Part 29 (2/2)
Following Rasch's visit, Greene met privately with Joplin and suggested a plan to try to fend off the city council's plan to sever ties with the NLDC. Greene still had the trust and respect of the city council, and if there was any way of working out a compromise, Greene had the best chance of facilitating it. ”Utilize me,” he told Joplin.
Joplin agreed to have Greene see what he could do.
The same day that the NLDC agreed to rescind the evictions, Susette received a letter from Senator Arlen Specter, chairman of the U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee. It read, ”Dear Ms. Kelo: On Tuesday September 20, 2005, the Senate Committee on the Judiciary will hold a hearing ent.i.tled 'The Kelo Decision: Investigating Takings of Homes and other Private Property.' I invite you to testify at the hearing, which is scheduled to begin at 10:00 a.m. in Room 226 of the Dirksen Senate Office Building.” Specter informed her that she would need to provide seventy-five copies of her written testimony and her curriculum vitae for distribution to the committee and the press.
”My G.o.d, when is this going to end?” she said out loud.
The demands on her time were overwhelming her. Everyone, it seemed, wanted her attention. Despite the NLDC's doing everything in its power to wipe out her address-tearing down street signs and refusing to recognize the street addresses in the Fort Trumbull area as valid-the mail carrier knew who lived where and continued to deliver mail. In Susette's case, that meant hundreds of letters from supporters around the country. Unsure of her address, many writers put down only sketchy information on the mailing envelopes, hoping it would be enough to reach Susette.
”Mrs. Susette Kelo, Fort Trumbull Neighborhood, New London, CT 06320,” read one envelope from a man in Greenville, North Carolina.
”Susette Kelo & Family, New London, CT 06320,” wrote a person in Honolulu.
A man from Waterbury wrote, ”Mrs. Susette Kelo at the 1893 John Bishop House, Fort Trumbull, New London, Connecticut 06320.”
”Susette Kelo, New London, Conn. 06320,” a person from Hollywood, California, wrote.
Some mail didn't even have a zip code, like the letter from Savannah, Georgia, addressed to ”Ms. Susette Kelo, Eminent Domain Displaced, New London, CT.” Somehow, all these letters of support reached her home. Every letter emboldened her to keep on fighting.
With help from Bullock and the inst.i.tute, Susette got busy preparing her testimony for the Senate Judiciary Committee hearing.
Behind closed doors, Londregan and the city council met to decide what to do about the NLDC. The councilors remained adamant that the agency had to be reined in. A message had to be sent. The best way to do it was to remove the leaders.h.i.+p.
Londregan agreed. From the day Claire Gaudiani had been appointed head of the NLDC, the agency had consistently failed to keep the city in the loop on its decisions. This had been going on for years, and it was time to put a stop to it.
Londregan and the city council agreed that the NLDC needed an ultimatum: either the NLDC would remove Goebel and Joplin at once, or the council would dissolve the entire agency.
September 19, 2005 In damage-control mode, the NLDC rescinded its eviction notices. Nonetheless, the city council convened a public meeting at City Hall to vote on whether or not to cut ties with the agency. All the people who had fought to protect the Fort Trumbull neighborhood showed up beforehand for a ma.s.sive rally to protest eminent domain. The holdout homeowners attended, along with many of the original members of the Save Fort Trumbull Coalition, including Professor Fred Paxton and Steve and Amy Hallquist. The reunion resembled a revival.
Yet times had clearly changed. Instead of a few dozen supporters from New London, hundreds of newcomers had come from outside the city to show solidarity with the holdouts. When the rally ended, they all tried to pack the council chamber. Throngs of people jammed the lobby and the stairwells leading to the chamber, making it impossible for two of the councilors to get to the meeting.
In the chaos, the fire marshal ordered the crowd to clear the building, declaring that the number of people exceeded that permitted by the building's fire code. Other than those in the chamber, everyone else had to evacuate. That didn't sit well with the crowd. Tempers flared. Policemen formed a barricade outside the chamber. Those stuck in the halls and stairwells began shouting.
One councilor emerged from the chamber to a.s.sure everyone outside that the meeting would not go on without them.
n.o.body believed it. Fort Trumbull holdout Michael Cristofaro, who had received one of the eviction notices, started shouting at the councilor, demanding a chance to address the council.
Emboldened by Cristofaro's fiery words, the crowd began yelling louder.
