Signs of the times | Street-naming leads to turf battles and all sorts of foolishness
There was a story in the newspaper the other day telling about how difficult it is for "folks from away" to figure out where they're supposed to go around here because there are so few street signs in Maine. No one has asked me but there are some "summer complaints" that should be told exactly where to go.
Anyway, the article specifically mentioned how the lack of street signs was a problem in Portland and South Portland, but the same could be said about most towns in Maine.
The fact is, we don't like street signs here in Maine and therefore we don't like to use them.
I once asked a selectman back home why there were so few street signs in our town to help people tell one street from another.
He said: "Why waste time and money on street signs? Everyone knows what the different streets in town are called and those from away who don't know can stop and ask directions like they're supposed to, like tourists have always done, here in Maine."
According to the article in the local paper, a number of intersections in Greater Portland -- including crossroads that carry tens of thousands of vehicles a day -- are unmarked or poorly marked, causing confusion for drivers who aren't familiar with the area's roads and turning local businesses into information booths.
What the article failed to mention was that in many small Maine towns giving directions is a small cottage industry, a finely honed skill passed down from one generation to another. What would happen to this traditional Maine "industry" if towns started putting up clearly visible and mostly accurate street signs all over and confused tourists finally had a clue as to where they were?
A few years ago when they introduced the enhanced 911, it was required that every street in our town be named and clearly marked with a street sign. Hollis Beal, the veteran town manager, agreed to head up the street-naming committee.
Well, almost immediately the street naming project became contentious and some members almost came to blows over one street name or another.
Among other things, the committee was supposed to make the town's street names less confusing. For example our town had a Beal Street, Beal Road, Beal Ridge and Beal Alley. And right next to Beal Alley was an Alley Street and a Ridge Road, just to make things more fun -- and confusing.
But every time Hollis made a motion to change a name, the meeting would erupt into a heated argument.
On a road where two old town families lived -- the Strouts and Alleys for example -- each family insisted that the road bear their family name.
The whole experience was so stressful on Hollis that he finally resigned in disgust. He also resigned as town manager and took to his house, seldom going out. A few months later he died and many of those who caused him so much stress over street names rightly felt guilty. Selectmen eventually decided to name the new town hall after him and everyone in town agreed.
All this news was recently e-mailed to me by a friend back home. He went on to say I wouldn't recognize the old town with its new street names, new town hall and new town manager.
He said the new town manager, Fred, is one of those people who imagines he's a lot more important than he really is. It's said that in his previous job, he would actually tell his secretary to call someone and instruct her to get the person on the line and say: "Please hold for Mr. Crimmons."
I'm not positive, but I think there's a law in Maine that specifically forbids such foolishness.
Anyway, Fred's first day on the job, he came into the new town hall, did a quick walk-around, then got right to work looking awfully important and very busy.
A while later, a man came into the town hall. Fred saw this as a teaching moment. He wanted to show this first visitor of the day -- on this, his first day on the job -- just how important he was.
So, as the fella patiently waited, Fred picked up his fancy new telephone and pretended he was talking important town business to someone. Of course Fred was just talking to himself because the phone hadn't been hooked up yet. So, Fred began to pile it deeper saying things like, "Well, thank you Governor, for those kind words and I'd like to join you and your wife for dinner this Saturday."
When he thought the poor fella had been duly impressed, Fred said "Goodbye, Governor" and -- with a great flourish -- he hung up the phone.
Then, turning to the fella he said, "Yes, sir, I think I have a minute or two to spare between phone calls. Can I help you with something?"
The fella grinned and said, "Yeah, I'm here to hook up your new phone."
John McDonald, an author, humorist and storyteller who performs throughout New England, can be reached at mainestoryteller@yahoo.com. Read more of John's columns here.
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