We were only freshmen

I launched Parke’s career in journalism. He paid me back in spades, launching my career in public relations. It was really nice to start making decent money

Send Lawyers, Guns & Money…

God smiled upon me, and I was able to cap off my much-ballyhooed, mini vacation in the best way possible last night, spending time with my good friend Parke Burmeister.

______________

Parke and I have known each other since 2003, and he reminded me last night about how we met.

Parke had graduated from Colby College but was killing time, working in construction with dreams of someday being a reporter.

He had tons of enthusiasm but zero experience.

He went to the Press Herald. No dice.

He drove up to the Lewiston Sun Journal. Another rejection.

He was living in OOB, and –undeterred, still chock full of naive enthusiasm — stopped by the offices of the weekly Biddeford-Saco-OOB Courier on a Tuesday afternoon.

At that time, I was the managing editor of the Courier and three other weekly publications owned by Mainely Newspapers, Inc., then owned by David and Carolyn Flood .

What Parke did not know — and what most people did not know — is that Tuesdays were the Courier’s weekly deadline day.

That said, what most people — within 100-mile radius of Biddeford — especially our editorial staff — did know and accept was this:

You don’t fuck around with Randy Seaver on Tuesdays.

Laura and our kids embraced that reality.

I already had a reputation for being grumpy, short-tempered, impatient, brash, arrogant and opinionated.

Just your run-of-the-mill news editor, stressed to the max under a looming deadline and fueled by 36 gallons of coffee and at least two packs of Camel non-filters (I have since quit smoking).

The news staff called me “Chief.” I was a demanding, overbearing perfectionist prick (as it should be in a newsroom)

I made novice reporters cry and more experienced staffers angry and resentful.

I expected everyone around me to also work no less than 140 hours per week.

The news staff called me “Chief.” I was a demanding, overbearing perfectionist prick (as it should be in a newsroom)

So when I was called from my office to the lobby, I was predisposed to being a self-righteous asshole, full of sound and fury.

But I saw something in Parke. Something that intrigued me.

I also thought of all the editors who made me cry when I was a rookie; men like Bob Melville and Harry Foote, both of whom gave me a shot and just a sliver of encouragement.

I don’t remember all the details, but Parke does.

Here’s what I allegedly said in a terse and unforgiving manner:

“Okay,” I huffed. “Here’s the deal. There is a school board meeting in Old Orchard Beach tonight.

“Go there and write a 450-word summary. I’ll publish it and give you a byline as Staff Intern.

“That way, the next time you bother an editor on deadline, at least you’ll have something to show them.”

According to Parke, I then turned away with a huff and retreated to my office.

And that was how it started with me and Parke.

I launched his career in journalism. A few short years later, he played a huge role in launching my career as a political/policy consultant at Barton & Gingold.

Parke fixed my toilet. Laura and I traveled to Cape Cod for his wedding.

RIDING THE MERRY-GO-ROUND | Parke with my wife, Laura, in Old Orchard Beach, Summer, 2005

________________

I have had the distinct honor and privilege of watching Parke’s growth and success for nearly 25 years.

Today, Parke owns and operates a boutique law firm in Portland. He is raising two funny, beautiful and smart daughters.

These are the kind of friends you want.

These are the kind of friends you need.

When friends like this call, you drop everything.

LAST MEN STANDING from Barton & Gingold, a highly regarded public policy consulting firm that was sold and dismantled in 2016. (Left to Right) Tobey Williamson, Parke Burmeister and me after breaking my arm at Moosehead.

_________________

I am so fucking lucky because I have a small handful of other people in this same category.

We had so much fun last night. So many laughs. These are the moments that matter

All The Young Dudes, Redux

An aging news editor still enjoys writing about the young punks who are now taking over his hometown of Biddeford

It’s really very cool being the editor of a community newspaper in a small town like Amity, Mass. – – oops . . . strike that . . . Amity (which means friendship) was a fictional town in the 1975 blockbuster Jaws.

I am not Harry Meadows, the fictional editor of the fictional newspaper — the Amity Gazette — in the fictional town of Amity, Mass.

