Duck in a Raincoat TEXT

Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform > Elan School

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Dethgurl:
Chapter Eighteen

"You gotta put it all in perspective."

Joe Ricci, the gubernatorial candidate was also Joe Ricci the plaintiff in a much publicized lawsuit against the state's largest bank. Many people were surprised that he jumped into the political arena. They were also surprised that he had the financial or emotional resources to do it, given his claims that the bank nearly destroyed him in both areas. Perhaps more surprised and concerned than anyone were his lawyers.

Dick Poulos cornered me day when I stopped by his law office. "Could we have a word or two," he asked, leading me into his private domain. "Can you control Joe?" he inquired. "Because you better be able to or we're in trouble with his lawsuit. This governor stuff," he continued, shaking his head in disbelief. "If Joe goes around the state mouthing off about all this corruption crap, especially about the attorney general's office which is part of the suit, he's liable to really blow his case." I explained that I couldn't control Joe more than he or anyone else could, but he disagreed. "I've had the same conversation with Linda," he explained. " I know who he listens to, and if you can just get him to confine the campaign to some newspaper ads, stuff we can review, we'll all be better off."

When the press asked Joe whether his candidacy was a vendetta toward Attorney General James Tierney for the alleged 'harassment' of Elan, Joe was quick to point out that his campaign had absolutely nothing to do with his lawsuit. The fact that Tierney was the favorite for the Democratic nomination was pure coincidence. Those close to Joe knew, however, that challenging Tierney, and garnering publicity for his lawsuit was an obsession. After he filed his nomination papers he eagerly asked "Do you think now that I'm running for governor I can finally get some national news coverage about me and the bank?"

I admired Joe's ability to juggle a number of balls at any given moment, but began to realize that he was more cunning than I ever imagined. Just after I returned from my convalescence in early December he informed me that he was planning to file a multi- million dollar lawsuit against the publishers of local newspapers in Portland, Augusta and Waterville, Maine.

He was charging them with "a pattern of gross negligence or active subversion" in the handling of advertising and news coverage involving him and Scarborough Downs. Joe hadn't liked some of the previous headlines covering his lawsuit because he felt they were misleading. And months earlier I had complained about a series of errors in advertising I had placed for Scarborough Downs.

Nevertheless I was surprised to find these complaints resulting in a lawsuit. But Joe felt his action would be "a preemptive strike" and keep the editors in line during his campaign and upcoming Key Bank trial. "A good offense is the best defense," he remarked, noting that the case would probably never be pursued. "But its worth a few hours of Dick and John's time to make the paper think twice when they're dealing with me," he observed.

I was later summoned to Joe's dining room table on Blackstrap Road to attend a meeting during which the content of John's brief was formulated. Then a few days after Christmas a twenty-two page complaint was filed in Cumberland County Superior Court, citing news stories written by reporters during the past two years that were "calculated to harm Joe Ricci's reputation by holding him up to public ridicule." It stated that coverage of his case against Key Bank "created confusion for the public and prospective jurors." It charged that numerous statements in news stories had been made with actual malice..."with knowledge they were false or with reckless disregard of whether they were false or not." It also listed the various misprints, omissions and errors relating to the servicing of Scarborough Downs advertising account and sought $500,000 in damages for lost profits and loss of reputation.

The entire suit sought $10.5 million in damages for 'the intentional infliction of emotional distress, invasion of privacy and breach of contract.' Joe was happy. He had another ball in the air, one more coal in the fire.

Earlier in December the Massachusetts federal court judge who presided over Joe's suit against Key bank for nearly two years withdrew, stating he was unable to schedule the four or five weeks necessary for the trial. A new judge, Bruce Selya of Rhode Island, was named as a replacement with the hope that his lighter case load would allow a definite trial date to be set. Joe had personally written to William Brownell, clerk of the U.S. District Court in Maine, complaining bitterly about the delays in the scheduling of his four year old case for trial. "I'm entitled to my day in court," he asserted, hinting that the postponements were part of a conspiracy by those sympathetic with the bank. "They want to break me down," he declared one day. "...They're hoping I'll run out of energy or money."
After Massachusetts Judge David Mazzone withdrew, it was apparent a trial date would most likely be set as soon as Judge Selya's less hectic schedule had an opening, and courtroom space in Portland was available for the lengthy court room spectacle. Every indication was that Joe's case would finally be heard by a jury that spring, near the time of the primaries for the Democratic gubernatorial race. Joe knew this, but didn't seem to see any conflict between having to be both in court and on the campaign trail. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he observed.

