Hawaii 5-0

Thinking back to our 5-year wedding anniversary, and wondering when we will return:

Problems with Maine’s sex offender registry

James Simpson was released from prison in May 2001, but in many ways, he feels as if he still behind bars.

At the advice of his attorney, Simpson, 41, plead guilty to gross sexual assault in February 1998. Superior Court Justice Paul Fritzsche sentenced Simpson to 11 years in jail with all but four years suspended and an additional six years of probation.

While Simpson maintains that he is innocent, he also says that a new state law, which requires sex offenders to be listed on an Internet registry, has made his life a living hell.

The case against Simpson began in November 1997, when he befriended a female acquaintance and eventually allowed her to live with him at his Saco apartment. Three days later, the woman told police that Simpson raped her.

The Courier is withholding the victim’s name, but did verify that she was an adult when the crime was committed.

Released early for good behavior from the Maine Correctional Center in Windham, Simpson said he has been trying to put his life back on track. The problem, he says, is that Maine’s Sex Offender Registry has made it all but impossible to do that.

“Everywhere I go, people are treating me like some kind of monster,” he said. “I’m not a pedophile, but people don’t know that. They just see my name on the same list with people who hurt little kids.”

Simpson’s complaint about the mandatory registry is not the first of its kind, and law enforcement agencies admit the system is far less than perfect.

Saco Police Chief Brad Paul said the 1999 law puts his department and other law enforcement agencies in a difficult position.

“It’s a hell of a quandary,” Paul said. “The law was developed with good intentions, and it does help us do our primary job of keeping the community safe. At the same time, we try to evaluate each incident on a case-by-case basis.”

Like many other communities in Maine, Saco maintains its own website of sex offenders who now live in the city. The Saco list contains the names of 12 men, ranging in age from 27 to 74. The offenders’ addresses range from a transient who stays at area campgrounds to a downtown apartment building and the Ferry Road.

According to Paul, sex offenders must routinely “check-in” with police to update their status, including their address and place of employment.

Since the Maine registry was first published on the internet earlier this month, Simpson said he lost his job at a South Portland fast-food restaurant. He is also no longer allowed to pick up his children from their daycare center.

Simpson, a 1981 graduate of Biddeford High School, has moved back to his hometown of Biddeford, where he stays with a former girlfriend who is the mother of his one-year-old son. He is still looking for work and a new place to live.

“This thing makes it impossible for me to live,” Simpson said of the required registry. “Everywhere I go, people treat me like a monster.”

About the registry

Maine’s sex offender registry website can be found here. From there, offenders can be searched by name or the municipality in which they live.

The city of Biddeford has the highest number of registered sex offenders in the tri-community area, listing the names of 30 men and women who are required to register and live in the city. According to the state’s website, the neighboring city of Saco has 11 registered sex offenders living there; and Old Orchard Beach has 10 registered sex offenders.

Each municipality offers direct links to the state’s sex offender registry from their respective homepages.

The state’s registry is maintained by the Maine State Police and is intended to provide the public information concerning the location of registered offenders currently living in Maine. But not every person listed on the site is a convicted child molester.

Instead, many of those listed have committed crimes against adults and have never been arrested for crimes against children.

On the other hand, the registry does not contain information on all individuals that have been convicted of a sex crime. Information is only provided for those individuals that are required to register under the 1999 state registry law. Registration is also limited to those who were sentenced after June 30, 1992.

Until three weeks ago, Maine was one of only a handful of states that did not provide an Internet listing database of its residing sex offenders. According to the U. S. Justice Department, only six states — Hawaii, Missouri, Montana, Nevada, Rhode Island and Washington — do not have a sex offender database available on the Internet.

Questions raised

Angela Thibodeau, a Biddeford attorney, said she was considering a challenge to the state’s 1999 sex offender registry law. One of her clients was convicted of unlawful sexual contact during a child custody dispute in Georgia, but now lives in Maine.

“I have my own misgivings about the law,” Thibodeau said. “But I’m not so sure that any kind of challenge would be too successful. It’s something that still needs to be studied more closely.”

Thibodeau says the registry tends to “victimize the offenders” by not allowing them to move forward with their lives as other criminals who did not commit sex crimes can after serving their sentences.

“Right now, the registry is not classified by level of risk,” Thibodeau said. “I think that’s something which should be considered.”

Saco attorney Eric Cote agrees with Thibodeau. Cote served as Simpson’s attorney five years ago. He says the law is too broad and as a result, counterproductive.

“There is a substantial difference between a crime committed against a child and a crime committed against an adult,” Cote said. “This thing sort of lumps them all in together. It should be broken down into different categories.”

But Michael Cantara, Maine’s Public Safety Commissioner, said it’s important to remember that the law was drafted and passed by the Legislature after many hours of public hearings in Augusta.

A former York County District Attorney and native of Biddeford, Cantara said the registry provides nothing different than what was already public record, available for newspapers and other media outlets.

