Part 10 (1/2)
MacCluggage smiled. ”There's no use talking any more because we don't get the straight story. So we're just going to the commission. We're going to get a ruling.” He walked away.
Inside the hearing room, reporter Judy Benson testified first. Brief and to the point, she recounted how the NLDC had denied her access to meetings and doc.u.ments.
The NLDC had a tougher task. The commission had a simple question to resolve: was the NLDC a public agency subject to freedom-of-information law? The burden fell to the NLDC to prove it wasn't. As its primary witness, the agency sent its brand-new chief operating officer, Navy Rear Admiral David Goebel, who had joined the NLDC board of directors back when Jay Levin and Claire had revived the agency, over a year earlier. Not long before the hearing was scheduled, the NLDC had hired Goebel as a full-time executive working directly under Claire.
A former deputy director for international negotiations for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Goebel was all business when he stood to be sworn in. Tall and imposing, he raised his right arm, forming a perfect right angle, and promised to tell the truth. Then, in an authoritative, no-nonsense way, he succinctly answered questions from his lawyer.
”Does the State of Connecticut determine what your tasks will be?”
”No,” Goebel testified.
”Does the DECD or any other part of the state provide you with any direction on your day to day activities?”
”No, they make a specific point not to.”
”Who decides what consultants you will retain?”
”We do, NLDC.”
”Do you need permission from the city or the state to get a consultant?”
”No.”
”Or to retain a particular consultant?”
”No.”
”Who decided what properties the NLDC would buy and how much they would pay for them?”
”The NLDC.”
After Goebel's lawyer finished, the newspaper's lawyer cross-examined Goebel.
”Am I correct that the state agency, the Department of Economic and Community Development (DECD), attends your meetings? The NLDC meetings?”
”No, not correct.”
”They never attend?”
”They do not attend NLDC meetings,” Goebel said. ”They do not attend board of director meetings. They do not attend group meetings, to my knowledge.”
”Sir, am I correct that Fort Trumbull is part of a munic.i.p.al redevelopment plan?”
”Yes, a portion of that area. Not all of it.”
”Am I correct that there are state statutes and regulations which control how that can be done?”
Goebel's lawyer objected. After a brief discussion between the attorneys and the commission, Goebel confirmed that his agency was subject to the laws of the land.
Goebel didn't give an inch, insisting the agency did not take its marching orders from the state. But he couldn't get around the fact that the NLDC got its funding from the state.
In his closing remarks, the newspaper's lawyer took a shot at the NLDC's secretive approach to doing business. ”Is there lat.i.tude by this agency that the city government doesn't have?” he asked. ”That's exactly why we're here because a lot of the business they're conducting they're conducting in secret without following the rules. It's the business of the city and we want it brought out into the sunlight.”
Pleased with the performance of his reporter and his lawyer, MacCluggage left the hearing confident the commission would declare the NLDC a public agency and his newspaper would get the doc.u.ments it had asked for.
The chances of the NLDC's getting a favorable ruling out of the state's Freedom of Information Commission were slim to none, but Claire already had another feud brewing with city attorney Tom Londregan. She ended up firing off a letter accusing Londregan of being unprofessional and uncooperative for refusing to draft a resolution to her liking. Not one to be bullied, Londregan ignored Claire and stuck to the letter of the law. He went out of his way to make sure the resolution Claire wanted got drafted in public at a city-council meeting, a move that resulted in a final product that wasn't exactly what she had in mind.
Once again she wrote Londregan and voiced her displeasure with his actions.
Londregan had heard enough.
”After reading your letter ... I feel that I must respond,” Londregan began, before defending his actions and hammering her for wanting to avoid the public process. ”You found the City Council meeting confusing with unprofessional moments as the resolution was edited in public,” Londregan wrote. ”I am sorry that you feel that way about the democratic process.” Londregan reminded Claire that he didn't work for her; his client was the City of New London.
