Part 6 (2/2)
But inside City Hall he found Basilica standing outside the council chambers, seething.
”What is it?” Markowicz asked.
Basilica showed Markowicz a copy of Hamilton Lee's letter to Rich Voyles. While Markowicz read, Basilica vented. It infuriated Basilica that the NLDC felt it had the power to take homes. Eminent domain was one of the most sweeping powers held by government. Things were about to get ugly fast.
To Basilica, the letter signaled a major political power s.h.i.+ft in the city. Governor Rowland, he felt, had found himself a Trojan horse: Claire and the NLDC. Basilica knew no real-estate agent would write that kind of letter without direction. He also knew that the agent worked for Steve Percy and that Percy held a seat on the NLDC's board. Basilica understood that Percy planned to attend the meeting with the navy officials.
”What are you going to do?” Markowicz asked.
”I'm gonna confront his a.s.s.”
A strategic thinker, Markowicz preferred a more diplomatic approach to his adversaries. He also didn't think a shouting match with Percy would provide the ideal way to kick off an important meeting. But he didn't bother trying to talk Basilica out of it.
Percy arrived in his customary sport jacket and tie. He had white hair, bushy, dark eyebrows, and a pug nose. Basilica pounced.
”Where do you get the b.a.l.l.s to send something like this out?” he said, shoving the letter in Percy's face. ”Who gave you permission?” Basilica shouted.
The NLDC had given it, Percy insisted.
”You can't threaten these people with eminent domain,” Basilica shouted. ”You don't have that power.”
Basilica stormed into the meeting room. Markowicz was waiting for him inside the doorway. He had overheard most of the shouting. Without saying a word, Markowicz raised his eyebrows and nodded in the direction of the conference table in the center of the chamber. The seats around it were full. Basilica did a quick head count. More than fifteen people were on hand, all in suits and equipped with notepads and pens. Other than the two navy officials, most of the faces were unfamiliar.
”Who in the h.e.l.l are these people?” Basilica mumbled.
Markowicz had no idea. He pulled out a pad and prepared to take minutes.
Basilica cleared his throat and took his position at the head of the table. He opened the meeting by asking the visitors to introduce themselves.
John Downes and Gary Timura said they worked for the Downes Group.
Basilica recognized the name. The Downes Group was a consulting firm and a subsidiary of the Frank E. Downes Construction Company. Members of the Downes family had donated heavily to Governor Rowland's election campaign.
”Why are you here?” Basilica asked.
Downes explained that the NLDC had hired his firm as consultants one month earlier.
Markowicz didn't get it. A construction firm with strong ties to the governor had been retained by Claire to work on the Fort Trumbull redevelopment project. Why are they showing up at a meeting involving the disposition of a navy base? Why are they showing up at a meeting involving the disposition of a navy base? Markowicz wondered. Markowicz wondered.
Confused, Markowicz noted the other visitors. Most of them worked for Claire or the governor, including the head of the DEP and Claire's executive administrator at the college.
Basilica now got the picture. The governor and the NLDC had a sudden interest in the navy property. But why? And why now, after two years of disinterest? But why? And why now, after two years of disinterest? Basilica wondered. Basilica wondered.
”The purpose of this meeting is to get everything on the table and answer questions regarding the process for the disposal of the NUWC property,” Basilica said. He turned some time over to one of the navy officials, who explained that the Department of the Interior planned to convey a portion of the base to the state for a park, but that the core of the navy base was set for public auction. The bids would be sealed, and the land and buildings awarded to the highest bidder.
Percy asked if the sale would be absolute. He was told it would be, as long as the bids weren't below the land's appraised value.
Representatives from the state and the NLDC began peppering the navy official with questions and scenarios designed to delay the public auction. Markowicz glanced at Basilica. The federal officials made it clear that the government had already appropriated $300,000 for Basilica's committee to a.n.a.lyze the situation and come up with a plan. The process was too far along to change course now.
The NLDC and the state suggested that Pfizer's recent entry into the mix was sufficient cause to reconsider the plan. The navy disagreed. Changing the plan now would require a new round of public hearings and another audit by the navy. The time to modify property-transfer plans had pa.s.sed.
