Fatal Attraction or Dog Day Afternoon?

If you think about it, it’s a really sad story. Pathetic, even.

Ted Cohen – once a highly respected veteran reporter for Maine’s largest newspaper – is today reduced to freelance writing for a handful of irrelevant websites.

Cohen has become “that character.” You know — that overweight, balding 58-year-old guy, sitting alone at the bar in an Applebee’s, nursing a Budweiser during happy-hour so that he can enjoy a half-off platter of chicken wings.

That guy at Applebee’s can’t handle the fact that his “glory days” are well behind him. He keeps talking to anyone who will listen about that high-school football championship game when he scored the winning touchdown.

Of course, the Applebee’s guy stays permanently stuck in that memory — because he can’t handle the reality that he is now divorced and the assistant manager at Wendy’s.

Over the past few days, Cohen – for reasons unknown – has decided to take some wide swipes at me and my coverage of local news in Biddeford.

Ted Cohen/ Facebook photo

Back in the old days — when we were both somewhat relevant in the news game – Cohen and I got along pretty well, especially considering that we were competing journalists.

I really admired Cohen. I liked his style and his dogged approach to getting a story. I tried to learn from him.

I am now sincerely puzzled by his animosity, and the fact that he is basically unwilling to return my calls or text messages.

What went wrong?

Ted Cohen’s biggest claim to fame was a story he uncovered about former President George W. Bush back in 2001.

Cohen was assigned to cover the town of Kennebunkport, where the Bush family spent their summers. Cohen learned that the former president was once charged with an OUI when he was a teenager.

Today – all these years later – it remains a bit murky about why Cohen’s story was never published. Cohen has written a book about the incident.

Back then, Cohen said the Portland Press Herald gave him the boot. When asked by other media outlets why Cohen was shown the door, the newspaper’s publishers said Cohen had quit and was acting like a toddler in need of a time-out.

That was all more than two decades ago. I heard that Cohen left the news business and became a truck driver, but I’m not sure if that’s true.

What I do know is that Mr. Cohen seems somewhat fixated on his former employer and relentlessly criticizes them every chance he gets with snide comments on social media.

I can certainly understand why he is still upset with the Portland Press Herald, but what puzzles me is why his is now trolling my social media accounts.

In two recent blog posts, Cohen writes that I am “masquerading as a journalist.” He also describes me as a “two-bit blogger”

“For example, when you blog about your anxieties and your mental illness,
the first thought that comes to my mind is STFU, no one cares,”

–Ted Cohen

Who pissed in his Cheerios?

What’s up with this rather creepy Fatal Attraction thing?

Howling at the moon

Over the years, Ted Cohen and I had lost touch but a few months ago he surprised me with a Facebook message, offering me some unsolicited advice.

Because it was Ted Cohen offering advice, I gave it serious attention. After all, Cohen had befriended me and was a valuable and trusted mentor.

“You’re a great reporter, and I think it’s criminal that you were taken off the Biddeford beat,” Cohen wrote, somehow missing the fact that I voluntarily gave up being a reporter so I could focus on ousting Biddeford’s controversial city manager.

Cohen was upset that I would no longer cover Biddeford City Hall.

“You can’t be a credible reporter while you are at the same time blogging your personal beliefs about the state of this world and also your personal life,” Cohen wrote, somehow missing the fact that I had given up covering City Hall as a neutral journalist.

“Stop sharing every unspoken thought you have with the public,” Cohen advised. “Stick to straight reporting. Enough already with the commentating.

“For example, when you blog about your anxieties and your mental illness the first thought that comes to my mind is STFU, no one cares,” Cohen added.

I thanked Cohen for his honest remarks, but told him I was going to continue my efforts to remove Bennett. Once completed, I could easily go back to journalism.

And then? Silence . . . right up until earlier this week.

The wrath of Khan?