“It’s important to remember that this law reflects legislative direction that was also filtered through several federal court decisions,” Cantara said. “It’s just another tool that is meant to inform, not to alarm the public.”

While both criminal court clerks and child protective workers with Maine’s Department of Human Services report a significant increase in calls regarding potential child molesters during the last few weeks, Cantara says the public has a responsibility to check all of the facts before jumping to conclusions about someone who is listed on the site.

“It is incumbent of citizens to act properly before rushing to judgment,” Cantara said, pointing to a law that prohibits harassment or threatening of sex offenders. “While the basic information about an offender is quickly available, it does take time to find more information, which is just as available for the general public.”

For each person listed on the registry, the state supplies the offender’s name, address, photograph and physical characteristics. The offender’s birthdate and place of employment is also listed, along with the date, place and docket number of their conviction.

“It would be a mistake for anyone to see the list as their only source of information,” Cantara said. “We all share responsibility for keeping ourselves safe, but we must do that with diligence and within the parameters of the law.”

Despite his concerns about the new law, Cote said the registry can be a valuable tool. “I would want to know if a child molester lived next door to me,” he said.

Rebel, rebel . . .

It’s been almost 10 years since the United States decided to wage a war on terror by launching air strikes in Afghanistan. Back then, most Americans would be hard pressed to find that country on an un-labeled map.

Today, nearly a decade later– after losing 1,581 U.S. troops, and spending in excess of $440 billion on Operation Enduring Freedom — most Americans would still be hard-pressed to find Afghanistan with or without a map.

Rebel, rebel, you’ve torn your dress . . .

Unlike the ongoing war in Iraq, Operation Enduring Freedom has been somewhat more politically palatable, a bit easier to digest and certainly understandable, given the horrific events that transpired on a bright and clear Tuesday morning in September 2001.

In the days and weeks following Sept. 11, Americans were increasingly ready for revenge. We wanted Osama bin Laden’s head on a stick.

Nobody had to sell us on this war. We had all the justification we needed.

Rebel, rebel, your face is a mess . . .

Many of those who otherwise could be consistently counted upon to criticize use of U.S. military forces remained either silent or ambiguous during the ramp-up of Operation Enduring Freedom. Others became suddenly hawkish on the subject of the Afghan War.

You love bands when they’re playing hard. You want more, and you want it fast

Consider, for a moment, the remarks made by presidential candidate Barack Obama nearly seven years after the war had started.

“The greatest threat to that security lies in the tribal regions of Pakistan, where terrorists train and insurgents strike into Afghanistan. We cannot tolerate a terrorist sanctuary, and as President, I won’t. We need a stronger and sustained partnership between Afghanistan, Pakistan and NATO to secure the border, to take out terrorist camps, and to crack down on cross-border insurgents. We need more troops, more helicopters, more satellites, more Predator drones in the Afghan border region. And we must make it clear that if Pakistan cannot or will not act, we will take out high-level terrorist targets like bin Laden if we have them in our sights.” (July 15, 2008)

But as the war on terror continues taking its toll on the pocketbooks and the psyche of the American public, support for Operation Enduring Freedom is waning.

An Associated Press poll conducted shortly after the war began in October 2001, showed that nearly 94 percent of Americans supported the war on terror. By August 2009, support for the ongoing war in Afghanistan dropped to less than 50 percent.

As we approach the dreaded 10-year anniversary of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, the war on terror seems again at a crossroads. Events of the last few days do not bode well for those who say that Operation Enduring Freedom should continue.

On Friday, Aug. 5, following several weeks of an especially divisive Congressional debate regarding America’s burgeoning debt, Standard & Poor’s downgraded the credit rating of the United States government.

Less than 24 hours later, America suffered its deadliest single loss in the decade-old war when a Chinook helicopter carrying members of the elite U.S. Navy Seal Team Six was shot down in Afghanistan. Thirty-one U.S. soldiers, seven Afghan commandos and an interpreter were killed. The Taliban claimed responsibility.

According to a report in the Christian Science Monitor, Saturday’s loss of coalition forces renewed pessimism among the Afghan people about the possibility of ever diminishing the Taliban’s cling to power.

Here at home, as we begin the dog days of August, Americans seemed subdued.

Perhaps the reality of the war and its cost are finally starting to sink in.

Only weeks earlier, we celebrated the death of Osama bin Laden, thumping our chests with nationalistic pride. It seemed as if our mission was drawing to a close. As a friend of mine said several weeks ago, “You don’t fuck with U.S. Navy Seals.”

We had our revenge.

Or did we?

From my perspective, the objectives of the so-called War on Terror are as murky and as hard to explain as the bottom of . . .well, I don’t know.

Fighting a War on Terror is like fighting a War on Poverty, a War on Drugs or a War on Jealousy.

Noble in its intentions, perhaps . . . but never-ending.

