There is an old-fashioned look to Old Town. Main Street is flanked by a canoe factory, an Indian crafts store, and a small shop which sells mostly maps and compasses. Men wear red mackinaw jackets, and women drive to Hannaford's in pickups. To many, the town seems like a frontier outpost, a gateway to the Great North Woods.
The urban blight which has marred parts of Portland, Augusta, and other cities, has passed Old Town by. Indian Island is even better. Once you cross the long, green bridge over the Penobscot, you find a quiet and neat community. There is no litter, no graffiti, no urban sprawl. Everything is done on a small scale. There are one or two churches, a Penobscot museum well-worth the visit, and lots of warm and friendly people. The largest building in town is a high-stakes beano hall. Even so, it is a very modest structure compared with the enormous casino and seven-story hotel being built by Hollywood Slots.
Unlike Indian Island, Hollywood Slots can never be a part of Maine. The idea behind it, that of exploiting the weaknesses of our fellow man, runs counter to everything Maine stands for. Our heritage as Mainers is one of respect for the environment, thrift, hard work, self-control, and honesty. Hollywood, on the other hand, stands for consumption, luxury, sensuality, greed, and illusion.
Therein lies the bitter irony behind the recent decision of the Penobscot Nation to sever ties with Maine. Their decision was based in part on an envy of nearby Hollywood Slots, and resentment over the Governor's decision to veto slots on Indian Island. In the words of Penobscot Chief Kirk Francis, "The relationship with the State has brought us nothing but disappointment." Francis also expressed his disgust at the "dirty dealings" in the Legislature, after the Legislature voted to back the Governor's veto. But the Penobscot Nation cannot leave Maine, since they are Maine - just as much as the gambling industry is foreign to our way of life.
Their emotions of envy and resentment are unjustified, but very understandable. The gambling industry belongs nowhere in Maine, not on Indian Island, and not in Bangor. If the Legislature has made the case that gambling is a good thing, it is very hard to explain why this "good thing" should not be shared with the Penobscot Nation. It is not difficult to see why a charge of discrimination and prejudice was the ultimate result.
The impending divorce between Maine and the Penobscot Nation is just the latest and worst calamity in a cascading series of mishaps brought on by the gambling industry. The trouble started with the embezzlement at a Somesville convenience store, then moved on to the suicide of Aaron Walsh. Walsh was a problem gambler and decorated veteran who shot himself after losing big at Hollywood Slots. He left behind a wife and two young children. Now, thanks to the Legislature and the gambling industry, our own people - the Penobscot Nation - are leaving Maine, and in their place we are left with the monumental tackiness and decadence of Hollywood Slots - and lots of hard feelings.
