s u m m e r g u i d e 2 0 1 7 1 3 5 v iCeS diane Hudson Now That’s Maine Ph t graPhy y diane hudS n Lair eSt & ryanne deS ardinS the m in the o the ho live here. e f 1934 2017 , editor o the a e u a Te e ram later o ner o the P restaurant, Portland note: eddie fit atrick, ho came to Portland a ter orking as a re orter in she ield, england, near his native ashington, recommended e do a eature on the lurid li e and iery death o sangerville native S h in this summerguide issue o o nd on . see our story, age 171. O ne morning early in April of 1969, the snow was either go- ing or gone, but it was raining steadily and everything was mud. These were the days before the burning and open-landfill dumps had been closed for environmental reasons. Citizens took their own trash to the landfills. At that time, the South Portland dump was on High- land Avenue, just after the high school. You drove in, parked your car as near to the edge of the landfill as you thought you could possibly travel before it sank to its axles, and then you waded through the seagulls, in ankle-deep sludge, before you let your garbage bags fly. It was a really miserable and degrading experience. As I hiked and hurled the last of my trash from my yellow Volkswagen Bug in- to the landfill, I looked at the guy who’d been keeping pace with me, bag for bag, from his big American station wagon. I was an English immigrant who had nev- er seen a member of the upper echelons of government or the ruling classes ever lift a finger in manual labor. The man who was matching me trash for trash in the mud on a cold and miserable day at the town dump I recognized as Ken Curtis, a fellow resi- dent of South Portland and our governor. I didn’t say anything except to myself. This is America–but that’s Maine. –Eddie Fitzpatrick t