Published in the Portland Phoenix
The state's largest newspaper company is about to negotiate its contract with its employees. With workers seeking a share of the company's newfound profitability, and owner Richard Connor striving mightily to stay in the black, this could go very smoothly, or be a bloody, destructive battle — with the quality of information available to Mainers hanging in the balance.
Let's start with the basics. When Connor bought the Portland Press Herald/Maine Sunday Telegram, Kennebec Journal, and Central Maine Morning Sentinel in 2009, he did so with the help of the local chapter of the Newspaper Guild (part of the Communications Workers of America union).
To make the sale work, Connor not only laid off 100 people (a quarter of the company's unionized workers), but gave those who remained a 10-percent pay cut (under an agreement expiring June 30) and terminated company contributions to retirement funds. In exchange, the workers created an Employee Stock Ownership Plan, under which collectively the employees would own 15 percent of the company's value, in accounts that can be tapped for income upon retirement.
With the 15-percent stake, the papers' employees are the largest shareholder in Maine, according to Tom Bell, president of the local guild chapter and a staff writer at the Press Herald. (Larger shares of the company, he says, are held out-of-state by investors affiliated with the Texas-based HM Capital investment firm.)
Since taking over, Connor has announced that all three papers are profitable. Bell says the employees want to see some of the profits of the streamlined company.
"Our members' expectations are pretty high," Bell says. "We make 10 percent less . . . and our health-care costs are higher." (The company still pays 80 percent of employees' premiums, but co-pays and deductibles have increased, Bell says.)
In case there's any doubt, he clarifies: "The papers' finances have stabilized, and we'll be looking for raises" to make up the lost cost-of-living ground.
It's an unclear proposition, even in a company that looks stronger on paper than it was two years ago. Connor has sold off significant real-estate holdings (including the landmark building in Portland), but the proceeds have largely gone to pay down debt incurred in buying the papers. It's unclear how much of the company's profitability is due to an increase in revenue, as opposed to cost-cutting measures. That may mean that despite the lower debt load, there is no more operating cash than there has been.
Connor's not talking — he didn't return multiple requests for an interview for this piece, and Bell says he "had expected by now to have met with the company," but neither the union nor the company has yet asked the other to come to the table for a discussion.
• For those enjoying the spectacle that Governor Paul LePage and the Republican leadership in the State House have been creating, an excellent resource has been MAINEBIZ, the state's twice-monthly business newspaper. Most of its material, whether online, in print, or e-mailed to readers, has been culled from other media (with links and attribution). And that has its own usefulness. But when doing its own reporting, the publication has the sterling reputation and strong business-community connections to allow it to ferret out what really is — and isn't — affecting Maine businesses' efforts at job-creation. Since the LePage inauguration, Mainebiz has put out only two print editions, so a lot remains to be seen. But if the paper can separate itself from the business community enough to clearly discern what is partisan rhetoric claiming to be pro-business, and what is really something that would help Maine businesses and residents, Mainebiz will be a must-read.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Music Seen: Marie Moreshead + Ellen Tipper at Blue, January 28
Published in the Portland Phoenix
The dual CD-release party for Ellen Tipper's The Juggler and Marie Moreshead's self-titled full-length album was a stripped-down affair, which was a relief because Blue was packed to the gills.
Tipper opened with her keyboard folk, playing several songs based on her experiences spending time in other countries (Vietnam and England among them). She proved a mellow mood-setter for Moreshead's soulful guitar-based ballads.
The pair of duets they sang — one from each's album — showed the stylistic contrast between the two. When backing Tipper's song, Moreshead seemed to handle the literal story-telling lyrics awkwardly, as if missing the metaphors that season her work so richly. When playing Moreshead, Tipper's fingers flowed more smoothly than when her keyboard was center stage.
Despite a few technical problems (ably handled by semi-official roadie Pat and honorary roadie Drew), Moreshead's performance was strong and smooth, and well received by the standing-room-only house. (Her first show at Blue, a few years back, was in front of her mother and just one other person, Moreshead announced.)
