Metropolis, Ill. • Uranium, not kryptonite, has residents of Superman's hometown on edge these days.

The uranium can be found at the Honeywell plant, located just west of town and, as is frequently pointed out these days, just upwind. The plant — an unremarkable, hulking mass just off the highway — has been around more than five decades. It rarely registers much of a thought here, except as a provider of hundreds of good-paying jobs handling dangerous material. That was, until June 28.

That's when Honeywell locked out its 220 union workers over a contract dispute. The union of production and maintenance workers picketed outside. The company hired replacement staff. The plant ran in slow motion for weeks, staying clear of any difficult work. But Honeywell recently announced it plans to restart full production early this month.

The development grabbed the attention of many in this Ohio River town of 6,500 — and not just because it suggests the lockout may be a prolonged one in an already sour economy. As the backlit sign outside the Shear Magic salon explains: "Nervous to be a neighbor of Honeywell." Or, as Jerry Baird, owner of Diamond Lil's restaurant just up the road, says, "I feel my life's in danger here. They've got guys in there that've been in there no time at all."

The Honeywell plant is the only uranium conversion facility in the United States. Powdery "yellow cake" uranium arrives in 55-gallon drums and is converted into "green salt" and finally into uranium hexafluoride, known as UF6 or hex. It is shipped out as a frozen fluid in giant metal bottles, headed for enrichment plants.

The Metropolis facility is a crucial link in the production of fuel for nuclear reactors worldwide. And because of its uniqueness, the plant plays an important role in domestic nuclear fuel production. "I think it'd be wise strategically to keep (a conversion plant) in the U.S.," said Mark Pierson, a nuclear engineering professor at Virginia Tech.

So the uncertainty is having effects far beyond Southern Illinois. Stock prices for uranium mining companies have spiked in recent weeks, some by 25 percent. And the spot price for converted uranium jumped 10 percent in the past month, according to Ux Consulting, based in Roswell, Ga.

Billy McDaniel, the longtime mayor of Metropolis, said he never worried about the Honeywell plant before the lockout. He knows most of the 385 workers, both management and union. They are neighbors. He might run into them at Willy Jak's restaurant or the Big John supermarket. People know people, McDaniel said. But he doesn't know the replacement workers being bused in each day.

"I never went to bed at night worried about the men being trained and capable of doing their jobs. I just never worried about it," McDaniel, 66, said. "I want to be able to do that every night."

The idea of restarting the plant so quickly also worries Massac County Chief Sheriff's Deputy Ted Holder, whose agency is responsible for closing roads and switching on emergency sirens if a plant accident occurs.

"It'd be a little concerning," Holder said.

Honeywell stresses it isn't taking chances. "Bottom line is if we could not operate the plant safely, we would not operate it," company spokesman Peter Dalpe said.

Honeywell said it didn't want a contract fight. But the plant was on track to post a $20 million operating loss this year. It asked for concessions on benefits. Bargaining talks were going badly, and the union refused to give 24-hour notice before any potential strike, Dalpe said. So one week after the three-year contract expired, the company locked the gates.

The company hired replacement workers from the Shaw Group, a company based in Baton Rouge, La., that runs nuclear facilities.

The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission, which licenses the Honeywell plant, is monitoring the plant's operations, said NRC spokesman Roger Hannah. Inspectors visited the plant for three days when the Shaw workers were first brought on. Inspectors have dropped in since and plan to be there this week as Honeywell works toward full production.

"If they meet all of the regulatory requirements, they could do it without resolving the labor dispute," Hannah said.

But even before the lockout, the NRC appeared to have concerns about how the plant was run. In April, regulators held a public meeting to discuss results of a two-year safety study. People gathered at the Massac County Courthouse in the center of Metropolis, a 15-foot-tall bronze Superman statue standing guard outside the doors, hands on his hips in that familiar pose.

NRC regulators said they were concerned about "operational safety and radiological controls." Regulators also cited worries about turnover in the plant's management, including three new plant heads in four years.

Honeywell spokesman Dalpe said managers experienced with similar chemical processes at other plants have been brought to Metropolis to help out.

Hannah, of the NRC, said ensuring workers have the necessary experience, "that's something we're continuing to look at."

The last serious incident at the Metropolis plant happened in December 2003, when a small amount of uranium hexafluoride was accidentally released. Parts of town were evacuated, but no one was hurt. Still, it was a rare, troubling incident at a nuclear facility. The plant was shuttered for six months.

Down on the picket lines last week, under a blazing summer sun, John Mellencamp's "Small Town" was playing on the radio. Union workers held protest signs and waved at passing cars. Just about every vehicle honked or waved back. The workers stood close to the narrow two-lane road, separated from the plant by railroad tracks and a tall fence guarded by a private security company.

The workers looked over their shoulders for signs of trouble inside the plant, especially inside the main six-story structure of white walls tinted orange about 500 feet away. They said they could sometimes gaze through the plant's windows to see red lights warning of a "dust out," requiring workers on that floor to wear respirators. The red lights were not an uncommon sight before the lockout, but the union claims it is happening more frequently now.

A shrill alarm sounded in the distance. Darrell Lillie, who has worked at Honeywell for 19 years and serves as USW Local 7-669 president, recognized the tone. He said it was a warning siren in the plant's powerhouse. Low steam pressure, perhaps.

Lillie said the union was surprised by the lockout. The union planned to work during negotiations. Workers were not seeking a pay raise — the average worker made $62,000 to $68,000 with overtime. But they wanted to maintain pensions and retiree health care benefits for current workers, something the company said it couldn't afford.

Health care is a crucial point, Lillie said, pointing to rows of white wood crosses erected by the union to symbolize current and former workers diagnosed with cancer. Workers wear radiation-detection badges on the job and have their exposure measured twice a month with urinalysis.

"We work in a nuclear facility," Lillie said.

Uranium might not even be the biggest danger inside the plant. That title likely falls to hydrofluoric acid, which is combined with the uranium. The acid is highly corrosive. Stephen Lech, a production operator walking the picket line, recalled how a tiny hole in his gloves allowed a drop to reach his left ring finger a couple years ago. Lech said he ended up in the hospital needing special injections to stop the burning.

"That's why we're fighting for health care," Lech said.

The mayor said he just wants his local workers back on the job — for safety and the local economy.

Metropolis might sell itself with images of Superman, and the riverboat casino may be the town's biggest employer and provider of the bulk of the municipal budget. But it's the jobs at Honeywell that pay well. And the labor dispute has trickled down to hit other businesses.

"You're not going to go out and buy a new automobile if you're locked out of your job. You're not going to go out to dinner," Mayor Daniels said.

And it is a sign outside of Charlie's Party Hut liquor store that sums up that position, laying no blame but wanting an end to the current standoff:

"Honeywell & 7669: Find a solution. We don't need a lockout."