Little Pink House Part 19

"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 demolishing. 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 demolishing 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 demolishing 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.

Shivering, 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 rushing, 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.

Before long, the other neighbors and plaintiffs started showing up. By eight, Mayor Beachy had also arrived to stand vigil with the group around the perimeter of the property.

Bullock showed up at Judge Martin's chambers expecting to finally meet Tom Londregan. But someone else from his office showed up instead, along with the NLDC's outside attorney, Ed O'Connell, a short, portly fellow who made no effort to veil his disdain for Bullock and Sawyer. Judge Martin welcomed the group into a conference room and asked Bullock to orient him by telling him where each of the plaintiffs' properties was located.

Bullock began with Susette's house, identifying it as being on the corner of East and Trumbull.

"Oh, that pink one?" Martin asked.

Bullock nodded.

"That's Kelo's place?" the judge asked.

Everyone nodded.

"And you've got Cristofaro," Bullock said.

"I know where that place is," Judge Martin said.

"And there's one right behind the Italian Dramatic Club," Bullock said. "That's Byron Athenian's place."

Martin had known Athenian since his adolescent days, and he had once taken a vehicle to Athenian's house to get it repaired. He made it clear he wanted to try to resolve the disputes over demolition, rents, and occupancy without having to litigate each point. Mediation, he explained, was also an option that might avert a trial and enable the homeowners to receive compensation for giving up their homes. He suggested Judge Angelo Santaniello could conduct the mediation.

Bullock politely declined. Santaniello had practiced law with Tom Londregan's brother. And he had been a primary force, along with Jay Levin, in negotiating for the Italian Dramatic Club to stay put while the houses around it were torn down. Bullock didn't trust Santaniello. Besides, his clients wanted no part of mediation for a monetary settlement.

Hardly surprised at Bullock's answer, Judge Martin got to the major points of contention: whether the city was ent.i.tled to charge the plaintiffs rent during the litigation and whether the homes would be protected from demolition during any appeals that might be filed after the trial. Bullock had already applied for a preliminary injunction to protect the homes until the end of the trial, and the city and the NLDC agreed that no demolition would take place until the trial judge ruled on the injunction.

Martin looked to O'Connell. The NLDC, O'Connell indicated, was not willing to concede on the rent issue or the demolitions. Bullock said his clients wouldn't concede either.

Convinced both sides were dug in, Martin focused on the one item he could control: insuring a timely, orderly trial schedule. The last thing he wanted was to see both sides in court every other week battling over injunctions, stays of demolition, and a host of other legal challenges that would delay the start of the trial and sap the court's resources and time. He suggested both sides reconvene in his chambers in a couple weeks to work out resolutions to all the pretrial disputes. Until then, the NLDC's lawyers agreed that Beyer's property would be left alone, a promise they had refused to make before Bullock filed his motion.

When Bullock arrived back in Fort Trumbull, Susette and the coalition felt like the cavalry had arrived. He informed them that for now, Beyer's house would remain standing. Although minor and perhaps temporary, the good news felt like a huge victory.

"Thank G.o.d," Susette said.

Fulfilled, Kramer didn't bother taking a hot shower or getting into a fresh change of clothes. Instead, he remained in his winter gear for the flight back to Washington. Later that night, he had dinner with his wife and two young children. One of them asked where he had been the previous night. Kramer's answer didn't make sense to his son, who wanted to know why he would bother sleeping in a vacant house.

Kramer referred to his favorite movie, It's a Wonderful Life It's a Wonderful Life, in which occurs a similar conversation between a father and his inquiring son, George, who didn't understand why his father invested so much time and energy in a profitless bank offering small loans to first-time home buyers. "You know, George," Peter Bailey says, "I feel that in a small way we are doing something important, satisfying a fundamental urge. It's deep in the race for a man to want his own roof and walls and fireplace, and we're helping him get those things in our shabby little office."

"I'm trying to secure that for these good people in New London," Kramer explained. "It's the right to have a home and to be safe and secure within those four walls."