Her words are often happy, but then laid over spare, sad melodies. In some ways it's an inversion of the work of 10,000 Maniacs, which told horrific stories in catchy riffs. And the deep, twangy edge in Moreshead's vocals also evokes Natalie Merchant (with perhaps a sprinkling of Erin McKeown). But whether set up that way or aligned on a single emotional axis, as in "Romans" and the brand-new "Secrets of the Bluebird," her songs really shone.
Tipper opened with her keyboard folk, playing several songs based on her experiences spending time in other countries (Vietnam and England among them). She proved a mellow mood-setter for Moreshead's soulful guitar-based ballads.
The pair of duets they sang — one from each's album — showed the stylistic contrast between the two. When backing Tipper's song, Moreshead seemed to handle the literal story-telling lyrics awkwardly, as if missing the metaphors that season her work so richly. When playing Moreshead, Tipper's fingers flowed more smoothly than when her keyboard was center stage.
Despite a few technical problems (ably handled by semi-official roadie Pat and honorary roadie Drew), Moreshead's performance was strong and smooth, and well received by the standing-room-only house. (Her first show at Blue, a few years back, was in front of her mother and just one other person, Moreshead announced.)
Her words are often happy, but then laid over spare, sad melodies. In some ways it's an inversion of the work of 10,000 Maniacs, which told horrific stories in catchy riffs. And the deep, twangy edge in Moreshead's vocals also evokes Natalie Merchant (with perhaps a sprinkling of Erin McKeown). But whether set up that way or aligned on a single emotional axis, as in "Romans" and the brand-new "Secrets of the Bluebird," her songs really shone.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Out of the woodwork: John Birch Society alive and confused in Maine
Published in the Portland Phoenix
The Maine arm of the John Birch Society, founded in 1958 to combat communist influence in government, visited the State House in Augusta last week, calling for legislators to, well, do nothing, as it turns out.
But that's not how it started. On January 20, the local Birchers joined a nationwide effort asking state legislators to rescind longstanding legislative calls for a federal constitutional convention. At various times state legislatures have raised issues with the US Constitution by passing resolutions asking Congress for a constitutional convention to address them, such as in the early 20th century when many states called for direct election of senators, legalized in the passage of the 17th Amendment in 1913.
Patricia Truman of Hallowell, who has been a JBS member since 1964 and is a longtime local-chapter leader of the society here in Maine, was unclear when asked by the Phoenix about what requests Maine has made, but she was sure she wanted lawmakers to rescind them anyway, fearing that revisiting the Constitution could result in reversal of important protections now enshrined there.
Mike Hein, a John Birch Society member and publicist who is a former spokesman for the Christian Civic League of Maine, a right-wing advocacy group, issued a statement claiming Maine has four outstanding calls for a convention. He later specified three, adding that he had "heard from others" of a fourth. First on Hein's list was Maine's 1911 call for direct election of senators, which is no longer outstanding because that request passed as the 17th Amendment in 1913. Second was a 1941 call for repeal of the 16th Amendment (which allows a federal income tax). Third on his list (with a specific Congressional Record citation of "CR 099, page 04434"), is not a new call for a convention, but rather a 1953 resolution rescinding the 1941 repeal request. Which leaves no active calls to be rescinded by Maine lawmakers.
Birchers have a long history of ill-informed beliefs about government. They considered President Dwight Eisenhower a communist, and objected to his policies; they also opposed the civil-rights movement in the 1960s on the conspiracy-theorist grounds that the movement's leaders were, or were influenced by, communists. (Conservative icons Richard Nixon, Barry Goldwater, and William F. Buckley repudiated those claims and made clear that Birchers are on the extreme right wing of the right-wing movement.)
And that string continues. Truman claimed that during her visit to Augusta she learned of a call she said was proposed by Seth Berry, a Maine House Democrat representing Bowdoin and Bowdoinham: "He wanted our state to call for ConCon," she said. "I just know that Representative Berry does want to have the state call a ConCon," and insisted Berry's move related to the US Constitution and not the state's, she said.
But she's wrong. When reached on his cell phone, Berry said he had indeed proposed a convention, but to discuss the state constitution, saying anyone who thought otherwise "probably should have called me before they assumed that."
