The Globe spoke to Seitz-Wald about his reporting on the Platner campaign, how the Villager approaches its political coverage, and whether local news outlets need to be able to effectively share their reporting outside of their communities. The interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.

I thought I was getting away from national politics, but they pulled me back in. The day before Platner launched, I got a text from an old source who I’ve known for a long time, who said, “I’ve got a candidate who’s gonna jump into the main Senate race. He’s a harbormaster of this small town, Sullivan.”

I got on the phone with Platner and was just blown away by how fully formed his message was and how articulate he was. We did a story on it, along with the New York Times and everybody else. And indeed, he did become a thing.

Then, of course, [Maine Governor Janet] Mills gets in, the “oppo” comes out, and the race suddenly takes on this whole other layer of interest and meaning. The thing that I was immediately seeing was that all the yard signs are still up, and the people that I talked to in the days after he announced who were into him were still supporting him.

That’s when I started to see there’s clearly something that’s being missed in the national coverage. I’ve covered probably hundreds of campaigns — I have seen up close and personal what a dying campaign looks like. I’m very familiar with a campaign on its last legs, and this is not that.

Absolutely. I think we all agree that there are not enough reporters in the rest of the country, and too many reporters in New York and DC. I agreed with that when I was a DC reporter.

When we live in an information ecosystem where there just are not many boots on the ground reporting up facts from how things are happening, and we simultaneously have this demand for instantaneous analysis and understanding of what’s going on the ground, you’re inevitably going to get false assumptions or perceptions, because people want to come to a conclusion right away about what’s happening. But we’re just not getting those information streams.

I do. We’re covering our communities, but we also are sort of spokespeople for the outside world for our communities, and that’s not a role that national media plays or feels equipped to play. But I think it’s appropriate for local media to sort of be champions of your community.

One of the things that I felt, and some of my colleagues felt, is that Maine was getting short shrift from the way it was being portrayed. “Oh they’re all willing to support a neo-Nazi, because it’s the whitest state in the country.” For us in Maine, that’s not what’s going on here, and it’s almost a little bit offensive. You want to speak up.

Absolutely, that’s the thing we think about a lot. And there’s a balancing test there. Frankly, we’re going after grant money. We just hired a director of development so that national media is nice, because everyone is vain and likes to say that. But there’s a strategic purpose there, which is to hopefully help us raise more money.

But the ultimate goal has to be for the local community. Anything that we are doing nationally is ultimately to serve the local community, directly or not. I think we’re very mindful of that.

We were four newspapers. We consolidated into one. The three towns had their own individual newspapers, and we’re now a regional paper. There’s inevitably some resentment and sense of loss, and I totally get that. I would love to live in a world where we could support four independent newspapers, but that’s just not the reality. So that criticism is valid.

We’ve definitely seen some increased traffic. One of the top search terms that gets people to the Villager is Graham Platner, but that’s obviously people who are not local. It’s nice to have that. But really, we care about the local audience.

(Following the interview, Seitz-Wald told the Globe that the the Villager gained roughly 100 new subscribers in the wake of the Times article.)

We are experts in our community, so we’ve set this very high bar for political stories where it’s like we need to have a clear local angle or a frame on it that is something that only we can do.

We did an early Platner story that was about his oysters — what did his oysters taste like. There’s a big aquaculture industry, and people care about that stuff. Ideally, any political story that the Villager does should be a political story that only the Villager could do.

Absolutely. I love national news. I love NBC. They were great to me.

But as much as I love covering national campaigns, I would be one of 50 reporters at an event. I have never felt more useful to the world than I do now. The first two Graham Platner events I went to, I was the only reporter there, and that’s the standard. If we’re not there, it doesn’t get covered. And then there’s not just no news about it for our community, but there’s no record about it for history.

And so it feels so vital and important what I’m doing, even though people would say it’s smaller. Maybe, but to me, it’s so much more impactful.

Aidan Ryan can be reached at aidan.ryan@globe.com. Follow him @aidanfitzryan.

A group of moderate Democrats has a tentative deal to reopen the government if Republicans promise to hold a vote on expiring health care subsidies by December, a potential breakthrough as lawmakers seek to end the shutdown.

The group of three former governors — New Hampshire Sen. Jeanne Shaheen, New Hampshire Sen. Maggie Hassan and Independent Sen. Angus King of Maine — has a deal to pass three annual spending bills and extend the rest of government funding until late January, according to three people familiar with the agreement who requested anonymity until the deal is made public.

The deal was far from final, and final passage of the legislation could take several days. Republicans had not yet said whether they support the deal, and it was unclear whether there would be enough Democrats to support it absent their central demand through the now 40-day shutdown — an extension of the Affordable Care Act tax credits that expire Jan. 1.

After Democrats met for over two hours to discuss the proposal, Senate Democratic leader Chuck Schumer emerged to say he would vote “no.” Independent Sen. Bernie Sanders of Vermont, who caucuses with the Democrats, said as he walked into the meeting that it would be a “horrific mistake to cave in to Trump right now.”

