Read

May 1, 2025

Essay: Fumed composer reflects on growing up in the petrochemical industry’s shadow

Theme from Fumed

Editor’s note:  Michael Ramos is a Latin Grammy-winning musician who has toured or recorded with John Mellencamp, Paul Simon, Robert Plant and other well-known musicians. In this essay he explains why he took on the relatively modest job of composing and performing the music for Public Health Watch’s first podcast, Fumed.

When I was asked if I’d be interested in writing original music for “Fumed,” I was immediately intrigued. I grew up on the upper Gulf Coast of Texas in a town called Angleton, and I understand what it’s like to live in the shadow of the petrochemical industry. Angleton was very similar to Channelview, as are most small towns that rely on chemical plants and oil refineries.

As youths, neither I nor my friends gave much thought to the storage tanks, the flares or the ever-present smells emanating from the plants. It was natural, the way it always was and always would be. It was where our fathers worked and our uncles, too. The companies that hired them sometimes sponsored our youth baseball leagues. The industry put food on the table and roofs over our heads, paid for the family car and the clothes we wore to school. The companies helped pay for the schools, hospitals, everything. Or so it seemed.

Back then I spent most of my time thinking about music. I dreamed of hearing myself on the radio, or touring in famous bands or seeing myself on television. But being from Angleton, a town of just 9,000 people at that time, the music business seemed a world away.

After high school, I began playing in local bands and in Houston, which was 35 miles away. On my many late-night drives home from gigs, I could see the refineries off in the distance lit up like small cities. 

At some point, my thinking about those plants began to shift. I tried to imagine the men working there during the graveyard shifts as my father often did. I thought of the families of those men and I thought of my own family, too. I began hearing about the occasional father of a friend who had been diagnosed with cancer, or about a child born with a terrible illness or defect. There would be the usual grumblings about the plants and, like many people, I began to question the safety of these facilities, especially for the people who lived nearby.

In the fall of 1980, I moved to Austin, Texas. The musical legacy of Austin was a major pull for me, and I was never happier in my life than at that point. I was surrounded by like-minded musicians playing original music and I immediately felt I was in the right place at the right time. Being a keyboard player in Austin back then was lucky for me. There weren’t many around. I had a day job as a piano technician to pay the bills, but at times I was playing in as many as six different bands at once. I played three or four shows a week, sometimes seven. I was exhausted most of the time, but I was fueled by the adrenaline rush of knowing that I’d someday achieve my goals. 

Over the next few years, I moved up the ranks of the Austin music scene, playing in better bands, getting called to do recording sessions, and getting noticed. Eventually, I caught the attention of some record company executives in Los Angeles and I began getting offers to tour with nationally known bands. It was the big MTV video era and it was a good time to be a touring musician. 

In 1987 I felt that my career had finally arrived, that my hard work was paying off. But 1987 was also the year that my family learned that my father, Jesse Ramos, had been diagnosed with cancer – non-Hodgkin lymphoma of the thyroid glands. We think it was because of all those years he spent working in chemical plants.

I’d actually worked with my father in a chemical plant the summer after I graduated from high school, before I started my freshman year at Alvin Community College. I learned that these plants don’t produce just one product, they produce many. Walking within the facility where we’d worked, chemical smells were omnipresent. The plant was so huge that I sometimes had to check out a vehicle and drive from one end to the other.

My father fought the good fight for years, but he finally succumbed to cancer in June of 2001.

As I’ve grown older, my perspective of the chemical plants and refineries has shifted again, to a viewpoint that may surprise some and anger others. Yes, it’s easy to blame the multi-billion dollar corporations that own these facilities for the health problems of nearby residents. And yes, the corporations should do a better job of handling their waste and emissions. But I depend heavily on products from the chemical industry.  I use its products every day – multiple times. Doesn’t that make me at least partly responsible?

I still visit Angleton occasionally and I have dear friends who still live there. I’m grateful for having grown up there, as it definitely shaped who I am today as a husband, father and musician/composer. All those years of yearning made me acutely aware of my surroundings. Even as a child I subconsciously created soundscapes in my head, and those soundscapes served me well when I was coming up with the music score for Fumed. All I needed to do was remember those days, the smells of the refineries, the sounds of the trains, and the voices of my family and friends.

I still believe the chemical plants and refineries should have better methods in place to deal with the byproducts they release into the air, land, and water. But for those who live near chemical plants and refineries, it can feel futile to speak out against the industry and its lobbyists. It is up to us to speak to our elected officials and vote for those who are committed to protecting workers and their families. 

I believe in the good of mankind and I hope the future brings about viable solutions for us all. It seems our planet is fighting for its life these days. Can’t we all at least agree to take better care of it?

Fumed is a four-part investigative podcast about two stubborn Texans who try to fight the petrochemical businesses that have moved into their neighborhoods in the unincorporated community of Channelview, outside Houston. Listen to it here or anywhere you get your podcasts.