Little Pink House_ A True Story of Defiance and Courage - Jeff Benedict [60]
And why shouldn’t we? Or more precisely, why should we have to? They belong to us. We’ve paid our taxes and our water bills, maintained our homes, made some improvements, put up with the stench of the sewer plants. Now the NLDC says we have to go. We have to make room for people who will better fit into a “hip little city.”
We have no objection to a hotel, conference center or wellness clinic. We are happy to see that Fort Trumbull will be open as a state park. We welcome Pfizer. But not at the expense of the people who have invested so much in this neighborhood.
Most of the work in mounting and maintaining this campaign to save our homes has fallen on the shoulders of myself and Kathleen Mitchell. We have learned that in the esoteric language of redevelopment, “hip” means “higher-income people.” “In the way of progress” means “we want your homes.”
Where is the justice in forcing senior citizens out of their homes?
Let us keep our homes. Ask yourself this: “What would I do if it were my home or that of my parents or my children?” Those who wanted to go (and some who didn’t) have gone from Fort Trumbull. You can safely assume that the rest of us want to stay. Please support us.
Susette’s letter was published under the title: “No room for New Londoners.” Seeing her byline in the newspaper emboldened Susette.
The opposite page carried an essay by Fred Paxton titled “Little ‘social justice’ in strong-arm tactics.” In it he artfully used Claire’s words against her. He took her slogan statement—“Economic development and social justice are two sides of the same coin”—and listed all the injustices being committed as a result of the NLDC’s plan to complement Pfizer’s global research center. “This means the disappearance of landmarks, among as many as 26 small businesses and 115 homes,” Paxton wrote. “Why can’t they be part of the plan? As it is, their lives have been up in the air for almost two years.”
Paxton’s printed bio as a professor at Connecticut College hit Claire like a slap in the face.
The sudden onslaught persuaded the NLDC to agree to a meeting with the new coalition.
The first time Susette had approached Matt Dery to join a neighborhood association, he had made it clear he would never join any group effort to oppose the NLDC. But since then, a lot had changed. Susette went to see Dery again. She told him about the new coalition and all the smart people who had joined. She explained that the coalition had pressured the NLDC into holding a meeting at St. James Church, where NLDC officials would answer questions. She asked him to attend.
He complained that for years no one had even known their neighborhood existed. No one had known what was beyond the train tracks. “We were in a world by ourselves,” he said.
She got the picture. “When the story first came out in the papers that they wanted the fort,” she said, “people in the city were like, ‘Where the hell is that place?’”
“Nobody ever cared about us,” Dery said. “They put the shit plant down here. They don’t plow here when it snows. They don’t pick up our garbage. This was a forgotten neighborhood.”
She nodded.
But after Dery said his piece, he agreed to attend the meeting with her.
December 7, 1999
Fred Paxton donned his reading glasses and plugged in his laptop at St. James Church. Kathleen Mitchell, John and Sarah Steffian, and the Hallquists filed in with prepared questions. They couldn’t wait to get at the NLDC. Mayor Beachy had passed along some intelligence: the NLDC had retained a nationally renowned engineering firm—Wallace Roberts & Todd—to suggest options for how to redevelop the ninety-acre peninsula, and the firm had actually advocated keeping the houses in Fort Trumbull. The NLDC eventually replaced that firm with a lesser known one that advocated demolishing all homes.
Admiral David Goebel and four other representatives from the NLDC filed in. After a brief introduction, the coalition began to fire questions