Part 15 (1/2)

26.

A FIGHT IN THE FORT.

The day after Bullock's whirlwind visit to New London, the Day Day reported that a D.C. law firm might help the Fort Trumbull neighborhood residents. The story put the NLDC on notice that it might soon have a lot more to deal with than Scott Sawyer. A lawsuit filed by a national firm promised to drastically slow progress and put a real spotlight on the agency and Pfizer. reported that a D.C. law firm might help the Fort Trumbull neighborhood residents. The story put the NLDC on notice that it might soon have a lot more to deal with than Scott Sawyer. A lawsuit filed by a national firm promised to drastically slow progress and put a real spotlight on the agency and Pfizer.

Claire and her board had a decision to make. They could treat the news as a warning and reach out to Susette and the other holdouts with a compromise. Or they could try to crush the residents immediately, before the inst.i.tute had enough time to ramp up and file a suit.

The first option would require the NLDC to spend some money. By offering the holdouts twice the appraised value of their respective properties, the NLDC would probably persuade most of them to drop their opposition. The higher prices would also enable the holdouts to afford housing elsewhere. The second option wouldn't cost anything in the short run. However, this approach came with a much higher risk. If it failed to drive the holdouts out, it would likely trigger a lawsuit that could end up costing the NLDC and the city much more money over the long run.

Claire had been brought to a pressure point. She had fights going on every front. The governor's office had it in for her. She was battling Tom Londregan and City Hall. She had a war going with the press. The Fort Trumbull residents and the conservancy were doing everything possible to portray her as public enemy number one. And the atmosphere on campus had become hostile, with faculty and a contingent of students determined to dislodge her as president.

With this many enemies, the last thing Claire needed was another opponent. It seemed the best course was to modify the plan and ward off a lawsuit from the Inst.i.tute for Justice.

But Claire liked a quote attributed to Henry Ford: ”Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off your goal.” Her goal was to turn New London's economic fortunes around, and she had no intention of losing focus now. She opted not to compromise. David Goebel agreed with this approach. The NLDC asked the city council to rescind an earlier motion that had halted acquisition and demolition on Susette's block. The NLDC decided it wanted to act fast. But its request required a vote by the city council in a public meeting, and before that could happen the city had to post the item on an agenda made available to the public beforehand. The notice would tip off the opposition, providing time for the coalition to mobilize a crowd of protestors and news cameras at the meeting.

Faced with this, the city council found a way around the minefield. When the agenda for the September 5 meeting came out, it contained no mention of a vote on the NLDC's request to resume demolition. At the tail end of the meeting, long after the public had gone home, the council added the item to the agenda. With no public opposition present, it voted to authorize the NLDC to demolish properties in Fort Trumbull.

But Mayor Beachy also knew the game. The next morning, he talked to people in the city's permit office. He told them to notify him the minute the NLDC applied for any demolition permits. He also huddled with members of the coalition, and the group organized a list of people with responsibility for calling City Hall on a daily basis to find out if the NLDC had filed any permit requests.

George Milne had a lot more on his mind than the potential of a lawsuit against the NLDC. As a Connecticut College trustee, Milne had another crisis to deal with. The conflict between Claire and the faculty had gotten personal and ugly. The faculty wanted Claire out, but she had no intention of stepping down. The standoff put Milne in a tough spot. He chaired the Academic Affairs Committee, yet he maintained a strong loyalty to Claire. With the faculty in revolt, it seemed clear that it wasn't a question of if Claire would leave but rather when.

Milne was also facing a career change of his own. Just two months earlier, Pfizer had announced that the Federal Trade Commission had given final clearance for a merger with the Warner-Lambert company.

In conjunction with the merger, Pfizer announced a leaders.h.i.+p change in New London. Milne was elevated to executive vice president of Pfizer Global Research and Development.

The $90 billion merger meant that Pfizer instantly had a surplus of real estate and office s.p.a.ce throughout the country. Rather than expand, Pfizer now needed to consolidate to maintain efficiency. Suddenly, the company's plans for the New London facility had changed.

