the number of plastic bottles targeted by scavengers by 60% and aluminum cans by 25%. Deposits also would be put on certain containers of high-density polyethylene, which is used in milk and detergent bottles, and make targets of the most valuable plastic in the curbside mix.
“A deposit on nonalcoholic beverage containers will simply divert more material of value from curbside programs, further challenging the viability of municipal recycling programs,” said Tom Outerbridge, general manager at Sims.
Those programs have been struggling for better than a year—since China began deeming much of the recycled material it once happily purchased to be unacceptably contaminated. Prices for scrap paper, plastic bottles and cardboard boxes plunged. Last month the Long Island town of Oyster Bay ended curbside pickup of glass because it couldn’t find anyone to buy it. “The town is prepared to collect glass as a recyclable if the market shifts back to its favor in the coming months or years,” spokesman Brian Nevin said.
Many localities have abandoned single-stream recycling and begun accepting only separated recyclables in hopes of finding markets for them.
The ups and downs of commodities markets and details of government contracts are of no particular concern to scavengers, who are thrilled to hear their unglamorous line of work might become a bit more lucrative.
Jesus, 41, said he spends 16 hours every day in Lower Manhattan filling a shopping cart with bottles and cans so he can send money to help his five children in his native Mexico. He usually starts his search around 4 p.m. and on a good night bags 4,000 containers, worth $200. On a tough day he nets about $70. Many apartment superintendents and office managers let him look through recyclables before they’re taken to the curb.
“I would be so happy if I could make some more money,” Jesus said. “It’s a hard job. I’m alone a lot.”