Little Pink House Part 7

Kathleen Mitch.e.l.l arrived right after him. With disheveled hair and bags under her eyes, she looked like she had just rolled out of bed. Her baggy sweatpants and sweats.h.i.+rt did little to hide her excessive weight. She smelled like cigarettes. "I'm Kathleen," she said in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

Susette didn't care what Mitch.e.l.l looked like. She ushered Mitch.e.l.l and Beachy to the kitchen table, an antique surrounded by four black Hitchc.o.c.k chairs she had picked up at a yard sale for twenty-five dollars. Beachy began with an update on where things stood with the city and the NLDC. He got right to the point. "The city, the state, and the NLDC want your house, and they'll stop at nothing to get it."

Susette nodded.

"So you have a decision to make," Beachy said. "It's very simple. Either you take their money and go, or you stay here and fight."

"Well, I wanna keep my house," she said.

"You will have to do everything you can and more," Beachy said. "And you're going to have to stay the course."

"Okay."

While Beachy talked, Mitch.e.l.l sized Susette up as naive, completely unschooled in how politics work. But Mitch.e.l.l also saw something she liked-a fearless streak, almost a reckless, risk-everything approach. She figured Susette was either borderline crazy or had suffered some pretty serious personal pain. Mitch.e.l.l could relate to both.

"So how do we get started?" Susette asked.

Beachy turned to Mitch.e.l.l. The first step, Mitch.e.l.l suggested, was organizing a neighborhood a.s.sociation to oppose the NLDC. They would have to mobilize the neighbors into action and draw attention to the plight of the residents by using the media. Mitch.e.l.l suggested they call the group the Fort Trumbull Neighborhood a.s.sociation and that they make Susette its president.

Beachy liked the idea. But Susette had no idea how to form a neighborhood a.s.sociation. She didn't know how to mobilize. And she had no experience working with the press.

"It's not that hard," Mitch.e.l.l a.s.sured her. Susette should start, she suggested, by finding out how many people in the neighborhood were willing to join such an organization.

Other than Von Winkle and a couple of people on her street, Susette barely knew anyone in the neighborhood. She had moved there to start over, to go unnoticed, and to maintain her privacy, not to become a political activist.

"You wanna save your home?" Mitch.e.l.l asked.

"Yeah," Susette said.

"Then go door-to-door and see how many neighbors you can enlist to the cause."

Beachy nodded in agreement.

"All right," Susette said.

Beachy had another suggestion: when going door-to-door, she should ask every property owner to write a letter to the city council and to the mayor's office indicating that they didn't want to give up their homes.

Mitch.e.l.l liked that. "We could present all the letters at a city council meeting," she added.

"That's a good idea," Beachy said.

Mitch.e.l.l offered to organize a series of events that would generate media coverage. She suggested activities like a neighborhood walk with a tour guide to point out historic landmarks. Each event would include press releases and build public opposition to the NLDC's plans to demolish the neighborhood.

After an hour, the meeting broke up with each pledging to take on certain a.s.signments and tasks. Susette felt comfortable with Beachy and especially liked Mitch.e.l.l.

"This is going to be a battle from h.e.l.l," Beachy said, grinning at Susette.

Susette flashed an uneasy grin.

"And you are going to become the poster child for eminent domain," he told her.

15.

OFFING TONY.

Tony Basilica was convinced that the NLDC would gain control of the Fort Trumbull neighborhood one way or another. He planned to make d.a.m.n sure they didn't get hold of the navy-base property, too. He and Markowicz had worked hard and long to formulate a sale that would both protect the historic buildings and generate much-needed tax revenue.

And more was at stake: power and control. Two weeks after the state and NLDC officials had shown up at his committee meeting, Basilica had gotten a letter from Governor Rowland's commissioners of economic development and environmental protection. They wanted Basilica's committee to reevaluate its plan, pointing out that Pfizer's presence required a new approach. "We have therefore urged the City to request the postponement of any announcement of public sale by the Navy," the letter read. "We are, however, aware that it is the Local Reuse Authority which controls the conveyance and reuse process." The letter closed by reminding Basilica that the governor wanted the state to have a chance to develop the navy property, and the state would bring appropriate resources to the city for that purpose if the public-sale option went away.

