Rowland finds no shelter from corruption police

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LITCHFIELD, Conn. - By the time Van Winkle Road nudges its bumpy way to Gov. John G. Rowland's summer hideaway, grass has begun to reclaim parts of the road and a canopy of leaves and ferns obscures the view.

Rowland came to Litchfield for the same reason Hollywood stars, Washington insiders and Wall Street movers have retreated to the wooded hills of northwest Connecticut for a century: To escape photographers, politics and stress.

That works for fellow Litchfield County residents Michael J. Fox, Mia Farrow and Henry Kissinger. But Rowland's cottage on the shore of Bantam Lake offers him little shelter from the federal corruption probe and impeachment inquiry that have besieged him for the past year.

In fact, the cottage - an unassuming ranch house with dark brown siding that faces Bantam Lake - is at the center of many of Rowland's problems.

Impeachment investigators want to know whether the cathedral ceiling, hot tub, electrical work and landscaping at the house are evidence of contract steering and favoritism.

FBI agents have subpoenaed Rowland's personal records regarding the cottage. His friends have been subpoenaed to testify before a federal grand jury about whether his poker games were designed for state contractors to funnel him money; whether his business and real estate ventures were above board; whether vacations and gifts were really bribes.

It all comes back so often to Litchfield and Bantam Lake, famous for their privacy and seclusion.

"People up here are used to him being here," said George Sigiel, a Bantam Lake resident who occasionally runs into Rowland and sometimes has him over for a cigar. "They don't point at him. They just let him relax and have his privacy. No matter what happens, I hope he continues to get that."

Out-of-towners pay millions for that luxury.

"There's no social pressure like in the Hamptons to have dinner reservations eight weeks in advance," said Seymour Surnow, a real estate broker in the Litchfield office of Sotheby's International Realty. "It allows a luxury and privacy you don't get anywhere else."

It's also a place for legitimate relaxation. Cellular phone coverage is spotty at best. There are no outlet stores or strips of boutiques, no society pages or gossip columns.

"In the grocery line, I could have (musician) Peter Duchin on one side of me and Nancy Kissinger on the other and everybody's wearing jeans," Surnow said.

Rowland bought his summer home in 1997 for $110,000, saying he needed somewhere to escape Hartford's partisan politics. The purchase ignited a political flap over whether Rowland used his political influence to secure a sweetheart deal on hard-to-get property.

His top economic development adviser, Arthur Diedrick, was president of the land trust that owned most of the lakeside property. Democrats screamed foul but the controversy quickly subsided.

Rowland fit in well among the blue jeans of Litchfield and the bass fishermen on Bantam Lake. Soon after arriving, he began to improve his cottage, installing a heating system, a cathedral ceiling, a deck and sliding glass doors. He winterized the cottage, complete with a propane heating system.

On a cloudy autumn day in 2000, he set out on the lake with his wife and a reporter for The Hartford Courant. Drifting for a while as storm clouds approached, the governor pointed out some lakeside homes and declared: "Bantam Lake hasn't been discovered, yet."

The real estate discovery came soon enough. Buyers grabbed smaller houses, demolishing and replacing them with trophy homes, then expanding onto adjacent lots when possible. Bantam Lake properties began hitting the $1 million mark.

For Rowland, a more troubling discovery was in store. Last year, days before Thanksgiving, contractors who worked on the cottage said they were promised state work if they charged reduced rates. Others raised questions about payments.

Rowland insisted he paid for all the improvements. Within a week, federal prosecutors subpoenaed several contractors before a grand jury. Within two weeks, Rowland admitted he had lied about much of the work at the cottage.

The tiny lakeside hideaway became the most talked-about home in Connecticut. The impeachment inquiry followed. Finally, Rowland was elevated in the eyes of the FBI from "witness" to "subject" in the corruption probe.

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