I’m not saying Jack Frost is a waste of public money.
But if you happen to come away from this column with that impression, I’ll understand why.
The Frost in question isn’t the mythical character famed for nipping noses. This Frost is from Anson and was the Democratic candidate in state House District 112, which covers a dozen towns and a handful of unorganized territories in Somerset and Franklin counties (where I live). Considering the feeble campaign the real Frost ran, he might have been more successful attracting voters’ attention by nibbling nostrils.
Frost qualified as a Clean Election candidate, which means he got $486 for the primary (even though he didn’t have an opponent) and $4,724 for the general election (even though he acted as if he didn’t have an opponent).
With that $5,200 in the bank, Frost paid a company in Massachusetts to host his campaign website. But he never got around to putting any information on it, instead relying on a Facebook page that also didn’t have any information on it.
He sent over $1,200 to a Texas business for lawn signs, which were so hard to read that my wife and I had to pull over to the side of the road to decipher the tiny print that told us Frost wanted to be our state representative.
He was one of the few legislative candidates who didn’t bother to fill out questionnaires on his positions for the Bangor Daily News and the Portland Press Herald, as well as several special interest groups.
As Election Day approached, I still knew next to nothing about the guy. In an attempt to remedy that, I tried to reach Frost by phone. But the number he had on file with the state Commission on Governmental Ethics and Election Practices was no longer in service. It took an online search and a couple more calls to locate him.
Once I reached Frost, he explained that his decision to run was made at the last minute. He then found himself too occupied with the prescription-delivery business he started in 2012 to spend much time introducing himself to his potential constituents. “Unfortunately for my campaign, I’ve been out working trying to actually create jobs,” he said. “Getting to knock on doors has been difficult.”
Frost said he’d been making some phone calls (but not to me), had a mailer going out (I got one that said, “Maine families deserve a Representative who listens to them,” but apparently not one who talks to them) and benefited from two mailings by the Maine Democratic Party (one claimed Frost’s candidacy “keeps corporate lobbyists up at night” – an assertion that seems extraordinarily unlikely).
Bottom line: I voted for Republican Tom Skolfield. It’s not as if Skolfield did anything brilliant to win my support. He just put in the basic work needed to run for public office, such as visiting my house and answering questionnaires so I knew where he stood on the issues.
Like Frost, Skolfield was a Clean Election candidate.
Which goes to show that not all of them are gaming the system.
Still, under Maine’s public financing law, the state treasury had to cough up more than 10 grand in District 112 for what turned out to be a not-very-competitive race. And if Maine Citizens for Clean Elections has its way, the price tag will be even higher in the future.
Maine Citizens claims there’s too much money in politics. Its solution to that problem is to make it possible for candidates to spend even more money. Which is sort of like curing meth addicts by giving them more meth.
The group is gathering signatures for a referendum that would allow legislative candidates who are being outspent by privately funded opponents or political action committees to qualify for an additional round of public funding. Accomplishing that legally is complicated because the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that automatically giving taxpayer dollars to politicians who are being targeted by deep-pocketed outsiders is unconstitutional. Maine Citizens has devised a complex scheme to get around that court-imposed roadblock.
Instead of the meager $5,200 Jack Frost got for doing nothing, he could collect additional seed donations of five bucks each, whereupon he’d be entitled to as much as $12,000. If Frost ever decided to run for the state Senate, his potential take would nearly triple from about $23,000 to $65,000.
Of course, this extra money – an estimated $6 million per election – would have to come from somewhere. Perhaps from sales of chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Or tickets to hear yuletide carols being sung by a choir. Maybe a big gift-wrapped box of cash on Santa’s sleigh.
Sorry to be such a Scrooge, but the reality is you get to pay for it. And you don’t receive so much as a roasted chestnut for your efforts.
In return, though, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that big money’s political influence will be … uh … pretty much the same as it is now.
It’s enough to frost something more painful than your nose.
Tiny tots with eyes all aglow – and others – can email me at aldiamon@herniahill.net.
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