Little Pink House Part 6

The good news came with some bad news. "It appears that the local Reuse Committee is still considering public auction as an option," Abromaitis told Claire. "As you know, we made a commitment to develop the site on a concurrent timetable to that of Pfizer."

The message was clear enough: the state would go after the navy base, but someone had to go after Basilica and get him to back off his public-auction plan. Navy officials were scheduled to arrive in town within days to meet with Basilica's committee and to finalize the auction plan. Any hopes of stopping them required immediate action.

With a mock test sheet in front of her, Susette rested one elbow on a green paperback edition of Taber's Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary Taber's Cyclopedic Medical Dictionary. Yellow Post-its with handwritten notes stuck out of the badly worn pages. She started filling in the blanks next to the abbreviations.

QD: Daily.QOD: Every other day.BID: Twice a day.TID: Three times a day.QID: Four times a day.ACHS: ...

Her mind went blank. "Oh, my G.o.d," she said. "I have to focus."

ACHS: Before meals and before bed.

She checked her answers. All were correct. She pushed aside her study manuals. Unable to stop thinking about the letter Claire and the broker had sent her weeks earlier, she called City Hall and asked to speak with the mayor. Beachy took the call. Susette introduced herself and provided her street address.

"Do I have a reason to be concerned?" she asked.

"Yes, you do have reasons to be concerned," Mayor Beachy told her.

Beachy had spent the previous day in Hartford, meeting with the governor's economic-development team overseeing the New London project. He didn't like what he had heard. Pfizer, the NLDC, and the state were on a fast track to clear the Fort Trumbull peninsula. The city had no intention of saving any of the houses in the neighborhood. Beachy came away convinced the project had taken on a new course, one that spelled trouble for anyone standing in the pathway of progress. Susette's house was in the way.

"What can I do?" Susette asked.

Beachy paused. Pfizer and the state had already committed hundreds of millions of dollars to the plan. Powerful business and political forces were combining to remake the neighborhood. The only way to stop the momentum would be to stir up a real controversy, a political storm.

"There's only one person I know that can help you fight this," Beachy said.

"Who?"

"That would be Kathleen Mitch.e.l.l."

"Who's she?"

Beachy hesitated.

Fifty-three-year-old Kathleen Mitch.e.l.l had grown up in nearby Groton. When she was a child, her mother wouldn't allow her to visit New London, calling the place a ghetto. But as an adult, Mitch.e.l.l had moved to New London and become a social worker and a political activist working on behalf of the poor and underprivileged. When the government had threatened to cut off funding for day-care centers in the city, she had organized protests and walkathons. The press had come, and the day-care centers had been saved.

Beachy viewed Mitch.e.l.l as a bit crazy, cra.s.s, edgy, and unpredictable. But she cared deeply about people, especially the poor and the powerless. Poor herself, Mitch.e.l.l volunteered much of her adult life, helping the disadvantaged. And she had a gift for drawing a lot of attention to a problem.

"Kathleen is a stirring stick," Beachy said. He gave Susette her number.

Susette called Mitch.e.l.l immediately and introduced herself. "I live in Fort Trumbull," she said. "There's a development coming, and Pfizer is behind it."

Mitch.e.l.l had been following the news coverage. Always itching to fight for the underdog, Mitch.e.l.l a.s.sured her the NLDC could be stopped. "There's ways to go about fighting this," she said.

"How?" Susette asked.

Mitch.e.l.l suggested an initial strategy meeting at Susette's place. She recommended inviting Mayor Beachy to join them. Susette agreed, and they set a date.

14.

PUSH BACK.

Rich Voyles lived two doors up from Susette. He had moved into the neighborhood eleven years earlier and remodeled his home, and he had just eight years remaining on his mortgage. For him, East Street offered a dream location: a quiet, dead-end road with great neighbors and an un.o.bstructed view of the Thames River. He kept a telescope on his porch and spent lazy afternoons looking at boats coming into and going out of Long Island Sound.

