Little Pink House Part 32

Bullock liked Angelo's approach. He agreed to discuss the idea with his clients.

Susette and Michael Cristofaro traveled to Was.h.i.+ngton in mid-June to attend a dinner recognizing the achievements of the Castle Coalition. Heavy hitters, from bank CEOs to national media figures, were on hand, and Susette had agreed to be the keynote speaker. All these important people wanted their picture taken with Susette. When it was over, Susette told Bullock she wanted to talk with him alone in the hotel lobby.

She had been doing a lot of thinking. She knew the city wasn't going to let her stay in the neighborhood. And with everyone else leaving, she no longer wanted to stay. To her, loneliness was worse than illness.

"You know ..." she said, her voice trailing off as she looked up at the ceiling.

Bullock put his hand on her knee. "It's okay," he whispered.

"This is hard."

"Tell me what you are thinking."

She lowered her eyes. "I'm not quitting," she said. "I have an idea."

She wanted to leave Fort Trumbull and take her home with her. The city could have her land. But she wasn't giving up her house, not to them at least. She figured the structure could be moved to a location outside the Fort Trumbull area.

Bullock was intrigued. By saving Susette's house and relocating it elsewhere, it could become a historic landmark and a fitting tribute to the historic battle they had waged. It could even become a museum serving an educational purpose. Best of all, it would deny some NLDC and city officials the victory they l.u.s.ted after most, the demolition of Susette's emblematic pink house.

Susette confided she had another reason for choosing this course. The calls from angry fanatics were increasing, along with their rhetoric of violent opposition. If she stayed put and the city tried to force her out, Susette feared what might happen.

The inst.i.tute had the same concerns. They had garnered a lot of goodwill through litigation and lawful civil disobedience. A violent standoff would mar the entire effort.

If the state would compensate her enough to find another home and also pay for the relocation of her pink house, she'd agree to leave the neighborhood. She had only one condition: she would not settle until the city and the state took care of the Cristofaro family.

The Cristofaro family had come up with its own conditions for leaving. First, they wanted to take some of the shrubs from the property; Pasquale Cristofaro had transplanted the shrubs decades earlier when the city had taken his first house through eminent domain. Second, they wanted a plaque erected in the fort neighborhood in honor of Margherita Cristofaro, the family matriarch who had died during the battle with the city. And third, if the city ended up building new upscale housing where their homes had once stood, the family wanted an exclusive right to purchase one at a fixed price so it could return to the neighborhood.

Bullock brought these terms and conditions to Ron Angelo.

He had heard all the rumors: Susette was impossible to deal with. She was greedy. She was holding out for more money.

Ron Angelo was on his way to her house to find out for himself. Before closing any deal, he wanted to sit down with her face-to-face, something no one in the Rell administration had ever bothered to do.

When he arrived, Susette met him at the door. "This is my son Willis," she said, introducing her twenty-eight-year-old son, a student working on his master's degree in biology. "He'll be the one you're going to talk to."

"My mother's done talking," Willis said.

Angelo said he understood. Susette looked like a woman carrying the weight of the world.

The three of them sat down. Willis got right to the bottom line. "This is what my mother wants," he said. "She has a little house on a little hill overlooking the water. And that's what she's going to end up with."

It was simple. She wanted the deed back to her pink house and enough money to move it outside the fort and establish it as a historic site. And she wanted enough money to purchase a home that resembled what she'd be leaving behind.

"You gotta understand," Willis told Angelo. "This is no longer about my mother. The whole country is watching to see whether she stays and gets dragged out. If you knew my mother, you'd understand that she says what she means, and she means what she says. My mother isn't afraid of you or anybody else."

Angelo said he understood, and he apologized. But he wanted Susette to understand something too. The Rell administration had inherited this mess from the Rowland administration. Angelo hadn't chosen the job of picking up the pieces. Rather it had been dumped in his lap.

"Is your mother proud of you for the job you're doing?" Susette asked.

Angelo didn't take offense. Instead, he revealed something. His daughter in middle school was doing a project on the case and she sided with the homeowners. She wasn't pleased with her father.

His honesty impressed Susette.

Susette's grit impressed Angelo. n.o.body knew what it felt like to walk in her shoes, he knew. By the time he left her house, he decided he wanted to go to bat for her.

Initially, Tom Londregan and the city council had the same response when Angelo first told them what Susette and Michael Cristofaro wanted: "No way." They were not interested in seeing Susette's house saved, and they sure as h.e.l.l didn't want the Cristofaro family to move back into the neighborhood when or if high-end housing went up. And the city didn't want to see them get as much money as the state seemed willing to pay them.