The Maine arm of the John Birch Society, founded in 1958 to combat communist influence in government, visited the State House in Augusta last week, calling for legislators to, well, do nothing, as it turns out.
But that's not how it started. On January 20, the local Birchers joined a nationwide effort asking state legislators to rescind longstanding legislative calls for a federal constitutional convention. At various times state legislatures have raised issues with the US Constitution by passing resolutions asking Congress for a constitutional convention to address them, such as in the early 20th century when many states called for direct election of senators, legalized in the passage of the 17th Amendment in 1913.
Patricia Truman of Hallowell, who has been a JBS member since 1964 and is a longtime local-chapter leader of the society here in Maine, was unclear when asked by the Phoenix about what requests Maine has made, but she was sure she wanted lawmakers to rescind them anyway, fearing that revisiting the Constitution could result in reversal of important protections now enshrined there.
Mike Hein, a John Birch Society member and publicist who is a former spokesman for the Christian Civic League of Maine, a right-wing advocacy group, issued a statement claiming Maine has four outstanding calls for a convention. He later specified three, adding that he had "heard from others" of a fourth. First on Hein's list was Maine's 1911 call for direct election of senators, which is no longer outstanding because that request passed as the 17th Amendment in 1913. Second was a 1941 call for repeal of the 16th Amendment (which allows a federal income tax). Third on his list (with a specific Congressional Record citation of "CR 099, page 04434"), is not a new call for a convention, but rather a 1953 resolution rescinding the 1941 repeal request. Which leaves no active calls to be rescinded by Maine lawmakers.
Birchers have a long history of ill-informed beliefs about government. They considered President Dwight Eisenhower a communist, and objected to his policies; they also opposed the civil-rights movement in the 1960s on the conspiracy-theorist grounds that the movement's leaders were, or were influenced by, communists. (Conservative icons Richard Nixon, Barry Goldwater, and William F. Buckley repudiated those claims and made clear that Birchers are on the extreme right wing of the right-wing movement.)
And that string continues. Truman claimed that during her visit to Augusta she learned of a call she said was proposed by Seth Berry, a Maine House Democrat representing Bowdoin and Bowdoinham: "He wanted our state to call for ConCon," she said. "I just know that Representative Berry does want to have the state call a ConCon," and insisted Berry's move related to the US Constitution and not the state's, she said.
But she's wrong. When reached on his cell phone, Berry said he had indeed proposed a convention, but to discuss the state constitution, saying anyone who thought otherwise "probably should have called me before they assumed that."
All you can learn: A new online program at SMCC puts you to the test
Published in the Portland Phoenix
Yes, taking classes online is the wave of the future. And you've figured out that the house always wins: Tuition for those classes is vastly more profitable for universities than the traditional in-person, in-classroom instruction.
Students live off-campus (requiring fewer dorms), don't even visit campus (less parking), are too far away to use the gym or the library (allowing smaller facilities), and only interact with faculty through computers (fewer tenure-track profs mucking around with academic freedom).
What's the benefit for students? Well, you can keep your full- or part-time job, you don't have to move, and, uh, you get to shell out basically the exact same tuition rate as the on-campus students who get all the perks you're paying for but can't have. The theory, of course, is that the piece of paper saying you earned X credits at your university is worth the same amount of money whether you attend class in person or virtually. (Yes, we know that's ridiculous, because you're not paying for the piece of paper, but the learning experience — right?)
Fortunately, Southern Maine Community College has found a middle ground: Super-extra-cheapo courses, with a basic online learning experience that won't make you poor or frustrated. At $99 for 90 days of as many courses as you can take (some will soon be available for college credit!), even if you snicker at the class notes (as I did, a few times, during a trial run), you'll still be getting your money's worth. The system is available to anyone, anywhere — no Maine residency required.
As many as 5000 different courses will be available when the system is fully up and running in the next few months, according to Julie Chase, assistant dean for professional education at SMCC. Let's not get silly; many of these "courses" might more properly be called "class sessions" — they take anywhere between 90 minutes and five hours. But still, that's a lot of options.