Middle-aged and balding, Voyles had recently been laid off from nearby General Dynamics, where he had helped build submarines. The loss of income had forced him to invite his brother to move in to help him keep up with the mortgage payments.

Voyles spotted Susette working in her flower bed one afternoon.

"Did you get a letter in the mail?" he asked her.

She laughed. "I have a bunch of letters." She took him inside and showed him. None of them resembled the one he had just gotten.

"I'll be right back," he said. Moments later, he returned and handed her a letter addressed to him.

"The time is rapidly approaching when those fort area properties not already optioned will be moved into the governmental process," the letter began. "The implications of this are considerable and I believe not in your best interest.

"We are empowered by the New London Development Corporation to offer you the City's Appraised value of $67,300." The letter outlined two conditions for getting the appraisal price raised. It continued: We antic.i.p.ate demolition and construction to begin in April with the removal of the powerhouse in Fort Trumbull, removal of unneeded buildings at the NUWC site, repairs to the City Waste Water plant, removal and remediation of the salvage yard, and ground breaking for the Pfizer building at the New London Mills property.Rich, I am very concerned that your best opportunity will slip by for lack of action. If there is any question you might have, or any a.s.sistance I might provide, please do not hesitate to call. I want to make the inevitable dislocation as easy and stress free as possible.

The letter had come from Hamilton (Tony) Lee, a broker working for Steve Percy at the New England Real Estate Group.

"This guy can't say this to us," Susette said.

"Are they going to evict me?" Voyles asked, fearing he'd end up homeless if he got forced out. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well, I know what I'm going to do," she said.

"What?"

"I'm going to bring this letter to the newspaper, and everyone will see what's going on down here. And then we'll get help."

Voyles let her keep the letter.

"They think they're going to push us around," she said. "Well, we're going to push right back."

Later that evening, Susette showed Voyles's letter to Von Winkle and told him her plan. "Once this becomes public, they'll have to stop because this is illegal," Susette said. "They can't do this to us."

Von Winkle liked Voyles; he didn't like the letter. He agreed that the public needed to know about the NLDC's tactics. But he really didn't think public exposure would stop it.

The next morning, Voyles's letter ended up on the desk of a reporter covering Pfizer and the NLDC.

April 2, 1998 With a shiny silver pen in his shirt pocket and wire-rimmed gla.s.ses to go with his perfectly groomed, graying black hair, fifty-five-year-old John Markowicz could easily have pa.s.sed for a chief financial officer at a Wall Street bank. With corporate experience and military training, Markowicz had been tapped to serve with Tony Basilica on the LRA. Basilica had the political and business connections in the city, while Markowicz was an expert on the defense-industry and navy regulations.

Selling off a navy installation is not easy. Over a two-year period, Markowicz had worked with Basilica to form a plan. The northern and southern tips of the base property had environmental problems that made the entire parcel unmarketable. As a result, the committee had decided to part.i.tion the thirty-two-acre base into three parcels.

The southern tip containing the old Fort Trumbull would go to the state for a public park. The Interior Department had already signed off and the state's Department of Environmental Protection had approved the plan too. The northern tip of the base would go to the city for a marina. All the federal and state approvals were in place for this transfer too. The middle parcel of the base property, which included all the buildings and labs, was the most marketable piece. The committee planned to sell the middle parcel to the highest bidder at public auction. The city stood to harvest millions in tax revenue once the buildings were sold and reoccupied.

Basilica and Markowicz were nearing the end of their work. The navy had already audited the plan. Early in the evening on April 2, Markowicz left his downtown office and walked the two blocks to City Hall. Numerous officials from the navy's real-estate and budget offices were in town to iron out details. Markowicz antic.i.p.ated an uneventful meeting focused on procedure and timelines.

But inside City Hall he found Basilica standing outside the council chambers, seething.

"What is it?" Markowicz asked.

