The winding roads of Washington County feature some of the state’s most difficult terrain.

But the twists and turns along rocky coastlines and rolling blueberry barrens pale in comparison to the turbulent path through Augusta of a plan for a tribal racetrack casino in Down East Maine.

Since its introduction in February, the plan has seen widespread approval from lawmakers, strategic defections, private Blaine House meetings, an insurmountable veto, an improbable resurrection and – finally – a controversial return to the governor’s desk.

“This has been a unique experience,” said Sen. Peter Mills, R-Cornville, who led opposition to the bill in the Senate, where its 21-11 passage last week, although seemingly strong, raised more questions than answers about the bill’s fate.

The uncertainty comes in Gov. John E. Baldacci’s publicly hinging his support on “at least two-thirds” of lawmakers in each body backing a statewide referendum on the issue.

Typically, such referendums require only a simple majority.

While the Senate vote clearly met that majority threshold, it fell one vote – or more precisely one percentage point – short of Baldacci’s two-thirds preference designed to ensure the referendum had widespread support.

Since the Senate squeaker, the governor softened his stance, saying he didn’t want to “argue fractions” and would either sign or veto the bill in the next few days.

The bill would allow the Passamaquoddy Tribe, pending a statewide vote in November 2005, to operate up to 1,500 slot machines on or near its reservations in Washington County.

Just two weeks ago today Baldacci vetoed a nearly identical bill without the referendum requirement. The House of Representatives subsequently sustained his veto, and the bill was technically dead.

To paraphrase Mark Twain, however, reports of its death were greatly exaggerated, and the substitute referendum bill cleared the Legislature within days of the veto.

The governor’s willingness to entertain the referendum plan drew immediate fire from gambling opponents, including members of CasinosNO!, the Portland-based group that engineered the defeat of an Indian casino in 2003.

“There seems to be some desire to keep this bill alive no matter what,” said Valerie Landry, the group’s spokeswoman, who called the Passamaquoddy bill “the result of a late-night, back-room political deal.”

“It was more like late afternoon,” said Baldacci communications director Lee Umphrey, referring to the Blaine House meeting in which the governor told tribal leaders he would not oppose a referendum if it garnered enough legislative support.

The compromise, Umphrey said, was designed to balance the governor’s opposition to casino gambling and the need for economic development in Washington County, Maine’s poorest.

“He’s governor of all the people, not just those who are opposed to gambling,” Umphrey said.

Historically, casino gambling has been a touchier issue than most in Maine, where voters – despite claims from both sides of the debate – have been unclear about their willingness to try their luck with the new enterprise.

While defeating an Indian resort casino in southern Maine in 2003, voters approved a plan to place slot machines at the state’s harness racing tracks. As a result, Bangor, which gained the needed local approval, became the only eligible site for slots.

The Passamaquoddy bill is based on that existing law, which drew legions of lobbyists to the State House during its time in the Legislature.

Sponsored by Passamaquoddy Rep. Fred Moore, the tribal bill – at least initially – took a quieter path through Augusta with no paid lobbyists to sell the idea and, its opponents thought, little prospect of passage.

Even the bill’s harshest critics credit Moore with shoring up support for his plan long before opponents could mount a credible campaign against it.

“He was a good, low-key salesman,” Sen. Mills said. “This bill was very cleverly advanced and carefully managed.”

“We made it easy for reasonable people to say yes and difficult for reasonable people to say no,” Moore said, crediting the bill’s success, in part, to its link to harness racing.

Despite the eventual legislative support, some lawmakers – and Baldacci – did say no, arguing the racino would bring with it social and economic ills, including increased bankruptcy, embezzlement, suicide and divorce.

Moore’s bill also faced some unexpected obstacles, the latest of which came from gay rights advocates who, for fear of rallying conservative voters, didn’t want the slots question to share the 2005 ballot with an effort to repeal the state’s new anti-discrimination law.

With the Legislative debate over slots behind – at least for now – people like Moore and Landry eagerly await the governor’s next step.

But even if Baldacci vetoes the plan, neither side expects the debate to end anytime soon.

“The tribe has always viewed acceptance of gaming as a long-term process,” Moore said, raising the possibility of a citizen-initiated referendum in November 2006 should the current measure fail.

For Landry, however, the prospect of unrelenting attempts to expand gambling in Maine was a daunting one.

“If this is a sign of things to come, we have a very long road ahead of us,” she said.