I am Randy Seaver, the editor of the Biddeford Gazette, the community news organization that covers the city of Biddeford, a city that just feels fictional sometimes.

I must admit, I often channel the overweight, impatient and ass kissing Harry Meadows, a journalist who often blurred the lines between news and opinion and had his head permanently stuck up Mayor Larry Vaughan’s ass.

“Come on guys, I need a picture for the paper . . . stand together. Come on, I need a picture for the paper.”

Newspaper Editor Harry Meadows (far right) listens as Mayor Larry Vaughn (center) schools Amity Police Chief Martin Brody about the inherent perils of these “local waters.” Photo | Jaws Wiki Fan page

If you haven’t figured it out yet, I am a Jaws superfreak fan, and yes – that is why I named my own media outlet the Biddeford Gazette, inspired by the Amity Gazette.

But I digress, like I often do – especially when I forget to take my meds.

RYAN FECTEAU | Then and Now

So, this particular cool story is about State Rep Ryan Feacteau of Biddeford, the man who today serves as Speaker of the Maine House of Representatives.

I first met Ryan more than a decade ago, when he was nothing more than a snot-nosed, young punk looking for votes and name recognition.

Today, not much has changed.

Fecteau is still a snot-nosed young punk looking for votes and name recognition, and I am still an overweight, grumpy news editor.

(Relax. This is satire)

On a more serious note, I have been impressed by Fecteau’s meteoric rise in Biddeford’s political circles.

Although Fecteau and I sometimes disagree on specific policy issues and initiatives, there are a few reasons I really and honestly like him.

He’s smart. He’s funny. He is passionate and hardworking.

But the main reason I like Ryan is because we are kindred spirits. We both care passionately – to our core – about the city of Biddeford and its people.

What I wrote about Fecteau on my blog in 2016

All The Young Dudes (Part One)

“ . .  .Fecteau began what will probably be a long and notable political career by actually winning an election as one of five people elected to serve as a commissioner on the city’s charter review commission.

“The charter commission is not much more than a group of dorks who want to sit around and debate whether the city’s bylaws should include more semicolons.

“There were seven slots available and only five candidates on the ballot, so it’s not like Fecteau proved himself to be a tactical genius.

“But you still have to respect a kid who is willing to tinker with the city’s charter when most young men his age are doing more important things like getting laid or drinking beer.”

What I wrote about Fecteau almost a decade later (2024)

The Top-20 Political Movers and Shakers in Biddeford

“The Number One Position. Numero Uno on the list of the most influential politicians and policy wonks in the Biddeford Saco area . . .

If you’re a political junkie, you probably saw this coming from 10 miles away. Ladies and Gentlemen; boys and girls, I present to you, Ryan Fecteau.”

So, there you have it.

In 2016, I predicted a 20-year-old kid was going places as a politician.

Less than one decade later, that ambitious Charter Review Commission Candidate became the third-most powerful person in Maine’s state political arena.

And I crowned him as the most influential member of Biddeford’s political community.

If you live in Biddeford – and if you are politically ambitious – maybe you should stop by the City Clerk’s office and pick up nomination papers for the upcoming charter commission.

Who knows what will happen next.

______________

Samples of my previous reporting and columns I have published from Mr. Fecteau:

OPINION | Ryan Fecteau | ICE Enforcement activities do not reflect Maine values

            Biddeford Gazette, Feb. 12, 2026

NEWS | Fecteau’s Housing Bill gets bipartisan approval

            Biddeford Gazette, June 22, 2025

NEWS | Court puts Fecteau in national spotlight

            Biddeford Gazette, May 21, 2025

NEWS | Fecteau want to return to Maine House

            Saco Bay News, Jan. 27, 2024

OPINION | I Wanna Hold Your Hand

            Saco Bay News, All Along the Watchtower, Nov. 10, 2023

OPINION | Meet the new boss, same as the old boss

Lessons in Mediocrity, Dec. 15, 2024

INTERVIEW | RYAN FECTEAU by Randy Seaver

            Saco Bay News, Jan. 24, 2023

OPINION | All The Young Dudes

            All Along the Watchtower, Feb. 18, 2012

____________

ABOUT THE AUTHOR | Randy Seaver is still an overweight, grumpy and bald news editor living in the not-so fictional city of Biddeford, Maine. To this day, he is terrified of swimming in the ocean. Send him your news and dieting tips by email | randy@randyseaver.com

Reporters are not supposed to be friends with the people they cover — especially government officials . . . I broke that rule

I am feeling so sad.