Kathleen Mitch.e.l.l had vowed to take a street fighter's approach to the NLDC. The coalition repeatedly tried to rein her in at board meetings. She decided to use her weekly cable-television show on New London's public-access station to go after Claire. After opening one of her shows in late August with a blistering monologue against Claire and the NLDC, Mitch.e.l.l opened the phone lines for call-ins. One caller complained about Claire's leaders.h.i.+p style at the NLDC. He asked Mitch.e.l.l what was wrong with Claire.

”Just between you and me, she's a transs.e.xual,” Mitch.e.l.l said.

The statement worked. Within days, the NLDC dispatched a communications specialist and mobilized community leaders to go after Mitch.e.l.l. The NLDC labeled her remarks ”detestable” and demanded a public apology. When the Day Day contacted her for a response, Mitch.e.l.l defended her statement. ”Being a transs.e.xual is ... it's like foreign to my way of life,” she said. ”And so is Claire. She's out of touch with everyone. I don't know any other way to explain it. She just seems to be on some other plane. I was so frustrated. I guess it was a way of dismissing her.” contacted her for a response, Mitch.e.l.l defended her statement. ”Being a transs.e.xual is ... it's like foreign to my way of life,” she said. ”And so is Claire. She's out of touch with everyone. I don't know any other way to explain it. She just seems to be on some other plane. I was so frustrated. I guess it was a way of dismissing her.”

When asked if she planned to apologize to Claire, Mitch.e.l.l balked. ”She can wait for a cold day in h.e.l.l,” Mitch.e.l.l said. ”I will never apologize. I'm going to do and say whatever is necessary to prevent what I think is a violation of people's rights.”

Primed to demolish homes on Susette's street, some NLDC board members now started having second thoughts. They were taking the homes of senior citizens and lower-income residents who couldn't afford a fight, yet they were allowing an Italian men's club with political ties to remain. ”It just doesn't look good,” one of the board members insisted.

Claire and Jay Levin didn't seem to have a problem with the double standard. But they didn't have the job of defending it before the city council. That responsibility fell to David Goebel, and it was an announcement he didn't want to make. No matter how he spun it, the NLDC's decision sent a hypocritical message for an organization touting social justice: a politically connected men's club was deemed to be more important than a person's home.

But Goebel's military background had trained him to respect the chain of command. On September 18, he reported to the council that the Italian Dramatic Club would be allowed to remain and that the owners of the club would retain t.i.tle to the property. Members of the city council didn't get it. The press didn't get it either. The Day Day started asking questions. n.o.body involved had a good answer. ”I think the NLDC recognized that as the city changes, aspects of the city's heritage have to remain sacrosanct,” Jay Levin told the paper. started asking questions. n.o.body involved had a good answer. ”I think the NLDC recognized that as the city changes, aspects of the city's heritage have to remain sacrosanct,” Jay Levin told the paper.

If the implications hadn't been so serious, Levin's answer would have qualified as comedy. Everyone involved in the decision started backtracking. Justice Angelo Santaniello denied having helped the club. Steve Percy, of the NLDC, became indignant at any suggestion that politics had played a role in the outcome. But politics was the only reason the club had been spared. The building had no more historical value to the city's heritage than the historic homes and streets in the Fort Trumbull neighborhood did.

Susette didn't know anything about the Italian Dramatic Club until she read in the newspaper that it had been spared the wrecking ball. The comments by Levin, Santaniello, and Percy infuriated her. She called Mitch.e.l.l.

”I am rippin'!” Susette said. ”This is all a political s.h.i.+t show.”

Mitch.e.l.l had read the article. She shared Susette's anger, and Levin's insistence that the Italian Dramatic Club had special historical significance had her laughing.

”Levin is full of s.h.i.+t,” Susette shouted. ”There's nothing historic about the IDC. Why can't he see the historic value of the houses that we live in? Matt Dery's father's house is an original whaling house.” Mitch.e.l.l agreed. ”Unless the IDC is where the mob bosses from Providence come to meet,” Susette said, ”it's no historic landmark.”

Mitch.e.l.l got a kick out of Susette's pa.s.sion. ”Well, what would you like to do?”

”I want you to write them and tell them they're all full of s.h.i.+t,” Susette said. ”And that I'm not going to stand for it.” Mitch.e.l.l doubted that would be productive. Susette didn't care. ”They're coming in here and making up this c.r.a.p about saving a historic building,” Susette said. ”But they've already torn down all these historic homes. Our houses are actually historic. We all know it's a crock of c.r.a.p. We all know it's politics. They sit there and say politics had nothing to do with it. Politics has everything to do with it in New London.”