With no advance notice, Cohen pounced on me just hours after I broke the news story about the abrupt departure of Biddeford City Manager Jim Bennett.

In a recent blog post, Cohen wrote: “Seaver’s political activism masquerading as journalism [resulted in him] either pulled off the city beat or resigned while writing for Liz Gotthelf, who runs Saco Bay News.

I was like a deer frozen in the headlights.

You would think that someone like Cohen – an old-fashioned reporter – would maybe check a few facts before releasing a screed?

First off, he should have called Liz, the publisher of Saco Bay News, to inquire why I stopped writing about Biddeford politics for a few weeks.

Liz would have told him that I approached her in July and told her (during a conversation at Garside’s Ice Cream stand) that I wanted to focus on ousting Bennett and could no longer ethically cover City Hall until Bennett was gone.

Cohen said I then “started my own on-line gig.”

Sorry, Ted. That’s strike two. Reporters should really check facts. I started my blog – Lessons in Mediocrity – in 2011, 14 years ago. I formally launched the Biddeford Gazette in January well after Bennett announced his resignation.

According to his bio on the National Writers Union, “Cohen was born in Burlington, Vermont in 1951, and got his degree in journalism from the University of Vermont.

Cohen is a member of the National Writers Union and a past president of the Vermont Associated Press Broadcasters Association. He is also a contributing writer to The Forecaster, a (weekly) Maine newspaper, as well as a notary public.”

So, if you need something notarized, give Ted a call.

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A Change Will Do You Good

“So I turned myself to face me

But I’ve never caught a glimpse

How the others must see the faker

I’m much too fast to take that test”

— David Bowie, Changes (1971)

Today – almost 44 years later – I still enjoy telling the story about the first time something that I wrote was published.

It was 1981. I was 16 and a high school junior. We were required to do a one-week work-study project, exploring a career field that seemed of interest.

I thought I wanted to be a newspaper reporter. So, I called the Journal Tribune —then this region’s daily newspaper – to make an inquiry. The editor (Eric Reiss) agreed to let me shadow a couple of reporters and work in the newsroom.

Back then smoking was allowed in newsrooms. So was coffee, profanity, screaming matches and the constant hum from a chorus of IBM Selectric II typewriters.

A typical newsroom in the 1970s (Chicago Tribune)

It was a marvelous time, especially for an enthusiastic high school kid with dreams of grandeur about becoming the next Bob Woodward.

Near the end of the week, I was allowed to occupy an empty desk that was closest to the cranky city editor, Bob Melville – a man who wore his glasses perched low on his nose.

Mr. Melville would later become a well-known real estate agent and was repeatedly elected to serve on the Biddeford School Board after his retirement. In real-life, Bob had a great sense of humor and was well-regarded as a hard-working, respectable man of intellect and integrity.

But for me, a skinny 16-year-old kid with stubborn acne, Mr. Melville was like the Wizard of Oz, and I was a combination of the Cowardly Lion and The Scarecrow. I had neither brains nor courage.

I was just sitting there at that desk, wondering what I should do. Phones were ringing all around me, but I was not allowed to answer them.

Our deadline was looming. If you have ever worked in a newsroom, you know that editors become increasingly grumpy with each passing second closer to deadline.

Melville, clutching his phone, suddenly turned to me, staring at me over the glasses that remain still perched on the end of his nose.

Mr. Melville was like the Wizard of Oz, and I was a combination of the Cowardly Lion and The Scarecrow. I had neither brains nor courage.

“Kid!” he barked. “Line Two.”

I was shocked, excited and terrified. The city editor was giving me a story. Finally! Something I could actually write! I was on my way now!

Oh, the places you will go

Turns out that the guy on ‘Line 2’ was a local funeral director. He was calling to give me a last-minute obituary for that afternoon’s newspaper.

I took copious notes on a legal pad. I do not remember the name of the gentleman I was writing about. I only remember that he belonged to about every social club you could imagine: The Elks, The Eagles, The Lions, Rotary . . . the list seemed endless.