A month later he fired his trial counsel, Daniel Lilley, because he had read in the paper that Lilley co-owned a Portland apartment building with a member of the Cianchette family. The Cianchettes were his enemies, and he asked how he could trust an attorney who had business dealings with them. Lilley had spent a year and a half on the case, and Joe's other attorneys Poulos and Campbell, and Reeder were shocked to see Lilley abruptly cut off just as it appeared the case was finally headed for trial. But Joe was adamant and did not seem worried about finding replacement counsel.

On a Saturday night in mid-January a belated Christmas party at the Scarborough Downs clubhouse was scheduled for Elan staffers, and the dozen or so Scarborough employees who were then working year round. Joe also invited his four campaign researchers, including a woman named Donna who had been hired just two days earlier. The Downs' Club chef prepared a simple buffet, and the bar in the lower clubhouse was open to everyone, offering as many free spirits as people wanted to consume.

Joe talked to Dan and me early in the evening, but as the night wore on it was apparent he was seeking other forms of entertainment. He began dancing with secretaries, and disappeared without Linda for different lengths of time. Dan and I sipped wine, and got into a long conversation with one researcher, and noted that three of the others had disappeared. Eventually we left to meet our baby-sitter's curfew, and we couldn't find Joe to say good-bye.

That Monday morning, while sitting at my desk at Scarborough Downs, I received an urgent call from Dan who was at the campaign office. Donna had just walked in and given him her letter of resignation which stated that for personal reasons she had to leave the campaign. With the letter she also handed Dan a plastic baggie containing three marijuana cigarettes. "Please give this back to Joe. Tell him I don't want it. That's not what I'm about," she said.
Donna was a petite woman in her early twenties, a single mother of a toddler. She had come to Joe's campaign with two years of college. The day she was hired she told us she needed the job, since she was recently divorced, and supporting herself and her daughter. But less than a week later she walked away from her only source of income. She told Dan that she had previously had a problem with drugs, and didn't want to deal with it again. She also said she was disillusioned by her experience with Joe, and after thinking about it all weekend realized she wanted out before she invested any more time in the job.

After talking to some of the other researchers Dan and I learned that Joe had invited Donna and a group of four or five others to his apartment in the clubhouse the night of the party. There they apparently smoked marijuana, or used cocaine. We were shocked and concerned that Joe was foolishly setting himself up for a fall.

How could the owner and therapeutic director of an adolescent treatment center behave this way, especially when he was a candidate for governor determined to pull the plug on everything that was wrong with everyone else? Did he think he was above reproach? Was he reckless, or just hopelessly arrogant?

Dan was intense on the telephone. He wanted me to call Joe and tell him what had happened. "This is absolutely insane," he whispered loudly in the receiver. "Here I am with drugs in my desk drawer at the office of a candidate for governor, and a researcher for that campaign has just resigned because the candidate tried to ply her with dope. You better call him, or I will, and as you know, I won't be as diplomatic as you."
Joe reacted to the news of the incident (which I described to him in a flat tone devoid of emotion) by asking me where the marijuana was, and then telling me to tell Dan to get rid of it immediately. "This could be a set-up," he observed. "...Donna could have been an operative for the DEA sent in to infiltrate our campaign. Call me back after you've talked to Dan." When I called Dan back, Joe was already on another line with Dan giving him the same instructions he gave me.