Bullock said that Susette and Michael Cristofaro had a simple response if their demands were not met: Bring on the marshals.

Then the council reflected. The NLDC had had enough and wanted out at any cost. Mayor Sabilia feared Susette wouldn't go. And Londregan knew that Angelo held a trump card: Although the state couldn't force the city to settle, it could make life very difficult when the city tried to proceed with the development. Virtually every aspect of the plan required state sign-offs from the Department of Economic and Community Development and the Department of Environmental Protection. If the city wanted to go forward, it was time to play ball.

Finally, the city said okay.

June 30, 2006 Susette signed a settlement contract ent.i.tling her to $442,000 for her building lot. She could use her own money to pay for her house to be disa.s.sembled, relocated, and rebuilt on a private lot elsewhere in the city. Avner Gregory, who had done original restoration work on the house decades earlier, donated a lot for the reconstruction and offered to act as the home's caretaker.

Michael Cristofaro received $475,000, and the city also met the other three terms he had set.

Shortly after signing the papers, Angelo and Susette and Bullock ran into each other on the street in New London. The state had forked out $4.1 million to settle with six holdouts. "It was expensive," Angelo admitted. "It wasn't pretty. But it worked."

There was no way Susette would consider living in New London again. In the hunt for a place to live, she drove across the Thames River into Groton and started driving up and down waterfront streets in search of "For Sale" signs. Coming down a small side street, she saw a sign that read, "FOR SALE BY OWNER" in front of a small bungalow. The property ab.u.t.ted historic Fort Griswold, which, like Fort Trumbull, had been attacked by Benedict Arnold for the British in the Revolutionary War. It was almost directly across the river from Fort Trumbull.

Susette parked the car and approached the house. From the doorstep, she could see her old neighborhood across the water. She rang the doorbell.

An Asian man answered.

"Is your house still for sale?" she asked.

"Yes," said the man, eager to describe his modest three-bedroom house. It needed renovation, and his asking price was $224,000.

Even without inspecting she could see the place needed a lot of work. But she knew it was what she wanted: a little house on a little hill overlooking the water. She knew right away she was going to buy this house.

Suddenly a smile swept across the man's face. "Hey, I know who you are," he said. "You're the lady from right over there." He pointed across the river to the Fort Trumbull area.

Susette grinned and nodded.

"I read about you all the time in the newspaper," he said. "Come in. Come in."

EPILOGUE.

In the summer of 2007, Susette's pink house was successfully disa.s.sembled-board by board-and moved elsewhere in the city, on Avner Gregory's land. A year later the Inst.i.tute for Justice held a ceremony, officially dedicating the house as a historic landmark. A plaque in the front yard denotes the importance of the little pink house that changed the country. It remains an emblem of the fight waged in Fort Trumbull and other places throughout the country.

Susette bought and renovated the small house next to Fort Griswold. She lives there with Tim LeBlanc, who has completed a miraculous recovery from his accident. Susette still works two jobs as a nurse, one for the hospital and one for the City of New London. She set aside the remainder of her settlement money for her five sons.

Every plaintiff from the eminent-domain lawsuit has left New London, vowing not to return.

Governor John Rowland pled guilty to felony conspiracy and was sentenced to one year and a day in federal prison.

Peter Ellef was sentenced to thirty months in prison for his part in the corruption scandal.

Claire Gaudiani resides in New York City and teaches at New York University's Heyman Center for Philanthropy and Fund-raising.

In 2002 George Milne retired from Pfizer after thirty-two years. He is now an active venture capitalist and an adjunct lecturer at Harvard and MIT.

Jay Levin continues to practice law.

Scott Sawyer and John and Sarah Steffian are still battling the city and the NLDC in court. Their two environmental lawsuits are currently on appeal.

The U.S. Supreme Court's Kelo Kelo decision has become a catalyst for change. Scott Bullock and Dana Berliner continue to litigate eminent-domain and other const.i.tutional cases at the Inst.i.tute for Justice. In July 2006, they won the first major post- decision has become a catalyst for change. Scott Bullock and Dana Berliner continue to litigate eminent-domain and other const.i.tutional cases at the Inst.i.tute for Justice. In July 2006, they won the first major post-Kelo case decided by a state Supreme Court, when the Supreme Court of Ohio unanimously rejected the case decided by a state Supreme Court, when the Supreme Court of Ohio unanimously rejected the Kelo Kelo decision under the state Const.i.tution and struck down the taking of homes to give to a private developer to build a shopping mall. Also, as of 2008, seven states have pa.s.sed const.i.tutional amendments to ban taking private property for economic development and forty-two of the fifty states have pa.s.sed legislation to protect property owners from abusive eminent-domain practices. decision under the state Const.i.tution and struck down the taking of homes to give to a private developer to build a shopping mall. Also, as of 2008, seven states have pa.s.sed const.i.tutional amendments to ban taking private property for economic development and forty-two of the fifty states have pa.s.sed legislation to protect property owners from abusive eminent-domain practices.