The deceased also had roughly 250,000 nieces, nephews, cousins and grandchildren.

I hung up the phone and loaded a fresh sheet of paper into my typewriter. I had never written an obituary before, but Mr. Melville gave me a stack of some recent obits as a guide.

I put my very best effort into writing that obituary. I pained over each word, doing my best to avoid split infinitives and ending any sentence with a preposition.

Melville kept glancing at me and then the clock on the wall. I could tell he was becoming impatient.

I tore the copy from my typewriter and proudly placed it in a wire basket on Melville’s desk before returning to my chair.

I watched as he began to read my masterpiece. His brow furrowed and his posture stiffened. He grabbed a red pen and was waving it across my piece with an almost gleeful abandon.

After several painstaking seconds of anticipation, he finally turned to me and asked: “Where do you go to high school?”

Actually, that year I was attending Rumford High School, but I blurted out “Thornton Academy.”

“Well, don’t they teach English at Thornton Academy?” he huffed.

I was humiliated but could barely wait until the first run of that day’s paper was completed. I anxiously turned to the obituaries page but found nothing that remotely resembled my masterpiece.

In the end, the only two things I got right was the man’s name and age. Basically, everything else had been rewritten. No matter, I was proud.

My mother was proud, too. She cut out that obituary and posted that poor bastard’s obituary on our refrigerator – I was now part of an elite clan: a newspaper reporter who had published something in a real newspaper.

In the mood

More than four decades later, and I am now a semi-retired newspaper editor and reporter.

A few weeks ago, I launched a new endeavor, The Biddeford Gazette. The Gazette is a free, online news outlet that focuses on Biddeford news and events.

A lot has changed in the newspaper business over the last 40 years. For example, you can no longer smoke in a newsroom, but profanity among your coworkers is still strongly encouraged.

For better or worse, more and more people are turning to social media for their news and information. Thanks to technology, today’s news consumers can now custom tailor their news feed almost in the same way you create a music playlist on Spotify or YouTube.

Some of the changes are good, but many of the changes – especially AI (Artificial Intelligence) – are not so good.

Launching my own media source was never intended to become a source of income. It’s basically a hobby, a tool to help provide some handrails on the road of life.

Yes, I still do a little political consulting and some public relations work for clients throughout New England, but none in the Biddeford or Saco area.

The Biddeford Gazette allows me to report news on my terms, when I want and how I want. I’m not here to compete with any other traditional publication, including Saco Bay News, the Biddeford-Saco Courier or the Portland Press Herald.

Up until last year, my website was called Randy Seaver Consulting and provided an overview of the services I offered as a public relations consultant.

My lingering mental health issues, however, played a part in me stepping away from the full-time, stress-packed world of political consulting.

Then, as I began shifting my professional career, I renamed the site, Lessons in Mediocrity so that I could basically do whatever I want: serious journalism, political satire, fiction, local news and a diary of coping tools against schizophrenia, anxiety and depression.

Well, how did I get here?

Today is the first day of 2025.

I am no longer that skinny kid with pimples too afraid to look a girl in the eye. I am once again going to rebrand this website as the Biddeford Gazette.

Up until today, the Biddeford Gazette was a sub-page on my blog. Rest assured, my personal blog will continue – but now as a subpage to the Gazette.

Since launching the Biddeford Gazette just six weeks ago, I have been able to break some significant news stories and also have a bit of fun at the expense of local politicians. (Someone needs to keep them on their toes)

And I am pleased to announce that beginning January 6, 2025, the Biddeford Gazette will publish local obituaries that are supplied by local funeral homes.

Traditional media outlets charge significant fees to publish an obituary. The Biddeford Gazette will publish them for free with the help of some social media partners in the Biddeford and Saco area.

Imagine that, 44 years later, and I am going right back to where I started, doing my best to honor and remember those who are no longer with us.