I just learned from a reading a story in Saco Bay News that Bill Johnson – a former mayor and city councilor — recently passed away at the age of 92.

This news leaves a hole. I regret losing touch will Bill.

He was such a kind and wise man, and he always offered sage and measured advice. I first met him almost 30 years ago after he had just been elected to transition from serving as a Ward One councilor to becoming the city’s mayor in 1997.

He was a new mayor, and I was a new reporter in Saco, despite having grown up in that city.

Bill took me under his wing and offered me advice with his warm grin and elder-statesmen sense of discipline. He was always quick to smile and had a deep laugh.

He said he was happy to be working with a reporter who had a long and personal connection to the city.

We reporters are trained to not become personally connected to the government officials they cover, but I could not help myself.

Bill was just so decent, kind and patient — a perfect grandfather of sorts. He leaves behind a legacy of public service, a love for his community and a reputation for hard work and dedication to his family.

Bill was one of a kind; a man equally comfortable in a suit and tie at some government function; or wearing a flannel shirt and wandering Saco’s northwestern rural and pastoral neighborhoods.

Bill was just so decent, kind and patient —
a perfect grandfather of sorts

The late 1990s were not the best of times for Saco. There was plenty of political tension, and Bill’s job as mayor was anything but easy.

The city was still rebounding from serious and consequential financial difficulties, but Bill was the right leader at the right time. He was quiet, measured and thoughtful. He never spoke an unkind word about anyone.

Bill Johnson will be missed . . . by me and by everyone who ever had the good fortune to cross paths with him.

Godspeed, Mr. Mayor.

May you eternally rest in peace, Bill and may your memory never be forgotten, especially in the city you loved.

______________

ABOUT THE AUTHOR | Randy Seaver is the editor of the Biddeford Gazette. He also was a reporter who covered the city of Saco from 1997 to 2006 for the Biddeford-Saco-OOB Courier and as a freelance reporter for Saco Bay News from 2023 to 2024.

NOTE: Some photos in this story were used without expressed permission. Those photos are attributed to their original source, but may be removed, if necessary.

DISCLOSUSURE | Randy Seaver’s stepsister, Jodi MacPhail, currently serves as mayor of Saco.

Originally published by the Biddeford Gazette

An Open Letter to My Daughter

March 15, 2026

Dearest Marlee,

There is an old saying in journalism that you should never bury the Lede (lead). You should always say the most important stuff at the top.

I have broken that rule time and time again, most notably — and regretfully — when it comes to my communication with you. I hope someday that you will forgive me, but maybe I need to forgive myself first.

No matter what. No matter what happens in the future, No matter what you do, say or accomplish, there is just one universal truth: I LOVE YOU and I am so fucking proud of you.

That’s the lead, Marlee. That’s what it’s important. That’s what I most want you to know. That’s what I should have said so many times before today.

My youngest kid | Marlee Kidman

For reasons I cannot explain, I suddenly bolted wide awake in the pre-dawn hours of the new day. I had an epiphany, and it was all about you . . . and your brother.

Look, I don’t necessarily agree with every decision you have made, but I am so proud of your courage. I admire your strength and resolve to live your life as your true, authentic self.

You are one of the smartest people I have ever met. You are incredibly creative, and you have a knack for making me laugh with your jokes and your quick wit.

You are braver and more determined than I could ever imagine when I was your age.

Your work ethic is admirable, and the way you treat your friends demonstrates your true nature as a kind, loyal and generous person.

But none of that matters as much as this, Marlee | I love you. I will ALWAYS love you, and I am proud of you without any condition or expectation.