That afternoon Joe called and told me that I had shocked him that morning. He realized his behavior at the party had been foolish. He said even if nothing came of "the Donna matter" he was going to be as clean as a whistle for the rest of the campaign, "a recluse." He promised that he "wouldn't even go out" at night for fear that anything he did might be misconstrued. "I'll be cleaner than the rest or else I know I'll be in trouble. We've all invested too much in this campaign to let it get destroyed by any of my indiscretions. I really don't even do that stuff anymore," he added. "It's just that the party was kind of a blow-out because I've been cooped up all winter. Wouldn't it be ironic if they got me because of that one isolated instance?" he asked.

Dan and I talked later that night, and questioned our continued support for Joe, given what we then knew. We had mixed feelings. We were disgusted with his behavior, but he had seemed repentant, and probably was scared into not letting anything like that happen again. How could we realistically abandon him ? He had given us a trip to Jamaica two months earlier. Didn't we owe him another chance? Also, I reasoned that if I walked away from the campaign it probably also would mean forfeiting my advertising post at Scarborough Downs . We reluctantly decided to stay and plough ahead.

What followed was an unprecedented period of closeness among the three of us as we traveled around the state of Maine in Joe's private plane making public appearances. Joe was full of energy, and to the best of our knowledge, drug free. He was also very solicitous of Dan and me, asking our opinions and stroking our egos." I couldn't be doing this without you and Dan," he'd often say when he was alone with me. Or when the three of us were together, he'd declare "You two are great."

The rest of the Committee to elect was inactive, making their presence felt only at the committee meetings scheduled every two weeks, or whenever Joe got the urge for a larger audience. The exceptions were Martha, who computed the campaign payroll and approved all campaign related expenditures, and Linda, who occasionally accompanied us on plane trips to outlying areas.

Looking back on those days on the campaign trail I remember mostly the blur of constant activity from early morning until late at night. Dan and I would begin work about 8 am, attending meetings and making calls before Joe awoke. He'd usually phone us from his bedroom on Blackstrap around 11am. He'd want an update on that evening's itinerary, and randomly talk about items in the news. He'd then work out, lifting weights in his home gym and call us again, sometimes two or three more times, before we had to drive over to his house to accompany him to a political gathering.

If the trip by car was more than two hours he'd insist on taking his plane and then we'd merely drive from his house to the airport ten miles away.
Each week day that Joe had an evening engagement either Dan or I had to pick our son up at his school in Portland and make the hour trek to our home where a baby-sitter was waiting. We'd zip in and out of the house, arriving at Joe's doorstep frenzied, having had a sub or some crackers for dinner.

After making a campaign appearance, Joe would often want to stop for a drink. By the time we got him back to Blackstrap Road it was usually after 11pm, and we'd rush home to relieve our baby-sitter. Often we'd be so wound up we couldn't succumb to sleep until 2am, and would awake four hours later to the same routine.

Sandwiched between Joe's varied campaign appearances was the creation of radio and television ads and the production STATEWATCH his live call-in radio show which aired every Sunday night. In the midst of all this I recall only stolen snatches of family life. Our son Ben learned to ride the bike he got for Christmas on Easter Sunday afternoon during the two hours of leisure time Dan and I had before we headed to Portland to prepare Joe's script for that night's radio program.

I attended my mother's 75th birthday party 150 miles away, but drove back to Maine the same day. Just thinking about the intensity of that four month period between January and May of 1986 induces anxiety...

One of the first official campaign appearances was a candidate's night in Millinocket in late January to which all five of the Democratic gubernatorial hopefuls had been invited. Located over 150 miles from Portland, Millinocket was a three hour drive. Joe decided he would fly in that evening with Linda just in time for the 7pm dinner. Because the format was unfamiliar Dan and I were dispatched to drive down earlier in the day to "scope things out" .

We arrived late afternoon and checked into a room in the hotel where the gathering was taking place, and located the small airfield where Nelson, Joe's pilot, had told us to meet him. Waiting for sight of the plane on the horizon we listened to the local radio station discuss the evening's event. Excitement was in the air.

Joe had been raring to go earlier that morning, so we weren't prepared for the jittery person who emerged from the plane. The tailwinds had been frightful and he and Linda had been bounced up and down during the flight. "You two had the right idea," he observed with a tinge of bitterness in his voice. Linda looked pale, and wearing a knit suit with a black turtleneck was dressed more conservative than usual.