But Basilica had never liked Rowland, and he ignored the governor's overture. The navy had made it clear that it would not suspend public sale of its facility without a formal written notice from the reuse committee to suspend, and without an alternative strategy for the property, Basilica refused to issue a formal notice. Instead, he told the navy it should proceed with its public auction, since no alternative plan for the site had emerged. Defiantly, Basilica sent a copy of his letter to Claire.

Before going door-to-door to recruit neighbors, Susette called Von Winkle. "Do you want to join the Fort Trumbull Neighborhood a.s.sociation?" she asked him.

"Are you out of your mind, Red?"

"No. I'm trying to fight this."

"Well, you go ahead and fight it. We'll see what happens to you."

She didn't bother asking him to sign a letter saying he opposed the NLDC's plans.

Susette approached her other neighbors. Yvonne Cappelano owned the house next door. She and her husband had bought it as a weekend getaway. Rich Voyles lived next door to the Cappelanos. At Susette's request, both wrote letters opposing eminent domain.

A few doors up, she met eighty-five-year-old Helen Ballestrini and introduced herself: "I'm Susette Kelo. I'm a newcomer in the neighborhood, and I'm trying to save our homes." Ballestrini welcomed her. By the time they finished talking, Ballestrini had penned a letter and handed it to Susette.

To The Honorable Mayor Beachy and City Council:I am 85 years of age, have lived here all my life, and at this stage in my life I cannot even think of moving. I do not want to move.Respectfully,Helen Ballestrini16 East Street, N.L.

Susette tucked the letter in her bag and approached a two-family, white Victorian with red trim. It had a meticulously maintained lawn with flowers. Walter Pasqualini, an elderly man, answered the door and invited her into his kitchen. It had a 1950s-era gas stove, a white porcelain sink, and a s.h.i.+ny metal kitchen table.

Susette explained the purpose of her visit. Walter introduced her to his wife, Cesarina, who had lost most of her sight and wore a hearing aid.

"Do you think they're going to make us leave?" Walter asked.

"I don't know," Susette said.

"Can you stop them?"

"I'm going to try."

He reached across the table and tore a piece of paper from a small notepad. He handed it to Susette and told her what to write.

To The Honorable Mayor Lloyd Beachy and City Council:I am a 93-year-old homeowner of Ft. Trumbull who has lived here all my life. This is our home. My wife and I do not want to leave here.Respectfully,Walter PasqualiniCes Pasqualini He asked Susette to hand him the letter. There was one thing he wanted to add. He penciled in the words "I was born on Smith Street" just above his name. He handed the letter back to Susette.

"Do you think this is going to work?" he asked. "Do you think you're going to be able to stop them?"

"I hope so."

Before Susette left, Walter told her to go visit his sister, Nora, who lived in a separate apartment on the first floor. She agreed to write a letter, too.

To The Honorable Mayor L. Beachy and City Council:I am a senior citizen who has lived here 27 years and I am not about to move.Respectfully,Nora Pasqualini54 Smith Street. NL Each house Susette visited seemed to be occupied by elderly people. She had had no idea she lived among so many senior citizens. They all agreed to sign letters.

To The Honorable Mayor Lloyd Beachy, City Council:I am 91 years of age. Live with my daughter in separate quarters who takes care of me. Have lived here for 27 years and cannot bear the thought of moving. We put so much time, effort & work into this house & the thought that the house could be razed is too much for me to take.Very kindly yours, Mrs. Erica Blescus Susette wondered if she'd find anyone her age, anyone truly capable of mobilizing serious opposition to the NLDC. At the top of her street, she approached a two-story house next to Von Winkle's deli. She rang the doorbell.

"h.e.l.lo," a man shouted from a second-story deck. "Up here."