My love for you is a choice. A choice I make freely. I don’t need you to like me or forgive me. I just choose to love you. It’s just that simple.

I know that I have disappointed you. I know that I have hurt you — but I hope you know that it was never my intent. I wear those mistakes around my neck like chunks of Kryptonite. I desperately pray that God will forgive me

I am flawed, and I am working to be better. I believe that most people I know are in the same boat. But that fact does not excuse some of my reckless words and actions.

My love for you is a choice. A choice I make freely. I don’t need you to like me or forgive me. I just choose to love you. It’s just that simple.

As I begin my 62nd trek around the sun, I can assure you that the most satisfying and rewarding accomplishment in my life is the fact that there are two decent, kind, funny, hardworking people traveling the Earth — and they both call me Dad.

That is the most awesome title I have ever held, and I apologize for every one of my failures as a parent.

Let me say it again for the cheap seats: I love you, and I am proud of you.

Forgive me for burying the lead, and I pray that you can receive this note as I intended.

All my love,

Dad

We’ve lost a journalist’s journalist

Cutis Robinson | Aspen Daily News photo

I did not know Curtis Robinson. He was only a few years older than me, but he was a notable, old-school journalist who got to hang around with my idol Hunter S. Thompson.

According to a recent feature story in the Aspen Daily News, Robinson was a journalist’s journalist: “dogged and irreverent kind of journalist — the type who wouldn’t take BS if it was served on a silver platter and knew a government meeting was good material if you could write about it with verve.”

Robinson’s sister lives in South Portland. Our condolences to his family and friends.

Unsolicited advice for a young candidate

Although I am no longer working as a political/PR consultant (Thank Christ), I still find the subject matter intriguing, especially when it’s literally taking place in my own back yard.

Today, I am pretty much consumed with running the Biddeford Gazette, a non-profit media outlet hyper-focused on covering the city of Biddeford.

As part of our ongoing news coverage, the Gazette is beginning its coverage of this year’s various legislative and county races in the Biddeford area.

I am currently working on a preview piece about the race in State Senate District 32, which includes Biddeford and its surrounding communities of Arundel, Dayton, Hollis and Lyman.

The seat is currently held by Henry Ingwersen, a nice enough guy and a retired beekeeper from Arundel.

Ingwersen — a Democrat who is hoping for a third consecutive term — serves as chair of the Health & Human Services Committee and also serves on the Agriculture, Conservation and Forestry Committee.

Ingwersen is today facing challenges from at least two lesser-known candidates, Jason Litalien, an unenrolled Biddeford attorney and political newcomer John Salamone, a Republican who recently moved to Hollis from Portland.

I personally know both Ingwersen and Litalien, and I will be writing much more as we continue the march toward the Nov. 2026 election, but today I’m focusing on the reportedly brash GOP candidate trying to make a splash in the sleepy hamlet of Hollis,

According to his social media accounts, Salamone is a “digital creator,” just like thousands of 16-year-olds on Tik-Tok.

His campaign website is fairly standard: it’s clean, easy to navigate and provides detailed information about the candidate’s policy concerns. But there is one rather glaring, missing piece of information: There is no contact information. Zip. Zero. Nada. Zilch.

Do digital creators just communicate via telepathy?

If you’re a candidate for public office, don’t you want the media — and voters — to be able to contact you?

Look, let’s get real. I’m an old-school hack born on the cusp between Boomer and Gen. X.

My own websites — this blog and the Biddeford Gazette’s landing page — are both rather perfunctory and pedestrian– not a lot of pizazz. Web site design is not my forte, but I do know enough to have a visible “Contact” link.

Call me old school, but most people still enjoy using email, telephones and text messaging.

Finally, on a somewhat unrelated note, who is advising this guy? His campaign photo shows him scowling and not looking at the camera (translated: not looking at potential supporters) He comes across as an angry millennial about to kill the neighbor’s dog.

Like I said at the top, my days as a campaign consultant (an 82.3% win ratio) are behind me. So, what do I know?