February 21, 2001 Tom Londregan didn't want to give an inch when it came to Scott Bullock's requests. But what Londregan wanted most was a speedy trial. The longer the case dragged out, the longer it would be before the city could start developing the waterfront area. He showed up at Judge Martin's chambers prepared to strike a deal.

With Martin running the meeting, Bullock and Londregan pounded out an agreement. Bullock promised not to amend his complaint and Londregan agreed not to raise any special defenses, both tactics that would have drawn out the trial.

Londregan reluctantly offered to forego the rents, which would have gone to the NLDC not to the city, anyway, in exchange for a commitment from Bullock that the trial could be held within six months. It took another round of negotiations before the NLDC would also agree to Bullock's demand on the rent, but ultimately it did.

Bullock agreed to a shortened discovery period and to complete all depositions by April 27, with a trial date set for May 21.

In return, the city and the NLDC promised to forego any demolitions and abstain from physically ejecting or evicting homeowners or tenants from the properties until the outcome of the trial. The agreement also enabled Von Winkle to continue collecting rent from his tenants.

The compromise was a victory for the homeowners on the main points, while it protected the city's interest in speeding things along. But to the NLDC, it was a major setback. Dave Goebel had been pushing hard to force Susette and her neighbors out. To the NLDC, Susette and her neighbors were breaking the law by refusing to vacate. Now the holdouts had court approval to stay put until the trial ended.

For Goebel, the bad news came at a bad time. The night before Bullock and Londregan reached a pretrial agreement, Goebel had taken a tongue-lashing from the city council. Filling in for Claire, he had appeared before the council to offer a progress report but had ended up on the defensive. The council felt the NLDC had gotten too far out in front of the local political leaders. The harshest criticism had come from some of Claire's staunchest supporters.

Fed up, Goebel e-mailed Claire: Claire: At Council last night there was a loud cry that we were out in front of the City in publishing a strategic plan. Basically, they seem to feel that we should do nothing without their prior blessing, forgetting that with the exception of the work they have charged us to do on the MDP, all else we do as an independent agency.I took a lashing at the Council. I defended the plan from the standpoint that the economic development we are involved in is intended to provide the funds necessary to raise the standards in the community. It all fell on deaf ears.

Claire responded quickly to Goebel's e-mail, but she had her mind on other priorities. Ignoring Goebel's concerns about being hammered by the city council, she asked him to let her know when the meeting between the developer, Corcoran Jennison, and the state would be held. "We need to take advantage of the announcement to move forward," she said. "More later, Claire."

Later in the day, she sent Goebel another e-mail. In just two days, she reported, the NLDC would make an important announcement. "This should be a simple, laid back but celebratory announcement," Claire told him. "Even as simple as: 'NLDC is very pleased to announce that the negotiations underway between Pfizer and CJ [Corcoran Jennison] have reached a decision point. Pfizer will be a partner in the hotel and conference center. This facility will be used by Pfizer, its staff and visitors. It will also be available for use by area residents and guests to the New London area.'"

At the end of the e-mail, she addressed Goebel's earlier complaint: "Sorry about the Council meeting. Don't we always pa.s.s things at the Board level first, and then take things to the Council? Let's talk. Sorry they abused you. Thanks. Claire."

Ten minutes after e-mailing Goebel, Claire e-mailed Peg Curtin, one of her best allies on the city council: I want to check in after the Council's reaction to the strategic plan. I'm a little lost and I know your clear mind will get some clarity for me. What happened Tues night???The staff and maybe Dave could be getting discouraged with the abuse. We are all working hard and need to help and not hurt each other-policy differences are fine to keep confronting, but just whacking-well, Councilors and the NLDC staff both have plenty of other folks who are doing that job. We don't need to whack each other-I must have missed something. Any ideas?

Before signing off, Claire made sure Curtin knew George Milne was satisfied in general. "I spoke to George many times this week and he is pleased," Claire wrote. "They are taking an even bigger stake in the conference center than they first intended. The next step is the real estate agreement with the State. Hope you are having fun. Love, Claire."

Curtin didn't soften after reading Claire's e-mail. "I don't know what to tell you," she responded. "I am just frustrated at being told that everything is fine and we will have a signed agreement soon. This has gone on for many months saying that. Dave tells us the state is holding things up. I don't get that from the state. I need more info than I'm getting. I don't apologize for what transpired the other night. We are all tired." She didn't bother to sign the e-mail.

