Russian Spies in Acadia

The Schoodic Peninsula lies across Frenchman Bay from Mount Desert Island. Both contain parts of Acadia National Park. Up until 2002, the Schoodic Peninsula was also the location for the Schoodic Point Naval Base. Established in the 1920's as a radio station, the base evolved into a sophisticated communication facility that sent and received messages with submerged nuclear submarines. In its' final iteration, it was part of a network who used high frequency direction finding (HFDF) to target "enemy" ships for cruise missile attacks.
So what about Russian spies? During the mid 1990's, I managed an Adolescent Psychiatric Unit at Lehigh Valley Hospital in Allentown, Pennsylvania. Sharon was one of the nurses who worked with me, and her husband, Joe, was an FBI agent.
I met Joe at a party. When he found out that I had lived on Mount Desert Island, he told me of one of his experiences following Russian spies up there. The story starts in New York. Back then, Joe's job was to conduct surveillance on Russian intelligence agents who were part of the Russian diplomatic presence in New York. Joe and his partner were following two Russians, who headed north and ended up in Bar Harbor. It was pretty obvious they intended to gather whatever intelligence they could on the Schoodic Point Naval Base, and staying in Bar Harbor allowed them to blend in with the tourists and not attract a lot of attention.
The Russians checked into a hotel. Joe and his partner were nearby and deployed listening devices so they could eavesdrop on the Russians. The Russians only spoke English, even in private.
Joe described how they had the television on and were watching a Western. Spy #1 reportedly said, "That's John Wayne; I really like his movies." Spy#2 somewhat harshly corrected him, saying, "You asshole; that's not John Wayne, that's East Clintwood!" Joe and his partner were far enough away that their laughter did not give them away.
I doubt that anything amazing or surprising came of the trip to Maine, but it was a common practice for Russia and America to spy on each other and continues today. There's no way to know for sure, but who knows? Perhaps one of the Russian spies was a young Vladimir Putin.

Organic Firewood? Really?

I just returned from a week in Acadia. In my travels, I spotted many signs, including "Pete's Pretty Good Ice Cream", "The No Frills Oil Company" and "The Pickled Wrinkle" (a restaurant). The sign that stood out the most was for Organic Firewood.

Along with deluxe, premium, and gourmet, organic has become a word so overused as to become pretty meaningless. Supposedly, organic items are supposed to not have been sprayed with pesticides or other chemicals. Using the term "organic" in describing a product (or using one of the other terms) seems to be give permission to charge more for the product, even if it isn't any different from the same type of product that is not described as such.

I guess, if you think about it, almost all trees (except some fruit trees) could correctly be described as "organic". That being said, would you pay extra for a few pieces of oak because you "always buy organic"? 

While I can understand the term "organic" associated with a number of food products, applying it to things such as firewood begins a slippery slope which could make future product naming quite interesting. What's next? Organic Condoms? Organic Snow Tires? I guess it depends upon how daring an individual cares to be. 

As for me, regular firewood is good enough.

"Looking for someone incredibly competent"

The title of this piece is a direct quote from someone at the highest level of an organization in reference to someone I worked with after the decision was made to terminate him. The statement was describing what they wanted in a replacement.

While he did not say directly that the individual was incompetent, the implication was certainly there and was, from my perspective and that of many others, correct and well-deserved. It was a situation in which someone driven by ambition took on a job for which he was unprepared, not even remotely qualified, and who was unable or unwilling to develop the necessary skills to be successful. 

Although the decision to place this individual in a very responsible position was deeply flawed, it was compounded by allowing the person to remain in the position through three changes in organizational leadership, long after it was obvious he shouldn't be there. It is an unfortunate example of not making a difficult, but necessary decision in a timely manner, and many paid the price. While I would say "shame on you" to the individual who made the original decision to place this individual into the position, equal blame goes to the successors who decided to just hold their noses and to allow it to continue. Difficult choices sometimes need to be made, and they all failed.

While I am glad that this individual is elsewhere, and hopefully where he can do no harm, I think about how devastated I would feel if one of my superiors made a similar statement about my competence.  I have a reputation for being honest and competent at what I do. One of the keys to my success was that I was always careful not to take on jobs that were clearly beyond my skills and capabilities. While having ambition may be helpful to some, It was never something that drove me. I never had a desire to be vice president of anything, and I am OK with that.
Over the years, I have had the opportunity to work with many skilled and talented leaders. Unfortunately, this individual just wasn't one of them.

