Chuck Casto

Chuck Casto visits Exelon Corp.'s nuclear power plant in Byron, Ill. Casto started in May as the new administrator for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission's Midwest region; his office in Lisle oversees 16 nuclear power plants in seven Midwestern states, including Illinois. (Chris Sweda/ Chicago Tribune / February 20, 2013)

The flight attendant spied the Nuclear Regulatory Commission logo on Chuck Casto's T-shirt and escorted him to first class.

   Three days after the Pacific Ocean had risen and shattered the northern Japanese coast March 11, 2011, Casto's plane headed toward the plume of radiation hanging above the crippled Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear plant.

   He had hastily packed literature for the 14-hour flight -- reference materials, severe accident protocols -- but never finished reading. Instead, for eight hours, the terrified flight crew sat and questioned him one at a time about whether they were risking their safety by flying to the disaster zone.

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   "That's when it first struck me: You ain't in Kansas anymore. This is for real," Casto said. "I knew this was going to be a different world."

   Casto, 56, had spent his career in nuclear power plants planning for disaster -- earthquakes, floods, terrorist attacks. But the manuals he had spent decades digesting didn't have the answers. What happened at Dai-ichi was supposed to be impossible. Nuclear plants are built to withstand all possible scenarios.

   "Fear was rampant, not only in Japan, but throughout the world," he said. "Buildings had exploded. Ridges had collapsed. Roads destroyed. First responders were gone."

   With more than 200,000 Americans in Japan and a promise from President Barack Obama to provide aid to the Japanese throughout the crisis, Casto had been appointed by NRC Chairman Gregory Jaczko to act as the face of the U.S. nuclear industry in Tokyo.

   Expecting to be home within days or weeks, Casto said goodbye to his family and boarded the plane with only one suitcase.

   But the crisis deepened, and Casto quickly became indispensable. He stayed for 11 months.

   This May, he joined the Midwest office of the NRC in Lisle as its new administrator, responsible for regulating 16 commercial nuclear plants in seven states, including Illinois. His job, as he sees it, is to ensure that a meltdown like the one in Japan can't happen here.

   "What those people went through was unbelievable," Casto said.

   At Dai-ichi, the computers and instruments inside the nuclear reactors had been lost in the tsunami. With no power and no water, the reactors were melting down, and the nuclear operators were flying blind.

   "It's like trying to investigate a homicide and not having access to the crime scene," Casto said.

   Casto had once operated a three-unit site in Alabama much like the one at Dai-ichi. He had also worked on Capitol Hill. His combination of political experience and technical know-how proved crucial to coordinating efforts in Japan.

   "You're going into a sovereign nation," he said. "You had to be very sensitive. It's not our nuclear plant. It's not one of our licensees. So that's a fine line -- to help, but not boss. And Americans, we sometimes try to do that."

   Humble beginnings

   Looking at his past, Casto admits, it would be hard to imagine that one day he would play an important role during an international crisis.

   As a teenager in West Virginia, his parents worried he would end up in jail. He was a C student, he said, who cared more about alcohol and girls than education. Neither of his parents had gone to school past the eighth grade.

   His family lived paycheck to paycheck, often relying on cash and groceries from his father's labor union during prolonged strikes at the plastics factory or oil refinery.