So long and thanks for all the fish!

From the December 15, 2005 Biddeford-Saco-OOB Courier

Talk about pressure and expectations . . .

Sure, I had a lot of ideas about what I could write in this space, but since most of us are smack dab in the middle of celebrating Christmas, Chanukah, Ramadan, Kwanza or the winter solstice — none of my ideas seemed appropriate.

For my last column, I wanted something clever and pithy; something that would make readers say, “boy, we’re sure going to miss that Seaver guy.”

But given the talent that is set to follow me in this space, it’s far more likely that most people will be very glad once my rambling has finally ceased. So this is it. This is where it ends. Kaput.

Jack Anderson, one of the best political columnists to ever bang on a typewriter, died on Saturday. His column ended roughly two years before his death, but his legacy inspired a generation of journalists. I was one of them.

No, I’m not comparing myself to the king of political muckrakers, it’s just that I’ve always hated bullies, and that resentment became the fuel for this column.

Maybe it’s because I was routinely bullied when I was a kid. Although I lived in fear of guys like Gray Phillips, I suffered at the hands of much less noble kids whom shall remain anonymous in the spirit of the approaching holiday.

I got to see Gray a few weeks ago, when I wrote an ad for his Saco-based real estate agency. When we were all kids at Young School in Saco, Gray Phillips was ranked as the second “toughest” kid in the school, but the funny thing is — I don’t recall ever seeing him in a fight.

When I reminded him of his ranking, Gray had only one question: “who was No. 1?” Not surprisingly, the toughest of the tough landed in prison, and his flawed reputation doesn’t need an additional public potshot from Randy Seaver just a few days before Christmas.

Gray, unlike the bullies, never flaunted his power. He was as confident and gracious then as he is now. He was (and is) a big, tough guy with a soft spot for the little guys. Many other kids were not as compassionate or decent.

Those little cretins know who they are, and they better hope their paths don’t cross mine anytime in the near future because I’m a lot bigger now than I was in the sixth grade.

When I think of all the milk money they stole from me (and the interest owed when compounded over a 30-year term) it’s like thinking of winning the lottery.

So, yes . . . I don’t like bullies, especially those who have been entrusted with power by voters and then develop egos that couldn’t fit into the new Biddeford Middle School gymnasium.

This is the 323rd installment of All Along the Watchtower, and it is the last one that will be published on these pages. I look back on those columns with a combination of loathing and fondness. As with all things, some of those columns were better than others.

I never played favorites. I went after liberals and conservatives; Democrats and Republicans; men and women, without discrimination.

But I wasn’t always as gracious as people like Gray Philips who know better than to abuse their power. The only thing I can say about my mistakes — when I crossed the line of public advocacy — is that I tried to learn from those follies without losing my zeal for exposing the bullies and their agendas.

Political bullies are very much like their school-yard counterparts. They’re just not as clever, and they often cloak themselves in robes of self-described nobility and purpose.

Jack Anderson went after the heavy-hitters like Richard Nixon and Sen. Chris Dodd. I had to settle for people like Richard Rhames and Jim Grattelo.

I have fond memories of this gig. I remember driving my old, beat-up Subaru around the Thacher Brook subdivision in Biddeford with Kyle Noble hiding on the floorboards of my passenger seat while we attempted to unearth a secret meeting of the City Council that was reportedly happening at Marc Lessard’s home.

Lessard spotted us as we circled the cul-de-sac for the fifth time and invited us inside his home for a drink with him and Grattelo. There was no secret meeting. So there you go, I’m no Jack Anderson.

I remember when Biddeford City Councilor Christina Manikas pounded the council dais with a stick that some public works employee errantly left on the front lawn of a Lamothe Avenue home, doing her best impression of Nikita “we will bury you” Khrushchev to the delight of public access television viewers throughout Biddeford.

And I remember when Saco City Councilor Leslie Smith fell asleep during a public meeting, just moments after he said, “I could give a zippity-doo-dah about being the deputy mayor.”

There are a lot more memories, probably enough to fill another 323 columns. But it’s time for me to move on and to say good-bye.

If you haven’t had enough, and if you’d like to read Laura’s thoughts about my pending departure from this gig, you can visit the All Along the Watchtower blog on the Internet.

There, you can read more of my (unedited) insipid ramblings about local politics while also viewing photos of my family and my beloved lawn. You can also post your own comments and help keep this column alive, if only in cyberspace.

The address is http://randyseaver.blogspot.com/ Or you can drop me a line at randyseaver@hotmail.com

So long, and thanks for all the fish. And yes, have yourself a very merry Christmas!