”You're inciting these people,” the councilor said. ”Stop yelling!”
Democracy-messy and volatile-had shown up at City Hall and the politicians didn't know how to handle it. The scene around the chamber was teetering on anarchy.
The city council decided to abort the meeting and postpone the vote. Clearly they needed a bigger venue to accommodate the public.
The police ordered everyone to clear the building.
Susette missed all the commotion. She had flown to Was.h.i.+ngton to get ready for her appearance the following morning before the Senate Judiciary Committee. Her situation was on the minds of many in Was.h.i.+ngton. And the outrage over the Supreme Court's decision hadn't died down. A group in Los Angeles had started a national campaign to have Justice David Souter's home in New Hamps.h.i.+re condemned and taken by eminent domain.
In her Was.h.i.+ngton hotel room, Susette panicked. In twelve hours she'd be testifying before the U.S. Senate and she didn't have her opening statement written. She had already submitted carefully prepared written testimony, but she wanted to make a separate, personal statement when she appeared before the committee.
With so much going on at once, she couldn't think straight anymore. Desperate, she telephoned Mitch.e.l.l back in New London for help.
”All right, calm down,” Mitch.e.l.l said. ”I'll dictate something to you.”
”Son of a b.i.t.c.h!”
”What?”
”I don't even have anything to write on.”
Mitch.e.l.l couldn't help laughing.
”Wait, I've got a napkin,” Susette said. ”Okay. I'm ready. I'm ready.”
Over the next thirty minutes, Mitch.e.l.l helped her craft an opening statement. Susette thanked her, promising to call her after the hearing.
Before Susette fell asleep, Von Winkle called. He had just returned from City Hall. ”You missed the show of the year,” he told her. ”The place was packed.”
”I'd rather be there than here right now,” she said.
Von Winkle a.s.sured her she'd do just fine in front of the senators. ”Go get 'em, Red,” he said.
43.
LIVING PROOF.
September 20, 2005 As a little girl, on her first day of elementary school, Susette had been surprised when her cla.s.s went to a cafeteria at lunchtime. She hadn't known what lunch was. In her house she had had only two meals a day, breakfast and dinner. She liked school because it offered a hot meal every day.
Entering the U.S. Capitol for the first time, she felt a little like a child all over again. She never realized that people like her-a working-cla.s.s nurse without a college degree-could get an audience with senators. ”Boy, there sure are a lot of people here,” she said, taking a deep breath as Scott Bullock ushered her into the hearing room. She took her place at the witness table beside the mayor of Hartford, who had come to testify in favor of eminent domain.
Proud to be on the other side, Susette figured she owed it to millions of other working Americans to do her best to convince the senators that politicians like the one seated next to her didn't care about the little guys.
Susette looked over her shoulder and smiled nervously at Bullock. He gave her a look of confidence. The Susette Kelo in front of him wasn't the same Susette he had met the first time he visited her home, in 2000. During five intense years of ups and downs, victories and setbacks, she had evolved into the leader of a national movement. She wasn't polished and programmed. But that was what made her so effective. You couldn't stage genuineness.
Susette didn't need notes to tell the senators how she found her house and fixed it up on her own, met Tim LeBlanc and fell in love, and thought she was on her way to living happily ever after until she discovered a condemnation notice taped to her door on the day before Thanksgiving 2000. ”We did not have a very pleasant holiday,” she said, ”and each Thanksgiving since has been bittersweet for all of us. We're happy that we are still in our homes but afraid we could be thrown out any day.”
Though often distracted at hearings, the senators couldn't help focusing on Susette. Unlike the suits that so often parade before committees-corporate executives, lawyers, lobbyists, and special-interest representatives-she was was the people, a plain-talking woman with a story that was too infuriating to be made up. the people, a plain-talking woman with a story that was too infuriating to be made up.
”My neighborhood was not blighted,” she said. ”None of us asked for any of this. We were simply living our lives, working, taking care of our families, and paying our taxes. The city may have narrowly won the battle on eminent domain, but the war remains, not just in Fort Trumbull but also across the nation. Special interests who benefit from this use of government power are working to convince the public and legislatures that there isn't a problem. But I am living proof that there is. This battle against eminent domain abuse may have started as a way for me to save my little pink cottage, but it has rightfully grown into something much larger-the fight to restore the American Dream and the sacredness and security of each one of our homes.”
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