Little Pink House_ A True Story of Defiance and Courage - Jeff Benedict [72]
Scott Sawyer was a graduate student at the time, and he and his family sued the City of New Haven. Ultimately, the city settled, but not until after seven grueling years of litigation had passed. The experience inspired him to become a lawyer and open up his own practice.
“I’ve gone against the current,” Sawyer told the group. “I’ve taken on City Hall. Why don’t you tell me the main points of contention here,” he said.
John Steffian and Steve Hallquist hit him with a litany of facts. Amy Hallquist raised a series of legal questions. Sawyer took notes: taxpayers, property owners, compensation, and legal standing were his primary concerns. Then the question of legal fees arose.
Sarah Steffian asked to speak with Sawyer in private. The two of them walked away from the group. The Hallquists later realized they were discussing a fee arrangement—attorney fees would come from Sarah and would remain confidential.
Before the group left, Sawyer told them what he told all his clients: “I’m a lawyer who has been a client in a very high-profile case, and I certainly understand that I shouldn’t say to anybody ‘I know how you feel,’” he said. “I can work with you. But you need to talk to me, and you need to fire me if you’re uncomfortable.”
After leaving Sawyer’s office, Steve and Amy Hallquist met with Sarah and John Steffian to compare notes. They all agreed that Sawyer represented their best hope at bringing a lawsuit, since getting the Institute for Justice looked unlikely. They agreed to retain Sawyer.
“We have fought many battles and lost time and time again,” John said. “But by God, we’re going to win this time, and we’re going to win with you guys.” He patted Steve on the back.
Later that night, Sarah wrote Sawyer a letter telling him to forget about issues like taxation and to focus on the most important issue. “Legal action should be taken to contest and stop the eminent domain process,” she wrote.
David Goebel checked his e-mail in-box. He saw this: “Dave: Please call Aldo/Judge Santaniello/Jay Levin to tell them that George needs to start the meeting at 4PM at IDC, not 3PM. We’re sorry. Our team (besides George, who really isn’t available until 4) should gather at NLDC at 3PM to touch heads.” The e-mail had come from one of Claire’s assistants.
“The judge and Jay have been called,” Goebel responded. “The judge will notify Aldo.”
The next day, the group assembled at the Italian men’s club for a final meeting on the future of the building. Claire thought she had it all figured out. She suggested erecting a monument to Italian heritage and relocating the club to a side street, closer to the waterfront. She even had the perfect spot picked out, right between two quaint houses.
It sounded great to Valentini. Santaniello took a practical approach. “It’s always nice to have ideas,” he said, “but you have to have money to put them into effect. So where is the money going to come from?”
His question was the perfect cue for Milne. Pfizer officials had advised him to steer clear of the Italian Dramatic Club. Dozens of property owners were being forced out of their homes through eminent domain. If Pfizer financed the relocation or new construction of the Italian club’s building, the company would have all sorts of demands for similar treatment. Milne made it clear that Pfizer could not get involved.
Valentini dug in his heels, insisting his club would remain unless someone paid for a new building. He had Jay Levin’s word that no one would touch him. Without a commitment from Pfizer, Santaniello knew talking further would be futile. The NLDC had neither the money to move him nor the will to go against Levin’s promise.
Everyone at the table realized the club would stay put. Now only a political question remained: how to spin this to the media and the public.
Steve Hallquist had a major