Little Pink House Part 4

Susette told him she was in the hunt for some antiques and wanted to have some raised flower beds put in around her house. LeBlanc offered to help, and he invited her to visit his place and check out his antiques collection. She accepted.

It didn't take long for Jim Serbia and his team to complete the a.n.a.lysis Milne had requested on the mill site. The picture wasn't pretty. Environmentally, the ground beneath and around the site had the signs of being a toxic dump. At a minimum, tons of hazardous soil would have to be excavated and removed. New soil would have to be trucked in.

Legally, the polluted land posed a bigger challenge. Once taking over the site, Pfizer could become liable for any environmental problems that surfaced in the future. The only way to fully protect against future claims would be to get the state to indemnify Pfizer, a highly unlikely proposition. There was no precedent for the state's a.s.suming environmental liability on behalf of a corporation.

Beyond these hurdles, the mill site presented problems that were completely outside Pfizer's ability to solve. First, the city-owned sewage-treatment plant bordered one side of the property. In addition to emitting a terrible odor that would regularly overwhelm the mill site, the plant needed upgrades and modifications to make it more environmentally safe and aesthetically appealing.

Second, a huge sc.r.a.p-metal junkyard ab.u.t.ted another border of the mill property. A terrible eyesore, the junkyard also made access to the mill site nearly impossible.

Third, the city's infrastructure around the site-from roads to utilities-was nowhere near sufficient to support a state-of-the-art, global research facility. On top of all this, the site failed to satisfy the primary immediate need for more lab s.p.a.ce. The city's infrastructure wasn't capable of handling all the effluent that would be produced in the animal laboratories. New London barely had sufficient sewage capacity for its residents as it was.

The site had one final, overarching deficiency: size. The number one criterion on Pfizer's wish list was that the land had to be big enough for future expansion. Anything under a hundred acres was too small. The mill site consisted of just twenty-four acres.

By every vital criterion at the time, the New London site failed the test. New London was the absolute worst choice for Pfizer.

The detailed a.n.a.lysis that Serbia's team provided was in stark contrast to Claire's a.s.sessment of the site. She preferred to focus on the possibilities, not the drawbacks. And she had a much grander perspective than the singular needs of a corporation. That was immediately clear to Phil Michalowski, a leading land-use design expert working as a private consultant for Pfizer. At Pfizer's request, Michalowski helped prepare some land-use concept plans for the area around the mill site. He also started meeting with Claire.

"I remember discussions with Claire," Michalowski said. "It starts out as a global picture. Think of the Web site Google Earth-it's a mapping program that starts with the globe and works down to New London. That's the way Claire's mind works." He continued, "I was trying to focus on physical land-use issues in New London. She was looking at the status of the state economy for the next hundred years and trying to use the project as a mechanism to steer resources to educational and social service in the city. Early on she was trying to make those connections. I lauded those ideas."

The more Claire and Milne talked about Claire's vision, the more Milne began to laud her ideas too. And by helping the city, Pfizer could also benefit. The possibilities were endless. For instance, the thirty-two-acre Naval Undersea Warfare Center next door to the mill site could be acquired and redeveloped into something to complement Pfizer. With the base closed down, the navy wanted to unload the real estate. Better still, a lot of the land around the fort and the mill site could use a makeover. With Pfizer's commitment and state backing, the NLDC could a.s.semble a ma.s.sive chunk of waterfront real estate and transform this entire area into an upscale, corporate area.

"As cities go, New London is sized where a single investment of this type coupled with other downstream investments could make all the difference in the world," Milne said. "You could in fact at least contemplate a transforming set of investments that would do what the city badly needed, which is to build up its tax base."

For that to happen, Claire maintained, Pfizer had to develop the mill site.

For that to happen, Milne insisted, the state would have to be a partner and commit to a sizable investment.

Claire agreed. She called the governor's office.

Weeks earlier, Governor Rowland had elevated Peter Ellef to be his chief of staff. Ellef took the call. Claire told Ellef that Pfizer was ready to consider New London. Ready to deal, Ellef scheduled a meeting for Claire and Milne with the governor.

