Part 19 (1/2)
”Good morning,” Claire began.
”Good morning,” a man in the audience responded.
”I love responsive men,” Claire told the audience.
Dee couldn't believe it. After the speech, she asked Claire about her seductive style. Claire dismissed the criticism as noise from her adversaries, pointing out that people's obsession with her attire amused her. ”It's not like I'm disabled and dragging a bad leg,” she said. ”So I don't let it bother me.”
The one item that stuck with Dee after her visit with Susette was Susette's insistence that Pfizer was behind Claire's push to clear the neighborhood. Dee got close enough to Claire to get an interview with her low-profile husband, David Burnett, who worked under Milne at Pfizer. He looked and sounded more like a professor than a corporate guy. ”Pfizer wants a nice place to operate,” he said candidly. ”We don't want to be surrounded by tenements.”
On the day Dee spoke to Burnett, a photographer snapped photos of Claire. Dee's story was quickly taking shape.
In addition to Von Winkle's rental-property crisis, Bullock and Berliner had another problem. Back on December 7, two weeks before the inst.i.tute had filed its lawsuit, the NLDC had applied for permits to demolish six of the fifteen properties owned by the plaintiffs. The law required the NLDC to wait sixty days before exercising the permits. As of February 5, 2001, the NLDC would be free to start demolis.h.i.+ng. All of Von Winkle's properties-including the deli-were on the demolition schedule.
The lawsuit alleged the NLDC had acted unlawfully when taking t.i.tle to the plaintiffs' properties. With the case headed for trial, Bullock figured, the NLDC surely had to suspend any demolition plans until a judge sorted out the legal questions.
In early January, Bullock telephoned the NLDC's in-house lawyer, Mathew Greene, and asked the agency to hold off on the demolitions until after the case was resolved. Greene said he'd get back to him.
When NLDC president Dave Goebel learned of Bullock's request, he approached it as he would an enemy. He didn't want to give any a.s.surance that his agency wouldn't demolish the houses. He hoped that might force the issue.
Greene informed Bullock that the NLDC would not take up the issue of whether to delay the home demolitions until its next board of directors meeting, on February 13.
That would be eight days too late, Bullock insisted. The mandatory sixty-day waiting period to exercise the demolition permits would expire on February 5. What was there to stop the NLDC from demolis.h.i.+ng the properties that day?
Bullock asked Greene if the NLDC would at least agree to hold off any demolitions until the agency's next board meeting. Greene checked and came back with the same answer: no.
Incensed, Bullock huddled with Berliner. ”These people are so arrogant they won't even agree to stop demolitions until the court hears the case,” he said.
Bullock and Berliner decided to hit back. First, they helped Von Winkle write and submit a tough op-ed piece to the Hartford Courant Hartford Courant t.i.tled: ”Eminent Domain Abuse Puts Owners, Tenants Out In The Cold.” The piece ran on January 29. In it, Von Winkle hammered the NLDC: t.i.tled: ”Eminent Domain Abuse Puts Owners, Tenants Out In The Cold.” The piece ran on January 29. In it, Von Winkle hammered the NLDC: Earlier this month, a tenant in my New London apartment building found himself being locked inside: Someone was padlocking his door from the outside.I wish I could say this was a prank, but it was a deliberate act by my town's government and a private development corporation to make property owners like me give up what is rightfully ours. ...The NLDC claims the right to collect any rent these properties generate. In the middle of January, it forced my tenants out into the street in their stocking feet. This is no exaggeration. This is what happens when government power gets out of control.
The essay had its desired effect, thoroughly embarra.s.sing the NLDC and the City of New London and sparking an outrage among readers across the state.
The day after Von Winkle's piece ran, Bullock and Berliner asked the court to intervene. They filed a motion for a temporary restraining order to prevent the NLDC from taking any action to demolish or alter buildings or homes on the plaintiffs' properties until the court conducted a hearing. They also filed a motion for a temporary injunction to prevent the NLDC from evicting any plaintiffs or demolis.h.i.+ng any plaintiffs' homes pending the outcome of the trial. Both motions stressed the urgency of a ruling before the fast-approaching February 5 expiration date on the NLDC's demolition permits.
Bullock and Berliner's motions ended up on the desk of Judge Robert A. Martin at the New London Superior Court. A New London native, Martin had the administrative responsibility for a.s.signing cases to fellow judges. He knew some of the plaintiffs personally. The judge also knew some of the defendants and most of the lawyers involved in the case.
Until the case was a.s.signed, Martin had hoped things would remain low-key. Martin called a conference with all the lawyers in his chambers at noon on February 5, 2001, the same day the sixty-day waiting period would expire.
At first relieved that a conference had been scheduled, Bullock then immediately recognized a major concern. The judge planned to take up the demolition matter twelve hours after after the NLDC's ninety-day waiting period for exercising demolition permits expired. Nothing was in place to stop the NLDC from bulldozing houses at midnight on the eve of the hearing. He called Berliner and Kramer to his office. the NLDC's ninety-day waiting period for exercising demolition permits expired. Nothing was in place to stop the NLDC from bulldozing houses at midnight on the eve of the hearing. He called Berliner and Kramer to his office.