Although I was only 11 years old, I can still recall watching as American military forces and civilian personnel were evacuated from a Saigon rooftop in April 1975. The Vietnam War was finally coming to a close.

I remained a political and news junkie through my adolescence and into my adulthood. I cheered for the Afghan insurgents who stood up to the mighty forces of the Soviet Union. The Russians invaded their southern neighbor on Christmas Eve 1979. Not quite 10 years later, the battle-weary and nearly bankrupt Russians withdrew without victory.

The words of George Santayana come to mind. “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to fulfill it.”

But maybe Mr. Santayana’s other well-known quotation is more appropriate. “Only the dead have seen the end of war.”

I believe…

I believe . . .

  • Decent people with good intentions seek political office. But once elected, these same people often become more focused on being re-elected than solving problems.
  • I am a registered Republican who did not vote for George W. Bush.  I am a Catholic who does not agree with every tenet of the Roman Catholic Church. I believe in a woman’s right to choose and think sex offender registries do absolutely nothing to keep our children safe.
  • I believe the Second Amendment is just as crucial to our liberty as the First Amendment. I believe homosexuals should be allowed to get married. I believe the Boy Scouts should not be forced to accept homosexual leaders.
  • I don’t believe in capital punishment, and I wonder why so many who do also claim to be “pro-life.”
  • I believe that women and men are different and that each gender has inherent strengths and weaknesses. I think God knew what He was doing when He made us that way.
  • I believe in keeping score and teaching children that it’s okay to lose a Little League game. I believe it’s good to recognize achievement and that it’s bad to lower our standards in order to achieve better self-esteem.
  • I believe in questioning authority and challenging the status-quo. I believe that absolutely no one in Augusta understands our school funding formula. I don’t believe in suing McDonald’s if you spill a cup of hot coffee on your lap.
  • I believe in proper lawn maintenance, and I don’t believe in a 40-hour work week (I believe in working hard until the job is done). I think it’s wrong that people on welfare can buy potato chips but not toilet paper.
  • I believe we all make stupid choices. I believe we all have the ability and obligation to repair the damages we cause to others.
  • I believe our mistakes are not nearly as important as our commitment to rectify those mistakes.
  • I believe we all have dreams and fears. I believe you should focus upon the former, not the latter.
  • I believe Democrats worry too much about the boardroom and Republicans worry too much about the bedroom.
  • I believe in persistence and high expectations. I believe children should do chores and smile for family portraits.
  • I believe in heaven and hell. I have seen glimpses of both.
  • I believe that all people are doing the best they can with the skills and knowledge they have acquired so far. I believe in the power of positive thinking.
  • I believe in the four food groups. I believe smoking is one of the stupidest things a person can do. I don’t believe in the Atkin’s Diet or Rogaine. I always choose “original recipe” over “extra crispy” when given the choice.
  • I don’t believe in big government or that alcoholism is a disease, despite what the American Medical Association says. I don’t believe in being politically-correct. I believe cats are smarter than dogs.
  • I believe it’s okay for parents to spank their children, and there will always be people who want to hurt the United States.
  • I believe the snowplow driver will always pass my house just as I finish clearing my driveway.
  • And finally, I believe love is a choice, one which requires tremendous sacrifice. I believe the teacher is always right and that life is generally not fair.

The needle and the damage done

It is paper-thin and measures only 8 by 3-1/2 inches, but it scares the hell out of me.

It has been sitting on the dashboard of my truck for several days, just there. Always visible. Always reminding me of what I cannot escape.

It is a placard that allows parking in disabled parking spaces. You know the one. The little, gender-neutral stick figure that sits in a wheelchair against a crimson-blue backdrop.

I have been struggling with writing this post for the last several days because I am terrified of both its content and the potential reaction from those who read it.

The reason I have the placard is because Laura was diagnosed with MS in December 2008. Since then, she has experienced fluctuating levels of mobility; and I do my best to ignore it. To brush it off. To think it will eventually go away.

Some days are better than others.

That’s how it goes with MS, people tell me. I try to pretend that Laura is just tired or maybe a bit depressed. Maybe if I work just a bit harder, just a bit more, it will go away. That is a child’s thinking. That has been my thinking.

Make no mistake, Laura is lucky. Her MS is fairly manageable. She is able to go to work each day and leads a more than productive life.

But still, I wonder. Me, the eternal pessimist. This disease is slowly, but deliberately, taking away a little piece of my wife each day, no matter how much I try to deny or ignore it.

I still remember the day she was diagnosed. It was just a few days after Christmas. Laura had been experiencing a strange numbing sensation on her face. She made an appointment with her doctor. He recommended that she see a neurologist. At the time, we both thought it was no big deal.

I was home and knee-deep in ethernet cables, when Laura called me on the way back from the doctor’s office.

