Part 18 (2/2)
Entrees Fort Flambe-You'll demolish this sizzling mix of ethnic ingredients.
Pfizer Fettuccini-The heart and soul of our menu. This dish defines our reason for being.
Eminent Domainicotti-This dish originated in the Fort Trumbull neighborhood, but is rapidly spreading across town.
(All dinners include your choice of garlic croissant or our famous v.i.a.g.r.a vegetables.) Grinders (available on a Rowland Roll-soft, plump & ruthless) Claire Combo-A manic combination which is all over the place. (This baby is a crazy mix of just about everything.) NLDC/Pfizer Combo-These two have a natural affinity for each other, as cla.s.sic as Peanut b.u.t.ter & Jelly.
Social Justice Salami-Names can be deceiving; this baby packs a wallop you won't forget.
Percy Patties-Fresh turkey burgers marinated in rum and basted with gin (served dry, with an olive and a cute little umbrella).
Soups Adm. Goebbels Goulash-Served ice cold in a jack-boot.
Laughing hysterically, Susette handed the menu to Bullock. He was grinning broadly. The small print at the bottom of the menu caught his eye: ”Enter our weekly drawing for up to $15,000 in relocation expenses. You can't win if you don't leave.” The offer had an asterisk, directing readers to even smaller print: Offer may be altered or withdrawn without notice. We will never, ever put anything in writing. We reserve the right to negotiate in bad faith through the newspaper. All FOI disclosure requirements will be met (not really). Any resemblance between the NLDC and a legitimate enterprise is purely coincidental. The fact that not one NLDC employee has any construction experience shall not be held against us. Pfizer has the final say over all transactions, as they are the ones who will eventually take t.i.tle to this land.
Bullock smiled and looked at Von Winkle. None of his clients had ever produced anything so innovative and humorous before.
”If I'm ever in a fight, I want you on my side,” Bullock said, patting Von Winkle on the back. ”Can I keep this?” Von Winkle wanted him to keep it. After all, glory days had returned to the Fort Trumbull Deli. The place was packed. Food and drink were in demand. And everyone had a smile and a story to tell. The plaintiffs smelled victory.
Bullock looked around. He couldn't help thinking this was going to be a fun, unpredictable adventure representing the Fort Trumbull neighbors.
As the party wound down, Steve Hallquist cornered Von Winkle. Ever since filing their own suit with the Steffians, Steve and Amy had been trying to persuade Von Winkle to turn over the doc.u.ments he had lifted from the NLDC's Dumpster. But he had steadily resisted. Steve hoped Bullock's presence would change things.
”Bill, look, we need that stuff. We need it badly. Anything that you have may be very important to the case.”
”You think so?”
”I really do. And what's to lose? You're a plaintiff now. Give Bullock the ammo. Don't hold back the bullets.”
Von Winkle led Steve and Amy to the bas.e.m.e.nt and retrieved two black plastic trash bags stuffed with doc.u.ments. The Hallquists took the bags to Scott Sawyer's office. Days later, Sawyer s.h.i.+pped them to Bullock in Was.h.i.+ngton.
31.
SOME DEVIOUS WAY.
No one at the NLDC wanted to admit it, but the lawsuit had the agency very worried. Some wondered whether the agency should modify the munic.i.p.al-development plan. The project called for redeveloping ninety acres of real estate. Combined, the plaintiffs' land amounted to just 1.54 acres-less than 2 percent of the total area in question. Scaling down the project by an acre and a half seemed worth discussing if it averted a protracted, expensive legal battle that might bring the rest of the development to a screeching halt. Meanwhile, the city council had started getting antsy over the delays. It wanted to see timetables and immediate progress.
Something had to be done, but Goebel had a problem. He was trying to close a development contract with Corcoran Jennison, a Boston-based construction firm that was planning to implement the NLDC's development plan. Any substantial changes to the plan might require approval from the city council and potentially could trigger another round of public hearings. Besides delaying the deal with Corcoran Jennison, this approach might also provide an opening for opponents to shoot down the plan altogether.
In an e-mail to one of the NLDC's top aides, Goebel wrote that reducing the scope of the project to exclude the plaintiffs' land ”would be a major change, driving the entire plan, or at least parts of it, back into the public arena. This would be very delaying to the Corcoran Jennison development.”
Instead, Goebel wanted to send something to the city council that would appease it while keeping its members beholden to the original commitment. ”The resolution that we send over should read that way in some devious way,” he said to an NLDC aide. ”We need to pre-brief our most friendly councilors on this eventually, i.e., that failure to go with the commitment will drive the major change.”
What is the Inst.i.tute for Justice? Tom Londregan wondered. He had never heard of the outfit until he got word that the inst.i.tute had sued the city. Before a copy of the suit reached his desk, Londregan started getting phone calls. Reporters from outside New London suddenly wanted to know why the city was trying to force people from their homes. Tom Londregan wondered. He had never heard of the outfit until he got word that the inst.i.tute had sued the city. Before a copy of the suit reached his desk, Londregan started getting phone calls. Reporters from outside New London suddenly wanted to know why the city was trying to force people from their homes.
