Ed Walker was told time and time again that you can't fight City Hall.

But the former bricklayer took on the biggest government of them all — the federal

government.

And he won.

For years, Walker led the crusade to have former Bethlehem Steel workers — or their

surviving family members — compensated for the cancers that may have resulted from their

work on the company's Cold War-era nuclear programs.

Finally, after a 10-year battle, the breakthrough Walker wanted came last week when a

federal advisory panel recommended that hundreds of these former Bethlehem families be

eligible for a federal payment of $150,000.

Walker, who died two years ago, didn't get to savor the victory.

But his wife, Joyce — who was at her husband's side when he began this fight and

picked up where he left off — saw this through to the end.

"I wanted to finish what he started — however it turned out," said Joyce Walker, of

Hamburg.

Together, the Walkers led a band of blue-collar families — the Cold War Warriors

— against the full weight and bureaucracy of the U.S. government.

It was hard, it was frustrating, and there were times they wanted to give up. But last

week, the little guys persevered.

"We couldn't have done this without Ed Walker," said Tino Franco, one of the Bethlehem

relatives seeking compensation. "Here's a guy with limited resources, who faced an uphill

battle being not well himself, but had a mind-set that he was going to uncover and get to the

truth."

"Ed Walker was the key, and his wife was everywhere he was," said Lewis Webber, president

of the Bethlehem chapter of the Steel Workers Organization of Active Retirees. "When he passed

two years ago, she took over and dug in for the fight."

After denying it for decades, the federal government conceded during the 1990s that

thousands of workers at more than 300 sites across the country, including Bethlehem Steel,

were exposed to radiation without their knowledge, as they worked on the nation's fledgling

nuclear program during the 1940s and 1950s.

In 2000, Congress established a program to compensate the workers who handled the nuclear

materials and later developed cancer.

Walker — who was employed at Bethlehem in the early 1950s, when the government worked

with the company to refine techniques for milling uranium — was one.

In 2001, Walker — who had been diagnosed with bladder cancer — filed a claim

with the National Institute of Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH), which governs the

compensation program.

He was denied. When he appealed, he was denied again.

Walker began to hear about more denials, and banded together with others to form the

Bethlehem Steel Action Group.

Walker poked and prodded NIOSH for data and documents, and the more Walker looked into the

way the compensation program was run, the more convinced he was that the process of judging

claims was flawed.

"They wanted more information from Bethlehem," said Anne Hupkowicz, of Hamburg, who got

involved when her father's claim was denied, "but at that point, Bethlehem had gone bankrupt.

There were no records."

Walker and others traveled around the country on their own dime to lobby, attend meetings

and picket government offices.

He enlisted the unanimous support of the area's congressional delegation.

And he'd sit at his dining room table for hours, tediously scouring stacks of declassified

documents to make his case to NIOSH.

He would not go away.

"For months and months we went through this, step by step, and he would dictate what he

thought was wrong," said Hupkowicz, who spent Sundays and late nights typing Walker's

rebuttals into long e-mails and letters. "This went on for years."

"The responses were always negative," Hupkowicz added. "We ended up with 90 issues, and a

majority of them were never responded to."

Month after month, Walker would have little or no new information to report to members of

the Bethlehem Steel Action Group, and any new information he did have would be negative.

As of last week, almost 55 percent of the 879 cases referred to NIOSH had been denied,

according to figures supplied by Sen. Charles Schumer's office.

"It was obvious to us they didn't want to pay the claims," Hupkowicz said. "Just every step

of the way it was, "No, you're wrong.' It seemed like they would change the rules in the

middle of the game and it seemed when we were getting close they would throw another roadblock

in."

"That's the reason for the frustration and wringing of hands," added Franco, of Depew, who

sits on the board of the Bethlehem Steel Action Committee.

As the years went on, the Bethlehem workers died off and families gave up in frustration.

Even Walker was getting weary.

"Toward the end, probably during his last year, Dad was starting to get worn out with it,"

said Walker's son, Ed. "He didn't know how much longer he could do it.

Walker died in January 2008 at age 74.

It was a blow to the cause, but the group found another leader.

Joyce Walker — a quiet, reserved woman who shunned the spotlight — picked up

the torch.

"When Ed died it was like no one wanted to deal with us anymore," Hupkowicz said. "But

Joyce said, "No. We're going to continue to fight. We're not going to let this go.' "

She learned her husband's frustrations, and at times thought about giving up, particularly

the last few months when the cause seemed to be going nowhere.

But recent changes on the 16-member Advisory Board on Radiation and Worker Health worked in

favor of the families.

At a meeting in Niagara Falls last Thursday, the advisory panel coughed up the victory

— recommending that a "special exposure cohort" be added to include Bethlehem employees

who rolled uranium into rods at the plant between 1949 and 1952.

Families believe approval by the secretary of health and human services, as well as

Congress, is now just a formality, and expect checks to be distributed in the next three

months.

Still, they can't believe this is the end.

And for many others it's not the end.

While Bethlehem has the largest number of local claimants, former employees who worked on

Cold War-era nuclear programs at other plants, including Linde and Hooker Chemical, are still

fighting for their benefits.

Of the nearly 1,900 claims made statewide, 66 percent have been denied.

Joyce Walker, meanwhile, said she plans to bank most of the money she receives in

compensation but would like to use some to take a trip.

She's probably done with activism, for now, but thinks she may have found her voice.

"I think I'm coming out of my shell," she said. "Ed would probably would be proud of me."

News Staff reporter Jerry Zremski contributed to this report.