I didn’t take her. My mother-in-law drove her to and from the appointment. I regret that decision to stay home with the kids and work on hooking up their computer to the internet. But I don’t regret that decision nearly as much as I regret the things I said to her when she finally got me on the phone.

“Hey,” she said in a soft-spoken tone that belied the news that should have followed. She wanted to tell me in person, face-to-face.

“What,” I shot back, only half paying attention, much more focused on the twisted mass of blue wires wrapped around my feet.

“I was wondering if you could start a pot of coffee,” she asked.

I was livid. I had already done three loads of laundry, paid the bills and vacuumed the living room. The computer wiring was near the end of my “to-do” list and the thought of one more thing sent me over the edge. Idiot, that I am.

“You want coffee? Make it yourself,” I barked. “Do you know what kind of day I’ve had? Pick up a cup from Dunkin’ Donuts or whatever, but just leave me alone.”

Silence.

“What’s your problem?” I continued. “You’ve been out shopping with your mother, and you want me to make the fucking coffee? Could you be any more lazy?”

“Sorry, ” she said. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll take care of it myself.” And the phone went silent.

She arrived home maybe 20 minutes later. I was still up to my knees in tangled cords. She brought me a cup of coffee and asked if we could talk.

I was still exasperated. “What?”

“They diagnosed me with MS,” she said, trying very hard to hold back the tears.

I let go of those silly cords. We sat down at the dining room table and began our latest adventure.

If you think I was a prick then, I can assure you that I haven’t done much better since.

I avoid conversations about MS. I avoid the annual MS Walk. I don’t want to think about it. I want it to go away.

Every other night is “shot night” at our home. Every other night, Laura injects herself with Betaseron to keep the illness at bay. Every other night, I turn away and find something else to occupy my thinking.

I love my wife. Honestly, I do. And I know she needs my support. Again, some days are better than others.

So today, marks the first day that I used the placard. We took Laura’s mother to Wal-Mart. We parked in one of the disabled spaces. Betty was moving through the store like a speed demon, anxiously making her way toward what would hopefully be her new television. She is 66 years old and she left me in the dust.

Instinctively, I paused, and turned back to check on my wife. I could tell that Laura’s energy level was dropping quickly. “Are you okay,” I asked.

“Yeah, she nodded. “I’m fine.”

I knew it was a lie, and once again…I played along.

An Inconvenient Truth

Originally posted June 2009:

The tide has turned on our economy.

Millions of Americans are out of work.  The real estate market is in the toilet and consumer confidence is at an all-time low.

Our nation’s current economic picture is very similar to what was  happening in 1930s Germany, a country that was especially hit hard by the Depression that also rocked America in 1929.

The time is ripe to rise up  against the corporations. You know those legalized collections of people who
like to make a profit. It seems profit is a bad thing now.

In the midst of all this economic crisis, our country is focused upon “reforming” our nation’s health care system.

Many people, it seems, are fed up with the greedy insurance companies that would rather focus on profits than healing the  sick. But just beyond the sound bites and the rhetoric there are some  inconvenient truths.

Take, for example, the following nuggets of  information that you will not hear from the folks at Change For America or Michael Moore, a man who is making a pretty penny on his latest movie, which did not
use union workers.

According to a PricewaterhouseCoopers’ study, in 2007 health plans had an average profit margin of 3% (THREE  PERCENT)

According to a study by RAND Health for the California  HealthCare Foundation “…medical costs explain nearly 89 percent of [health plan]  revenue increases.”

According to Kaiser Health News (not exactly a bastion of conservative thought), “the major causes of health care’s escalating  costs are the rising prices and the increased use of medical services, including hospital stays, prescription drugs, new technologies and doctor  visits.”

According to CMS data, over 40 years, the real costs of private health insurance have grown at an annual rate of 5.2 percent. Benefits, as  measured by the cost of health care services to members, have grown at real rate  of 5.3 percent over the same time period. Administrative costs have grown more slowly, at a real rate of about 4.9 percent since 1966.

According to Kaiser Health News, “With the nation’s health care spending estimated at $2.5  trillion this year, even the elimination of insurers’ profits and executive  compensation would lower health care spending by just 0.5 percent.”

In 2006, health plan profits of the top 10 for profit health plans accounted for 0.5%of total health care spending; in 2007, 0.6%; and, in 2008, 0.5%.

Well, there you go.

There’s no question that our current system  needs reform and that working Americans should have access to adequate and safe  health care, but Congress ought to focus on solving the problem.

Don’t hold your breath. It will never happen because it requires leadership, not class warfare rhetoric.

Brother can you spare a dime?

Laura and I are now facing the prospect of soon being homeless, and it’s all because of a terrorist group in the Middle East, a spilled bowl of water and the power of the internet.

Shortly after the tragic events of Sept.11, 2001, interest rates were slashed as a way to restore consumer confidence in a stumbling economy.