Londregan wanted to know what the h.e.l.l was going on. He believed in arguing cases before judges and juries, not in the court of public opinion. Apparently, the opposing lawyers were holding press conferences and issuing press releases. They had changed the rules-and he didn't like it one bit. His firm employed lawyers, paralegals, and secretaries, not PR specialists.
After three years on offense, the city had suddenly been forced into a defensive posture. Rather than simply answering a lawsuit, Londregan and the NLDC had to answer to the national media. Irked, Londregan decided right away he didn't care for the inst.i.tute's brand of justice. Convinced the city had the right to take the homes for economic development, and determined to prove it, Londregan planned to play hardball in defending the city's interests.
Christmas was barely over when Billy Von Winkle received a certified letter from the NLDC reminding him that it now owned his properties and that it expected all of Von Winkle's tenants to start turning their rent payments over to the NLDC.
A few days later, Von Winkle got another surprise. The NLDC had entered one of his apartment buildings, forced the tenants out, and padlocked the doors to prevent them from reentering. Some of the tenants hadn't even had a chance to grab their shoes before being forced outside into the cold.
Von Winkle called Bullock and told him what was going on. Besides being outraged at how his tenants had been manhandled, Von Winkle complained about the immediate loss of income. ”Bull, how am I going to live?” he said.
Bullock struggled to control his temper. It seemed the city was out to bankrupt his clients just a few weeks into the lawsuit.
”Is there a way to stop this?” Von Winkle asked.
”We'll do our d.a.m.ndest,” Bullock said.
Ever since losing the freedom-of-information battle with the Day Day, Claire had suffered a series of negative portrayals in the press. No matter what she said or did, her public image kept getting worse. And the NLDC's credibility kept sinking.
Claire blamed a lot of this on Reid MacCluggage. As the Day Day's publisher, MacCluggage didn't write the stories, but in Claire's eyes he was Darth Vader, a dark, powerful figure working behind the scenes to destroy the NLDC's vision for the city. When a feature writer for the Day Day's primary compet.i.tor, the Hartford Courant Hartford Courant, Connecticut's largest newspaper, called with a request to follow her around for a cover story in the paper's Sunday magazine, Claire figured she finally had a chance for an unbiased story.
Jane Dee arrived at the president's residence at Connecticut College for the first time on a cold January day a few weeks after the lawsuit was filed by Susette and her neighbors. But Dee hadn't come to talk legalese. She had come to check out Claire and all the talk she had heard about her eye-catching wardrobe, her seductive mannerisms, and her controversial style. She entered the house and waited for Claire.
”Excuse how I'm dressed,” Claire said, appearing suddenly and removing a stylish winter parka. ”I didn't feel like dressing like a college president today.”
Dee had trouble taking her eyes off Claire, mesmerized by her intensity and flair. Dee also had trouble getting a word in; Claire totally dominated the dialogue, and Dee felt she had to interrupt just to ask questions. Claire had a lot to say, occasionally lowering her voice, reclining in her chair, and running her fingers through her hair as she talked. It reinforced for Dee what she had read in one of Claire's essays while preparing for the interview: ”The imaginative, even seductive, engagement of people in a fresh way of seeing the world is the first step of vision setting.”
By the end of the interview, Dee wanted to spend a lot more time with Claire, and Claire agreed. She also consented to have a photographer tag along. But driving to her office after leaving Claire's house, Dee felt uneasy; she suspected the Claire she had met was the one Claire wanted her to meet. She also wondered about Claire's motives for agreeing to spend time with her. Dee figured that Claire thought she could control the narrative.
The following morning, Dee showed up at Susette's house for a scheduled interview. She brought along a photographer. Billy Von Winkle did his part to set the tone in the neighborhood, papering the windows of his deli with wanted posters featuring s.e.xy pictures of Claire. Dee and her photographer stopped to look.
”Wanted ... but not by us,” one of the posters read. ”This subject is armed with a giant rolodex and should be considered dangerous ... has been known to hang out at drug factories, gyms and schools.”
Another one read: ”This subject is wanted in Connecticut for fraternizing with devious people including Governor Rowland, for violating Freedom of Information laws, for stealing people's homes, and for pretending to be a social justice authority. Subject is adept at disguises. If spotted, do not approach subject for G.o.d sakes!”
A final sign with an oversized shot of Claire's face said: ”WANTED for theft, grand larceny, and attempting to pull the wool over innocent people's eyes. Claire Gaudiani has used the following aliases: Dr. Gaudiani, Claire, Martin Luther King, Jesus, Mom and Claire Lois Gaudiani Burnett.”
Dee's photographer snapped shots of Von Winkle's posters for inclusion in the story.
The mood inside Susette's house was raucous. Inside, Dee found Steve and Amy Hallquist and Connecticut College students who were vehemently opposed to Claire. Seated around the kitchen table with Susette, the group railed against the NLDC and its tactics. When Dee mentioned Claire, no one had a kind word to say.
The students belittled her approach. ”The trend in America is to save what's left of our communities,” one of them said. ”And Claire's out there knocking them down. It's a mess, just a mess.”
Steve compared her to a cult leader carrying out community cleansing.
Amy took issue with her revealing wardrobe.
”She's a ho,” someone blurted out.
The provocative quotes about Claire were still on Dee's mind a few days later when she attended a speech that Claire gave to a local chamber of commerce.
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