To the Editor:
I committed a serious crime in my old hometown once.
It was about 60 years ago.
I was five. Winter was over; it was mud season. I was with my next-door friend, Chickie, sitting on the bank by the side of the road where we had made a big pile of mud balls.
What to do next, we thought? Well, there were cars driving by, so it didn’t take us too long to figure out what. We started throwing those big, sloppy mud balls at the cars as they passed by. It was a lot of fun!
We had unloaded probably more than half of our ammo when a big, maroon colored car cruised by, going slow. We let fly with two monster mud balls and plastered the side of that thing and, uh oh, it stopped; big gobs of mud sliding down over that maroon colored door… with a big gold star painted on it. It was Chief King.
“What in thunder are you boys up to?” he said as he got out of the car.
“Nothing,” we said.
“Well, let’s go see about that,” said Chief King.
He knew where we lived and he took us each by an ear and marched us, squealing on our tiptoes, to face our parents and the horrifying probability of what they were going to do to us, which they did.
That’s just part of the policeman’s work in small town America, but it’s an important part – I would even say it’s close to an art – to recognize the situation for what it is, to know who those boys are, who their parents are and how best to resolve the situation in a way that most likely will discourage its repetition; nothing more needed.
While that was just kids throwing mud balls, there are many, many kinds of things which require that sort of familiarity with the community along with a commitment to make it a better place, a safer place, and the desire to serve it well so that it stays the kind of town most of us believe epitomizes the small town America we want to live in. A place where the friendly police help someone who has locked her keys in her car, or dropped them down a storm drain; check that the doors of businesses are locked at night; return lost wallets to their owners; save pets in distress; give folks rides home from the hospital emergency room; allow rowdy teens a break while at the same time letting them know someone’s keeping a close eye on them.
As our current Chief, Chad Andrews, has said, that is the pleasant side of police work – the fun, feel good side.
Some of it requires a big extra effort too. A number of years ago, our then chief, Todd Bracket, exemplified this. It was before Main Street was upgraded. I mentioned to him one day that an elderly lady, handicapped and having to get about on a motorized scooter, had complained to me about the difficulty of getting around town because of the lack of ramps onto the sidewalks.
The next thing I knew, Chief Bracket, apparently on his own time, took it upon himself to build a number of sidewalk ramps with cold-patch. They were perhaps a little steeper than code, but the next time I saw that lady she beamed at me with tears in her eyes to say how grateful she was that someone had cared enough to address her grievance.
That someone was none other than the Chief of the Damariscotta Police Department.
Of course there is also the far more serious side to police work. Whereas firemen are universally seen as saviors, saving people’s lives and property, not everyone sees the police in the same light, as they must daily deal with unsavory characters of all stripes, highly emotional confrontations and often dangerous situations. They have to address every imaginable complaint, and all the while have to walk the fine line of the law. It’s a tough and important job. All too often their work and dedication go unappreciated.
The fire department and the police department are the two most iconic service organizations in a town. Firemen and policemen are what kids want to grow up to be one day.
In our town of Damariscotta, which is not only the service hub of Lincoln County but the cultural flagship of the whole area, just the idea of doing away with one of those departments should be considered untenable.
Damariscotta has an identity and longstanding character that extends far beyond its political and geographic boundaries. It is a real town. It’s growing. It’s bustling with activity. It has any number of exemplary and award winning institutions. Its people are from everywhere and know what a real town is, and they expect and assume it will always have its fire and police departments.
I know this is largely about money – what Damariscotta can afford in the way of police protection and whether or not to contract with the county for police coverage. I hear different amounts being bandied about. In these times, that bottom line has become a cruel driver, but it’s about more than just money. It’s about jobs and careers – involving at least 10 families with a dozen or more children, that are at stake here. It’s about having a hometown police department that is not only familiar with the community, it is part of it.
Does Damariscotta, this very special town, really want to sacrifice its police department to the bottom line? I don’t think so. I’m not a fan of the expression “you get what you pay for,” but it’s true.
Barnaby Porter, Damariscotta
