Sometimes major events are related to – or foretold – by small happenings. A butterfly’s flight in Chile may be connected to a blizzard in Colorado. A belch in a church may presage the formation of a new religious sect. In the case of our national government, could a meeting in Gorham High School forecast a national upheaval?
When the Democratic Party in Gorham caucused a few months back, an extremely unlikely number of people showed up. Is it possible that such a gathering has implications beyond Gorham?
Until the 1970s, Gorham was the perfect Republican machine, returning GOP candidates to the Legislature (with only one slip-up in 1932) every two years as regularly as the town clock in the First Parish Church marked the hour – all the way from the Civil War, more than 50 elections. To be a Democrat was either to ignore received wisdom or to be so fiercely independent as not to agree with anybody. (It was also faintly disgraceful in some parts of town.)
Maine enjoys the distinction of voting against Franklin Roosevelt every time he ran. Every time, the Grand Old Party ruled supreme.
Gorham old-timers talk about a seven-man caucus of the Donkey party in the 1930s in which the attendees could be counted on just fingers (no toes, which put some of the party at a disadvantage where sums were concerned). Like Democrats of today, these few were a disparate bunch, with little on which they agreed other than dedication to a straight ticket: Clarence Carll, Gorham’s equivalent of an aristocrat; Earl Files, the postmaster for 40 years; Carl Heath, salesman extraordinary; Carl Magnusson, a vociferously argumentative country lawyer; Ed Shepard, an original straight-ticket man; Tom Boothby, who normally would not be caught dead in a meeting of any type; and, Edgar Carswell, the long-time town meeting moderator, perhaps the quickest and wittiest debater in the state of Maine (also the town druggist who knew most everybody’s secrets).
From this small cell the Democratic Party grew slowly. There were some workers who benefited from FDR’s minimum wage, and some farmers who were provided electricity by a changed government. Men like Clarence Carll provided a measure of respectability. Thanks to Earl Files, all the postal carriers eventually saw the light. And later, there were a few personal heroes to set an example to youth, such as Dean Evans, the popular and respected long-time coach and teacher in the high school.
Nevertheless, Ed Muskie, campaigning for governor in the early ’50s, visited Gorham and made famous the “telephone booth campaign.” The people who showed up were so few, he claimed, “they could have all squeezed into a phone booth” (a fascinating contrivance little seen nowadays).
Despite this small gathering, with Ed Muskie and Ken Curtis as governors breaking the ice, the growth of Gorham Democrats more or less paralleled that of the statewide party. Beginning in the ’70s, Gorham’s representatives to the Legislature alternated between the elephant and the donkey. A few more years, and there were as many Democrats as Republicans registered in Gorham (although “independents” outnumbered them both). Gorham Democratic caucuses were sometimes as large as 30 or 40 people – roughly equivalent to Republican gatherings.
But still – consider. Gorham was about 3,000 souls at the time of the storied caucus of seven in the 1930s, and is about 15,000 today – five times as large. A direct extrapolation would produce only 35 caucus participants in 2008. Even considering the membership growth of the Democratic Party for last 40 or so years, this year’s caucus should still not have been much more than 50 or so..
But – but – there were nearly 500 Democrats who caucused this year for the sole purpose of stating their preferences for president. It’s a small occurrence in the grand scheme of things; nevertheless, one with possibly profound meaning.
Could this caucus be the flight of a political butterfly? Does it perchance foretell a hurricane this November in Washington – one strong enough to blow away eight years of dead wood?
Batten down the hatches!
Rodney Quinn, who lives in Gorham, is a former Maine secretary of state. He can be reached at rquinn@maine.rr.com.
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