You can search for classes or career paths. I started by testing the system with something I know well — I searched its directory of potential careers and found "reporter," which led me to several courses it suggested I take to prepare for my career: "Foundations of Grammar," "Generating Creative and Innovative Ideas," "Writing With Intention," and "Crisp Composition" were among them. All in all, the units totaled 27.5 hours of time, if I sat through every explanatory session.
I began with "Foundations of Grammar" — a surprisingly nitpicky class that nevertheless had some grammatical errors itself (one example sentence handled a possessive in a way best described as Very Wrong: "Mr. Neal, our bookkeeper's, office is on the second floor.").
The not-so-secret secret key to this type of class is that success is defined by the score you get on the tests. If you like, you can start each class with a pre-test, which, as it turns out, is the same as the post-test.
If you pass enough on the pre-test, you are considered to have completed the course, and can move on to the next. (Yes, you can click through the class slides anyway, but why?) If you haven't passed, it'll tell you what parts you need to work on.
I found it easiest not to suffer through the boring 1980s-style graphics and dull questions (read aloud, if you wish, by a horribly bored voice-over actor probably wishing she could take a class to start a new career). Instead, I just kept taking the tests, focusing on the parts I did the worst on. (Okay, I had to take a couple parts of the grammar test a couple times. But seriously, the level of obscurity of some of this stuff was ridiculous. You try: Please identify how many verbs in this paragraph are in the past progressive case. Your answer is wrong too.)
Eventually, though, I was able to game the system. The courses I took (which also included ones on InDesign and a class about something called "Six Sigma") seemed to have two sets of questions for each section of the test, so taking the test three times guaranteed familiar questions. Couple that with the facts that 1) the test shows you the correct answer for each question before moving on, and 2) you can take the test as many times as you like with no penalty, and you're on Easy Street.
Paying decent attention while taking and retaking the test (multiple-choice questions, with more than one answer allowed at times) allowed me to "pass" a good number of courses without ever enduring a single "lecture" session. It took a lot less time, too.
However, I wouldn't consider myself proficient in InDesign as a result; the test only taught me about three things, none of which is particularly useful. (The most practical item on the test was how to insert a new layer into a document, rename it, and make it the bottom layer.)
And of course I played the averages; in the Six Sigma class, I lucked out and scored well on certain parts of the test just by reading carefully and guessing. When choosing which portions of the test to retake, I skipped the things I bombed completely and homed in on the topics I had a fighting chance at passing. The system looks for an overall average, and you pass or fail based on that.
That's an obvious flaw, because I passed the introductory Six Sigma class without knowing what a "kaizen event" is, or even, quite frankly, getting a clear explanation of what Six Sigma is in the first place.
Still, if your boss suggests you learn something, check out the course list at smccme.edu/continuingstudies. If there's something there that could help, maybe your employer will shell out the $99 for you to learn. The system remembers your progress, and you can even print a certificate of completion to prove the company's money was well spent.
Yes, taking classes online is the wave of the future. And you've figured out that the house always wins: Tuition for those classes is vastly more profitable for universities than the traditional in-person, in-classroom instruction.
Students live off-campus (requiring fewer dorms), don't even visit campus (less parking), are too far away to use the gym or the library (allowing smaller facilities), and only interact with faculty through computers (fewer tenure-track profs mucking around with academic freedom).
What's the benefit for students? Well, you can keep your full- or part-time job, you don't have to move, and, uh, you get to shell out basically the exact same tuition rate as the on-campus students who get all the perks you're paying for but can't have. The theory, of course, is that the piece of paper saying you earned X credits at your university is worth the same amount of money whether you attend class in person or virtually. (Yes, we know that's ridiculous, because you're not paying for the piece of paper, but the learning experience — right?)
Fortunately, Southern Maine Community College has found a middle ground: Super-extra-cheapo courses, with a basic online learning experience that won't make you poor or frustrated. At $99 for 90 days of as many courses as you can take (some will soon be available for college credit!), even if you snicker at the class notes (as I did, a few times, during a trial run), you'll still be getting your money's worth. The system is available to anyone, anywhere — no Maine residency required.