10.

THE THINGS WE WANT.

A stack of nursing manuals under her arm, Susette arrived home and found antiques on her porch. Instantly she knew where they had come from. It had been only a few weeks since she had journeyed to Tim LeBlanc's apartment. He had a lot of antiques and a great deal of knowledge about them. They started talking on an almost-daily basis and getting together a couple of times a week. He had even volunteered to help her put in raised flower beds alongside her house. stack of nursing manuals under her arm, Susette arrived home and found antiques on her porch. Instantly she knew where they had come from. It had been only a few weeks since she had journeyed to Tim LeBlanc's apartment. He had a lot of antiques and a great deal of knowledge about them. They started talking on an almost-daily basis and getting together a couple of times a week. He had even volunteered to help her put in raised flower beds alongside her house.

As soon as she got inside, she called him to thank him for the delivery. Toward the end of the call, LeBlanc's voice took a serious tone.

"I love you, Susette," he said.

The phrase jarred her. The words "I love you" had not been spoken to her as a child. Her first husband had never told her that. Neither had her second husband. She didn't know how to respond.

"What the h.e.l.l is the matter with you?" she snapped.

"What?" he asked.

"You don't just walk around saying that to people you just met," she said. "Don't say that unless you mean it. Good-bye."

She slammed down the phone.

Governor Rowland was eager to hear what Claire and Milne had to say about the prospects of attracting a Fortune Fortune 500 company to New London. They did not disappoint. 500 company to New London. They did not disappoint.

After sharing some brief overview of the possibilities, Claire left most of the talking to Milne. As he would have in a corporate setting, Milne got right to the point with the governor.

"We spent thirty minutes with him," Milne recalled. "We outlined what would be possible broadly and what would be required to make all of this attractive to anybody, including Pfizer. That included such things as accelerating renovation of the fort, which at that point was just an overgrown jumble of trees and discarded junk; the Calamari junkyard; the whole sewer-treatment center; and all of the issues a.s.sociated with permitting the site."

The governor listened intently. Milne made clear that no company-not Pfizer nor anyone else-would take on the mill site unless the state stepped in.

Sharp and shrewd, the governor got the picture. Like Claire and Milne, he preferred to move quickly when opportunity knocked. The governor planned to visit Fort Trumbull himself. In the meantime, written proposals and schematic drawings were needed to take the discussions from a conceptual level to something more concrete.

After meeting with the governor, Milne knew that the prospect of Pfizer's going to New London was real. He and Claire talked about his role with the NLDC.

"I have to leave the board," Milne told her. On one hand, he was trying to obtain real estate for his corporation to develop. On the other hand, he was chairing a real-estate development committee for a nonprofit board that was courting his company.

"No, you don't have to leave the board," Claire insisted. "You can recuse yourself from everything related to that site."

Milne did just that. And in his Pfizer role he mapped out in more specific terms what Pfizer needed from the state in order to say yes to New London. Pfizer wanted nearby Fort Trumbull renovated and turned into an attractive state park. It wanted the city's sewage treatment upgraded and capped to contain the odor. And it wanted the sc.r.a.p-metal junkyard out of the picture entirely; the state should buy out the business or do whatever else was necessary to make it vanish.

The biggest demand came with a strong push from Claire: that money be set aside for the NLDC to a.s.semble an additional ninety acres of real estate next door to the mill site for developing a five-star hotel, state-of-the-art conference center, office s.p.a.ce, and upscale housing and shops to complement the Pfizer facility. Pfizer wanted the city to acquire the large naval base (thirty-two acres) and the properties in the residential neighborhood between it and the mill site (roughly sixty acres). The state would have to appropriate millions of dollars to the NLDC, which would in turn buy up all these properties, clearing the way for redevelopment in line with Pfizer's wishes.

If the state agreed to this approach, Pfizer could then serve as the gateway to a renaissance in New London. But without the state's willingness to help secure and redevelop the additional ninety acres, Pfizer would not come to the mill site.