We took them to our room to freshen up where our own belongings were still packed in an overnight bag stored in the closet. We had arranged at our own expense some champagne on ice, crackers and pate to celebrate later that night. Joe took one look at the chilling champagne, however, and asked if we’d mind having a glass then. We toasted the campaign trail "wherever it leads us" and walked down the hall to the gathering.
Jim Tierney wasn't there, and the other candidates who did attend, State representative Bill Diamond, gubernatorial aide Dave Redmond, and lobbyist Severin Beliveau, were cordial to Joe and each other.

Joe suffered through a dinner before he started pacing the hotel corridor.
Later the four of us went back to the room and finished, the not so bubbly champagne while Joe criticized the other candidates for being wimpy. When he finally put his coat on, Dan and I snapped to attention, ready to transport him to the plane. But Joe didn't want to fly back yet. Instead he asked Dan to drive him to a local liquor store. A half hour later they both returned with Joe wielding a liter and a half bottle of some bottom shelf wine I'd never seen before. He explained that every decent store was closed, "so beggars can't be choosers." He quickly consumed the entire bottle, pacing around the hotel room while Linda, Dan and I listened to his observations about the other candidates, which came complete with comic impersonations.

It was long after midnight when we dropped Joe and Linda off at the plane, and bleary eyed Nelson came out of his waiting area to greet us, so he could fly his boss safely home.

Joe was invited to speak at a Rotary Club luncheon in Presque Isle (100 miles north of Millinocket) on February 3rd which was Linda's 34th birthday. Linda had expressed some ambivalence about going, but I gently encouraged her, commenting that I didn't want to be the only other woman there. She finally agreed to go, so Dan and I decided it'd be nice to give her a little 'surprise party' on the plane. I ordered her a chocolate torte from a local bakery, bought a bottle of champagne, and arranged with Nelson to have the champagne on ice, and the decorated dessert ready when we returned after the lunch. She was really surprised when she stepped on board and saw the tray table set with four fluted glasses and a bucket of bubbly. Joe was surprised too, and told us " This was very thoughtful of you." After we were airborne we toasted Linda, and she doled out small slivers of the torte.

The next day Dan and I received a handwritten note from her thanking us for our unexpected kindness on her birthday. I thought nothing more about our gesture until about a week later when I was talking to Joe about something he had said at the Rotary Club. "You know," he interrupted me with a strange look in his eye. "..I wanted to throw that birthday cake at you that you got for Linda...That whole scene was really a piece of work." He abruptly changed the subject as I sat stunned wondering what had offended him. Later I realized that it had angered him that I conspired with Nelson, who was his pilot and his employee. Only Joe had a right to ask give him orders. I had overstepped a boundary, and stolen the spotlight from Joe.

February heralded the premier of Joe's radio show called STATEWATCH, which was broadcast at local station WYNZ in Scarborough. The format was modeled after radio call-in shows and the program began with pre-taped dramatic opening music with a voice over stating:

This is Statewatch with Joseph Ricci, Democratic candidate for governor talking with Maine guests and accepting calls from YOU. This is YOUR chance to call the candidate and express YOUR concerns, offer YOUR opinions about the state we're in.

Joe would introduce his studio guest, announce the call- in number, and wait for the phones lines to light up. During the rest of the hour he'd field phone calls, his mood running the gamut from gracious host, and insightful arbiter to savvy cynic and tough talker. Never did he sound like a traditional political candidate running for office, and the audience in the early broadcasts was attracted to this irrepressible individual. They liked a 'straight shooter' who didn't dilute his dialogue.

