Part 12 (2/2)

Mayor Beachy had consistently made his feelings known. ”I don't want to throw anybody out of their home,” Beachy said.

But the idea of taking people's homes didn't seem to bother the rest of the council members. They were more concerned about taking the blame if the public and the press reacted negatively. By authorizing the NLDC to use eminent domain, the city's elected officials could s.h.i.+eld themselves from any political fallout. If things went badly, the blame would fall on the NLDC. At the same time, the city recognized that using the NLDC meant relinquis.h.i.+ng power to the agency, and the city officials didn't like that.

”What are our choices?” one council member asked.

There were not many, Londregan explained. The state had put up the money for the project, so the state called the shots. And the state had chosen the NLDC as its agent. If the city wanted $70 million to flow from the state to the city for redevelopment, the city had to be willing to bow to the NLDC and, if push came to shove, give the NLDC final say on homes that had to go.

Londregan made a case for why no homes could be left standing: if the NLDC permitted a few scattered homes to stay, no developer would take the project on. A developer would want a complete site. If the plan called for a complete site, then some tough decisions would be required when it came to using eminent domain.

Mathew Greene was the first attorney Claire had hired after taking over the NLDC. A probate judge with a private law practice in New London, Greene had made friends with all the right people in the city-politicians, fellow lawyers, and businessmen. Likeable, athletic, and handsome, Greene hadn't been Claire's first choice to serve as the NLDC's in-house counsel. But he had come highly recommended, so she obliged.

Greene recognized that eminent domain might be a ticking time bomb. He also understood why the NLDC wanted to use it and why City Hall wanted the NLDC to use it. From a legal perspective, Greene didn't see any problems for the NLDC. But from a personal perspective, he saw Claire as opening herself up to more and more unfriendly fire. She was already s.h.i.+elding Pfizer and the governor's office from political heat. Now she would become the s.h.i.+eld for City Hall on eminent domain.

Yet it wasn't Greene's responsibility to give Claire personal advice. Besides, he figured, she probably wouldn't take it anyway. He respected her even though he believed that patience and humility were not among her virtues. But she was the real deal, unlike one or two other board members whom Greene viewed as second-rate wannabes riding on Claire's coattails.

Claire's approach had Greene hearkening back to something a wise city leader had told him years earlier: ”New London politics is about people, not about issues. It's always about people.” In a city where everyone seems to be related to someone else in the city, outsiders didn't fare well. Claire was an outsider playing an insider's game. Dangerous Dangerous, Greene thought, dangerous dangerous.

City Hall officials scheduled two public hearings leading up to the city council's vote on whether to approve the NLDC's munic.i.p.al-development plan. Kathleen Mitch.e.l.l and the coalition mobilized hundreds of opponents to attend. When the time came, residents from throughout the city packed the hearings.

Mitch.e.l.l also did some research on Claire's home. When she had become president of Connecticut College, Claire had moved into the president's residence, a stately white colonial with red shutters located next door to a land conservatory. Additionally, she and her husband had purchased a second home away from New London in an exclusive waterfront community known as Mumford Cove, on Long Island Sound. She had a personal driver and a limousine to shuttle her from place to place.

Compared to the people Claire had been attempting to drive out of Fort Trumbull, she had some pretty upscale living standards. Mitch.e.l.l figured the time had come to expose all this to the public. She spread the word that while enjoying two expensive homes Claire was busy trying to deprive others of having only one.

At the close of the second public hearing, Claire addressed the issue of owning multiple homes, defending her and her husband's lifestyle. ”We were very, very, very modestly paid professors when we came to this area, when I was asked to be president of the college,” she said. ”When I came to the college, I had a president's house. If we had not purchased a house within eighteen months, we would have had to have paid capital gain [tax] on the little nest egg that we had in our house. So, of course, we bought a house. The house we could find at the time is on Mumford Cove in Groton. So that is the place where David and I go on the weekends. So I hope you, as fellow citizens, would understand that somebody with my kind of job is basically on a 24/7 schedule. I should have a place to go with my family and be a mom and a wife.”

Mitch.e.l.l loved Claire's answer. It gave the impression that her job was more important than everybody else's. Many people in New London didn't own one home, much less two homes. People in Fort Trumbull weren't looking for a weekend getaway; they were merely trying to hold on to four walls and a roof. Claire talked about trying to avoid capital gains taxes; few people in Fort Trumbull ever had to worry about capital gains.

With the city council set to vote on the NLDC plan on January 18, 2000, Mitch.e.l.l talked with Susette about making a public statement before the vote. Susette felt hesitant; a thousand people were projected to attend the public comment period before the vote.

Mitch.e.l.l a.s.sured her that most of the crowd would be on her side. That didn't change Susette's mind-she felt very uncomfortable about getting up in front of a crowd that size. She agreed to attend, but she made no promises about speaking. Mitch.e.l.l suggested she bring a picture of her house, reflecting all the renovations.

The New London High School auditorium was packed when Susette arrived with Mitch.e.l.l and trailed her toward some seats near other members of the coalition. The city council occupied seats on the stage. Susette recognized only one friendly person-Mayor Beachy.

For four hours the council listened as resident after resident addressed it in a public comment period. Mitch.e.l.l kept tabs; it appeared that more than 90 percent of the residents who spoke were against the NLDC plan. Wanting Susette to have the last word, Mitch.e.l.l waited until the very end of the meeting before she stood up to approach the microphone.

”C'mon, Susette,” she whispered. ”Come with me.”