Basilica showed Markowicz a copy of Hamilton Lee's letter to Rich Voyles. While Markowicz read, Basilica vented. It infuriated Basilica that the NLDC felt it had the power to take homes. Eminent domain was one of the most sweeping powers held by government. Things were about to get ugly fast.

To Basilica, the letter signaled a major political power shift in the city. Governor Rowland, he felt, had found himself a Trojan horse: Claire and the NLDC. Basilica knew no real-estate agent would write that kind of letter without direction. He also knew that the agent worked for Steve Percy and that Percy held a seat on the NLDC's board. Basilica understood that Percy planned to attend the meeting with the navy officials.

"What are you going to do?" Markowicz asked.

"I'm gonna confront his a.s.s."

A strategic thinker, Markowicz preferred a more diplomatic approach to his adversaries. He also didn't think a shouting match with Percy would provide the ideal way to kick off an important meeting. But he didn't bother trying to talk Basilica out of it.

Percy arrived in his customary sport jacket and tie. He had white hair, bushy, dark eyebrows, and a pug nose. Basilica pounced.

"Where do you get the b.a.l.l.s to send something like this out?" he said, shoving the letter in Percy's face. "Who gave you permission?" Basilica shouted.

The NLDC had given it, Percy insisted.

"You can't threaten these people with eminent domain," Basilica shouted. "You don't have that power."

Basilica stormed into the meeting room. Markowicz was waiting for him inside the doorway. He had overheard most of the shouting. Without saying a word, Markowicz raised his eyebrows and nodded in the direction of the conference table in the center of the chamber. The seats around it were full. Basilica did a quick head count. More than fifteen people were on hand, all in suits and equipped with notepads and pens. Other than the two navy officials, most of the faces were unfamiliar.

"Who in the h.e.l.l are these people?" Basilica mumbled.

Markowicz had no idea. He pulled out a pad and prepared to take minutes.

Basilica cleared his throat and took his position at the head of the table. He opened the meeting by asking the visitors to introduce themselves.

John Downes and Gary Timura said they worked for the Downes Group.

Basilica recognized the name. The Downes Group was a consulting firm and a subsidiary of the Frank E. Downes Construction Company. Members of the Downes family had donated heavily to Governor Rowland's election campaign.

"Why are you here?" Basilica asked.

Downes explained that the NLDC had hired his firm as consultants one month earlier.

Markowicz didn't get it. A construction firm with strong ties to the governor had been retained by Claire to work on the Fort Trumbull redevelopment project. Why are they showing up at a meeting involving the disposition of a navy base? Why are they showing up at a meeting involving the disposition of a navy base? Markowicz wondered. Markowicz wondered.

Confused, Markowicz noted the other visitors. Most of them worked for Claire or the governor, including the head of the DEP and Claire's executive administrator at the college.

Basilica now got the picture. The governor and the NLDC had a sudden interest in the navy property. But why? And why now, after two years of disinterest? But why? And why now, after two years of disinterest? Basilica wondered. Basilica wondered.

"The purpose of this meeting is to get everything on the table and answer questions regarding the process for the disposal of the NUWC property," Basilica said. He turned some time over to one of the navy officials, who explained that the Department of the Interior planned to convey a portion of the base to the state for a park, but that the core of the navy base was set for public auction. The bids would be sealed, and the land and buildings awarded to the highest bidder.

Percy asked if the sale would be absolute. He was told it would be, as long as the bids weren't below the land's appraised value.

Representatives from the state and the NLDC began peppering the navy official with questions and scenarios designed to delay the public auction. Markowicz glanced at Basilica. The federal officials made it clear that the government had already appropriated $300,000 for Basilica's committee to a.n.a.lyze the situation and come up with a plan. The process was too far along to change course now.

The NLDC and the state suggested that Pfizer's recent entry into the mix was sufficient cause to reconsider the plan. The navy disagreed. Changing the plan now would require a new round of public hearings and another audit by the navy. The time to modify property-transfer plans had pa.s.sed.

