Part 2 (1/2)

Basilica had established himself as New London's kingmaker. In that role, he had fought and won a lot of political fights alongside Levin. Basilica had even managed a couple of Levin's campaigns. The two were tight.

Levin wanted Basilica's blessing before revamping the NLDC and turning it over to Claire, so he and an a.s.sociate met with Basilica and one of his a.s.sociates. Basilica listened while Levin explained his consulting role with the governor's office.

Hearing nothing that sounded problematic, Basilica said little while Levin talked up the idea of reviving the NLDC. Then Levin got to the hard part-he wanted to appoint Claire Gaudiani to lead it.

Basilica grinned and shook his head from side to side. ”No way,” he said.

Levin attempted to explain.

Basilica cut him off. ”No way,” he repeated. ”You're not doin' that. No way.” Basilica reminded him that Levin had previously convinced him to work with Claire on a city initiative to improve the public schools. Reluctantly, Basilica had gone along but felt that Claire had embarra.s.sed him. Basilica had not forgotten. ”Look, we've already had our experience with her,” Basilica said. ”We don't want her. It's a bad idea. Tell her to stick to French history or whatever the h.e.l.l she teaches.”

Levin left the meeting unsuccessful, even though, Basilica later recalled, ”He told us, 'It's the only way Rowland is going to send money to the city.'”

5.

GETTING TO YES.

Buoyed by Levin's suggestion to jump-start the NLDC, Claire started rounding up people to fill board seats at the agency. She didn't have trouble finding takers. Many of the key civic leaders she'd been brainstorming with were eager to volunteer. None was more enthused than Steve Percy, a New London real-estate broker who specialized in businesses and marinas. Percy had written the essay calling for leaders.h.i.+p in the city that had prompted Claire to take a hands-on role months earlier.

Claire had asked Percy what resources the city had to put against its economic problems. Among other things, Percy suggested a twenty-four-acre peninsula known as the New London Mills property, a prime piece of vacant real estate along the city's waterfront. Other people Claire polled said the same thing. Claire didn't know anything about the land in question or why it was vacant. Percy knew the background well.

The New London Mills property had been home to a linoleum manufacturer. Before that, cotton mills and other industries had occupied the land. But all the brick mill buildings had since been demolished, leaving behind nothing but piles of rubble atop land contaminated with all sorts of industrial pollutants.

A few years earlier, a company called Ocean Quest had approached the city and proposed building a $41 million aquatic facility on the site. Ocean Quest promised to build a water camp for kids, complete with a mock submarine and other tourist attractions.

Eager for jobs and tax revenue, the city embraced the project. The state took an active role, too, pledging millions of dollars to rid the site of environmental contaminants as preparation for development. But after all that, the Ocean Quest backers lacked the money to carry out the project. Suddenly, the twenty-four-acre brownfield was available. It wasn't the prettiest piece of real estate, but it had a grand location-right on the water, at the mouth of the Thames.

Claire, Percy, and the others in the small group emerging to take over the NLDC quickly settled on the idea that one of the agency's primary objectives should be to try to lure a Fortune Fortune 500 company to the site. Something like that could generate some instant momentum. But no one Claire was talking to in New London knew what it would take to attract such a company. 500 company to the site. Something like that could generate some instant momentum. But no one Claire was talking to in New London knew what it would take to attract such a company.

Claire didn't know the answers either, but she knew someone who did-George Milne Jr., an executive at Pfizer, the world's largest pharmaceutical company. Pfizer had a ma.s.sive research facility in nearby Groton, just across the river from New London. As president of central research, Milne ran the Groton facility and ranked among the most respected corporate executives in southeastern Connecticut. He also served on the board of trustees at Connecticut College, which his son attended. And Claire's husband, Dr. David Burnett, worked under Milne at Pfizer and ran the company's corporate university. These kinds of connections were among the reasons Levin had recommended Claire to lead the NLDC.

Claire figured she had to get someone like Milne to join the board of directors and help them figure out how to market the New London Mills property to a major corporation. She decided to call him at home and request a face-to-face meeting.

George Milne hadn't become president of Pfizer's central research by accident. He had a chemistry degree from Yale and a Ph.D. in organic chemistry from MIT. After joining Pfizer in 1970, he spent eleven years doing chemistry and pharmacology research until being appointed director of the company's department of immunology and infectious diseases. Milne turned out to be a promising corporate leader, too. Intense, driven, and polished, he had all the right attributes for a successful executive in his industry. Pfizer made him a senior vice president in 1988 and then eventually president of the central research division and a senior vice president in charge of the company's global interests in human and veterinary medicine.

Under Milne, the research division's annual investment rose from $493 million to over $2 billion. During that same period, the scientific staff doubled to more than eight thousand people. With a unique blend of scientific smarts and corporate savvy, Milne knew the importance of translating breakthrough medicines into financial windfalls for shareholders.

