ROCKLAND, Maine (WABI) – As the Maine’s Lobster Festival comes to a close, Julia Gagnon and her band ‘Imposter Syndrome’ took the stage.

Hundreds gathered to watch the Cumberland native perform a handful of songs.

She recently gained popularity after getting a platinum ticket on American Idol and placing seventh in the show’s top ten.

For those looking to see her perform, her and her band, as well as others from American Idol will be performing at the Cross Insurance Center on October 12th.

Tickets for that show go on sale Tuesday.

Copyright 2024 WABI. All rights reserved.

ROCKLAND, Maine — Noah Barnes can’t sell bunks aboard his schooner fast enough. The ones unoccupied by his staff, anyway.

Barnes, the owner and captain of the 153-year-old Stephen Taber, said demand for multiday voyages off Rockland has been “as good as the Clinton years.”

“Typically in election years and times of uncertainty, we see a little bit of a dip” as people hesitate to plan vacations, he said in late June as the turbulent presidential race ramped up. “We haven’t seen any of that.”

Even so, several bunks on the 115-foot-long ship, with room for 22 guests and up to six crew members, double as housing for employees like Grey Litaker. Litaker, 40, cooks in restaurants during the rest of the year but works and lives rent-free on the vessel in the summer because onshore rentals are “phenomenally expensive.”

“Staying on the boat just made economic sense,” Litaker said.

Barnes, who’s putting up two other workers aboard the Stephen Taber full time this summer, said finding onshore housing for seasonal staff members used to be easier.

He’d love to keep his best employees on the payroll year-round for “continuity,” but it feels out of reach: “A lot of that has to do with how difficult it is to find a place to live that you can afford in this ‘Vacationland’” — the nickname emblazoned on state license plates.

A market squeezed at both ends

Maine’s housing crunch isn’t new, and it’s hardly unique in the U.S. Affordable housing shortages are crimping hiring in South Florida and Nashville, Tennessee, Atlanta Fed researchers said this summer. And many outdoorsy travel spots have grown so popular that service workers and wealthy homebuyers alike have been priced out.

But Maine encapsulates a dilemma at the heart of the U.S. economy, months from an election that may hinge on it. A massive wave of consumer spending — especially on leisure — has powered the pandemic rebound, yet surging shelter costs continue to prop up inflation, weighing down growth along with households’ economic outlooks.

“Even prior to the pandemic — where we’ve seen this influx of individuals coming to Maine and prices really, really driving up — we were on an upward trajectory of housing costs,” said Kelsi Hobbs, an assistant professor of economics at the University of Maine.

State home values rose more slowly than in the rest of the country from 2017 to 2022, and Maine’s nearly 74% homeownership rate outstrips the nation’s at 65%, the latest Maine housing data show.

But the state’s distinct challenges ramped up “really in the last decade,” Hobbs said, as its residential market got squeezed from both ends, with strong demand vying for tight supply.

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Just 1.6% of Maine homes were available to rent or buy as of 2022, lower than the 2.5% national average, and Vacationland is packed with vacation pads — both seasonal rentals and privately owned properties. The state data shows 16% of its homes sit empty for parts of the year, compared with 3.5% nationwide.

Maine’s housing stock, like its population, also skews old. Just 6% was built from 2010 to 2019, compared to 9% nationally, while 60% predates 1980, well above the 48% U.S. average, and Hobbs said much of it is in disrepair.

Some of that is changing. A recent homebuilding spurt has helped boost inventories, TD Bank analysts said in June, but Maine still has “lower than average supply levels, which we expect will lead to above average price gains in 2024.” The state’s rental availability has lagged the nation’s since 2019, and nearly half of tenants are “cost burdened,” spending at least 30% of their income on housing.

“It’s a really big worry,” Hobbs said. “You cannot have a strong and prosperous economy without affordable housing.”

Unlike other parts of Maine, where populations swing sharply with seasonal tourism, the state’s Midcoast region, which includes Rockland, has plenty of full-time residents, said Shannon Landwehr, who leads the Penobscot Bay Regional Chamber of Commerce.

“There are people who want to work, who want to be here — want to live here, want to be part of the businesses that are here — who are struggling to find the housing,” she said.

Landwehr worries about sustaining the “diversity of the population” needed to power the economy and keep the area desirable for both residents and visitors if the problem deepens: “We’ll start to see kind of a division, if you will, of who’s here.”

Housing as a hiring problem

Maine hosted 8.5 million visitors last year, netting an estimated $16 billion in economic impact. Already, frustrations around wealthy vacationers’ driving up local living costs are colliding with opposition to workforce housing projects — tensions that could deepen political divides.

Maine and Nebraska are the only states that can apportion their Electoral College votes to multiple presidential candidates. Vacationland has delivered a split only twice — in 2016 and 2020, with its rural upstate district backing Donald Trump both times and the more affluent coastal one supporting first Hillary Clinton and then Joe Biden.

Service-sector employers like Barnes say they’re focused on keeping prices affordable for customers. Among the Stephen Taber’s guest bookings this year, “we’ve got pilots, and we’ve got lab techs, and we’ve got plumbers, and we’ve got cable installers,” he said. “It’s everybody.”

Eleven miles south of Rockland, nightly rates at the Craignair Inn by the Sea start at around $200, little more than $40 above the national average. Like Barnes, owner Greg Soutiea said business has been good — even though he’s also housing some of his workers.

Yearly sales at the 21-room hotel and restaurant have surged more than 500% since Soutiea bought the property in 2018, he said. Bookings this summer are already on par with the last two, when people’s discretionary “revenge spending” was booming.

