The good people of Maine are facing a dilemma similar to that of the inhabitants of Little Tall Island in Stephen King’s thriller, “The Storm of the Century.” In their dilemma, the villagers of Little Tall Island turned to the outsider, Andre Linoge.
Linoge would eventually convince the islanders he was responsible for a number of ancient and recent tragedies, and if the villagers would just give him what he wanted, he would go away. Playing on the community’s human vulnerabilities of fear and guilt, Linoge revealed he needed an heir — yes, the town would have to choose to allow him to take one of their children in order to have any hope of alleviation of their calamity.
A town meeting was called in the midst of the storm to debate the villain Linoge’s proposed transaction. Mike Anderson, the town’s constable, argued Linoge should not even be heard because “Once we go down that road, every step gets easier.”
Now, I’ve not read a lot of King, but the Master of Terror’s movies I have found most intriguing are those dealing with the human struggle in life’s epic battles between good and evil. “The Storm of the Century” effectively draws the viewer right into the town hall meeting and its torturous debate, “What are we willing to give up to make this misfortune go away?”
Unlike fiction, Maine’s storm is real. We’ve been cut off from the mainland by an economic storm leaving us vulnerable and desperate for answers. We frantically seek solutions to the pain and suffering of our fellow residents we witness daily.
Our Linoge is also real: the corrupt gambling industry which has spent nearly $4 million so far on Question 2 alone. The gambling industry, with a past as sordid as the Linoge’s, stands in front of Mainers promising, “Give us what we want, and the storm will go away.” (I’m told Linoge is King’s witty anagram for Legion, an ancient name for demons).
At least King’s villain gave full disclosure, stipulating the community must pay a grievous price to experience relief. With all duplicity, the casino crowd denies the fee for this transaction includes increased bankruptcies, divorces, ruined lives and suicides.
The inhabitants of Little Tall Island knew exactly what they were doing. Oh, some tried to mollify their collective consciences by saying, “It’s not like we’re committing human sacrifice; I see it as an adoption.” To which Mike Anderson howled, “We don’t give away our children!”
But Anderson was wrong because he underestimated the power of fear. Linoge and the gambling industry certainly are not guilty of underestimating human weakness — as a matter of fact, they thrive and prosper on human frailty.
So, on Tuesday, Nov. 8, we have some choices.
Some will choose to pretend the negative consequences of casino capitalism that have visited every single community which has gone down this path do not exist.
Some, despite acknowledging the historical realities of casino carnage, will support gambling expansion, calculating the necessary number of casualties, all the while praying the scourge doesn’t touch them or those they love.
Some, however, will be convinced they have a choice other than the proposed rotten deals, a choice other than paving our roads and building our schools on the backs of addicts and their families, a choice other than relying on the Vegas and Atlantic City culture.
We can do better. We can do better with Mainers trusting Mainers rather than taking advantage of each other. Send our Linoge away.
Please, don’t succumb to despair and fatalism; vote no on Questions 2, 3 and the expansion of gaming tables in Bangor.
Carroll Conley of Glenburn is executive director of the Christian Civic League of Maine.