"The notion that this could become a key unlocking piece already had been in discussion with the governor," Milne later explained.

The terms and conditions left little room for misunderstanding. Claire made sure that the state understood that timing was critical. Milne didn't want a new Pfizer facility surrounded by a perpetual construction site. To avoid this, Claire insisted everyone had to work fast, coining the phrase "Pfizer Time."

Claire and Milne's proposal was appealing to the Rowland administration. It certainly was not what Ellef had originally asked Jay Levin to help with, but by working in concert with Pfizer and the NLDC, the Rowland administration had the potential to get much faster results. And the idea of constructing new waterfront housing on the Thames apparently appealed to Ellef personally. In a memo, Claire wrote that Ellef had asked her to save him a condo: "Two bedrooms, two baths, ocean view."

"His name," Claire a.s.sured the state's commissioner of economic and community development, "is on the list with numerous others who decided they wanted priority housing in the new New London."

The governor pledged a strong state commitment and promised to come back with a written set of incentives that the state would be willing to provide Pfizer in exchange for its commitment to develop in New London.

Lloyd Beachy had never had aspirations of political power. The son of a Pennsylvania farmer, he joined the navy in the 1950s and became an intelligence officer specializing in naval aviation. After stints in the Pacific theater, Vietnam, and Hawaii, Beachy got a.s.signed to the Pentagon. He finished his naval career at the Sound Lab at the Naval Undersea Warfare Center. In the midst of the cold war, the navy figured out that its top scientists weren't communicating with the intelligence community. Beachy served as a liaison between the two.

When he retired in 1979, Beachy and his wife, Sandy, decided to stay in New London. The small coastal city seemed like a great place to make a permanent home. They became involved in the local historical society and volunteered for all sorts of civic groups and initiatives. Their commitment to local causes didn't go unnoticed. One day Beachy's neighbor, a member of the city's Democratic Committee, asked Beachy to run for local office. The Democrats had candidates for all the city-council seats except one. Reluctantly, Beachy agreed to fill the final spot.

The Democrats never expected Beachy to win; they just appreciated his willingness to fill the ballot spot. Even Beachy didn't expect to win. But he did. His eventual reputation in the city for quiet, tireless service made him very popular.

Two years later, he was chosen to be the mayor. Days after taking the oath of office in December 1997, Beachy got a call from Claire. She congratulated him and invited him to her residence on the Connecticut College campus, saying she wanted to share hopes and dreams for New London. Beachy had never visited the president's private residence. He agreed to meet.

Sporting a gray beard and a yellow windbreaker, Beachy could easily have been mistaken for the captain of a fishing vessel. When he arrived, Claire greeted him at the door and ushered him inside. He noted the nice furnishings and perfect order.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" she asked.

"Sure."

"C'mon in the kitchen."

As they entered the room, Beachy immediately spotted an easel with a bubble diagram depicting a new hotel, a conference center, and office buildings.

Claire opened cupboard doors in search of coffee cups and a coffeepot.

Beachy stared at the bubble diagram, trying to figure out the whereabouts of the buildings depicted. The geography looked very familiar, but the landmarks looked foreign. Then it dawned on him; the diagram depicted the Fort Trumbull neighborhood and surrounding peninsula, minus the existing homes and buildings. Stunned, Beachy glanced at Claire. She still had not found cups or a coffeemaker. The cupboards were empty.

She doesn't live here, Beachy thought to himself.

Determined, Claire rounded up one mug and a package of instant coffee. She boiled some water on the stove and made Beachy a cup of coffee before leading him to the dining-room table. While he sipped coffee, Claire explained each bubble on the chart.

Two and a half hours later, Claire escorted Beachy to the door. He had never gotten to share his vision for the city. That was the point, he realized, once he stepped outside.

December 11, 1997 George Milne received a letter marked "CONFIDENTIAL" from the commissioner of Connecticut's Department of Economic and Community Development.

