Nepo kids and other annoyances
If you want to win an election in Maine, the surest path to success is to visit your local probate court and change your name to Margaret Chase Smith Jr. So beloved is St. Maggie Sr. that voters wouldn’t know or care if the former Republican U.S. senator couldn’t possibly be the person on the ballot because she’s been dead since 1995. Somebody tagged with that sacred name would cruise to a landslide victory for Congress or governor, regardless of their imposter status.
The only way that wouldn’t happen is if your opponent was some scoundrel who’d convinced a judge to allow him to change his name to Edmund S. Muskie Jr. Or maybe Percival Baxter Jr. Now the race would be more of a toss-up, since the namesake for the former was a Democratic governor, senator and U.S. secretary of state, while the latter evokes the ex-governor who gave us Baxter State Park.
This awesome power of a legendary name isn’t mere conjecture on my part. In 1994, James Longley Jr. won election to the U.S. House from the state’s liberal 1st District, even though he was a conservative Republican and a bit of a doofus. That oddball result was directly related to significant numbers of voters mistakenly believing they were casting ballots for young James’ father, an independent ex-governor, who’d been dead for 14 years.
Now we’re on the verge of a new age of political nepotism. The Democratic gubernatorial primary field contains not one but two contenders trading less on their platforms and more on their names.
The prime offender is Angus King III, son of Angus II, our current independent U.S. senator and former governor (as with Super Bowls and popes, all Angus Kings are identified by Roman numerals, because, well, they’re kings, aren’t they?). The younger King has no political experience, but does bear an uncanny resemblance to an iconic American figure. If AK3 dyed his hair brown and knocked out one of his front teeth, he’d be a dead ringer for Alfred E. Neuman, Mad magazine’s mascot. Neuman’s motto of “What, me worry?” could serve as the campaign slogan of a candidate running on the expectation voters will mistake him for his father and never demand he stand for anything (sorta like his dad).
Then there’s Chellie Pingree Jr., a moniker that’s not entirely fair, because the congresswoman from the 1st District didn’t really stick her daughter with that label, instead dubbing her Margaret Chase Smith Jr.
Just kidding. Her name is Hannah.
Her qualifications include having a palindrome for a first name, being a former speaker of the Maine House of Representatives (a position that’s attracted more than its share of bumblers, dictators and the occasional Whig) and, until recently, the head of the Governor’s Office of Policy Innovation and the Future. Hard to say what that last job entailed, but Maine hasn’t seen much innovation and the future remains elusive. Nevertheless, her ex-boss thinks Pingree would make a cool governor and should change her name to Janet Mills Jr.
OK, enough nepo kids. Let’s get to a different class of Democratic losers.
Such as Troy Jackson, former president of the Maine Senate, a post as likely to raise one’s public profile as membership in Alcoholics Anonymous. Jackson is a logger, labor advocate and political klutz. He’s been a Republican, an independent and now a Democrat. If somebody as clueless as Paul LePage could be elected governor, so could Jackson.
Maine Secretary of State Shenna Bellows is a former civil liberties advocate and wildly unsuccessful U.S. Senate candidate who got national publicity for trying to keep Donald Trump off Maine’s 2024 presidential ballot before being overruled by the U.S. Supreme Court. She did manage to issue new vehicle license plates with a pine tree giving other motorists the finger.
Kenneth Forrest Pinet identifies himself on Instagram as “A proud Gen Xer 1968 from Maine.” On TikTok, he supports diversity, equity and inclusiveness, which he defines as, among other things, diaper-changing tables in men’s restrooms. He’s run for stuff before without anyone noticing.
All these folks would benefit from a name change. Joshua Chamberlain Jr. is still up for grabs.
Since last month’s column on GOP gubernatorial candidates, a couple of new — but hardly consequential — hopefuls have joined the field. Real estate agent David Jones shares a name with the late lead singer of the Monkees and the dude with the undersea locker. He’s not related to either one. Owen McCarthy co-founded a medical device company and otherwise has no qualifications for the office.
I also neglected to include Shawn Moody, who owns a chain of auto-body shops and already has two failed Blaine House bids on his resume, and Garrett Mason, a former state senator and Christian Nationalist who got clobbered by Moody in the 2018 primary.
Both are considering changing their names to Angus King IV. Or maybe Angus King V.
Comments, related or otherwise, can be e-mailed to aldiamon@herniahill.net.