Notably, Connecticut, the Const.i.tution state, is one of the few states that haven't changed their eminent-domain law in any way.

As of the fall of 2008-more than three years after the Supreme Court approved the City of New London's plan to take private homes and replace them with buildings capable of generating higher tax revenues-the NLDC still has not broken ground. In the summer of 2008, the NLDC announced that its developer, Corcoran Jennison, had failed to secure adequate financing for the building project. Nonetheless, every home in the ninety-acre redevelopment area has been demolished. The former Fort Trumbull neighborhood is a barren wasteland of weeds, litter, and rubble.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

What took you so long?"

That's how Susette Kelo greeted me the first time I knocked on her door. It was November 28, 2005, and I had come to introduce myself and seek her cooperation on a book I was contemplating about the Supreme Court case bearing her name.

She invited me in, saying she had been hoping I would look into the dispute that had played out in her neighborhood. That afternoon I questioned her for three hours, sizing up her ability to recall facts and probing her motives for waging a battle that had lasted eight years. Before I left, Susette confirmed she would fully cooperate-no strings attached and seeking nothing in return-if I decided to go forward.

Her willingness to submit to relentless questioning and constant prying over a two-year period was a vital key to writing this book. Some of my questions probed very sensitive personal matters well outside the scope of her case. I am grateful for her trust and the privilege of chronicling her story.

Another key to telling this story was cooperation from the Inst.i.tute for Justice. The attorneys and staff bent over backward to accommodate my never-ending requests for information. John Kramer was machinelike in his ability to crank out doc.u.ments, photographs, and video footage in response to my queries. And Scott Bullock, in particular, was extremely patient and forthcoming.

Similarly, Bullock's counterpart, Tom Londregan, New London's city attorney, also went out of his way to a.s.sist me in my reporting. He too was candid and open. In addition to granting repeated interviews and requests for follow-up information and clarifications, Londregan did it all with a wonderful sense of humor. While adversaries throughout this case, both Bullock and Londregan were nothing but gentlemen and true professionals in their conduct toward me.

I am also very grateful to Claire Gaudiani and George Milne for their willingness to be interviewed, along with Claire's former secretary Claudia Shapiro, who is undoubtedly one of the sweetest human beings I've ever met.

Likewise, I'm very appreciative to some key players who opposed-to one degree or another-some of the initiatives led by Gaudiani and Milne. They include: Tony Basilica, John Markowicz, Fred Paxton, Steve and Amy Hallquist, and Kathleen Mitch.e.l.l.

Others whose positions didn't necessarily line up in this saga were also generous with their time and forthcoming with their words: Reid MacCluggage, the former publisher of the Day Day; Wesley Horton, the attorney who defended the city's use of eminent domain before the U.S. Supreme Court; former New London Mayor Lloyd Beachy; and Pfizer's point man on real-estate development, Jim Serbia. Of course, a book like this would not be possible without the cooperation of many. Ultimately, almost everyone I approached for interviews ended up talking. There are too many to list here. I simply say thanks to all those who trusted me enough to open up and let me in.

I'm also indebted to a man whom I regretfully left out of this story, Neild Oldham. Frankly, without him, this story would have turned out a lot different. He carried the banner of the Fort Trumbull residents with unmatched courage and pa.s.sion. Oldham's actions deserve to be chronicled. But shortly after I met Mr. Oldham, he died, foreclosing any opportunity to interview him on the record. Many rightfully see him as an unsung hero.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that during the course of writing this book I joined the faculty of Southern Virginia University, where I teach advanced writing and current affairs. President Rodney Smith promised me a great environment for writing, and he delivered on that promise.

I conclude with those whom I treasure most-my professional colleagues and my family.

My publisher, Jamie Raab, and a.s.sociate publisher, Les Pockell, have been great to me and my family. And they have been bullish about this story since the first draft pages. .h.i.t their desks. I'm deeply grateful for the privilege of writing under Grand Central Publis.h.i.+ng's imprint.

Many people at Grand Central Publis.h.i.+ng-from Sales to Advertising to Marketing-got behind this book in a big way. I'm indebted to all of them. And a few require special mention. No detail was too small for production editor Dorothea Halliday, who was relentless in her pursuit of excellence as we refined the narrative and polished the presentation. Chris Nolan's insight, experience, and mastery of words brought clarity to the story and tightened key pa.s.sages. And Tracy Martin and Evan Boorstyn logged long hours on the little things that go a long way to a book's success. This A-team was led by my editor, Rick Wolff, who saw the power of this story long before it was written and whose enthusiasm never wavered.