After reading Curtin's response, Claire realized Goebel was right; they were losing the support of the city council. This required a quick fix. Flattery had always proven an effective device for soothing the council. Claire e-mailed Goebel.

"Your understanding of the sticking point is correct," Claire told him. "The councilors need some patting. Maybe Chris or whomever you designate should set up some meetings with them in twos for you and me on Sat or Monday so we can walk them through what is going on. We are really going to be in trouble with the state if they go back to [the state officials] complaining."

February 25, 2001 Jane Dee's highly antic.i.p.ated story on Claire landed right where everyone could see it: on the cover of the Hartford Courant Hartford Courant's Sunday magazine. Claire spotted herself at the top of the cover, underneath a caption that read: "Claire Gaudiani had big plans for Connecticut College and New London." A picture of Pfizer appeared below Claire with the words: "Pfizer would come." A picture of Susette's house appeared below Pfizer with the words: "A neglected neighborhood would go." Then Susette's picture appeared at the bottom of the cover, her hand on her temple as if nursing a migraine. The words below Susette said: "It would be wonderful."

That's all Claire had to see to realize the article wasn't going to be flattering. She had clearly read Dee wrong when she had agreed to open up to her. Claire's husband had warned her not to let a journalist get so close. When Claire flipped to the inside pages, it was painfully clear she should have heeded his warning. Dee's story began with big, black letters: "OH, CLAIRE. You're a scholar and visionary ... if only you could quit leaving skin on the sidewalk."

The two accompanying photos of Claire showcased her beauty. But the words of the story-including some insulting references to her as a "wh.o.r.e" and a "witch"-left her black and blue.

The most damaging revelation in Claire's story came from her husband, David. His admission that Pfizer didn't want to be surrounded by tenements supported the claim made by the Inst.i.tute for Justice that the city had resorted to eminent domain in order to appease Pfizer's desire to clear the neighborhood. Now a senior Pfizer employee had said as much. With Bullock scheduled to start deposing Pfizer and NLDC officials within weeks, the timing could not have been worse.

None of this surprised Claire's husband. Expecting anything more from a newspaper journalist, he intimated, was pure folly. To him Claire had been had the moment she agreed to let the reporter into their home.

More than any other story, this one really hurt. Claire had spent days and many hours with Dee. She had opened up about marriage, pregnancy, child rearing, and coping with the pressures of motherhood and running a college and the NLDC in a politically charged atmosphere dominated by men. Claire had thought Dee seemed to get it. Claire struggled to understand where it had all gone wrong.

Jealousy, she determined. That had to be it. Dee must have resented the fact that Claire had it all: professional success, good looks, overachieving children, a marriage of thirty-two years, and an accomplished lifestyle. Yes, that was it ... jealousy had prompted Dee to turn on her. Jealousy.

32.

DISCOVERY.

Almost immediately after filing their lawsuit, Bullock and Berliner issued a subpoena to Pfizer seeking all doc.u.ments pertaining to the Fort Trumbull development. Pfizer didn't readily comply. While working out the pretrial agreement, Judge Martin had invited the attorneys to call him if any further issues arose. He made it clear that legal motions and hearings were not necessary; he'd rather find ways to resolve any disputes quickly and amicably through conferences. Bullock got in touch with him about Pfizer's delay in producing the doc.u.ments.

In a meeting with Martin, Pfizer's lawyer explained why the company didn't believe it should have to turn over any of its corporate correspondence: the company was not involved in eminent domain; the company was not pursuing eminent-domain actions; none of the land taken via eminent domain was for Pfizer; and the company wasn't involved in the dispute between the homeowners and the NLDC.

Bullock countered that it was obvious that Pfizer wasn't exercising eminent domain-that power was reserved to the government. But it was equally obvious that Pfizer played a major role in the city's redevelopment scheme. Therefore, those Pfizer doc.u.ments were critical to Bullock. He knew that in any legal case, it was essential to establish a paper trail as it often would yield the most important evidence at trial.