That winter the state of Maine was informed by the U.S. Department of Energy (D.O.E.) that two sites in Maine were among those being considered for a high level nuclear waste dump. A series of public meetings were scheduled throughout the two regions - Sebago Lake in southern Maine and Lincoln up north -for members of the D.O.E. to receive testimony from concerned citizens. It was a volatile issue and, sensing an opportunity to express outrage that Maine's representatives allowed this to happen; Joe jumped on the bandwagon,

He invited two men, Alva Morrison and Al Philbrook, leaders of the Maine Nuclear Referendum Committee (MNRC) to his radio show twice in one month to discuss the origin of nuclear wastes, its health hazards, and the politics underlying its production. Morrison was the founder of MNRC which had successfully defeated a state-wide voter referendum authorizing storage of low level nuclear waste. Philbrook, a former nuclear engineer was also active in this organization that had continued to work for the shutdown of Maine Yankee, a nuclear power plant in Wiscassett 50 miles north of Portland.

It wasn't until the furor over the possible storage of the nation's high level waste on Maine land, that many Maine citizens seriously looked at production of waste in Maine, and considered calling for a shutdown of its reactor. Though Joe didn't admit it, he too was among those ill-informed citizens who waited until the 11th hour to jump on the anti-nuclear bandwagon. He had discussed his position on nuclear power, and decided a slow ten year phase out would be his platform.

Within a month of the D.O.E.'s announcement about Maine, however, he changed his tune, calling for an immediate shut down of production at Maine Yankee.
He also showed up at the public hearings held in school auditoriums, and city halls. After listening to a number of convoluted questions and largely forgettable public testimony directed to members of the D.O.E, who were seated on stage, Joe would swagger up to the microphone, face the men from Washington, and make a bombastic remark, eliciting applause from the angry audience.

At one public hearing held in Casco Joe was surprised to find Maine's congressional delegation and Governor Brennan in attendance. He glared at Brennan across the room and shouted "Joe I've been following you for a long time..." He then charged that Brennan and his 'sidekick Tierney' had not legally challenged the D.O.E's authority as the state of Vermont had done. And as he spoke he seemed to get more incensed, building momentum with his mannerisms (one press account said he whipped off his scarf like a wet towel in a locker room) "Our attorney general should be mounting a legal challenge, " he told the crowd. "...and if we have to sue on ten legal fronts for twenty years, we should, and if we lose we can perhaps take a lesson from Mahatma Gandhi and lay down in front of your trucks!"
The crowd cheered wildly. Joe had learned how to incite an audience while creating quotes for the press. It was he more than anyone else who made the news the day after a hearing, and he loved it...

While the nuclear issue was a major thrust of Joe's campaign, there were other dominant themes that punctuated his platform. Chief among these was his avowed concern for women, and working people. In mid-February he had Marge Clark, state coordinator for the National Organization For Women, as a guest on STATEWATCH. During this show he talked about the "abominable conditions" for women in the state of Maine, citing the lack of crisis centers for women who had nowhere to go when they were "battered either physically or psychologically." He observed that there should be safe houses in every major city in the state "...so women could reevaluate their relationships, and be able to redirect their lives." He lamented the lack of economic opportunities for women, noting that there are some people out there who would like to see them "...still chewing on buffalo ropes or making moccasins." He said "Women are getting battered all over society, not only being raped, but deprived of economic development." Regarding abortion he observed that a woman should have control of her own body, and claimed he supported ERA. In the course of the hour broadcast he also noted that he wasn't married, but was a man who had a great relationship with a woman, declaring "She doesn't want to dominate me, and I don't dominate her."

A few weeks later he had two leaders of the striking railroad union at Maine's Guilford Industries as guests on his radio show and proclaimed that business in the state of Maine was "engaging in union busting tactics, and cared nothing for Maine's working people." He said that people in the state deserved more than being jacked around by greedy big business who used people as pawns in what amounted to a true life game of Monopoly.