The state indicated it now had an interest in the navy property. Basilica bristled. His committee had already planned to transfer the southern tip of the property to the state for a park. If the state acquired the rest of the property as well, the city might not get any tax revenue at all from the land or the buildings.

Markowicz couldn't understand what the state would possibly do with the land or how it would pay for it.

Federal rules and regulations permitted only four methods of transferring navy property: a public sale, a negotiated sale, an economic-development conveyance, and a public-benefit conveyance.

The state officials expressed interest in the last one.

But federal law permitted public-benefit conveyances only for uses such as airports, educational and public-health purposes, port facilities, and public park or recreation areas.

The state suggested it would use the land for a marine school.

Markowicz had his suspicions. He sensed that the state planned to flip the property to a private developer when n.o.body was looking.

This is a smoke screen, Markowicz thought.

Basilica didn't plan to play along. "We dropped three hundred grand of fed money on the plan we've put in place," Basilica said. "If somebody wants to come forward, we've got to have money to redo the plan. Otherwise, it doesn't make any sense to stop what we are doing."

The meeting closed with the navy officials reiterating their intention to conduct the public auction in June, enabling the city to start collecting taxes on the property six months later.

Afterward, Basilica and Markowicz huddled. Markowicz sensed a connection between the threatening letter sent to Fort Trumbull property owners and the presence of state and NLDC officials at the meeting. "These people want our property," said Markowicz. "And they want it for free." Basilica agreed.

Markowicz wondered if there was any chance the public auction would be delayed.

"Screw them," Basilica said. "We're going forward unless they produce the coin."

"Broker Pressures Fort Trumbull Residents to Sell"-Susette loved the headline in the Sunday paper. The story exposed Hamilton Lee's threatening letter. "It was an unfortunate use of words," Steve Percy told the paper, after being confronted with the letter, which at least four homeowners had received. The threat of eminent domain had left residents fearful and anxious.

Angry at the prospect of being connected to a public-relations mess, the governor dispatched his press secretary, who took a shot at Claire and the NLDC. "They have received specific directions from our office not to use that kind of tactic," Chris Cooper told the newspaper. "The use of eminent domain is not even on our radar screen."

Elated, Susette showed off the article to Voyles and her other neighbors.

Publicly, Claire called the incident unfortunate and said the homeowners deserved an apology. Privately, she fumed. Few things angered her more than bad press. The newspaper, she concluded, had established itself as an adversary. But she had two other adversaries to contend with first: Basilica and Markowicz. The NLDC needed a way around their control of the navy-base property. The city council offered the best bet: it had the power to alter the composition of Basilica's committee by adding new members. Basilica's longtime nemesis on the council, Peg Curtin, was an old political warhorse who wasn't afraid to battle her Democratic counterpart.

The night after the news report on the Hamilton Lee letter broke, the city council met at City Hall. Around 10 p.m. the council dismissed the public and the press and went into executive session. Flanked by two top officials from the governor's administration, Claire made a hard pitch for the NLDC to be given the authority to oversee the development of the waterfront area, including the navy property. Peg Curtin suggested the city form a new committee to develop a concept plan for the property, a committee that would present an alternative option to the reuse committee chaired by Basilica. Claire supported a committee of six members: two members from the existing committee, two from the NLDC, and two from the governor's administration.

Two and a half hours later, the council emerged from executive session. With hardly anyone from the public on hand, the council voted overwhelmingly to support Claire's plan, nicknamed the "Committee of Six." Only Mayor Beachy opposed the motion. "I'm voting against this because I feel we're giving up our obligations and responsibilities," he said. Peg Curtin criticized Beachy, pointing out that Governor Rowland had invested millions in New London.

Claire flattered Curtin and the other council members who supported her plan, calling them "intelligent councilors."

Susette had never met with a public official, much less had one in her home, but Mayor Beachy showed up at her cottage.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Susette," Beachy said, smiling and extending his hand. She shook his hand and invited him in.