As a result of those slashed rates, the real estate market went absolutely crazy. Just about every homeowner I know, including me and Laura, refinanced their mortgages to capitalize on the lower rates. Meanwhile, property values in southern Maine skyrocketed.

Faithful readers of this column already know that Laura and I live in a relatively small home (with the emphasis placed on the word “small.”) Since we have two dogs, two cats, two rats, two aquariums, two children and two bedrooms, we knew from the day we met that we would soon need a bigger home.

But we were scared by the skyrocketing housing market. So we spent the first several months of our marriage on repairing our credit scores and fixing up our home to increase its value.

During the past two years, I’ve made more trips to Home Depot, Deering Lumber, Moody’s Nursery and Andy’s Agway than I want to talk about.

We first put up a storage shed and then spent several months and many precious weekends painting, tiling and shoveling. We worked our butts off, making our little bungalow more pleasing to the eye and comfortable to live in.

But then tragedy struck. While walking toward the washing machine late one night, I tripped over the dogs’ water dish, spilling the water all over the hardwood floors and soaking my socks. I thought I could make the trip without turning on the lights.

As I went to clean up the water, I leaned over to grab the mop (which is wedged behind the washing machine, which is wedged behind the dining room table) and stepped on a Bionical toy (which is relatively inexpensive, small, plastic and sharp as a razor.)

The pain made me scream, which is pretty normal in my house. No one stirred, not even the rats. I marched (actually limped) into our master bedroom, which measures three feet by six feet, and told my lovely wife that I was ready to snap.

Laura lifted her head from the pillow and said (with her eyes closed) “well then do something about it,” before immediately falling back into a deep slumber. I grabbed a flashlight and made my way toward the computer, which is wedged behind the kitchen sink (right next to the water heater).

I began using the internet to research interest rates, mortgage companies and real estate brokers. I got more e-mail messages in the next three days than you could shake a stick at, and our phone started ringing off the hook.

Within 72 hours, a smiling real estate agent was sitting in our living room (which measures 11 inches by 14 inches). He recommended a mortgage broker he knows and told us what he thought our home was worth. We smiled, too.

There were papers to sign and brochures to read. The whole process took 15 minutes. The broker stepped outside, grabbed a “For Sale” sign and tore up a small section of my beloved front lawn. That was last Wednesday (April 21) at approximately 7:30 p.m.

Within 17 hours, my cell phone chirped. It was my smiling broker. “We have an offer,” he said. “It’s for more than you wanted,” he added, spelling out the details.

Laura and I wanted to sell our home on a contingent basis, which would allow us adequate time to close on a new home. The buyer, apparently, did not want to wait. We had a decision to make. My father always said “a bird in the hand is worth a lot more than President Bush,” so we accepted the offer.

The real estate agent came back to our home that night with a much bigger smile than before. There was more paperwork and lots of questions about how many lead pencils we keep near the desk.

Suddenly, we were faced with a very big dilemma. We had barely started our search for a new home, and we now have less than six weeks to find one, have it inspected and move our 13 tons of belongings into it.

How do you spell stress?

We spent the weekend looking at homes. It’s not so bad, really. There are many affordable properties out there for people in our income range. It’s just that commuting from Caribou is going to mean I’ll be spending a lot more on gas and turnpike tolls.

Solid Waste /MERC

The Maine Energy Recovery Company’s waste-to-energy incinerator in downtown Biddeford dominated the political landscape of the Biddeford-Saco region for nearly three decades.

The plant was designed by General Electric. It was initially considered as a preferred alternative for a region that was forced to close its municipal landfill. City leaders in both Biddeford and Saco fought to have the plant and its potential tax revenue located in their respective community.

Finally closed…the Maine Energy Recovery Company’s controversial waste-to-energy incinerator in the middle of downtown Biddeford.

But even before burning the first bag of trash, MERC became one of the city’s most contentious policy issues, and it ultimately had a profound impact on the city’s reputation and the region’s hopes for economic revitalization.

In 2004, while serving as the editor of the Biddeford-Saco-OOB Courier, I launched a project to explore every facet of MERC’s presence, including its history, operations and its role as part of Maine’s solid waste infrastructure.

The MERC: In Focus series featured no less than 19 weekly installments, including an in-depth look at Maine’s solid waste policies and the implications of a throw-away culture. Selected installment of that series can be viewed by clicking on the links below.

Additional news and commentary about the MERC facility can be found by using the Category tab.

How Did It Get Here? | MERC’s early history

A Deal Gone Bad | A Regional Public Policy Challenge

Vacationland or Trash-land? | How MERC impacts Maine’s solid waste landscape

MERC: How Did It Get Here?

In the early 1990s, the city of Biddeford adopted a new motto. The slogan “A proud city rising where the water falls” was designed to highlight both the city’s history and its geographical significance. A logo attached to the motto features the Saco River’s cascading falls and a skyline peppered with architectural icons, including smokestacks and a church steeple.