Susette looked up at Mitch.e.l.l, who was smiling and wearing an old, badly wrinkled blouse and white canvas sneakers that displayed her badly swollen ankles. Admiring Mitch.e.l.l's strength, Susette stood up, clutching a picture of her house. Side by side, they approached a microphone.

”We're coming up to speak together,” Mitch.e.l.l said to the council. ”Susette is not used to speaking in public, and I just wanted the company.”

Mitch.e.l.l reminded the council that senior citizens on fixed incomes were being forced out under the NLDC plan. She gave a list of reasons why the council should not accept a plan that allowed for the use of eminent domain. Then she turned to Susette.

”I'm here tonight in regard to the Fort Trumbull neighborhood,” Susette said, describing her house and what it meant to her. She held up the picture. ”Does this look like a house that needs to be condemned? Does this look like a house that should be torn down?” She paused. ”Please vote tonight to not tear down the Fort Trumbull neighborhood.” She stepped back and followed Mitch.e.l.l back to their seats.

At midnight, the city council ended the meeting and went into executive session before voting 61 to support the NLDC's plan. Only Mayor Beachy voted no. The way had been cleared for the NLDC to begin carrying out the development plan.

23.

HIGHER EDUCATION.

Disillusioned.” Fred Paxton couldn't think of a better word to describe his feelings after six months of hard work seemed to add up to nothing. The will of the people had been ignored, despite every effort to use the proper channels to communicate with elected officials.

The rest of the Coalition to Save Fort Trumbull Neighborhood felt the same way. Anger filled the room when members gathered to discuss the city council's vote. They had done research, circulated pet.i.tions, organized letter-writing campaigns, garnered positive publicity, mobilized citizens, attended public hearings, and demonstrated strong opposition to the NLDC's plan. They had even produced an alternative plan. Nothing had worked. Some wondered what else could be done.

Mitch.e.l.l lashed out at the coalition. ”We have been playing too nice,” she shouted. ”We are playing by the rules of the politicians and the others in charge. We're not going to get anywhere using these methods.”

All along, Mitch.e.l.l had been pus.h.i.+ng for a more aggressive, confrontational approach. John and Sarah Steffian agreed; the coalition needed to play hardball. But some members feared such an approach would alienate them from the rest of the public and the press, both of which were behind the Fort Trumbull residents. The meeting degenerated into an argument and ended without any resolution on the next steps.

Discouraged and convinced the NLDC would get her house, Susette walked out in silence. The pain in Susette's expression tugged at Paxton. He had pledged to do all he could to help her, yet nothing he had tried seemed to work. He had let her down. He also felt he was taking a big personal risk by opposing Claire. Some colleagues had started to shun him. Some blamed him for undermining the school's reputation.

But unbeknownst to Paxton, while he had been publicly squaring off with Claire over Fort Trumbull, a small group of faculty at the college had been quietly looking into the finances of the school. One of them contacted Paxton and asked him to attend a private meeting with a college administrator who had firsthand knowledge of the school's accounting records.

Paxton reluctantly agreed. When he arrived at the meeting, the faculty administrator distributed some doc.u.ments. ”Here's the financial status of the college,” the administrator said.

While Paxton and his colleagues looked at the numbers, the administrator painted the picture for them. It was not pretty. The school's operating budget had shortfalls and warnings of a hiring freeze and possible cutbacks had reached the faculty. Two dining areas had been closed; hours at the athletic center had been cut back; and campus health service fees had gone up nearly tenfold. The school had also inexplicably run out of money while building some dormitories.

The group determined that something had to be done-fast. Talk ultimately turned to Claire. Paxton left the meeting feeling ill. He was in enough hot water with Claire over Fort Trumbull. The other professors understood that Paxton didn't want to be involved. But the others organized a private meeting off campus and invited senior, tenured faculty. The school's finances weren't the only thing driving the organizers. Some faculty had been at odds with Claire on a variety of issues. And personal gripes and personal offenses came into play too. All of this added up to momentum to orchestrate a change at the top.

April 6, 2000 ”d.a.m.n.”

Mayor Beachy tossed aside a legal notice prepared by the city's Building Division. It indicated the NLDC had obtained permits to demolish a slew of buildings in the Fort Trumbull neighborhood, including the house right next door to Susette's place and three other homes on East Street. The city council had barely voted to support the plan and the NLDC had already moved to exercise its power to knock down the buildings.

Beachy sent an urgent e-mail to the Coalition to Save Fort Trumbull Neighborhood, alerting them to the impending demolitions. ”We must stop this project,” Beachy wrote. ”Step forward and fight.”

A chill ran down Susette's spine when she read the e-mail. She called Mitch.e.l.l, who had already read it. To Mitch.e.l.l it was a long overdue call to arms.

Reinvigorated by news that the NLDC planned to start knocking down homes, the coalition reconvened to map out ideas to stop it. John Steffian insisted the time had come to take the fight out of the political process and into the courtroom.

Steve and Amy Hallquist agreed. ”We have to get real,” Steve said. ”Real” meant hiring a lawyer and suing the NLDC.

”It's about time,” Mitch.e.l.l said.

But lawyers and lawsuits, other coalition members pointed out, required money, and the coalition didn't have any money.

The Steffians had money, lots of it. And they had no intention of letting money get in the way of saving homes in Fort Trumbull.

Coalition members had another concern: liability. Suing the city or the NLDC could mean repercussions for anyone involved. Everyone agreed that engaging a lawyer probably made sense. But few were eager to become litigants.

Steve and Amy Hallquist volunteered to join the Steffians to search for an attorney.

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