Indiana Jones in Acadia

In 1910, J. P. Morgan purchased bought Great Head and Sand Beach on Mount Desert Island as a gift for his daughter. His daughter had three bungalows, a barn, and a superintendent's house built above the beach. In 1915, she had a round stone tower tea house constructed. 

In 1947, a fire swept over much of the eastern side of Mount Desert Island. Many large summer homes, known locally as cottages, were destroyed. The tea house was damaged and the other buildings on Great Head were destroyed. 

Two years later, Great Head and Sand Beach were donated to Acadia National Park. The tea house was later torn down for safety reasons, leaving the foundation.

If you look at the photo above, Great Head has a few small trees, but is otherwise bare rock with some low vegetation. Today, the peninsula is heavily wooded with a few hiking trails.

Most people who hike Great Head are unaware of the history of the tea house or that the foundation is still there. One has to look for it, for it is not obvious to those passing nearby. 

Other remnants of the past can be found nearby. Near the elementary school in Bar Harbor is the remains of a stone wall from an estate. At Compass Harbor, south of the town, you will find a set of granite steps and the remains of a foundation from a waterfront home. 

For those who want a different experience in Acadia, delving into the past can offer a glimpse at an interesting time in recent history and the lives of Rockefellers, Fords, Morgans, Du Ponts, and many others.

Massholes, or What?

We are Vermonters. You also have New Yorkers, Pennsylvanians, Californians, Floridians, Georgians, Texans, Minnesotans, etc. For some states, though, I am not sure how the residents refer to themselves. Among these few is Massachusetts. 

Several years ago, I worked with someone who had moved to Vermont from Massachusetts. While there probably is a more polite and politically correct term for them, he proudly informed me, "We're Massholes". There have been occasions where I can totally understand the nickname. A few years back, on a trip to Acadia, I noticed a fair number of drivers who sped, drove erratically, parked illegally, and who were generally annoying in the display of their driving skills. Interestingly, every single one sported a Massachusetts license plate. The trip has been known ever since then as "Massholes in Maine".

While every state has their own share of people for whom a version of the term "Masshole" may be accurate, there are also many others for whom it isn't. I am pretty sure that the Commonwealth does not officially endorse the term; I am just not sure of the correct term.

I don't want to go through life referring to all Massachusetts residents as "Massholes" so, if you happen to know what the correct term is, can you let me know? As Oscar Wilde once said, "A true gentleman is never deliberately rude."

Asshole Rock

In my travels in Maine, I have found or heard about some places with pretty interesting names (see my earlier blog entries on Hot Ass Pond and Bunker's Whore). 

I recently came across another one, called Asshole Rock. Like Bunker's Whore, Asshole Rock is a marine ledge, and is located in the passage known as The Gut, which separates Great Cranberry from Little Cranberry Island off of Mount Desert Island.

Asshole Rock is described as porkchop-shaped with a large crack down the middle. One wonders if the crack contributed to how the feature got its name, but I was unable to find any information about this. Although there are stories about how some places, like Hot Ass Pond and Bunker's Whore got their names, the naming of Asshole Rock remains a mystery.

While lobstermen set some of their traps in the shallower water closer to shore, many set traps in the deeper, colder water further out. The Gut serves as a shortcut to get to the deeper water without having to take the longer way around either of the Cranberry Islands. Tides influence the depth of the water around the rock, so going safely through The Gut can happen only at certain times of day. Using GPS to navigate is not safe, because it is not accurate enough to guarantee you will not run aground.

One of my sources, a local named Bruce, described how to navigate safely through The Gut the old-fashioned way. According to Bruce, when you sight Asshole Rock, look for the crack on the ledge. If it is completely exposed at low tide, it is unsafe to proceed. If the bottom of the crack is still submerged, steer forward toward the boulders, but look backward at a church steeple three miles away which you align with a seaweed-covered stone a hundred yards off the boat's stern. Looking forward, when the ledge lines up with the tree line on an island two miles to the east, turn the boat forty degrees to port.