The state indicated it now had an interest in the navy property. Basilica bristled. His committee had already planned to transfer the southern tip of the property to the state for a park. If the state acquired the rest of the property as well, the city might not get any tax revenue at all from the land or the buildings.
Markowicz couldn't understand what the state would possibly do with the land or how it would pay for it.
Federal rules and regulations permitted only four methods of transferring navy property: a public sale, a negotiated sale, an economic-development conveyance, and a public-benefit conveyance.
The state officials expressed interest in the last one.
But federal law permitted public-benefit conveyances only for uses such as airports, educational and public-health purposes, port facilities, and public park or recreation areas.
The state suggested it would use the land for a marine school.
Markowicz had his suspicions. He sensed that the state planned to flip the property to a private developer when n.o.body was looking.
This is a smoke screen, Markowicz thought.
Basilica didn't plan to play along. ”We dropped three hundred grand of fed money on the plan we've put in place,” Basilica said. ”If somebody wants to come forward, we've got to have money to redo the plan. Otherwise, it doesn't make any sense to stop what we are doing.”
The meeting closed with the navy officials reiterating their intention to conduct the public auction in June, enabling the city to start collecting taxes on the property six months later.
Afterward, Basilica and Markowicz huddled. Markowicz sensed a connection between the threatening letter sent to Fort Trumbull property owners and the presence of state and NLDC officials at the meeting. ”These people want our property,” said Markowicz. ”And they want it for free.” Basilica agreed.
Markowicz wondered if there was any chance the public auction would be delayed.
”Screw them,” Basilica said. ”We're going forward unless they produce the coin.”
”Broker Pressures Fort Trumbull Residents to Sell”-Susette loved the headline in the Sunday paper. The story exposed Hamilton Lee's threatening letter. ”It was an unfortunate use of words,” Steve Percy told the paper, after being confronted with the letter, which at least four homeowners had received. The threat of eminent domain had left residents fearful and anxious.
Angry at the prospect of being connected to a public-relations mess, the governor dispatched his press secretary, who took a shot at Claire and the NLDC. ”They have received specific directions from our office not to use that kind of tactic,” Chris Cooper told the newspaper. ”The use of eminent domain is not even on our radar screen.”
Elated, Susette showed off the article to Voyles and her other neighbors.
Publicly, Claire called the incident unfortunate and said the homeowners deserved an apology. Privately, she fumed. Few things angered her more than bad press. The newspaper, she concluded, had established itself as an adversary. But she had two other adversaries to contend with first: Basilica and Markowicz. The NLDC needed a way around their control of the navy-base property. The city council offered the best bet: it had the power to alter the composition of Basilica's committee by adding new members. Basilica's longtime nemesis on the council, Peg Curtin, was an old political warhorse who wasn't afraid to battle her Democratic counterpart.
The night after the news report on the Hamilton Lee letter broke, the city council met at City Hall. Around 10 p.m. the council dismissed the public and the press and went into executive session. Flanked by two top officials from the governor's administration, Claire made a hard pitch for the NLDC to be given the authority to oversee the development of the waterfront area, including the navy property. Peg Curtin suggested the city form a new committee to develop a concept plan for the property, a committee that would present an alternative option to the reuse committee chaired by Basilica. Claire supported a committee of six members: two members from the existing committee, two from the NLDC, and two from the governor's administration.
Two and a half hours later, the council emerged from executive session. With hardly anyone from the public on hand, the council voted overwhelmingly to support Claire's plan, nicknamed the ”Committee of Six.” Only Mayor Beachy opposed the motion. ”I'm voting against this because I feel we're giving up our obligations and responsibilities,” he said. Peg Curtin criticized Beachy, pointing out that Governor Rowland had invested millions in New London.
Claire flattered Curtin and the other council members who supported her plan, calling them ”intelligent councilors.”
Susette had never met with a public official, much less had one in her home, but Mayor Beachy showed up at her cottage.
”It's a pleasure to meet you, Susette,” Beachy said, smiling and extending his hand. She shook his hand and invited him in.
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