Around this same time Joe granted an in-depth interview to Scott Allen, a reporter for MAINE TIMES, who was compiling a major profile piece on all the gubernatorial candidates. During a two hour interview at his home Joe railed against the 'professional politicians' commenting that "These guys change the rules in the middle of the game anytime they want..." He called them:"...a bunch of abusive, greedy, corrupt, power mad morons..." and proclaimed that he was"...a different kind of Democrat who won't be bought off, and can't be scared off." This interview resulted in an article featuring Joe on the front page of the newspaper wearing a dress shirt and tie, but sporting a pair of boxing gloves, and a come and get me look in his eye. The headline read: Ricci's willing to pay the price to put on the gloves with the Democrats...The flamboyant Ricci adds spice to an otherwise bland gubernatorial race. The accompanying article portrayed him as a businessman with an anti-corporate philosophy stating "Ricci sees himself as an everyman, his problems with government reflections of the average citizens on a grander scale."

To the casual observer Joe Ricci was the quintessential concerned candidate, albeit a bit eccentric. "I'm a liberal activist Democrat," he often announced, and there was little reason for anyone to doubt it. Few questioned his underlying attitudes towards women because he projected only support for them. Not a soul asked why he fired Debra Therrien at Scarborough Downs for no apparent reason only two days after touting her prestigious position as the country's first female assistant general manager of a harness racetrack.

Nobody probed to discover how a single mother was forced to quit her job as his campaign assistant because she did not want to share drugs with him. Nor did anyone make a fuss over his preference for hiring only slender and attractive women as mutuel cashiers, and waitresses. And hearing of his pro-choice stance regarding reproduction, nobody remembered that during a newspaper interview years earlier he had said flatly that abortion was murder, no matter what.

Did anyone contemplate the champion of working people’s’ batting record with his own employees at Scarborough Downs and Elan? How many had been fired at whim without notice, and left out on a limb with no income, or health care coverage? Why was Scarborough Downs one of the few tracks without unionized mutuel sellers? Did everyone believe him when he previously stated in a newspaper ad that he had helped form the Arnold Bakeries union as a youth when he worked at the plant in his hometown of Port Chester? Didn't anyone know the union there was formed years before he was born?

The more I listened to Joe as I sat beside him in the tiny broadcast booth during his weekly radio shows, and at his dining room table on Blackstrap Road, the more I wanted to believe that he was the person he projected. I wanted to help direct the campaign of a candidate who really cared about women's issues, fair working conditions, poverty, health care and the environment, but I wondered if such a politician existed.

Yet, I didn't believe then that Joe was actually the antithesis of who he claimed to be. I thought he was just a flawed imitation. If I had been more aware (perhaps less exhausted) I perhaps could have detected the hollow mimicry of emotions, the genuine lack of empathy, the inability to experience guilt.

The closest I ever came to realizing Joe's total insensitivity came one bitterly cold morning, January 28th, 1986. Joe had called me at Scarborough Downs from his home where he had just finished exercising. His television blared in the background. He was talking about an impending campaign ad when he suddenly seemed distracted. "Wow..." he announced into the receiver. "...the space shuttle just blew up. "
"What?" I asked, "Was anyone in it?" (I had been watching the news before going into work that morning, and thought it wasn't going to lift off because of the weather conditions. Last I heard the astronauts were perhaps going to disembark) "Yeah... " he answered, ".all of them, all blown up...wait...they're doing an instant replay..." he responded, as though he were watching a ball game. He seemed more curious than anything else. I felt sick, shocked. "How?" I asked numbly. "What happened?" "I don't know," he continued, "...I'll go check it out, and call you back if you want. By the way, Did you see that piece in the paper today?" he asked suddenly shifting the subject back to his campaign.

Minutes later everyone in the clubhouse had come out of the offices, watching the television in the reception area. We were all aghast at what happened. Then Joe called again. "Hi..." his voice was calm over the phone. "Did you see the TV?" I expressed my horror at the disaster, and expected the commiseration that usually happens between people in times of public tragedy, but Joe seemed annoyed: "I don't know why everyone's so upset," he commented. "So six astronauts and a high school teacher get blown up in a rocket trying to get to outta space. What about the marines that were just killed in Lebanon? You gotta put it all in perspective," he concluded.

Later he worked that American nightmare into one of his campaign speeches to illustrate his support of pay hikes for teachers "Instead of grieving over Christi McAuliff after she's dead, we should've paid her better when she was alive," he declared.

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