I surrender

I had a crappy day yesterday.

First, I dropped my Blackberry in the toilet; then my dog got run over by a Wal-Mart truck on Lamothe Avenue; and then I learned that Laura has been having an affair with Newt Gingrinch.

Okay, I may be exaggerating just a bit (Laura, however, still stumbles when I ask where she spent last night. She claims she was in Bangor, but we all know that is code for something far more sinister)

But on top of everything else, my long-held dream of being inducted into the Maine Press Association’s Hall of Fame were destroyed by a brilliant, intrepid former weekly newspaper reporter with far too much time on his hands.

Josh Bodwell, a man who never hesitates to throw his intellectual weight around and make snide comments about those who have the temerity to disagree with him, was understandably upset when I opined last week that he has an over-inflated ego; and it may be the reason why some members of the Biddeford City Council voted against his nomination to serve on the Charter Review Commission (See: Exile in Guyville, aka The Bodwell Incident).

Yesterday, Bodwell posted a comment on another of my blog posts about the former Lincoln Mill Clock Tower, noting that he had taken the time to call the Maine Press Association to inquire about a statement I made in that post. (See: Seaver was wrong: then and now)

Bodwell, who today serves as the executive director of the Maine Writers & Publishers Alliance, is none too impressed with either my writing or my publishing. It could also be, as Laura pointed out, that Mr. Bodwell is in serious need of a hobby. Or maybe I should have joined this organization whose mission statement says something about “supporting Maine writers.”

In a rather heated Facebook debate that Mr. Bodwell engaged in with a friend of mine a few weeks ago, Josh trotted out his previous journalism award from the Maine Press Association to clearly demonstrate his superior intellect and uncanny ability to spot nefarious subject matters from a mile away.

It should be noted that the Maine Press Association gives out many such distinguished awards each year to outstanding journalists who are also…wait for it…dues-paying members of the Maine Press Association.

It should also be pointed out that I was asked four years ago to serve as a  judge for the annual Maine Press Awards. I was asked to read through a series of selected sports stories that appeared in both daily and weekly newspapers from all over Maine during the previous year.

Me judging sports stories makes absolutely no sense, especially when considering that during my brief stint as a sports reporter I had to ask a girls’ softball coach to explain what “striking out the side” means.

During a football game, when the announcer says, something about the “special” teams, I wonder if those are the really good players.

But, as usual, I digress…Bodwell got his panties all in a knot because of an incident I recalled while writing the Clock Tower post. It was an incident that happened more than 10 years ago, you know…during the last century.

I mentioned that the Journal Tribune (then a fierce competitor of the Courier) published a silly, front-page story about my appointment to Biddeford’s Downtown Development Commission while..(gasp)..serving as the editor of the Courier.

Thumbs up to the Journal Tribune for inquiring about the story during the same year it happened. It took Mr. Bodwell, prize-winning journalist, a mere 12 years to catch on to a story about me that I published on my blog 12 years later. Wow.

Actually, Josh and the folks at the MPA are right. It’s always better if journalists are as objective as possible, an opinion I expressed when I resigned from the DDC some 18 months after I was appointed.

But since we’re on the subject, let’s take another look at the DDC.

Mr. Bodwell is not a big fan of the very important and all-powerful and influential Downtown Development Commission; and it should be noted that when I served on the commission it was doing little more than having monthly meetings to talk about flower plantings and an annual Christmas festival. (Heady, weighty stuff….quick, someone call David Broder or Bob Woodward)

I was living and working downtown. All my friends were on the commission, and I wanted to smoke cigars with them on every third Monday night of the month.  A couple other points should be considered:

• All DDC meetings were open to the public
• The DDC had no authority, serving only as an advisory committee to the city council.
• If I had not joined the DDC, their meetings would have continued being ignored by the media and just about everyone else.
• Finally, during my brief tenure on the DDC, the citizens of Biddeford were well represented by far better reporters from both the Journal Tribune and Portland Press Herald. Those reporters would laugh if their editors ever asked them to cover a DDC meeting.

Perhaps it is wrong of me to think that my deeply disturbing lack of journalistic values and integrity would ever come back to haunt me, but I take some small measure of solace from my own journalism award: a plaque given to me for “exceptional coverage of South Portland girls’ softball in 1998.”

That last part is not a joke. That award is hanging on my office wall, a wonderful reminder of the greatest job I ever had and an amazing team of girls who would probably beat the crap out of Josh Bodwell if I asked.

But it’s okay, I know how to admit when I make a mistake.