This change just feels right.

Happy New Year!

P.S. This website is currently being reconfigured.

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Who do you love?

cover-classic1.jpgI was saddened this morning to read that the Portland Press Herald/Maine Sunday Telegram will end their longstanding tradition of offering endorsements of political candidates and races.

Although this decision will likely be a popular one among the newspaper’s readers, I think it is a terrible mistake.

In today’s media world, newspapers are struggling to keep up with increasing competition (broadcast journalism, blogs and social media). Newsrooms across the country are also facing other challenges: budgetary constraints that are decimating newsrooms and declining advertising revenues.

For those reasons, and some others, newspapers are losing their gravitas and their once dominant position as the chief source of news and information.

In today’s editorial, the newspaper makes its case for discontinuing endorsements.

“Editorial endorsements are a tradition from the 19th century, when American newspapers were affiliated with political parties. Those newspapers existed to affect the outcome of elections, not just to report on them. The news business changed, but although most newspapers have hung on to the tradition, we could not convince ourselves that hanging on made sense for us.”

The editorial goes to great lengths to disclose its ownership interest by S. Donald Sussman, a frequent contributor to Democratic candidates and the husband of U.S. Rep. Chellie Pingree as a another reason why it should refrain from making endorsements.

That is, perhaps, the newspaper’s best argument, but the rest of their argument is weak, and not what one would expect from the state’s largest daily newspaper.

“Some people say that a news organization, because of its access to candidates, is in a better position than the average voter to make a choice, but no voter has a shortage of information these days.”

Based on my own experience working for both newspapers and candidates, this argument is tepid, at best.

For the better part of two decades, I worked as both a reporter and an editor at much smaller, community-based newspapers.

During my days as editor of the Biddeford-Saco-Old Orchard Beach Courier (1999-2006), I ran endorsements of local candidates. Today, as it was then, fewer than 2 of 10 people could tell you who was the councilor from Ward 4 in Biddeford or which city council candidates voted against the proposed school budget.

Today, I no longer cover local politics. I work on public policy issues across the state of Maine and beyond.

I spend very little time in my hometown. It’s now basically where I eat and sleep. If I want to know what’s going on, I read my local newspapers. I view the newspapers as more credible and more informed than a local blogger or what Susie Q. Public posts on her Facebook page.

It’s the same for most people I know. We lead busy lives: our kids need back-to-school clothes, there are bills to pay, lawns to mow, laundry to fold, not to mention the demands of our careers.  I no longer have the luxury of hanging out at City Hall as a paid witness.

But when I was an editor, I could speak with authority about local issues and the players driving them. I had a unique perspective. It was my profession.

Shortly, after I left the newspaper business, that publication also stopped offering endorsements of local candidates. I heard from a lot of people who bemoaned the lack of those endorsements and a vibrant editorial page. The purpose of the editorial page is to be subjective (a departure from the rest of the paper that should be objective and neutral) It’s the whole point of an editorial page: for the newspaper to take an informed position on important issues affecting its readers.

How an endorsement changed my life

Finally, the best reason for making endorsements:

It was almost 13 years ago today that I sat down to write a set of endorsements. There were three candidates seeking two seats on the Old Orchard Beach School Board. This was a minor race that the Press Herald would not weigh in upon. Of those three candidates, one was a respected incumbent and two were political newcomers.

But I made a mistake, I thought there was only one seat available. So, I endorsed the incumbent.

The next day, I got a rather nasty e-mail from one of the candidates who told me I should do a better job with my research.

We traded barbs for several days, an e-mail exchange that eventually turned friendly. I met her on election night, but did not dare speak to her.

There were some more e-mails and then a first date.

And then a second and third date.

We have been happily married now for the better part of 12 years.

If I didn’t make any endorsements, I would have never met the love of my life.

And if that isn’t a good reason for making endorsements, then what is?

If I could go back and do it all over again, I would not change a thing.