”I'll write the letter,” Mitch.e.l.l said.

After hanging up, Susette couldn't stop fuming. She walked two blocks to the men's club. Three cars were parked outside. Otherwise, the place looked abandoned. Tall weeds poked through cracks in the pavement leading up to the door. She knocked. No one answered. She opened the door and stepped inside.

Male voices rose from the bas.e.m.e.nt. She slowly made her way downstairs. Three men were seated at a table, eating cheese and drinking wine. They turned and gave her a funny look.

”I'm Susette Kelo, and I live on East Street,” she said.

The men looked at each other. ”This is a men's club,” one of the men pointed out. ”Women are not allowed in.”

”Don't worry, I won't be here long,” she said, looking around. She felt like she had walked into a scene from The G.o.dfather The G.o.dfather. ”I just want to know what you guys did to make it so you could stay, because I want to stay too.”

Caught off guard, the men said nothing.

”We don't want to stop the development,” Susette continued. ”We just want to keep our homes.”

The oldest of the three men looked her in the eye. ”We're sorry for you,” he said. ”But it is better not to fight. It will cost you too much money.”

She wondered how much they had paid and to whom to get their way. Again, she asked what they had done to save their club.

”We didn't have anything to do with it,” one of the men said. ”We're really not sure what happened.”

The longer Susette stayed, the friendlier the men became. In the end, they repeated their advice not to fight the NLDC.

By the time Susette returned home, Mitch.e.l.l had finished a draft letter for her. She read it to her over the phone: We the people who live in the Fort Trumbull neighborhood are heartened by the recent announcement that the City has decided to save the Italian Dramatic Club. We view this as a significant step in preserving the cultural diversity of our historic neighborhood.We call upon the City Council and New London Development Corporation to sit down with us, the residents of Fort Trumbull, in a sincere effort to reach a plan of action that is acceptable to all of us. We cherish this neighborhood and its proud history and we are optimistic that we can allow progress and preserve our historic past.

Susette wanted to hammer the NLDC. Mitch.e.l.l suggested using the Italian club decision as a basis to demand equal treatment.

Susette wanted to bash Levin. ”He went there and he a.s.sured them that nothing was going to happen to that building,” she said.

Mitch.e.l.l couldn't believe Susette had walked into the Italian men's club unannounced. She encouraged her to avoid accusations in the letter. Susette trusted Mitch.e.l.l. She had her deliver the letter to her house, and Susette signed it as chairperson of the Fort Trumbull Neighborhood a.s.sociation and sent it to the city council and the NLDC. ”If they're willing to work with the IDC,” she said, ”maybe they'll work with us.”

Mitch.e.l.l had another idea: a pet.i.tion. She already had a draft, and she showed it to Susette. It read: ”We, the undersigned, support the efforts of the Coalition to Save the Fort Trumbull Neighborhood to amend the Munic.i.p.al Development Plan to save a majority of the residential neighborhood and business at Fort Trumbull.”

By securing signatures from 5 percent of the city's registered voters, the coalition could force the city to hold a referendum on whether the homes in Fort Trumbull should be demolished or preserved.

Susette liked it. She offered her home as headquarters for the pet.i.tion drive. Mitch.e.l.l worked with the coalition to organize a vigil on East Street. On the first night, dozens showed up. Clipboards and pencils rested on tables on the sidewalk in front of Susette's house. The next night, even more people showed up. Lines of residents outside Susette's home got longer each night.

Not to be outdone, Claire organized her own pet.i.tion, t.i.tled, ”Citizens in Favor of New London Development.” Claire and members of the NLDC began soliciting signatures. Pfizer president George Milne put his signature on the pet.i.tion first.

Claire had more clout than Susette and attracted signatures from influential people who had prestigious t.i.tles. But Susette had a groundswell of everyday people behind her and got far more people to sign her pet.i.tions. Once she and the coalition had more than enough signatures to satisfy the city's legal requirements, the coalition presented the pet.i.tions to the city clerk for certification. The clerk forwarded them to attorney Tom Londregan for review.