Rick is much more than an editor to me. He offered me my first commercial-publis.h.i.+ng contract back when I was a first-year law student with no writing pedigree to speak of. What can I say? The guy changed my life by giving me a chance to write. And he's just a wonderfully decent, honest human being with incredibly high professional standards. I'm blessed to be his close colleague.

My agent, Basil Kane, is simply one of my dearest friends. We sometimes talk two or three times a day. Rarely does a week go by that we don't speak. He's been my confidant, and he's been at my side through thick and thin for all twelve years of my writing career. I'm not sure I deserve such good company.

My personal a.s.sistant in Connecticut, Donna Cochrane, has been with me long enough that she is like family. Her loyalty and goodness are priceless human qualities.

My children are my pride and joy. I love writing, but I love them a lot more. Tennyson Ford, Clancy Nolan, Maggie May, and Clara Belle are what makes me rich and keeps me humble.

My wife, Lydia, is a daring woman. She jumped off a cliff with me when I decided to write this book without a contract. For two years I researched and wrote with no guarantee that this story would ever get published. Her faith inspired me to press on and on and on. She's the one I owe the most. She's my true north. She's simply the one, the beautiful one.

SOURCE NOTES.

The primary sources for this book include interviews conducted by the author, correspondence with the author, public and private papers, and photography (both still and motion pictures). for this book include interviews conducted by the author, correspondence with the author, public and private papers, and photography (both still and motion pictures).

THE INTERVIEWS.

Close to three hundred on-the-record interviews and countless off-the-record interviews and background conversations were conducted. Many of these were tape-recorded and most sources were interviewed more than once. Some princ.i.p.al characters were interviewed more than a half dozen times, and a couple of princ.i.p.als were interviewed in excess of twenty-five times.

The book's dialogue and direct quotes are largely a result of two techniques: multiple interviewing and tape recording. Partic.i.p.ants in the reported conversations-and in some cases, the witnesses to these conversations-were asked to provide their best recollection of what was said. In all, interviews were conducted with officials from the State of Connecticut, Pfizer Inc., the City of New London, New London Development Corporation, Connecticut College, the Inst.i.tute for Justice, the Coalition to Save Fort Trumbull Neighborhood, the Fort Trumbull Conservancy, and the residents of the Fort Trumbull neighborhood.

Despite my requests, the following princ.i.p.al characters declined to be interviewed: Governor John Rowland, Peter Ellef, Jay Levin, David Goebel, Stephen Percy, Sarah Steffian, and Edward O'Connell. Quotes attributed to them come from transcripts, public records, published reports, and interviews with individuals who were parties to conversations depicted in this book.

John Steffian also declined to be interviewed. But he did provide a written statement-through his attorney, Scott Sawyer-in response to a question from the author.

THE CORRESPONDENCE WITH THE AUTHOR.

In response to queries for very specific details, I received more than a hundred written answers from individuals. Most of these responses came via e-mail. A few came in the form of letters and memos.

PUBLIC AND PRIVATE PAPERS.

Under the Freedom of Information Act, I received access to more than one thousand pages of doc.u.ments from Connecticut's Department of Economic Development and the Department of Environmental Protection. These included confidential memos, correspondence and contracts between Peter Ellef and Jay Levin, as well as records of invoices and payments between the State of Connecticut and Jay Levin. Additionally, state records turned over to the author included scores of e-mails and memos between Claire Gaudiani, state officials, and Pfizer.

I was also granted access to public records through the City of New London, the Town of Preston, the Norwich Superior Court, and the New London Superior Court.

I obtained minutes from New London Development Corporation meetings, as well as motions the agency pa.s.sed.

The Inst.i.tute for Justice provided thousands of pages of doc.u.ments in the form of briefs, memorandums, deposition transcripts, and court transcripts. The inst.i.tute also permitted me to conduct research at its Arlington, Virginia, law office, providing access to files, records, and photography.

The following individuals granted me access to private papers that included handwritten notes, diaries and journals, personal correspondence, and minutes: Susette Kelo, attorney Thomas Londregan, attorney Scott Bullock, John Markowicz, Steve and Amy Hallquist, Professor Fred Paxton, publisher Reid MacCluggage, and Kathleen Mitch.e.l.l.

In the case of Susette Kelo, she turned over numerous boxes of doc.u.ments, diaries, photo alb.u.ms, personal papers, correspondence, financial records, and various other doc.u.ments, including vital records. She also permitted me to dig through files and belongings in her home.