Good luck to Mr. Salamone, but maybe you should try cracking a smile and don’t make it so difficult for us pesky journalists to contact you.

_______________________

Randy Seaver is a nearly insufferable malcontent living in Biddeford, Maine. He is a veteran journalist who has been annoying politicians, pundits and his peers since 1981, when he served as an unpaid student intern at the former Journal Tribune. He is the editor and founder of the Biddeford Gazette, a non-profit digital media outlet that focuses on the city of Biddeford. Send your praise or angry comments to randy@randyseaver.com

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‘Nooner’ sleeps with the fishes

Dammit! Feeling devastated. I just learned (via social media) that my best friend in Oregon, Tim “Nooner” has died.

This one really hurts

It was the early 1990s. I lived alone in Portland, and often felt isolated, nearly 3,000 miles away from my family and friends.

Tim and I were co-workers, he was a semi-reformed hippie with a hearty laugh and a wide smile. He had an awesome sense of humor and was a skilled woodworker, originally from Eugene, Ore.

He was a few years older than me but took me under his wing and befriended me almost from the first moment I arrived as a transplant from Nashville, Tenn.

The first thing he said to me was, “you don’t talk like a southerner”

I told him I was originally from Maine. He lit up. “That’s fantastic!” and then gave me a bear hug.

He introduced me to The Acropolis, a local steakhouse that was also a . . . (If you’re from Portland, you know where I’m going with this.) I was blown away. It became a favorite haunt.

Tim and I would passionately argue about politics. He was pretty far left and struggled with my Libertarian perspectives, but man we had a good time.

_______________

“You can’t go through

life broke and bald.”

__________________

He accompanied me as I explored Oregon’s coast during long weekends. I fell in love with Cannon Beach and Lincoln City. It always felt so weird to see the sun set on the ocean. It took me a while to get used to that.

It was during my time living in Oregon that I wrote my first novel (self-published). The Upper Deck Dreams. Tim read an early draft and said he found it fascinating and troubling.

“You need to lighten up,” he laughed. “We need to get you laid.”

A little more than a year after I arrived in Oregon, Tim was helping me pack. “You need to go home,” he said. “Keep writing and do your best to make more money at it.” You can’t spend the rest of your life broke and bald.”

Fuck. I miss you Tim a.k.a Nooner. Give the angels hell, my friend.

P.S. I’m still bald and broke, but having lots of fun

__________________________

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The NFL lied. You’re not special

To say that I was less than impressed with many of the ads featured during Sunday’s Superbowl matchup between the Seattle Seahawks and the New England Patriots would be a gross understatement.

But there was one ad that stuck out as especially insipid, defying common sense and serving only to bolster one of our nation’s biggest challenges.

No, I’m not talking about polar bears discovering that they actually prefer Pepsi over Coke.

I’m talking about a rambling 30-second public service announcement that was brought to us by none other than the NFL.

The You Are Special ad was unapologetically lifted right from the lips of the Mr. Rogers’ television show and featured Michael Strahan and Christian McCaffrey singing the silly song and deluding the minds of millions of American children.

Let’s stick with the good Superbowl commercials (Photo: Washington Times)

Although intended to be a warm and fuzzy reminder that we should always promote “unity and community,” the ad supports the feel-good notion from the NFL’s Inspire Change Program that “everyone is special.”

The irony of people — who make millions and millions of dollars by throwing and catching a leather ball — telling the rest of us that “we’re all special” is almost too much for my diseased brain to handle. I honestly thought I was going to have a stroke.

According to my leather-bound dictionary from Brown University, the word “special” is defined as follows: “distinguished by some unusual quality.”

Unusual quality. Think about that for a moment.

If we’re all special – as the NFL tells us – then none of us are special. You simply cannot be special if there is nothing unusual about you, nothing that sets you apart from the masses.

And that’s okay. Pull the shotgun out of your mouth. The world needs average, ordinary people like you and me.

We have a whole generation of entitled brats each believing that they are special simply because they have mastered the art of inhaling and exhaling.

Let me put this another way.

