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“It’s about time,” Mitchell said.

But lawyers and lawsuits, other coalition members pointed out, required money, and the coalition didn’t have any money.

The Steffians had money, lots of it. And they had no intention of letting money get in the way of saving homes in Fort Trumbull.

Coalition members had another concern: liability. Suing the city or the NLDC could mean repercussions for anyone involved. Everyone agreed that engaging a lawyer probably made sense. But few were eager to become litigants.

Steve and Amy Hallquist volunteered to join the Steffians to search for an attorney.

24

BLURRED VISION

Admiral David Goebel came across as a guy who liked rules and obedience, not exceptions and excuses. That was only natural. He had spent his career in the military, a world that simply didn’t work if the rules weren’t clear and followed clearly—by everyone.

The deal Jay Levin had cut with the Italian Dramatic Club wasn’t something Goebel would go for: exempting the men’s club from demolition posed a conflict. The NLDC had a mandate to present a developer with a peninsula free of all buildings, and the NLDC had the power of eminent domain to achieve its mandate. To Goebel it was simple: if the Italian Dramatic Club refused to sell and relocate then it should be subjected to the same treatment as any other holdout in Fort Trumbull. Goebel urged his fellow board members not to make an exception.

Others at the NLDC saw the wisdom in Goebel’s position and agreed with him. Attorney Tom Londregan sided with Goebel too. For Londregan it came down to a simple analysis: a secret deal that exempted one building—a private men’s club, no less—had legal danger and political controversy written all over it. Londregan suspected a lawsuit over eminent domain might be brewing. A runner, Londregan had found that legal disputes were a lot like races. Reaching the finish line was hard enough, and facing hurdles would only make it harder. The same holds true for lawsuits. Making an exception for the Italian Dramatic Club, Londregan argued, would create an unnecessary legal hurdle for the city and the NLDC.

Besides, Londregan figured, the Italian Dramatic Club wasn’t a strong-enough political force to oppose the NLDC. The fallout for forcing the club to move would be little to none.

But Jay Levin had political clout. And Levin had promised the club’s president, Aldo Valentini, that no one would touch his club. Claire was caught in the middle. She liked and respected Levin, but she had no idea why he had made such a promise to the club. And she understood where Goebel was coming from. With pressure mounting to take the club down, Claire agreed to revisit the subject with Levin.

A proposed compromise emerged: the NLDC would pay for the club’s relocation to another site outside the development-area footprint. That meant either physically moving the building to a new piece of real estate or simply constructing a brand-new building at a new location. Valentini said he’d consider it. He agreed to host a meeting at the club to discuss the particulars with Claire and Levin. Intent on protecting his interests, Valentini decided to call an old friend to advise him during the negotiations.

Judge Angelo Santaniello had unparalleled stature in New London. At age seventy-six, he had been on the bench longer than most attorneys in the city had been practicing law. Besides presiding over hundreds of trials and mediations, Santaniello had a long history of involvement in the Republican Party. Prior to becoming a judge in 1965, he had served as legal counsel to the Connecticut State Senate for the party. Later, Republican governor Thomas Meskill elevated him to the bench of the Superior Court. He then became chief administrative judge of the civil division of the Superior Court for all of Connecticut. If Judge Santaniello called John Rowland, the governor would take the call.

Santaniello also had special standing among Italians in New London, where he had been a pioneer in the legal profession.