But the 244-foot concrete tower that dominates the city’s skyline today is hardly something that the people in Biddeford are “proud” of.

Inescapable in both its magnitude and centerpiece location, that stack — which looms over the river’s banks — is a painful reminder that downtown Biddeford is also home to a troubled and controversial trash incinerator.

Many say that the presence of the Maine Energy Recovery Company in the heart of downtown Biddeford has — at the very least — hindered revitalization efforts in both Biddeford and Saco, MERC’s host communities.

Indeed, MERC’s downtown presence is hard to miss. Whether it’s odor complaints or the increasing frequency of trash trucks rattling along Lincoln Street, Biddeford especially has been forced to contend with the long-term effects of what has often been described as a questionable decision at best, prompting the Maine Sunday Telegram to describe the city as “Trashtown, USA” in an April 2000 feature story about the waste-to-energy plant.

Today, even company officials concede that the plant should not have been sited in the center of Biddeford and Saco’s downtown area.

Then how and why did it get there?

To answer those questions, one has to travel back in time to the early 1980s, when both cities were facing increasing pressure about their contaminated landfills. Some people have suggested a range of conspiracy theories, saying there was collusion between former city officials and company representatives.

Others say city officials moved too quickly on the proposal and did not do enough to seek public input. And still others blame the media for being asleep at the proverbial wheel, which fostered an atmosphere of apathy.

There is no evidence available to suggest a conspiracy, and it is much more likely that a long series of miscalculations by both city and company officials led to the decision to place MERC where it stands today.

A problem to solve

In 1982, the cities of Biddeford and Saco began advertising for a company to step in and handle the cities’ trash through incineration. Landfills were problematic and facing increased scrutiny from both state and federal officials. Four potential sites were initially considered after suggestions were offered by TEAC Associates, the cities’ paid consultants.

The four sites included Saco’s industrial park, located off North Street, Biddeford’s industrial park on Rte. 111, Saco Island (where the former NKL Tanning was located and is today a set of residential and business condominiums) and a Lincoln Street lot, near Elm Street in Biddeford where the plant sits today.

The site selection factors also contained a list of engineering and performance requirements.

  • Inexpensive cooling would require that the plant be built near a large source of water. A plan to sell excess steam would mean that it would also need to be located close to large businesses that would likely want to purchase large amounts of steam.
  • The plant also had to be near a Central Maine Power Company substation so that MERC’s other byproduct — electricity — could be transferred easily.
  • Most importantly, however, the land had to be available.

In the early 1980s, many people had all but given up on downtown Biddeford. The expansion of the Maine Mall in South Portland had shifted the retail trade, leaving downtown with a only a handful of small shops, city services and a complex of declining manufacturing operations. There were also plenty of “For Lease or Sale” signs.

Early in the site selection process, Biddeford and Saco were competing for the location, with both cities setting sights on the eventual property tax benefits.

As the process wore on, engineers concluded that potential steam customers (Southern Maine Medical Center in Biddeford and Saco Defense in Saco) near the two industrial parks would likely not need as much steam as the incinerator would produce.

Other factors, including the location of existing rail lines, the character of Biddeford’s downtown manufacturing culture and an available source of cheap steam for nearby aging mills that were facing increased global competition, all seemed to point to downtown Biddeford.

But Saco City Councilor Eric Cote, who was then his city’s mayor, later told reporters that he never felt obligated to any particular site, saying that neither city council ever voted to approve one site over another.

The consultants, reportedly, had the backing of both city councils and the six-member site selection committee, which included both mayors, economic development directors and city councilors.

In March 1983, Kuhr Technologies Incorporated (KTI) was picked to build the plant. KTI hired General Electric to design and build what was then considered a cutting-edge facility that could turn trash into electricity.

A complicated tax sharing formula was agreed upon that would give Biddeford the larger share of the company’s property taxes to offset increased costs.

Furthermore, the plant and its financial backers, including the Bank of Tokyo, relied upon Biddeford’s bond rating capacity. Saco, which had just gone through a tax cap and a default on prior bond obligations, was not considered financially stable enough by the company and its lenders.

Within 30 days of selecting a site for the plant, NKL Tanning went out of business and its building was later transformed into residential and commercial condominiums. The host communities later agreed to increase the size of the plant and its capacity (from 100 to 700 tons per day) in order to benefit from what were then the lowest tipping fees on record, roughly $4 per ton of waste handled.

Several months later, in the summer of 1984, Plato Truman, a perennial political candidate and activist, began circulating a petition that called for a citywide referendum on the plant’s location. Truman owned a food wholesaling company that was located near the proposed incinerator.

Although Truman collected more than 800 signatures, nothing happened when he presented them to former Biddeford Mayor Robert Farley during a city council meeting.

Farley reportedly tossed the signatures into a trash can. In subsequent interviews with reporters from both the Journal Tribune and the Courier, Farley said the petition signatures were essentially worthless because the city had already signed contracts with the company.