I made a point of mentioning that my dictionary is from Brown University. No, I didn’t attend or graduate from Brown. In fact, I dropped out of both the University of Southern Maine and Boston University in less than 90 days.

I doubled-down on my academic accomplishments by then enrolling in and also quickly dropping out of the Sacred Heart School of Theology in Wisconsin.

Bown University is special, especially when compared to a school like USM. People are willing to pay a lot more to attend Brown than USM. Both schools are not equal.

In fact, I’m almost positive that the University of Southern Maine doesn’t publish its own leather-bound dictionary with gold-leaf pages. Maybe they have something available online. I don’t know.

Let me be perfectly clear. There is nothing wrong with the University of Southern Maine. I wish I had graduated from USM. I really regret never getting an undergraduate degree.

A lot of very good and smart people graduated from USM. But I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that most of those students would have gladly accepted a transfer to Brown, Bowdoin, Dartmouth or Harvard.

There is special. And there is ordinary. We should all learn the difference.

As I said, the world needs ordinary people; people who aspire to do special things. Doing something special requires hard work, commitment and practice.

Ordinary people can – and often – do special, extraordinary things. But we’re not all special. Special is not a birthright. It’s something you have to work for.

______________________

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Christmas Chaos 2025: You’re Invited!

The Christmas holiday is right around the corner.

What does that mean?

For a lot of people, it means stress, extra work and financial strains. For others, it means awkward obligations to attend family events.

On the other end of the spectrum, many people are facing the prospect of being alone with no place to go on a day that is supposed to be merry and bright.

Well, let go of that stress and let’s make Christmas fun again!

You are now invited to the ninth annual Seaver Christmas Chaos Event on Christmas Day, Dec. 25. This is a free, community event with zero obligations, no expectations and no formalities!

There are no strings attached, no gifts, no expectations. Just fun, laughter and camaraderie. Stop by for an hour or two or stay the entire day.

Doors open at 10:30 a.m. we will open a fully-stocked bar and my famous Bloody Mary Cocktails that include giant shrimp and bacon. Plenty of soft drinks and other beverages will also be available.

Appetizers, including Laura’s world-famous stuffed mushroom caps, deviled eggs, spicy meatballs, shrimp, finger sandwiches, baked spinach balls, pickles, crackers and chips. will be available throughout the day.

PLEASE NOTE CHANGE: We will not do a sit-down dinner this year. We want flexibility for our guests and give Laura more time to enjoy the festivities.

Thus, there is NO need to RSVP. Come when you like, leave when you want.

You are welcome to bring a guest (or two, or three . . . whatever. This is a dog-friendly home. Each year, we have more participants, the more, the merrier.

This is a great way to decompress and have some fun. You don’t need to bring anything. If you choose, however, we will be collecting non-perishable food items for the Biddeford Food Pantry.

Come meet new friends and see old friends! This event gets more popular each year. We look forward to seeing you!

WHEN: December 25, 2025 (Christmas Day) 10:30 a.m. to midnight.

WHERE: 23 Lamothe Avenue, Biddeford, Maine.

COUNTDOWN TO NEXT YEAR’S EVENT:

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CHRISTAMS CHAOS 2026

I’ve got a Golden ticket

Once again, it would seem that many of Maine’s most ardent Democrats cannot see the forest for the trees.

And that’s saying something, especially since Maine is the most forested state in the country.

Matt Dunlap, Maine’s former secretary of state, decided to end his four-day titillating tease, ceasing the media foreplay — will he or won’t he — make a primary challenge against incumbent Rep. Jared Golden, a much more moderate Democrat?

U.S. Rep. Jared Golden (photo: Wiki Commons)

Maine’s Second Congressional District offers a virtual smorgasbord of political ideologies. Despite the common misconceptions of southern Maine folks, CD2 is not just a swath of God-fearing, gun-toting and Bible-thumping rednecks, it is also home to progressive enclaves such as Belfast, Lewiston and Bar Harbor.

Over the last four years, Golden has figured out how to saddle the district that is almost evenly divided between Republicans and Democrats.