He also knew something the rest of the pharmaceutical industry didn't: Pfizer was sitting on a drug that promised to take American culture by storm and propel Pfizer past all its rivals. A few years earlier, Pfizer conducted clinical trials for a drug called sildenafil, which was intended to expand blood vessels, enabling greater blood flow to the heart. But the response in alleviating suffering from heart problems was insufficient. At the close of the clinical trials, the female patients returned their surplus medication, as required, but many male patients did not. When clinicians investigated, they discovered that sildenafil had a powerful effect on men who struggled with impotence.

The accidental discovery had enormous potential. Millions of men in the United States struggle with impotence. If men could overcome the condition by simply taking a pill, this drug promised to be a rainmaker. Pfizer commissioned a new round of clinical trials for sildenafil and a.s.signed the drug a new name: v.i.a.g.r.a.

While Governor Rowland was busy trying to propel his political star higher by redeveloping Connecticut's urban centers, George Milne had aspirations of his own. The emergence of v.i.a.g.r.a elevated him to a position of great prominence in the company as he led the effort to promote it to the nation's medical community.

”Impotence has a major, and sometimes devastating, psychological and social impact on patients and their partners,” Milne told the American Urological a.s.sociation at its annual meeting in 1997. ”Effective drugs currently available involve injections and for that reason have not been widely accepted.” Milne insisted Pfizer had the answer to this dilemma: ”v.i.a.g.r.a, because it is a pill and enhances the normal s.e.xual response, offers advantages to these patients in terms of both convenience and safety.”

Busy as he was, Milne graciously welcomed a call at home from Claire. After explaining the NLDC and its virtues, Claire informed Milne she had agreed to serve as its president. Impressed, Milne was not surprised. He knew Claire's penchant for taking on big initiatives and going full tilt.

Claire briefly indicated that one of the NLDC's top priorities would be to market the former New London Mills property, and she wanted to meet with him about it.

”It will have to be at seven in the morning in my office,” Milne said.

”That's fine. I'll come in.”

They agreed on a date.

August 28, 1997 Giddy, Susette arrived at a law firm in New London to sign the closing doc.u.ments on her new home. There, for the first time, she met the seller, who indicated she had driven by the house and seen the new paint job.

”Doesn't the house look great?” Susette said.

The seller looked disgusted. ”Pink?” she asked, then insisted it was not right for the period of the house.

”That's not true,” Susette said. ”I got the color right off the historic paint chart at Benjamin Moore.”

The seller was not impressed.

”Besides,” Susette said, ”the color is Odessa Rose, not pink.”

”Well, it will certainly brighten up the neighborhood,” the seller said sarcastically.

Susette grinned. ”And ... so ... won't ... I,” she said.

A half hour later, Susette had the keys to the front door and the t.i.tle to the property. And at that point, she didn't care what the previous owner thought of her or the new paint color. The place was hers, and that was all that mattered.

That night, she drove to the house. It was empty and dark inside. From the porch, she could hear and see the water. She plopped down in a rocker.

For the first time in her life, she owned property in her name. Even her husband didn't know she had purchased the place. He still hadn't figured out she was leaving. She'd tell him eventually.

The house afforded her a sanctuary, a place where she could come and go as she pleased, a place to be alone. She pinched herself. She hadn't experienced that kind of freedom since before she had had her first child at age sixteen.

On a notepad, she scribbled some thoughts: ”I don't think my life could be better and I know I have never been happier in my life than I am now, sitting on the porch rocker watching the water go by.”

August 29, 1997 Claire considered George Milne a vital player to have on board if the NLDC was going to make a sudden impact. She had to get him to commit, so her pitch had to impress him. But heading into her meeting with Milne, Claire had more on her mind than simply getting him to join the NLDC's board of directors. She'd been doing some thinking. Milne's Groton office was directly across the river from the vacant mill site in New London. It was no secret that Pfizer had outgrown its Groton facility and had been hunting for a large tract of real estate to build more clinical office s.p.a.ce. Never one to miss an opportunity, Claire planned to make the most of her one-on-one audience with the man ultimately in charge of site selection for Pfizer's new home. She figured that luring Pfizer to a contaminated brownfield was a pipe dream, but she had to ask.

Milne welcomed her warmly and listened politely as she explained in more detail the plan to revive the NLDC as an agency committed to helping reverse New London's economic misfortunes. She rattled off the names and credentials of those who had already pledged to join the agency's board. But, Claire explained, the one thing she didn't have in the NLDC's ranks was the CEO of a major corporation.

Milne needed more information to understand why a local development agency needed a major corporate executive on its board. Claire told him about the New London Mills property, describing it as a splendid piece of acreage sitting dormant right along the river.

”You may even want to think about it for Pfizer,” she said.

It was a soft pitch, designed to see if Milne would swing. He didn't. Pfizer's site-selection team had been reviewing potential sites for a year.