Part 7 (1/2)

Kathleen Mitch.e.l.l arrived right after him. With disheveled hair and bags under her eyes, she looked like she had just rolled out of bed. Her baggy sweatpants and sweats.h.i.+rt did little to hide her excessive weight. She smelled like cigarettes. ”I'm Kathleen,” she said in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

Susette didn't care what Mitch.e.l.l looked like. She ushered Mitch.e.l.l and Beachy to the kitchen table, an antique surrounded by four black Hitchc.o.c.k chairs she had picked up at a yard sale for twenty-five dollars. Beachy began with an update on where things stood with the city and the NLDC. He got right to the point. ”The city, the state, and the NLDC want your house, and they'll stop at nothing to get it.”

Susette nodded.

”So you have a decision to make,” Beachy said. ”It's very simple. Either you take their money and go, or you stay here and fight.”

”Well, I wanna keep my house,” she said.

”You will have to do everything you can and more,” Beachy said. ”And you're going to have to stay the course.”

”Okay.”

While Beachy talked, Mitch.e.l.l sized Susette up as naive, completely unschooled in how politics work. But Mitch.e.l.l also saw something she liked-a fearless streak, almost a reckless, risk-everything approach. She figured Susette was either borderline crazy or had suffered some pretty serious personal pain. Mitch.e.l.l could relate to both.

”So how do we get started?” Susette asked.

Beachy turned to Mitch.e.l.l. The first step, Mitch.e.l.l suggested, was organizing a neighborhood a.s.sociation to oppose the NLDC. They would have to mobilize the neighbors into action and draw attention to the plight of the residents by using the media. Mitch.e.l.l suggested they call the group the Fort Trumbull Neighborhood a.s.sociation and that they make Susette its president.

Beachy liked the idea. But Susette had no idea how to form a neighborhood a.s.sociation. She didn't know how to mobilize. And she had no experience working with the press.

”It's not that hard,” Mitch.e.l.l a.s.sured her. Susette should start, she suggested, by finding out how many people in the neighborhood were willing to join such an organization.

Other than Von Winkle and a couple of people on her street, Susette barely knew anyone in the neighborhood. She had moved there to start over, to go unnoticed, and to maintain her privacy, not to become a political activist.

”You wanna save your home?” Mitch.e.l.l asked.

”Yeah,” Susette said.

”Then go door-to-door and see how many neighbors you can enlist to the cause.”

Beachy nodded in agreement.

”All right,” Susette said.

Beachy had another suggestion: when going door-to-door, she should ask every property owner to write a letter to the city council and to the mayor's office indicating that they didn't want to give up their homes.

Mitch.e.l.l liked that. ”We could present all the letters at a city council meeting,” she added.

”That's a good idea,” Beachy said.

Mitch.e.l.l offered to organize a series of events that would generate media coverage. She suggested activities like a neighborhood walk with a tour guide to point out historic landmarks. Each event would include press releases and build public opposition to the NLDC's plans to demolish the neighborhood.

After an hour, the meeting broke up with each pledging to take on certain a.s.signments and tasks. Susette felt comfortable with Beachy and especially liked Mitch.e.l.l.

”This is going to be a battle from h.e.l.l,” Beachy said, grinning at Susette.

Susette flashed an uneasy grin.

”And you are going to become the poster child for eminent domain,” he told her.

15.

OFFING TONY.

Tony Basilica was convinced that the NLDC would gain control of the Fort Trumbull neighborhood one way or another. He planned to make d.a.m.n sure they didn't get hold of the navy-base property, too. He and Markowicz had worked hard and long to formulate a sale that would both protect the historic buildings and generate much-needed tax revenue.

And more was at stake: power and control. Two weeks after the state and NLDC officials had shown up at his committee meeting, Basilica had gotten a letter from Governor Rowland's commissioners of economic development and environmental protection. They wanted Basilica's committee to reevaluate its plan, pointing out that Pfizer's presence required a new approach. ”We have therefore urged the City to request the postponement of any announcement of public sale by the Navy,” the letter read. ”We are, however, aware that it is the Local Reuse Authority which controls the conveyance and reuse process.” The letter closed by reminding Basilica that the governor wanted the state to have a chance to develop the navy property, and the state would bring appropriate resources to the city for that purpose if the public-sale option went away.

But Basilica had never liked Rowland, and he ignored the governor's overture. The navy had made it clear that it would not suspend public sale of its facility without a formal written notice from the reuse committee to suspend, and without an alternative strategy for the property, Basilica refused to issue a formal notice. Instead, he told the navy it should proceed with its public auction, since no alternative plan for the site had emerged. Defiantly, Basilica sent a copy of his letter to Claire.

Before going door-to-door to recruit neighbors, Susette called Von Winkle. ”Do you want to join the Fort Trumbull Neighborhood a.s.sociation?” she asked him.

”Are you out of your mind, Red?”

”No. I'm trying to fight this.”

”Well, you go ahead and fight it. We'll see what happens to you.”

She didn't bother asking him to sign a letter saying he opposed the NLDC's plans.

Susette approached her other neighbors. Yvonne Cappelano owned the house next door. She and her husband had bought it as a weekend getaway. Rich Voyles lived next door to the Cappelanos. At Susette's request, both wrote letters opposing eminent domain.

A few doors up, she met eighty-five-year-old Helen Ballestrini and introduced herself: ”I'm Susette Kelo. I'm a newcomer in the neighborhood, and I'm trying to save our homes.” Ballestrini welcomed her. By the time they finished talking, Ballestrini had penned a letter and handed it to Susette.

To The Honorable Mayor Beachy and City Council:I am 85 years of age, have lived here all my life, and at this stage in my life I cannot even think of moving. I do not want to move.Respectfully,Helen Ballestrini16 East Street, N.L.

Susette tucked the letter in her bag and approached a two-family, white Victorian with red trim. It had a meticulously maintained lawn with flowers. Walter Pasqualini, an elderly man, answered the door and invited her into his kitchen. It had a 1950s-era gas stove, a white porcelain sink, and a s.h.i.+ny metal kitchen table.

Susette explained the purpose of her visit. Walter introduced her to his wife, Cesarina, who had lost most of her sight and wore a hearing aid.

”Do you think they're going to make us leave?” Walter asked.

”I don't know,” Susette said.

”Can you stop them?”

”I'm going to try.”

He reached across the table and tore a piece of paper from a small notepad. He handed it to Susette and told her what to write.

To The Honorable Mayor Lloyd Beachy and City Council:I am a 93-year-old homeowner of Ft. Trumbull who has lived here all my life. This is our home. My wife and I do not want to leave here.Respectfully,Walter PasqualiniCes Pasqualini He asked Susette to hand him the letter. There was one thing he wanted to add. He penciled in the words ”I was born on Smith Street” just above his name. He handed the letter back to Susette.

”Do you think this is going to work?” he asked. ”Do you think you're going to be able to stop them?”

”I hope so.”