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Letter From The Editor·
"If it's not here today, " we'll have it tomorrow,
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11 CUJ~aJr~~ane. CBOK gg 1.JA. ~gunqutt v'Uatne Og907 207-646-g2g2 • FRO M THE EDITOR • B nll1l<eb<erry Barr<eilll§
We were on Gooch's Beach in Kennebunk one recent night enjoying a clambake when our friend Larry, a carpenter from Kennebunkport, mentioned he'd just come back from Nuremberg, Germany, where he'd built a Maine-style home for some people. "Nuremberg?" I asked. "Like in Judgment At Nuremberg, with SpencerTracy? "Yes," Larry said, enthusiastically ripping open a lobster tail. "The guy was from Maine," Isaid. "Yeah?" "Uh huh. The judge, the Spencer Tracy character. James Friedman from the Maine School of Law was telling me about it last week. He thinks the part about his being from Maine was fictional, because in the movie they say he was an elected judge, and Maine didn't have elected judges then or now. He said, 'He always plays the flinty, old fashioned, just-plain guy, so having him from a backwoods state would seem appropriate. The U.S.was losing its taste for the trials by then, anyway, because of the Cold War, so they needed someone with nothing to lose.' You know, the Justice Department probably figured, 'He's old, he's from Maine. Great! He's already finished!' Was that big thing still there?" "What thing?"
"The place where they held all the rallies. You know, that enormous thin!!?" "Sure. They don't know what to do with it. There are signs in German, telling about the different parts of it. It's not for tourists. They just want to know." "Big,huh?" Idipped a claw in some butter. "Iguess," he said. "As big as this beach?"
I followed Larry's eyes down the beach. It was about a mile long, a dull gray sweep at low tide with the Narragansett Condominiums on one side and the breakwater and the Colony Hotel on the other. Itwas big enough so that you couldn't really see people at the far end. "Bigger." "So how big?"
I watched Larry chew. Then he tossed a claw on top of the shell heap. "Ican't think of a comparable place in Maine. Wait a second. Do you know the blueberry fields of Sanford?" "The blueberry barrens? The ones created by the 1947 fire? They are Sanford. They swallow up the old Naval Air Station and go out in all directions as far as the eye can see. Only Mount Agamenticus stops them." "Like that."
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