During Prohibition, small ships loaded with cases of whiskey came down from Canada and stopped outside the three-mile limit in international waters. Locals came out in small boats to unload cases of whiskey and attempted to elude federal agents in fast boats to run the cargo ashore where it could be distributed to buyers. The locals risked arrest and seizure of their boats but, if they were skilled and lucky, this did not happen often and there was money to be made during hard times.

Reportedly, if locals were being chased by federal agents, going through The Gut offered an opportunity to escape. Many chases ended because the pursuers did not want to risk running aground.

Today, Asshole Rock serves as a reminder that, although radar, GPS, and other modern devices are helpful, sometimes you just need to rely upon skills learned from the old salts.

Meeting Martha Stewart

Uncle Buzzy

When I was a child, I lived in Southwest Harbor, Maine, on Mount Desert Island. Our neighbors were the Beals, who owned Beal's Lobster Pier in SWH. Always known as Uncle Buzzy and Aunt Prue, they were married for 70 years until Uncle Buzzy passed away in 2010 at age 89.

Uncle Buzzy's father had established Beal's Lobster Pier in the 1930's, and Buzzy retired from lobstering in 1967 to take over operating the business when his father died. The main function of the business was to buy lobsters from the lobstermen and resell them to restaurants and private individuals in the area (they would also ship live lobsters on ice anywhere in the country). In the late 1990's, Buzzy retired and turned over operation of the business to one of his four children, Sam. Even though Buzzy was "retired" he was still frequently at the pier, sorting lobsters and making deliveries of cases of lobsters to various locations on the island in his pickup truck.

I have returned to Mount Desert Island many times since I moved away, and always made a point of getting together with Uncle Buzzy and Aunt Prue to visit and enjoy a dinner together. It was at one of these occasions that he related to me his experience of meeting Martha Stewart.

Martha Stewart had purchased, in 1997, a 60+ acre estate in Seal Harbor called Skylands. Originally, the estate had been owned by Edsel Ford. It is shielded by trees from view from the street. If you are on a scenic cruise out of Bar Harbor, all you can see of the estate is part of the roof and a chimney.

Martha Stewart at Skylands

From the start, Martha did not endear herself to the locals. A story that made it's way into the Bar Harbor Times told of a young couple who decided to drive up to Seal Harbor to look at Martha's estate. Reportedly, when they drove into the driveway, she did not take it gracefully. She reportedly put the chain across the driveway entrance to prevent them from leaving and called the police. When the police arrived, she told them that she wanted the couple charged with trespassing. When the police pointed out that they would also have to charge her with kidnapping and illegal restraint, the matter quietly resolved.

Uncle Buzzy's introduction to Martha Stewart occurred in the early 2000's. She called Beals's Lobster Pier to order a case of live lobsters and wanted them delivered to Skylands. Buzzy was making deliveries to the local restaurants that day, so he headed to Seal Harbor in his pickup truck. Entering the estate, he drove up the driveway to the front door and rang the doorbell. Martha Stewart answered the door and started loudly berating Uncle Buzzy (he was pretty deaf, so it was not as effective as she might have wanted) and demanded that he go around to the "servant's entrance". The delivery was made and Buzzy continued his rounds.

This was not the end of bad behavior by Martha Stewart toward the Beals. Buzzy's oldest son, Elmer, and his wife own a small seasonal restaurant named the Burning Tree, which is in Otter Creek, a small village near Seal Harbor.

The Burning Tree is a place that serves outstanding food (Elmer's wife is the chef), but it has limited seating and is hard to get a reservation unless you plan days ahead. I have had dinner there with Aunt Prue and Uncle Buzzy a couple of times. I guess being related to the owner can be helpful in getting a table.

According to Aunt Prue, one night the phone rang; it was Martha Stewart wanting a table for dinner in two hours. Elmer, who was manning the phone, told her that the reservations were full for the evening, but that she was welcome to come another time. Her response reportedly was, "Do you know who I am?". Elmer's response was that he did, but that the reservations for the evening were full and offering a table on another night. She hung up without saying anything more.

Martha Stewart has multiple personas, ranging from being charming and very business-savvy to being an entitled ass. I don't know if she had ever called Beal's Lobster Pier again to order a case of lobsters, but it's a safe bet that, if she did, Uncle Buzzy declined to handle the delivery.