A conservative running to be Maine’s governor learns a lot, learns daily. One lesson is to expect the unexpected, at events and when raising money in phone calls. Both are strangely fun, sometimes quirky.
Several months ago, I was invited to give a speech to the Federalist Society, a conservative and libertarian group of lawyers, judges, and legal scholars, chiefly originalists and constitutionalists.
The meeting was at a fun restaurant in Portland, a great venue – even before I declared – for discussing big problems and big solutions, sure to intersect Maine law, as time passes. As a Maine lawyer, this was a chance to meet others, compare notes, and indulge reason for a change.
The mob – radical leftists who pervade Maine’s south, push rallies that may soon become riots, and who control the Democrat Party – would have none of it. Before we could get going, a big, belligerent bully crashed the restaurant gates, got upstairs, filled with profanity and venom, and spewed forth.
For a time, attending lawyers suffered his exercise of First Amendment rights, which actually – under time, place, and manner restrictions – he did not have here, but we listened. When it looked like a shift toward something violent, I rose and told him it was over, ushered him out.
The lesson is, unlike prior political cycles – typically animated but thoughtful, earnest but collegial, candid but respectful – we are in a new world. In Maine, as in the rest of the country – where we almost saw a presidential candidate assassinated, twice – the chance of violence is rising.
To me, invariably vigilant, patient, but ready to fight for what matters, that moment was instructive. Some will listen, have a conversation, and abide by Maine’s tradition of candor and respect. Others will not, and whether homegrown or imported from away, they tip toward violence.
Another surprise on the trail was kindness. Kindness is a Maine trait, shared across the nation. We are a generous, full-hearted people, if also stubborn and independent. All that is good, but finding kindness in odd moments is uplifting.
After one event, an incredibly thoughtful, objectively brilliant Maine businessman offered answers to my questions about energy savings, how to lower costs. He is determined to make Maine more efficient, beginning with supermarkets, perhaps across the nation.
His technology is pathbreaking, and he is a phenom, a carbon mitigation specialist, free market guy to the nines, former advisor to our last conservative governor, and his passion for energy – and commitment to bringing new, cost-saving technologies to market – is infectious.
If there is an Einstein of energy in Maine, a guy with all the charts, formulas, and math memorized, able to bring down energy bills, he is the guy. What amazed me, however, was his kindness.
At a late hour, he reopened his entire factory floor, let several of us see it all, up close, spent three full hours showing us everything, a graduate course in energy – going back decades – to help us understand the problem and solutions. It was riveting. He eventually wound up caring for his special needs son. That, in a nutshell, is Mainers at our best: curious, other-regarding, passionate.
Kindness comes in many forms. When I recently lost my dog, several people on the campaign trail – who knew the dog, a few who did not – empathized. When a stage full of people needed water, coffee, they magically appeared. When schedule flexibility is needed, Mainers accommodate.
Then there are wonderments, odd things that make you shake your head. Raising money, explaining my sole motivation is to fix the state I love, where I grew up, you get all kinds of reactions. Many are with me, others will question you – which is a chance for persuasion.
One guy hit hard right out of the blocks. Listed as a generous Maine Republican, he promptly questioned my attachments to Maine, noting I grew up here, but moved away for education, to start a company, military orders, public service, bought my Maine home in 2005, and moved back several years ago. He demanded to know why I thought myself a Mainer.
I did not talk parents or grandparents, family around Maine, but counted this a chance – to lay out my past, no electric heat in the Maine woods as a child, felling and cutting up trees young, four cord each fall, split all winter to feed three wood stoves, working as a kid, ease with guns, Eagle Scout.
Satisfied, he turned to key issues: taxes too high, drugs everywhere, education a train wreck, and energy costs – along with distrust of Maine’s government – high on his list. We talked, I rolled out solutions, until he was with me. That was when he told me: He just moved to Maine.
People are funny, sometimes hard to figure out, but you invariably stumble on more good surprises than bad. Facing the day – learning about people – is fun, and surprises are part of the bargain.
Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC. Robert Charles has also just released an uplifting new book, “Cherish America: Stories of Courage, Character, and Kindness” (Tower Publishing, 2024).
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