"On behalf of the State of Connecticut and Governor John G. Rowland, I am pleased to provide this letter offering a.s.sistance to Pfizer, Inc. for development of a new facility in New London, Connecticut," it began. "This letter represents the State's commitment to ensure Pfizer's ability to select New London for a new Headquarters operation by defraying the cost of that development and improving its value through a comprehensive, State-funded waterfront improvement and development project."

These were the words Milne wanted to see.

The governor offered to: * Release $4.5 million in liens currently held by the state against the twenty-four-acre New London mill site.* Spend up to $2 million to relocate the Calamari junkyard to another site purchased by the state.* Spend up to $20 million to develop historic Fort Trumbull into a state park.* Provide a low-interest $7 million loan to the City of New London for improving the nearby sewage-treatment facility.* Acquire the navy base with state money. "The State will develop a timetable to meet Pfizer's needs," the letter read.* Provide $8 million to the NLDC for operating costs and acquiring properties in the neighborhood located between the mill site and the navy base.

"Please know that the State will continue to work with you to refine this proposal," the letter continued, "in order to meet the specifications of Pfizer, and to support their decision to locate their new facility in New London."

Claire followed up a few days later with her own commitment letter to Milne. "This commitment is presented in conjunction with the State of Connecticut and the City of New London," she said. The city had agreed to transfer the mill site, evaluated at $5.4 million, to Pfizer at no cost. It had also agreed to modify its zoning regulations to ensure that the mill site, the navy base, and the surrounding neighborhood could be redeveloped. Claire mapped out a comprehensive development scheme: In addition to your facility the project includes the development of the state's fourth biotechnology incubator, the refurbishment of historic Fort Trumbull, the reuse of the vacant Naval Underwater Warfare Center and the development of mixed retail and residential s.p.a.ce that will be fully integrated into the surrounding neighborhoods of the City of New London.In order to achieve these goals, it will be necessary to relocate the Calamari Bros. sc.r.a.p dealer, upgrade utilities and infrastructure, and acquire a number of surrounding properties.

Claire promised that the NLDC would acquire the residential and commercial properties within the parameters of the redevelopment design plan. "We will work with you to refine this proposal to meet Pfizer's requirements," she said.

11.

NATURAL-BORN LEADERS.

January 18, 1998 Reid MacCluggage and his wife had just finished unpacking suitcases at their winter vacation spot in Florida when the phone rang. It was nearly eleven o'clock at night, but as the publisher of New London's newspaper, the Day, Day, MacCluggage never really escaped the news. Even on vacation, his job always seemed to catch up with him. Expecting an editor, he picked up the phone and said h.e.l.lo. MacCluggage never really escaped the news. Even on vacation, his job always seemed to catch up with him. Expecting an editor, he picked up the phone and said h.e.l.lo.

"Reid, this is Claire."

MacCluggage couldn't believe she had tracked him down in Florida.

She insisted she had something very important to discuss, some inside information on a developing news story. Pfizer, she reported, had decided to build a large research lab and office building on the New London mill site.

MacCluggage wasn't too surprised. One of his reporters had a source saying the same thing. The paper had been seeking a second source for confirmation. But Claire wanted MacCluggage to delay reporting the news until Pfizer was ready to announce its plans at a large media event. MacCluggage didn't like the idea of holding back the news.

"I'm going to invite you to be on the inside," she told him, offering to grant access to a reporter. "But you can't report until the announcement."

Unwilling to pull his beat reporter off the story, MacCluggage countered, "Here's the deal. I'll a.s.sign one reporter to come in and get the inside story on how this deal comes through. And we'll report that after the announcement-sort of an anatomy of how the deal was made."

Claire had no problem with that.

"But," MacCluggage continued, "I've already got a reporter working on this, and if she nails it through other sources, we're going to break the story before you announce it."

"Well, I don't want you to do that," Claire said.

MacCluggage didn't know what to say. He wasn't used to being told how to run his newspaper. Claire wasn't used to being told no. For nearly two hours they went round and round, each trying to get across his or her point of view.

Exhausted, MacCluggage finally said, "I'm not going to make any agreements that tie the hands of the newspaper."

Dissatisfied, Claire said she had to talk to her a.s.sistant and would get back to MacCluggage. She never did.