KTI had reportedly invested millions of dollars in site preparation work and Farley expressed concerns about possible lawsuits if the city tried to pull out of the deal.

Company officials from both KTI and General Electric assured city officials that the new plant would be a “state-of-the-art” facility that would not produce odor or noise.

In December 1984, the Biddeford Planning Board rejected MERC’s proposed 244-foot ventilation stack because it exceeded height restrictions. Within days, the Biddeford City Council voted to override that decision.

Immediate problems

The Maine Energy plant first fired up its boilers during a shakedown cruise of sorts in April 1987, according to Saco Mayor Mark Johnston. Five months later, in September, the company began accepting trash from its member communities.

In less than 30 days, however, something went dramatically wrong, and large plumes of ash sporadically spewed forth from the giant stack that was emblazoned with large black letters, MERC.

That ash prompted Joanne Twomey, a former Biddeford city councilor and current state representative, into action.

Twomey began collecting ash samples and demanded that those samples be analyzed by state environmental officials. Her requests fell upon deaf ears at Biddeford City Hall. But two years before he was elected as Saco’s mayor, Johnston joined forces with Twomey and the two convinced the Saco City Council to pay for the analysis, which eventually brought a large fine against the company.

“The cities never got a dime of that money,” Johnston said. “But it was significant because it was the first proof we had that something was wrong over there.”

In previous interviews with the Courier, Twomey said she never thought twice about opposing the plant’s operations and location.

“There were many, many people opposed to MERC,” she said. “But you have to remember that it wasn’t popular to speak out back then, people looked at us like we were crazy. But that’s not mother’s milk they’re making in there.”

Richard Rhames, another well-known political activist in Biddeford, said in previous interviews that his opposition to the plant started later because he was burned out from opposing the city’s plan to expand its airport in the mid-1980s.

Rhames said he joined forces with MERC critics in the latter part of the 1980s, once the plant was operating and the Maine Peoples Alliance had organized a chapter in Biddeford to focus on the plant and its potentially harmful emissions.

“Back then, my son was a student at St. Mary’s, and I would drive across the bridge on Elm Street and see plumes of black smoke coming out of that stack,” Rhames said. “Today, the smoke is white, but it still has the same stuff in it.”

Rhames said he and others organized around health concerns related to the facility. “There was virtually no interest in the problems with MERC from the political class back then,” Rhames said. “It was very frustrating in those days. We were labeled as emotional and hysterical people. The company and business community used the entire lexicon of vernacular in dismissing our concerns. They said the plant was state-of-the-art.”

Financial woes

But if environmental concerns didn’t catch political leaders’ attention back then, financial problems certainly did. KTI fired General Electric and faulted the company with its plant design problems.

In 1989, Johnston was first elected as Saco’s mayor. Within days of taking office, Johnston convinced his city council to take legal action against KTI. The city filed suit because the company was automatically increasing the city’s tipping fees. Johnston says he was also worried about health problems, even after the ash spills stopped happening.

An out-of-court settlement resulted in General Electric willing to pay the two cities $1.6 million; KTI agreed to pay $4 million, Johnston said.

Saco immediately began seeking waste disposal alternatives, including facilities in Presque Isle, Bethlehem, N.H. and Regional Waste Systems in Portland, another trash incinerator.

The result, Johnston said, was painful and not economically viable. Any other option would cost the city a minimum of $100 per ton for disposal. At about the same time, KTI officials approached Johnston and Biddeford Mayor Bonita (Belanger) Pothier.

‘Dealing with the devil’

The company was facing financial woes and was seeking bankruptcy protection, Johnston said. Furthermore, KTI hired a Washington, D.C.-based attorney to determine if it could get out of its then three-year contract with its member communities.

“It was not an easy negotiation,” Johnston said. “But we had no real alternatives back then. I held my nose and made a deal with the devil. A lot of people accuse me of being the father of MERC, but there was no wiggle room. We soon learned they were not bluffing.”

In 1990, Johnston and Pothier entered into negotiations with KTI. The result was a 17-year extension of the existing three-year contract and an agreement for the cities to pay a significantly increased set of tipping fees.

In exchange, KTI offered the two cities a clause that would entitle them to a 20 percent share of the company if it were ever sold. Furthermore, the company was obligated to report any changes in its financial status and agreed to make investments in its operation to minimize noise and odor complaints.

For the next five years, Johnston said, the cities and the company enjoyed a “honeymoon.” The company even agreed to Johnston’s request to remove its acronym from the stack.

“Most communities have a water tower that reads ‘welcome to so and so,” Johnston said. “In my city, we had a stack that read MERC. It costs them a lot to sand-blast it off. I thought that was a good gesture and something they should do to acknowledge us and our concerns.”