Victories for Golden have been hard fought and razor-thin, but never since winning his first election to the U.S. House in 2018 has Golden been challenged by his own party – – – until now.

Less than a year ago, Golden eked out his re-election campaign with only 50.3 percent of the vote over Republican newcomer Austin Theriault, who lost by a little more than 3,000 votes with 49.7 percent of the vote,

Folks, federal elections don’t come much closer than this.

But that was 2024, when Trump supporters were campaigning with a fevered pitch. Still, Golden held strong and put on a clean flannel shirt for the cameras on Election Day.

Golden won his first term as a U.S. Representative in 2018, facing incumbent Bruce Poliquin. That race was telling. Golden won, but it was no landslide: 50.9 percent to 49.4 percent.

For a while, it seemed that Maine Democrats had learned their lesson, suffering back-to-back losses in CD2 when progressive candidate Emily Cain was propped up by her party to take down the evil Poliquin. The short, balding guy with a creepy grin beat her twice, in 2014 (45.2 percent) in a three-way contest; and again in 2016 (54.8 – 45.2 percent)

I believe it was the 2016 election when Democrats were finally willing to admit that a more moderate approach would be needed if they wanted to capture Maine’s Second Congressional District.

In fact, Golden – though acting like a political maverick right out of the gate – did not face a primary challenge in 2020, 2022 and in the 2024 race.

But many Democrats said they were simply holding their noses when casting a ballot for Golden. The balance of power in Washington was shifting. Republicans had gained a lot of ground.

For a while, it seemed that
Maine Democrats had learned
their lesson”

Every seat mattered.

According to several of my sources within the Maine Democratic Party, the Dems realized that they had to forsake the perfect to get the good.

But enough is enough, I suppose.

Enter Matt Dunlap and the Golden ticket he apparently found in a Wonka chocolate bar.

Will there be a test?

From all accounts, Dunlap is a decent guy. He is affable, a bit quirky and probably never sat at the cool kids’ table in the high school cafeteria.

Sure, he is currently Maine’s auditor and previously served as Maine’s Secretary of State (both appointed positions by the Legislature) but it seems as if there is not a lot of meat on his 61-year-old bones.

State Auditor Matthew Dunlap

Let’s face facts. Dunlap is hardly a heavy hitter. But his party has called him up from the JV team and coordinated a press conference.

Here’s a fun fact: Dunlap was elected Maine State Auditor by the Maine Legislature and took office on January 4, 2021, but had to give up the position after failing the exams needed to meet the requirements of his new position.

He did later meet the requirements and was selected for the position again on November 14, 2022.

I’m a boy, and I’m a man

Golden, it seems, has gone a bit too far in being a moderate. He consistently refuses to toe the party line all the time. He must be held accountable.

With Trump in the White House, the last thing Democrats want is a representative who is willing to reach across the aisle. You know? A consensus builder . . . a, what do you call it? . . . oh yeah, an “Independent.”

But here’s the deal. Maine is really a purple state.

Former Maine Governor Paul LePage

Chellie (I’ll stay in D.C. until I die) Pingree is a progressive Democrat, and she’s not going anywhere, despite the incredibly stupid move by now Biddeford Mayor Marty Grohman who ran as an Independent and tried to beat her.

Yeah, that didn’t work out so well.

Susan Collins, a Republican, is chair of the Senate Appropriations Committee. She is going nowhere. Maine’s other senator won’t even call himself a Democrat even though he votes with the Democrats more than 98 percent of the time.

On the heels of Trump’s 2024 victory, Maine Republicans are betting on former Governor Paul LePage to finally knock Golden from his perch.

Trump did well in Maine’s CD2 last year. As expected, Harris won Maine’s 1st Congressional District while Trump won Maine’s 2nd Congressional district.

For Democrats, the question once again becomes are you going to sacrifice the good for the perfect?

If so, I think you’re making a big mistake. But what do I know?

_________________

Randy Seaver is the editor and founder of the Biddeford Gazette. He may be reached by email: randy@randyseaver.com

c.) 2025 All Rights Reserved

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