Eleanor Cade Busby is a midcoast writer, poet, and actress whose work reflects a life of storytelling, the arts, and advocacy for the people of Maine.
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It starts with a headline: Troubling past surfaces: Investigative report into a lifetime of questionable behavior.
Then the story: Questions were raised today about the character and judgment of Eleanor Busby after an exhaustive investigation uncovered a disturbing pattern of behavior stretching back more than six decades.
Supporters describe Busby as a poet, writer, community advocate, and generally productive citizen, but newly uncovered evidence suggests warning signs appeared earlier.
In kindergarten, according to sources who were then 5 years old and whose memories cannot be independently verified, Busby tripped a boy during recess. The boy fell down. Busby continued attending school.
There is no evidence she ever disclosed the incident on a resume, professional biography, or application for public trust.
Investigators have been unable to determine whether the tripping was premeditated. However, playground records from the period are suspiciously unavailable. No surveillance footage exists. No teacher produced contemporaneous notes. The alleged victim has spent more than 60 years refusing to come forward.
One childhood acquaintance recalled that Busby was “occasionally bossy.”
This allegation is particularly troubling given her later history of organizing people, events, poetry readings, theatrical productions, and community programs requiring someone to tell everybody where they are supposed to be. Experts say the pattern is unmistakable.
Our investigation has uncovered allegations that Busby used crayons in ways inconsistent with accepted kindergarten standards. Sources claim she colored outside the lines. More disturbing still, she may have done so knowingly. A forensic examination of childhood artwork, had anyone preserved it, might reveal repeated disregard for established boundaries.
Was this the beginning of a lifelong hostility toward staying inside lines drawn by somebody else?
Voters deserve answers.
There are also unresolved questions surrounding cookies.
At some point during childhood, Busby took a cookie she had not been specifically authorized to take. We cannot prove this. Neither can we prove she didn’t. And in modern investigative journalism, apparently that gives us something to work with.
Sources close to the kitchen suggest she may have denied responsibility when confronted.
When asked today whether she remembers every cookie she consumed before the Nixon administration, Busby was unable to provide an accounting.
The incidents continued.
There were undoubtedly library books returned late. Homework unfinished. Doors slammed. Eyes rolled at adults. Rules questioned. Curfews approached with an interpretation of time that might charitably be described as flexible.
There may have been occasions when she told her parents she was going one place and subsequently found herself at another place. Our investigative team has learned this phenomenon was widespread among American teenagers, but that fact should not distract from the seriousness of this teenager doing it.
One especially damaging report alleges that Busby once knew the answer to a teacher’s question and raised her hand with an enthusiasm other students found irritating.
Another source remembers her talking when she was supposed to be quiet. This allegation has considerable credibility because she has continued talking ever since.
Rather than disappearing with maturity, the pattern merely became more sophisticated. Busby became involved in theater. Then journalism. Then poetry. Then advocacy. Then community work.
She developed opinions and, according to multiple witnesses, expressed them aloud. Sometimes in public. Sometimes in print.
Investigators have also documented a long history of asking questions when remaining politely silent would have been considerably more convenient for everyone involved.
The kindergarten incident can therefore no longer be dismissed as an isolated playground event.
The line is chillingly clear: She trips a boy at recess. She colors outside the lines. She questions authority. Then she writes poetry.
Where does it end?
To date, Busby has offered no apology to the American people for the foolish, impulsive, embarrassing, ill-considered, ridiculous, or immature things she did before her frontal lobe finished developing.
Nor has she released her disciplinary record from elementary school. Until she does, citizens may wonder: What happened at recess? Who had possession of the red crayon? How many cookies were involved? Why has the alleged victim of the tripping incident remained silent all these years?
Democracy demands answers.
Perhaps the answer is simpler. Perhaps human beings have childhoods. Perhaps teenagers do stupid things.
Perhaps adults should be judged primarily by the lives they build, the choices they make when they are grown, the people they serve, the responsibilities they carry, and the character they demonstrate over decades.