As many as 5000 different courses will be available when the system is fully up and running in the next few months, according to Julie Chase, assistant dean for professional education at SMCC. Let's not get silly; many of these "courses" might more properly be called "class sessions" — they take anywhere between 90 minutes and five hours. But still, that's a lot of options.
You can search for classes or career paths. I started by testing the system with something I know well — I searched its directory of potential careers and found "reporter," which led me to several courses it suggested I take to prepare for my career: "Foundations of Grammar," "Generating Creative and Innovative Ideas," "Writing With Intention," and "Crisp Composition" were among them. All in all, the units totaled 27.5 hours of time, if I sat through every explanatory session.
I began with "Foundations of Grammar" — a surprisingly nitpicky class that nevertheless had some grammatical errors itself (one example sentence handled a possessive in a way best described as Very Wrong: "Mr. Neal, our bookkeeper's, office is on the second floor.").
The not-so-secret secret key to this type of class is that success is defined by the score you get on the tests. If you like, you can start each class with a pre-test, which, as it turns out, is the same as the post-test.
If you pass enough on the pre-test, you are considered to have completed the course, and can move on to the next. (Yes, you can click through the class slides anyway, but why?) If you haven't passed, it'll tell you what parts you need to work on.
I found it easiest not to suffer through the boring 1980s-style graphics and dull questions (read aloud, if you wish, by a horribly bored voice-over actor probably wishing she could take a class to start a new career). Instead, I just kept taking the tests, focusing on the parts I did the worst on. (Okay, I had to take a couple parts of the grammar test a couple times. But seriously, the level of obscurity of some of this stuff was ridiculous. You try: Please identify how many verbs in this paragraph are in the past progressive case. Your answer is wrong too.)
Eventually, though, I was able to game the system. The courses I took (which also included ones on InDesign and a class about something called "Six Sigma") seemed to have two sets of questions for each section of the test, so taking the test three times guaranteed familiar questions. Couple that with the facts that 1) the test shows you the correct answer for each question before moving on, and 2) you can take the test as many times as you like with no penalty, and you're on Easy Street.
Paying decent attention while taking and retaking the test (multiple-choice questions, with more than one answer allowed at times) allowed me to "pass" a good number of courses without ever enduring a single "lecture" session. It took a lot less time, too.
However, I wouldn't consider myself proficient in InDesign as a result; the test only taught me about three things, none of which is particularly useful. (The most practical item on the test was how to insert a new layer into a document, rename it, and make it the bottom layer.)
And of course I played the averages; in the Six Sigma class, I lucked out and scored well on certain parts of the test just by reading carefully and guessing. When choosing which portions of the test to retake, I skipped the things I bombed completely and homed in on the topics I had a fighting chance at passing. The system looks for an overall average, and you pass or fail based on that.
That's an obvious flaw, because I passed the introductory Six Sigma class without knowing what a "kaizen event" is, or even, quite frankly, getting a clear explanation of what Six Sigma is in the first place.
Still, if your boss suggests you learn something, check out the course list at smccme.edu/continuingstudies. If there's something there that could help, maybe your employer will shell out the $99 for you to learn. The system remembers your progress, and you can even print a certificate of completion to prove the company's money was well spent.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Out of the Governor's Mouth: LePage’s black friend is not his son, and other ‘kiss my butt’ fallout
Published in the Portland Phoenix; co-written with Shay Stewart-Bouley
About two weeks into his term, Governor Paul LePage has gone local as a follow-up to his telling President Obama "to go to hell," setting off a national media firestorm with an off-the-cuff remark literally telling the Maine NAACP "to kiss my butt." Seems the foot-in-mouth disease he suffers from wasn't limited to the gubernatorial campaign.
It started when the NAACP extended an invitation to LePage to attend various Martin Luther King Day events in the state, the most prominent being the Bangor chapter's breakfast held Monday, January 17, and the NAACP's annual dinner in Portland (actually held Sunday night). LePage declined to attend any of the events, despite the fact that Maine governors for the past 30 years have been in attendance, along with other state dignitaries of all political stripes.