”The legal protection for the homes ends at midnight,” he explained. ”For twelve hours the homes have no legal protection.”
An a.n.a.lysis of the homes with pending demolition permits showed that all of them were occupied except for one being renovated by Rich Beyer. Bullock felt confident that the occupied homes were not at risk. The empty house, however, presented the NLDC with a big, easy target for a knockdown.
”The NLDC is tyrannical enough to do something like that,” Bullock told his colleagues.
”The last thing we need right now is for any more of those homes to come down,” Berliner said.
”That's right,” Bullock said. ”If we lose even one home before we present the case that will be a huge psychological blow to them. We have to prevent this at all costs.”
The only way to guarantee against an early-morning demolition, it seemed, would be to put a body in the house.
”I'll do it,” said Kramer.
Bullock pointed out the house had no heat or electricity, since it was under renovation. ”It's going to be pretty cold,” he said.
”I'll bring a sleeping bag,” Kramer said.
Antic.i.p.ating a possible standoff with an NLDC bulldozer, Kramer decided to call Stephen Humphries, a reporter at the Christian Science Monitor Christian Science Monitor in Boston. Humphries had an interest in eminent domain. If there was going to be drama, Kramer wanted the world to know about it. in Boston. Humphries had an interest in eminent domain. If there was going to be drama, Kramer wanted the world to know about it.
Kramer explained the situation and what he'd be doing. ”I can't guarantee anything,” he said. ”But I'm going to do this, and if you're interested in joining me as a reporter, you are welcome to come aboard.”
Humphries got approval from his editor and agreed to meet Kramer in New London.
February 4, 2001 Bullock, Kramer and Humphries arrived at Susette's house early in the evening. The plaintiffs had gathered to run through the game plan for standing vigil over Rich Beyer's property until the conclusion of the hearing the following morning. Bullock explained that Kramer and Humphries would go up to Beyer's vacant home around 11:30 p.m. and remain inside until dawn. Then at sunup, the rest of the coalition would surround the house and remain on-site until Judge Martin, they hoped, issued an order blocking any further demolitions until the conclusion of the trial.
While Bullock and Kramer reviewed the logistics, neighbors scurried in and out of Susette's house, dropping off provisions for Kramer and Humphries: homemade brownies, a thermos of hot coffee, and flashlights with extra batteries.
Humphries cornered Susette for an interview for the Christian Science Monitor Christian Science Monitor. The more questions he asked, the more emotional she became. When he asked about the possibility that another house would come down in the neighborhood, she broke down.
Kramer spotted Susette wiping tears from her cheeks. He looked at his watch. It was nearly 11:30, time to head over to the empty house. He put on his coat, gloves, and a wool ski cap and called for Humphries. They said good night to Susette, and Beyer led them up the street to the house. From the outside, it appeared in good shape other than some visible signs of damage caused by the NLDC, which had padlocked the front door to keep Beyer out. He had cut off the agency's lock and replaced it with one of his own. After removing it, he ushered Kramer and Humphries inside.
Kramer stepped onto a dirt floor. The stench of cat urine forced him to cover his nose. After Beyer had installed brand-new window casings throughout the house, the NLDC had pried them off with crowbars, enabling stray cats to gain access.
To escape the smell and the dirt, Kramer and Humphries went upstairs, to an uninsulated, open area with nothing but studs and subflooring. They rolled out their sleeping bags on the dusty surface. The temperature outside was subfreezing, and the building had no heat or electricity.
”It's cold as h.e.l.l,” said Beyer, hardly able to take the smell. He was amazed that Kramer was still willing to spend the night in the building. ”You need b.a.l.l.s the size of watermelons to sleep in this place.”
Kramer was determined.
Beyer thanked him profusely and headed home to get a few hours' sleep before getting up early to get ready for his court appearance with Bullock.
s.h.i.+vering, Kramer got into his sleeping bag and thought of a statement by Thomas Jefferson: ”We are not to expect to be translated from despotism to liberty in a featherbed.” Suddenly, something dawned on him. Technically, according to Connecticut law, Beyer's house belonged to the NLDC. ”We're trespa.s.sing,” Kramer told Humphries.
”If we get arrested,” Humphries said, ”my editor will bail me out. But who will take care of you?”
Kramer laughed. ”If this is the price to ensure a man's house is free, I'll happily pay it.”
Eventually, both men drifted off.
Kramer had drifted into a shallow sleep when pounding on the front door jolted him awake. ”You in there?” a man shouted.
It was just after 5:30 in the morning. ”This is it,” Kramer said to Humphries, hustling out of his sleeping bag. ”It's either the police or the demolition crew.”
His adrenaline rus.h.i.+ng, Kramer hustled down the stairs and opened the front door. Smiling, Matt Dery greeted him with two steaming cups of Dunkin' Donuts coffee and a bag of hot breakfast sandwiches. ”I thought you guys could use something warm,” he said, his breath visible in the frigid air.
Kramer took a deep breath and thanked Dery for his thoughtfulness.