After getting Londregan's letter, Claire called him and demanded he come to her office at Connecticut College. Incredulous, Londregan couldn't wait to get there. City officials had been starting to feel that Claire had taken over the city and oversaw their roles in development and planning. In less than a year, she had announced sweeping redevelopment plans for downtown, the waterfront, the state pier, the largest beach in the city, and the Fort Trumbull neighborhood. The state had given her agency close to $100 million while telling the city it couldn't play with the state's money. Londregan's political clients were feeling put upon by Claire, and he wasn't about to let her browbeat him.
He took out some index cards and jotted down what he planned to say. He brought a member of the city council along. By the time Londregan got to Claire's office, he was in no mood to listen.
”What I did at the city council meeting was to answer questions proposed to me by my client,” he said, with a bite in his tone. ”I gave advice and counsel. If you feel such was unprofessional, then you and I have a difference in what is professional.”
Claire had a different point of view. But for each point Claire raised, Londregan had an answer on his index cards. He didn't budge. ”Anything else?” he said sarcastically. Then he left.
19.
THE NEW NEW LONDON.
March 8, 1999 Dear Claire.”
George Milne didn't usually write letters to Claire on Pfizer letterhead. But circ.u.mstances called for an exception. The NLDC had applied for an economic-development conveyance for the Naval Undersea Warfare Center property. If granted, the NLDC would obtain the multimillion-dollar property at no cost, and Pfizer would secure the a.s.surance that the property would be developed in accordance with its wishes.
”Our New London expansion requires the world cla.s.s redevelopment planned for the adjacent 90 acres in the Fort Trumbull Munic.i.p.al Development plan including the 16 acres of the NUWC property,” Milne wrote. ”The Fort Trumbull area is integral to our corporate facility.”
Milne spelled out his plans for the base property and the neighborhood around it: a waterfront hotel with about two hundred rooms; a conference center and physical-fitness area; extended-stay residential units; and eighty units of housing. ”We will use the proposed hotel and conference facility as an extension of our facility committing to 100 of those rooms on a daily basis for visiting international staff and other professionals,” Milne said. ”In addition we require conference s.p.a.ce and are exploring a 'virtual' Pfizer University to keep our researchers up to date on the most recent breakthroughs in biotechnology. The extended stay housing will provide for researchers who often stay for periods of up to 36 months. Year round quality housing is also crucial to recruiting top scientists. The waterfront residential neighborhood envisioned provides a one-of-a-kind housing option desired by many of our employees. As a result, the NUWC property is and has been key to our investment in the area.”
To date, Milne had not been so specific, so blunt, and so clear in expressing Pfizer's desires and motives for the ninety acres of private land around its new facility. He had enough confidence in what he and Claire were contemplating that he was willing to do what corporate executives typically shun: spell it all out in black and white. He even pledged a partners.h.i.+p with the NLDC.
”We are prepared,” he told Claire, ”to enter into agreements with the NLDC and developers to build the type of facilities we require ... We have also requested the NLDC to expedite the development as quickly as possible to meet our schedule ... for the unveiling of the new, New London.”
Milne wasn't telling Claire anything she didn't already know. The real target of his letter was Governor Rowland. Milne sent him a copy. Claire and Milne needed the governor to redouble his support for the NLDC-Pfizer partners.h.i.+p. That meant stepping up the pace of development and squeezing more money out of the state for mounting costs.
The letter worked. Governor Rowland and Peter Ellef agreed to meet with Claire and Milne one month later. In the meeting Milne and Claire made a pitch for more money-a lot more money. It wasn't the first time the NLDC and Pfizer had come back to the Rowland administration for additional cash, but this time the governor had some reluctance. The project had taken on some messy overtones. Between fights with the newspaper and the homeowners, Claire and the NLDC had a black eye, and the governor wanted to avoid bad public relations. Rowland liked Claire's results; he just didn't like the dirty details that produced those results.
Before agreeing to more state funding, Rowland wanted proof that the expenditures represented ”real numbers.” And he wanted some a.s.surance that there would be no more requests for money. The meeting ended with the governor's demanding answers in writing.
Claire and Milne had reason to be concerned when they left the governor's office: his enthusiasm had clearly slipped; his demeanor had changed. If the governor failed to go any further in his commitment, the plan to overhaul the peninsula might need to be scaled back. They had to convince him to stay on board.