As has been reported extensively from here to Washington to San Diego and beyond, LePage dismissed the equality-for-all NAACP as a "special interest" he would not "be held hostage by." The governor, a 62-year-old white man, went on to suggest that a 25-year-old Jamaican man would be better equipped to talk to the NAACP than the governor himself, saying, "My son happens to be black," and offering to send him to talk to the civil-rights group.
But a few elements went missing in the national narrative — and even went undercovered in the Maine media.
First, LEPAGE DOES NOT HAVE A BLACK SON. As Maine Public Broadcasting Network's Susan Sharon reported, 25-year-old Devon Raymond, who is not a US citizen but rather a Jamaican national, has never been formally adopted by LePage, though the governor and his wife are helping Raymond pay for college and have invited the man to family gatherings for several years.
Second, while some commentators have suggested that LePage's comments are attractive to his base (even while being repugnant to the majority of Americans), even some of the CONSERVATIVES AT THE CONSERVATIVE-BEACON ASMAINEGOES ONLINE FORUMS HAVE EXPRESSED CONCERNS about LePage's lack of tact and his inclinations to create controversy rather than progress.
Third, LEPAGE ALSO DIDN'T SAY HE WAS SNUBBING THE NAACP IN FAVOR OF THE MLK BREAKFAST HOSTED IN WATERVILLE by Spectrum Generations (a non-profit elder-services agency) and the local Rotary Club, which he did attend; announcement of that might have defused the controversy — except his appearance wasn't on the governor's schedule until after the brouhaha erupted.
And fourth, on Saturday, LEPAGE SPOKE AT MAINE RIGHT TO LIFE'S "HANDS AROUND THE CAPITOL" RALLY. No word on whether he exempts them from the "special interest" label or if they were holding him "hostage" — as he claimed the NAACP tried to.
About two weeks into his term, Governor Paul LePage has gone local as a follow-up to his telling President Obama "to go to hell," setting off a national media firestorm with an off-the-cuff remark literally telling the Maine NAACP "to kiss my butt." Seems the foot-in-mouth disease he suffers from wasn't limited to the gubernatorial campaign.
It started when the NAACP extended an invitation to LePage to attend various Martin Luther King Day events in the state, the most prominent being the Bangor chapter's breakfast held Monday, January 17, and the NAACP's annual dinner in Portland (actually held Sunday night). LePage declined to attend any of the events, despite the fact that Maine governors for the past 30 years have been in attendance, along with other state dignitaries of all political stripes.
As has been reported extensively from here to Washington to San Diego and beyond, LePage dismissed the equality-for-all NAACP as a "special interest" he would not "be held hostage by." The governor, a 62-year-old white man, went on to suggest that a 25-year-old Jamaican man would be better equipped to talk to the NAACP than the governor himself, saying, "My son happens to be black," and offering to send him to talk to the civil-rights group.
But a few elements went missing in the national narrative — and even went undercovered in the Maine media.
First, LEPAGE DOES NOT HAVE A BLACK SON. As Maine Public Broadcasting Network's Susan Sharon reported, 25-year-old Devon Raymond, who is not a US citizen but rather a Jamaican national, has never been formally adopted by LePage, though the governor and his wife are helping Raymond pay for college and have invited the man to family gatherings for several years.
Second, while some commentators have suggested that LePage's comments are attractive to his base (even while being repugnant to the majority of Americans), even some of the CONSERVATIVES AT THE CONSERVATIVE-BEACON ASMAINEGOES ONLINE FORUMS HAVE EXPRESSED CONCERNS about LePage's lack of tact and his inclinations to create controversy rather than progress.
Third, LEPAGE ALSO DIDN'T SAY HE WAS SNUBBING THE NAACP IN FAVOR OF THE MLK BREAKFAST HOSTED IN WATERVILLE by Spectrum Generations (a non-profit elder-services agency) and the local Rotary Club, which he did attend; announcement of that might have defused the controversy — except his appearance wasn't on the governor's schedule until after the brouhaha erupted.
And fourth, on Saturday, LEPAGE SPOKE AT MAINE RIGHT TO LIFE'S "HANDS AROUND THE CAPITOL" RALLY. No word on whether he exempts them from the "special interest" label or if they were holding him "hostage" — as he claimed the NAACP tried to.
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