The Day Day broke the story a few days later. broke the story a few days later.

January 21, 1998 Decision day had arrived. Pfizer's board a.s.sembled at corporate headquarters in Manhattan to vote on a number of matters, including whether to authorize funding for George Milne's recommendation to construct a new research-and-development laboratory in New London.

Milne had briefed the board earlier and made the case for investing $300 million to develop the site. This bold, unorthodox move would enable the pharmaceutical giant to lead the revitalization of an economically depressed city. Governor Rowland had made up his mind, too. He wanted Pfizer in New London badly enough that he had promised $75 million in incentives.

Claire had persuaded both men to raise the stakes in order to close the deal. By embracing her vision, Milne and Rowland were taking big risks. Pfizer specialized in making drugs, not transforming small cities. How would shareholders and the board of directors react if more than $300 million in corporate treasure ended up squandered on a social experiment? The state was taking an even bigger risk. Rowland had committed taxpayer money to a grand plan that ultimately hinged on the NLDC's ability to carry it out. And the head of the agency had no track record for a project of this nature.

But everyone was bullish.

With Milne in New York to meet with senior officers at Pfizer headquarters, Rowland's economic-development commissioner, James Abromaitis, dispatched a last-minute, confidential letter to Milne, saying it superseded his previous letter in December.

"This letter represents our continued interest in working with you to craft an a.s.sistance package that will allow Pfizer to choose New London," Abromaitis began. "It is our goal to reduce your development costs and to a.s.sure that the selected site provides an appropriate environment for Pfizer and its employees."

In addition to giving Pfizer the twenty-four-acre mill site at no cost, Abromaitis promised additional land to Pfizer, including the nearby sc.r.a.p-metal facility and junkyard owned by Calamari Brothers: "We are in the process of funding the New London Development Corporation's effort to purchase the adjacent Calamari site at a purchase and testing cost of $4.7 million. This site would be provided at little or no cost to Pfizer." Abromaitis also promised the state would get control of the ma.s.sive navy base property: "The Department of Environmental Protection will work to a.s.sure control of the Naval Undersea Warfare Center to accommodate your expectations for the waterfront area." And he offered up more money-now $26 million-for the NLDC to buy out and demolish homes and businesses in and around the Fort Trumbull neighborhood.

The state's willingness to help acquire the junkyard, the navy base, and the nearby neighborhood homes and businesses sealed the deal. The total package from the state, including tax abatements and the improved value of the land after cleanup, crested at about $100 million. That translated to the state's spending one dollar for every three pledged by Pfizer.

Early in the evening, Mayor Beachy received a call at home from a friend at City Hall. He had important news: Pfizer had called an urgent meeting with city officials and senior Pfizer employees in the area. George Milne was on his way back from New York and planned to address them in an hour.

Beachy figured the news had to be good. He threw on a jacket and tie. Minutes later, his friend picked him up and drove him to the meeting. More than thirty of the city's top business leaders, lawyers, and political officials were on hand, along with several senior Pfizer executives. Waiters and waitresses served c.o.c.ktails and hors d'oeuvres. Everyone eagerly awaited Milne's arrival.

Just after dark, guests were invited to take seats around an oversized conference table. Milne entered, shook some hands, and formally announced that the company had approved plans to construct a four-hundred-thousand-square-foot clinical-research laboratory on the mill site. Beachy and his colleagues applauded.

Construction was to begin in a few months and had an expected completion date of the year 2000. Up to two thousand new jobs would be generated by the project.

Milne displayed some bubble diagrams for the audience. Beachy recognized them instantly: he had seen the same ones in Claire's home a month earlier. Milne pointed to improvements planned for the area around the mill site. One by one, Milne asked each city official to support the Pfizer plan. Everyone agreed.

Pfizer planned an elaborate public announcement in early February involving Governor Rowland. Until then, the company planned to make no statements on its plans. It hoped city officials would remain quiet, too.

At the conclusion of Milne's presentation, Beachy approached and shook his hand. "Your people really know how to run a development," he told Milne.