She looked up at the man. "I want to talk to you about what's going on in the neighborhood," she said.

Holding a beer, the man squinted. "Susette Cha.s.se?"

She c.o.c.ked her head back. No one had addressed her by her maiden name in more than twenty-five years.

"Yeah," she said. "Who are you?"

"Matt Dery," he said.

"Oh, my G.o.d, it's Matt."

They burst into laughter. They had attended high school together in New London and had not seen each other since.

"What are you doing here?" he said.

"I bought the house down on the corner, the pink one," she said.

"Well, c'mon upstairs," he said.

Dery introduced Susette to his wife, Sue.

"Susette, have a beer," he said.

A restaurant-size Coca-Cola cooler stood against the wall, stocked with Heineken, Michelob, Budweiser, and an a.s.sortment of other alcoholic beverages. Susette had avoided alcohol since her son's accident, but suddenly, a cold beer sounded good. She reached into the cooler and grabbed a can of Miller.

"Matt, do you know anything about what's going on in the neighborhood with the NLDC?"

"No more than what's been in the paper."

"What do you think about it?"

"I'm not really sure what to think about it."

Born and raised in the neighborhood, Dery didn't want to move. His mother, Wilhelmina, lived in the tiny house behind his. She had been born there on February 20, 1918, in the same room she still called her bedroom. She planned to die there.

Dery had renovated his house, and his family also owned two other properties. In all they had four properties and various tenants in the neighborhood.

"I'm forming a little neighborhood a.s.sociation to try and fight this," she said. "Do you want to join?"

"No," Dery said.

"How come?"

"Because I don't join groups."

Undaunted, Susette pressed on. But the more she talked, the more she got the impression that Dery and his family felt powerless to stop the city. They absolutely didn't want to go. If forced to vacate, they at least wanted fair compensation for their properties.

Susette exchanged phone numbers with Dery, and they agreed to start sharing information about developments in the neighborhood.

That night, Susette told Tim LeBlanc how much trouble she was having enlisting people. She used the Dery family as an example.

"These people busted their a.s.ses to have what they have," she said. "To other people it might not appear to be much. But they worked hard to get what they have."

"Who else have you talked to?" LeBlanc asked.

"Mr. Von Winkle."

"Which Mr. Von Winkle, the old one or the young one?"

"Well, he's older than I am. But he's not ancient."

"What's his first name?"

"Billy."

"That's the young Von Winkle."

"How do you know Billy?"

"My father worked for Billy's father," LeBlanc said. "My father was a nuclear physicist at NUWC."

Susette had never heard Von Winkle talk about his father. LeBlanc explained that Von Winkle's father had not only worked at the navy's underwater sound lab, he ran the place. In his day, Dr. William Von Winkle had established himself as the navy's top sonar expert. Billy had a bunch of brothers and sisters, and he had grown up in a very large home.

Von Winkle had never divulged any of this to Susette. He came off as a regular Joe who did all his own electrical wiring, plumbing, and carpentry on the buildings he bought and renovated. She hadn't realized he came from such a successful family. It gave her pause. Without people like him and Matt Dery standing by her, Susette wondered how far she'd get taking on the NLDC and Pfizer.

"What do you think I should do, Tim?"

"Get out while you can," he told her. "Besides, New London is a s.h.i.+t hole."

But she couldn't let go of the house. She understood Von Winkle's position-he was a businessman. His properties were investments. He'd sell as long as he received a good return.

But it wasn't that way for Susette. Her house represented her only possession. More than that, it was a refuge, the place she went to in hope of becoming the woman she had always put off being while raising five sons. She had remodeled the house to reflect her personality and tastes.

She called Mitch.e.l.l to give her an update. Just about everybody except the senior citizens wanted no part of the a.s.sociation. The seniors were scared to death, but everyone else seemed uninterested in a public fight.

"It's every man for himself," Susette said. "n.o.body wants to stick their neck out. n.o.body wants to get retaliated against by the NLDC. Only the elderly want to join and that's because they want protection."