Republicans have been working with the group of moderates as the shutdown continued to disrupt flights nationwide, threaten food assistance for millions of Americans and leave federal workers without pay. But many Democrats have warned their colleagues against giving in, arguing that they can’t end the fight without an agreement to extend the health subsidies.

Majority Leader John Thune, R-S.D., said earlier in the day that a potential deal was “coming together.” But he has not yet publicly endorsed it.

“We’ll see where the votes are,” Thune said.

Returning to the White House on Sunday evening after attending a football game, Trump did not say whether he endorsed the deal. But he said, “It looks like we’re getting close to the shutdown ending.”

Democrats have now voted 14 times not to reopen the government as they have demanded the extension of tax credits that make coverage more affordable for health plans offered under the Affordable Care Act. Republicans have refused to negotiate on the health care subsidies while the government is closed, but they have so far been supportive of the proposal from moderate Democrats as it emerged over the last several days.

The contours of a deal

The agreement would fund parts of government — food aid, veterans programs and the legislative branch, among other things — and extend funding for everything else until the end of January. It would take up Republicans on their longstanding offer to hold a future vote on the health care subsidies, with that vote occurring by the middle of December, the people said.

The deal would reinstate federal workers who had received reduction in force, or layoff, notices and reimburses states that spent their own funds to keep federal programs running during the shutdown. It would also protect against future reductions in force through January, the people said, and guarantee all federal workers would be paid once the shutdown is over.

Democratic Sen. Tim Kaine of Virginia, home to millions of federal workers, said he would support the deal.

“I have long said that to earn my vote, we need to be on a path toward fixing Republicans’ health care mess and to protect the federal workforce,” Kaine said.

Alongside the funding fix, Republicans released final legislative text of three full-year spending bills Sunday. That legislation keeps a ban on pay raises for lawmakers but boosts their security by $203.5 million in response to increased threats. There’s also a provision championed by Sen. Mitch McConnell, R-Ky., to prevent the sale of some hemp-based products.

Democratic pushback expected

Republicans only need five votes from Democrats to reopen the government, so a handful of senators could end the shutdown with only the promise of a later vote on health care. Around 10 to 12 Democrats have been involved in the talks, and the three people familiar with the agreement said they had enough votes to join with Republicans and pass the deal.

Many of their Democratic colleagues are saying the emerging deal is not enough.

“I really wanted to get something on health care,” said Michigan Sen. Elissa Slotkin. “I’m going to hear about it right now, but it doesn’t look like it has something concrete.”

House Democrats were also chiming in against it. Texas Rep. Greg Casar, the chairman of the Congressional Progressive Caucus, said a deal that doesn’t reduce health care costs is a “betrayal” of millions of Americans who are counting on Democrats to fight.

“Accepting nothing but a pinky promise from Republicans isn’t a compromise — it’s capitulation,” Casar said in a post on X. “Millions of families would pay the price.”

Rep. Angie Craig of Minnesota posted that “if people believe this is a ‘deal,’ I have a bridge to sell you.”

Even if the Senate were to move forward with funding legislation, getting to a final vote could take several days if Democrats who oppose the deal object and draw out the process. The first vote, which could come as soon as Sunday evening, would be to proceed to consideration of the legislation.

Republicans preview health care debate

There is no guarantee that the Affordable Care Act subsidies would be extended if Republicans agree to a future vote on health care. House Speaker Mike Johnson, R-La., has said he will not commit to a health vote.

Some Republicans have said they are open to extending the COVID-19-era tax credits as premiums could skyrocket for millions of people, but they also want new limits on who can receive the subsidies and argue that the tax dollars for the plans should be routed through individuals.

Other Republicans, including Trump, have used the debate to renew their yearslong criticism of the law and called for it to be scrapped or overhauled.

“THE WORST HEALTHCARE FOR THE HIGHEST PRICE,” Trump said of the Affordable Care Act in a post Sunday.

Shutdown effects worsen

Meanwhile, the consequences of the shutdown were compounding. U.S. airlines canceled more than 2,000 flights on Sunday for the first time since the shutdown began, and there were more than 7,000 flight delays, according to FlightAware, a website that tracks air travel disruptions.

Treasury Secretary Sean Duffy said on CNN’s “State of the Union” that air travel ahead of the Thanksgiving holiday will be “reduced to a trickle” if the government doesn’t reopen.

At the same time, food aid was delayed for tens of millions of people as Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program benefits were caught up in legal battles related to the shutdown. More than two dozen states warned of “catastrophic operational disruptions” as Trump’s administration is demanding states “undo” benefits paid out under judges’ orders last week, now that the U.S. Supreme Court has stayed those rulings.

And in Washington, home to millions of federal workers who have gone unpaid, the Capital Area Food Bank said it is providing 8 million more meals than it had prepared to this budget year — a nearly 20% increase.

___

Associated Press writers Stephen Groves and Kevin Freking contributed to this report.

As a young man, I read Hemingway and Steinbeck, Harrison and McGuane. Along the way, the fly-fishing raconteur Richard Brautigan brought tears to my eyes while the rabid environmentalist Edward Abbey had me raising my fists in outrage.

