Little Pink House_ A True Story of Defiance and Courage - Jeff Benedict [9]
The seller agreed.
A friend loaned Susette $2,500 for the down payment. She turned to another friend—a painter who specialized in historic home restorations—to paint the place. Together, they read up on the house and examined paint colors that fit the time period and building style. Susette settled on Odessa Rose, a subtle shade of pink.
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WE NEED A VEHICLE
Peter Ellef’s instructions to Jay Levin were straightforward: identify and determine ownership of all the sites with strategic-development potential around the area of the state pier and then recommend a comprehensive plan of development for the area.
Levin had a lot to work with. The nearby infrastructure gave the waterfront a big upside for development. Interstate 95 ran right alongside the pier. Two major rail lines—the Central Vermont Railway, which ran all the way to Canada, and the Amtrak line running between Boston and New York—connected to the pier area. And a major ferry service occupied a portion of the waterfront.
First, Levin identified the owners of each parcel around the pier. Then he set up individual meetings with the railroad and port operators, with the ferry services and shipyard operators, and with the various city, state, and federal agencies that had interests along the waterfront. The meetings were fruitful. Vacant land existed for development, and all parties had ideas and enthusiasm for redevelopment. The pieces were falling into place fast. For Levin, the challenge was now to identify a device, a legal mechanism that would somehow enable the governor’s administration to control a massive development project without interference from the city.
It didn’t take long to come up with a solution. In 1978, the city had established the New London Development Corporation (NLDC) to assist in planning economic development. Set up as a nonprofit corporation, the NLDC had its own by-laws and operated under the direction of a president and a board of directors. But after a strong start, the NLDC had faded into dormancy. It had been years since the agency had been registered with the state to do business. Yet nothing stood in the way of reviving it.
The NLDC was a familiar entity to city officials and therefore would not generate unnecessary suspicion or opposition. Ellef liked the concept. The governor did, too. But Levin’s idea raised a concern: who would run the NLDC?
The selection of the agency’s president had a lot riding on it. From the state’s perspective, this individual would essentially become the governor’s agent in New London and would be expected to advance the most massive, ambitious redevelopment project in the city’s history. The situation called for someone with clout and popularity, yet who was not under the thumb of the current Democratic leadership. This was a tall order.
Always one step ahead, Levin already had a candidate in mind.
No New London institution had more prestige than Connecticut College, a private school that occupies some of the most valuable real estate in the city, on a hill overlooking the Thames. The school came off like an ivory tower in a blue-collar town, fostering resentment from many of the city’s political leaders.
But in 1988, the school hired a new president, Dr. Claire Gaudiani. She arrived with impressive credentials: a Ph.D. in French literature, a slew of published articles, the Rolodex of a socialite, and a knack for fund-raising. Under her hard-charging leadership, the school’s academic ranking and its endowment soared. Her star rose quickly in the city’s social circles, too. She stole the show at the city’s annual birthday gala when she showed up in an elegant, sleeveless red dress, showcasing just enough to tantalize. When the music started, she kicked off her shoes and danced, revealing her red toenail polish. Men couldn’t help admiring her look.
A press photographer couldn’t help himself, either. The next day, Claire’s picture