But in June 1997, Ted Hill, then KTI’s president, called the mayors of Biddeford and Saco, James Grattelo and Mark Johnston, in for a meeting.

The honeymoon was over, and some bigger battles were brewing on the horizon.

Tweedle dee and tweedle thumb

Earlier this month, my youngest stepson, Matthew, nearly cut off his left thumb. In the greater scheme of things, this might not seem like relevant news.

After all, what does a six-year-old boy’s thumb have to do with the earth-shaking events now going on in Biddeford, Saco and Old Orchard Beach?

Voters will not decide in November whether Matthew should see a plastic surgeon. The stitches will be removed long before public access television returns to Biddeford’s airwaves. And — most importantly — Matthew’s thumb will have no effect on the special town council election in Old Orchard Beach.

But Matthew’s accident —and that is exactly what it was — does serve as a prime example of our collective problem. It is one small fraction of our society’s biggest flaw: the fundamental failure to value personal responsibility.

There are a few reasons why I waited a few weeks before writing this particular column.

 First, my team of high-powered attorneys has been poring over Matthew’s case file, searching for liable parties.

 So far, it would seem, there are at least 438 people responsible for Matthew’s injuries.

The trick now is to determine which of those parties has the deepest pockets. Those are the people we want to face in court.

Since Matthew was injured at school, the town of Old Orchard Beach automatically becomes Defendant Number One. After all, if the town was willing to pay off its tax assessor, why shouldn’t Laura and I go after a little of the green?

 And if one of our town councilors (wife of the aforementioned tax assessor) can cost the town more than $3,000 for a special election simply because she got her nose out of joint, then I should be able to get at least three times that much.

 And then, there is the state of Maine. If Maine didn’t require children to go to school in the first place, Matthew would never have stuck his thumb in the door. Next, let’s find out who made that door.

 Why was the door not child-proof? Add another litigant to the equation. As for the little boy who accidentally slammed the door shut, we’ve checked out his bank account. Excluding that $10 check he got for his birthday last week, his only other asset is a vintage ‘Tickle-Me-Elmo’ toy. That toy could fetch a handsome sum on e-Bay.

 Okay, add that kid to the list of defendants in my growing lawsuit — not to mention the architects who designed the school, the school nurse and every member of the school board.

You will notice, however, that I have excluded Matthew from the list of those who are responsible for his accident. And that — although perfectly acceptable in today’s world of self-serving justice — is just plain wrong.

There is only one reason why Matthew was injured:  he was not doing what he was supposed to be doing.

He stuck his thumb in the door jamb, and then —without warning — another kid came through the door and slammed it shut. It is, despite all my ranting and raving, an open and shut case of pure stupidity.

Ouch.

To this day, Matthew is still unable to explain why he opted to stick his thumb into the jamb of a perfectly good door. He does know, however, that he will never do it again. And that, I suppose, is as much as I can expect from a six-year-old boy.

The thing that annoyed me most took place after I hustled Matthew into the emergency room at Southern Maine Medical Center. While going through the ER paperwork, a clerk asked me if we were planning to hold the school liable for the injury.

I know the hospital clerk was just doing her job, but this is exactly why affordable health-care is about as realistic as the tooth fairy in this country. Everybody wants to sue somebody else.

So many people did so many great things on that day. So let me wrap up this week’s column by thanking some of the people who reminded me of the basic goodness that is in all of us when faced with a crisis.

First, Sherry Couture, the Courier’s business manager, didn’t hesitate when I ran out the front-door of our office to go get Matthew. She knew that someone would have to ride with him in the back seat and hold his bleeding hand.

 Sherry missed her lunch break that day because of something I needed. She was great to Matthew, even though he was hysterically screaming all the way to the hospital.

Secondly, Jan Clark, the school nurse at Jameson Elementary School, deserves major kudos for handling the situation like a true professional. She also called our home later in the day to check on Matthew and left her home phone number. Principal Mike Pulsifer helped put Matthew in my Jeep, and Jackie O’Neill, the school secretary, coordinated the entire effort with amazing professionalism.

Some Biddeford firefighters were at the hospital when I arrived. They immediately jumped up and led us through the emergency room, making sure that Matthew knew he was now in good hands. Although I recognized Firefighters Bill Langevin and David Dutremble, a younger paramedic, whose name I didn’t get, stayed with Matthew until the triage nurse could see him.

The staff at Southern Maine Medical Center was outstanding, as was the 911 dispatcher I called on my cell phone while driving 110 mph on the turnpike.

 Make no mistake, it was a tense day, but I can’t help feeling really lucky to know that we are surrounded by such true professionals and decent people. I think that I’ll fire my lawyers and instead remember why I choose to live in southern Maine. Maybe that sign is right, after all. The way life should be.

Matthew was scheduled to have his stitches removed on Tuesday. His thumb works just fine. It will be ugly for a while, but he will not need a plastic surgeon. So all is well. And we can leave the door open for whatever happens next.