I took to heart the words of Gary Snyder, the acclaimed poet turned Buddhist, found in his thought-provoking book, “Practice of the Wild”:

“The wild requires… we learn the terrain, nod to all the plants and animals and birds, ford the streams and cross the ridges, and tell a good story when we get back home.”

Over the years, I’ve tried to follow his advice, attempting from time to time to tell a good story when returning home from the Rangeley Lakes Region of western Maine. My wife and I have owned a camp there for more than 40 years.

This part of the Pine Tree State has not changed much. Logging roads have replaced some river routes that once carried timber to mills across the New Hampshire border. Grand hotels catering to wealthy sports may be gone. But the rivers, streams and ponds surrounding our cabin are much the same as Johnny Danforth and Fred Baker found them when they spent the winter of 1876 hunting and trapping above Parmachenee Lake.

This region is known for its brook trout, fish that have called these waters home since glaciers receded more than 10,000 years ago. They are not as large as they once were, but a 16-inch native brook trout is not uncommon and certain to make an angler’s heart flutter. Landlocked salmon, introduced in the late 1800s, are now as wild as the moose that sometimes plod down to the shoreline to muse over the mysteries of the conifer forest.

When Trish and I first arrived, I cast large streamers and weighted nymphs in a manic pursuit for ever-larger fish. I wore a vest with more fly boxes than Samuel Carter had little liver pills. My pack was heavy with reels spooled with lines that sank at different rates, along with extra clothing for northern New England’s constantly changing weather.

Such angling requires time on the water, especially after the spring thaw, which in western Maine may not begin until mid-May.

This is when ice leaves the lakes and smelts, the region’s principal bait fish, enter the big rivers to spawn, with brook trout and landlocked salmon following closely behind.

By late September, trout and salmon swim up rivers like the Magalloway, Kennebago, Cupsuptic and Rapid on their own spawning runs. This provides a second opportunity to take fish measured in pounds rather than inches.

I have fished in rain and sleet, under snow squalls and blistering sun. I was buffeted by wind and harassed by black flies, mosquitoes and no-see-ums. Rapids threatened to take me under, and storms sent the occasional lightning bolt my way. All while I stripped streamers across dark pools and bounced nymphs over river bottoms from first light until after dark. I am addicted to the tug of fish measured in pounds rather than inches.

As the years passed, I discovered another type of fishing, one found on the many tannin-stained brooks that slip across the Canadian border. These streams twist through balsam and spruce for mile after mile. Some have no names, others form the headwaters of larger rivers where most anglers continue their search for trophy fish.

Along these secret rills, I have learned to enjoy casting my flies to brook trout far smaller than those in the big rivers. A few are no longer than a finger, the largest fitting in the palm of a hand. In these narrow ribbons of water, hidden under shadows cast by a vast conifer forest, I have come to appreciate what Thoreau described as “…these jewels…these bright fluviatile flowers, made beautiful, the Lord only knows why, to swim there.”                                                

Now, on the losing side of middle age, I seek waters too small to gather attention from other anglers — forgotten places where trout live under boulders, in shadows cast by conifer branches, along undercut banks, or hiding in plain sight in sunlit riffles. These are fish that have rarely heard a wading boot or the splash of an artificial fly.

This type of fishing requires an angler to heed the words of the legendary American naturalist John Muir, who wrote, “Only by going alone in silence, without baggage, can one truly get into the heart of the wilderness.”

No longer do I feel compelled to wing heavy flies past my ear or make 60-foot casts until my shoulder aches. I carry a single metal tin that fits in the pocket of my canvas shirt. Once holding cough drops, it now holds a handful of flies: pheasant-tail dry flies, patterns with parachute wings for casting upstream, a few elk hair caddis or black ants for summer and fixed-winged and soft-hackled hare’s ear wet flies for when I work downstream.

I leave my 8-foot fly rod constructed of space-age material at the cabin. Instead, I carry a 6-foot-6-inch rod, made of cane the color of maple syrup, the good stuff produced at the end of the season and once classified as grade B. I could never afford such a rod but bought this one secondhand. The cork base is stained from its prior owner.

Seated on a lichen-covered boulder or fallen tree trunk, I sometimes wonder who might cast this little bit of fishing history after my time on this whirling orb ends.

When a 6-inch brook trout splashes through the surface, my mind is free to be in the moment. With less distraction, I enjoy the creatures along the edges of running water — the mink slinking around boulders on the opposite bank or the beaver slapping its tail so loud it sounds like a shotgun echo.

Sometimes it is simply the flash of a tiny warbler or the song of a secretive thrush. I catch myself smiling at the splash of a frog or staring into the eyes of a bashful toad no larger than a button.

Seated by the wood stove on a November evening, a mug of tea warm against my palms, the sound of hail pinging against the windows as it mixes with damp snow, I can retrieve these moments that, like a Basho haiku, remain frozen in time.

Tramping through western Maine’s fields and forest, casting a fly while kneeling on a mossy bank, holding my breath in anticipation of a rising fish, I escape the madding pace of modern life.

As long as my legs allow, I will tread that trail less traveled — the one alongside a stream where brook trout play tag with a bit of feather and fur — and return to tell a tale or two.