Bangor shirks legacy in race to be copycat

At this juncture – just as Hollywood Slots is poised to open and make us all rich – criticizing the casino can elicit nothing but rancor from its boosters and those waiting in line with their figurative buckets of quarters. To suggest that the project is a bad idea is akin to denying the existence of God: there is hell to pay. But despite this danger, I must go on.

My recall may be flawed, but as I remember it, several years ago the harness racing industry pleaded with the state and the public, by way of referendum, for permission to install a reasonable number of slot machines at the track to infuse this long-standing Maine industry with enough capital to keep it trotting along. How did we make the leap from such a modest, relatively humble plan that would have had little effect on the visual and social landscape of this region, to the pretentious monolith perched on the banks of the river like a relic of some effete civilization?

The reason Maine rests so easy on the eyes is that its traditions and legacies have spoken to understatement, to a sort of languid beauty that soothes and is characteristically breathtaking but not asphyxiating. The low hills, the slow-moving rivers, the dense (but not towering) forests, the ragged coast that does not rise to the tectonic majesty of Hawaii or Oregon, the modest skylines of the places we generously refer to as our “cities.”

Now comes Hollywood Slots and I ask, why so big? Why so cartoonish? Why so out of scale with the surrounding landscape? Why a half-mile-long buffet? (Is anybody really willing to walk a half mile for a dollop of macaroni and cheese?) And last, what does a slots joint in little old Bangor have to do with Hollywood?

I think there are two reasons for such a dysfunctional concept. The first has to do with what many still consider to be Bangor’s poorest planning decision and most catastrophic blunder – the demolition of its riverine neighborhoods and their historic buildings in the early 1960s, because Bangor had subscribed to false promises of so-called “urban renewal.” That event, so sad and so bewildering, was a metaphor for short-sightedness. Bangor still hasn’t recovered from it.

Since that time, hobbled by the trauma perhaps, the city has not been able to pull together a vision or direction that was in any way unique or drew upon its rich history, opting instead for cheap-jack copycat projects like the Bangor Mall and its associated and seemingly endless sprawl. In other words, Bangor came to believe that it couldn’t come up with its own stuff, so it simply cloned what already existed elsewhere.

The second reason for the appearance of something of the dimensions and “style” of Hollywood Slots has to do with vanity and delusion. Small places have always longed to be big places, as if bigness were a virtue in itself. But there are many who recognize that smallness of scale has its own comforts, often unremarked but priceless nonetheless: manageable traffic, the charm and affirmation of knowing one’s neighbors, proximity to nature, and an abundance of sky, to name a few.

If two reasons aren’t enough, here’s a third. A casino does not respect boundaries. It grows and comes to define a place. And it spawns two bastard children: the first is a larger town budget as a result of the sudden surge in revenue. Which means that, despite the casino, there will still never be enough money.

The second offspring is even more malignant: the casino arrived as a guest, but in time it will likely own Bangor. Planning decisions will not be able to be drafted without considering their effect on the casino, for fear of alienating or even – gasp – losing the casino. Right now everyone seems happy with the way the financial pie has been sliced. But what happens when, eventually, Hollywood Slots begins to dictate how much it is willing to pay?

Recently there was a VIP tour of the almost-finished facility (I was not invited). I was listening to the radio report of the experience. One of the casino officials said something to the effect that when one is inside Hollywood Slots, one can’t tell whether he is in Bangor or Las Vegas. My response: Wonderful. I’ve always wanted to go someplace and not know where I was.

But, in actuality, I do know where the casino is. It’s planted right at the edge of one of Bangor’s poorest neighborhoods. Another miracle of foresight. Another tribute to Bangor’s planners.

Having committed my blasphemy, let the gaming begin.

Robert Klose of Orono teaches at University College of Bangor and is a frequent contributor to The Christian Science Monitor.