Little Pink House_ A True Story of Defiance and Courage - Jeff Benedict [57]
Paxton had heard enough. He raised his hand. “This is all well and good,” he said. “But I’m really concerned about what’s happening to that neighborhood down there.”
The faculty and students turned to face Paxton.
“It doesn’t seem to me,” he continued, “that this fits into the goals of the NLDC, the idea that social justice and economic development are two sides of the same coin.”
Some faculty looked down at their feet. No one said a word. Claire’s presentation ended awkwardly. When the meeting broke up, a few of Paxton’s colleagues gave him the cold shoulder. Claire followed him outside.
Paxton remembers her saying, “Look, Fred, this train has left the station. It’s too late to do anything about this.”
“But this is a draft plan,” he said. “There are still public hearings to be held. It can’t be approved until you have all these public hearings.”
“No, no,” she said.
“It’s a draft,” he interrupted. “Why not amend the plan?”
Paxton quickly realized Claire had heard enough. “Fred, the state is a blunt instrument,” he recalled her saying. “The plan has to be approved the way it is.”
It was clear the discussion was over.
For days, Paxton stewed over his exchange with Claire. Feeling Claire expected him to quash his true feelings on the project, he couldn’t resist sending her an e-mail.
“Claire, let me be completely honest,” he began. “As to the heart of our conversation, I have given the matter a good deal of thought. You are asking me to dissemble. But that is not my style. Nor is it yours, it seems to me. Did you dissemble with George Milne? With the City Council?”
It angered Paxton that Claire had gone to great lengths to help and stick up for Pfizer. But no one seemed to be standing up for the little guy—the homeowners. “Why didn’t you go to them from the start and insist that no more homes and neighborhoods be sacrificed to development in New London?” Paxton wrote. “The state may be a blunt instrument, but one could have said the same about the City Council and Pfizer Corporation. Why should the governor or state agencies be spared the call to do things differently this time around?”
Paxton objected to Claire’s apparently dismissing the neighborhood as a blighted community. “It’s not a slum,” he said. “But a viable piece of old New London with people who have lived there all their lives, who have invested in that part of the city when no one else wanted to, who fear they are being forced out just when their investment could pay off. It is not right.
“Right now, a lot of good people are questioning your integrity and the integrity of the NLDC. What I’d like you to do is amend the plan.”
Claire didn’t have to study Paxton’s e-mail to realize he wasn’t going away quietly. Without some quick intervention, Paxton’s outspoken opposition could cause some real problems down the road. The NLDC set up a series of public presentations at different locations throughout the city. The presentations had a simple objective: lock up public support for the NLDC’s plans and snuff out any opposition before any negative momentum picked up.
What’s it like to have a newspaper reporter come to the house? Susette wondered. She was about to find out. Kathleen Mitchell had called Lee Howard, the editor of the Day’s real-estate section, and suggested he interview Susette. Howard had been following the eminent-domain dispute and agreed.
When Howard arrived he immediately put Susette at ease with his quiet, unassuming manner. Early on, he asked her about the NLDC’s plan to revive the city through eminent domain.
“They can have my house when they can take the keys out of my cold, dead hands,” Susette said.
Howard knew instantly that the NLDC was going to have its hands full with this woman.
When asked about the NLDC’s argument that she could make a $16,000 profit by selling to it, Susette balked. “Look at this view,” she said, pointing toward