But “housing has been a significant challenge for not only our staff but ourselves as restaurant owners,” said Soutiea, who employs about 25 people in the offseason and 50 during the summer peak. The issue limits the pool of candidates who “can commute in a reasonable amount of time and who can work year-round,” he said.

About three years ago, Soutiea bought a four-unit building in downtown Rockland to rent to employees at below-market rates. He now owns three properties with a total of 10 rental units, eight of which are set at levels allowing someone earning 80% or less of the area’s median income to spend no more than a third of their pay on housing, a common measure of affordability.

Five of his rentals are occupied by full-time employees, with another four workers — three seasonal ones and a year-rounder — living in the Craignair itself.

Soutiea said becoming an employer-landlord has “definitely been a significant driver in staff retention.” Even so, he still has only enough workers to keep the inn’s 95-seat Causeway restaurant open five nights a week.

Shannon Dennison, 38, a mother of three who heads up housekeeping at the inn, has rented one of Soutiea’s two-bedroom apartments for $1,250 a month for about a year. Before then, Dennison, who grew up in the area, had “thought about moving out of state” as housing costs surged.

Dennison recalled paying $750 a month for a two-bed as recently as 2015, and she said renting from her boss has been a lifeline for her and her husband. “If we were to rent from anyone else, we both would have to work two jobs,” she said.

State lawmakers have been trying to shift the equation. In 2022 and 2023, Maine’s Legislature passed a pair of bills loosening zoning restrictions to allow for greater housing density and to streamline approvals to build accessory units. The state has also poured tens of millions of dollars into subsidizing affordable housing construction, and it launched a rent-relief pilot program for low-income tenants this spring.

In the meantime, Landwehr said, calculations like Dennison’s and Soutiea’s — about how much to work to stay housed and how much to invest in housing to stay staffed — aren’t uncommon. But while the problem is urgent, it attests to a thriving economy.

“We’ve got people interested in this community,” she said. “Now we just need to find the right ways to support that.”

This article was originally published on NBCNews.com

Brothers Conor Guptill, left, and Aram Guptill, Hackmatack Playhouse’s producers. Their family has run the barn theater for 52 years. Ben McCanna/Staff Photographer

In the middle of more than one matinee performance at Hackmatack Playhouse in Berwick this summer, audience members have gotten up and left because of the sweltering conditions inside the barn theater, and at least one actor was sickened by the heat.

The 123-year-old Lakewood Theater in Madison has handed out small, battery-powered fans for patrons to use during some performances, and dress rehearsals have been held without costumes.

At some theaters that have air conditioning, electricity bills have soared with increased use.

As summers in Maine continue to get hotter, venues are trying to find cost-effective ways to cool sweltering patrons and actors, while keeping the history, charm and character of their theaters intact.

“That’s really been the elephant in the room for a while. People love the rustic summer stock experience at Hackmatack. It’s a quintessential Maine experience,” said Conor Guptill, whose family founded the theater in 1972 in a 200-year-old barn. “We’ve begun exploring the idea of insulating the barn and putting in AC, but it’s a really difficult conversation to have. Not just because of the monetary investment, but because it might destroy what people value about the barn.”

Seasonal theaters are among the hallmarks of summer in Maine. They can be found all over the state, in booming tourist locales and sleepy small towns. Some of the best known, including Ogunquit Playhouse, Maine State Music Theatre in Brunswick and The Theater at Monmouth, are air-conditioned. Others that are just as steeped in history, like Hackmatack Playhouse, Lakewood Theater and Deertrees Theatre in Harrison, are not.

WE’RE HAVING A HEAT WAVE 

Adding air conditioning to an old, uninsulated building, like Hackmatack or Lakewood, would not only cost thousands of dollars but might require construction and renovations that would change the historic nature of the venue. But as warming trends continue, theater operators worry that people will start to come to shows less often.

“Obviously ticket sales are a concern because, when it’s really hot, people would probably rather stay at home in their AC. But, for us, installing AC in this historic building (built in 1901) would be very environmentally and fiscally challenging,” said Art Meneses, director and administrator at the 600-seat Lakewood Theater.

Lakewood Theater in Madison was built in 1901. Shawn Patrick Ouellette/Staff Photographer

Meneses said ticket sales at Lakewood are down about 1% so far this summer compared to last year. The number might seem small but can be significant, since the theater’s revenue comes from ticket sales and donations, he said. At Hackmatack, attendance is up about 20% this year, Guptill said, thanks to new, younger audience members. But Guptill worries that those patrons, who are more likely to have grown up with air conditioning than older folks, will come to one very hot show, then not come back.

Theater operators and audience members say, for the past few years, they’ve noticed that conditions at some venues have become unbearably hot on certain days. The unusual early summer heat wave this year – when temperatures were in the 90s in mid-June – seemed to show that the trend is not slowing.

Portland experienced its second hottest July on record this year, with an average temperature of 73.1 degrees, said Derek Schroeter, a meteorologist at the National Weather Service in Gray. The warmest average July temperature in Portland, according to records dating back to 1941, was 73.7 degrees in 2020. Portland also had an average July temperature of 73.1 degrees in 2019, Schroeter said.

Some theaters without air conditioning have experienced this year’s heat less dramatically. At Deertrees Theater in the Lakes Region town of Harrison, the 1936 building has so many doors and windows that fully open – including huge barn doors – that the temperature inside can be the same as outside, said Gail Phaneuf, executive and artistic director. The theater also has large fans to circulate air and keep things cool. Phaneuf said the heat so far this year has not kept people away from Deertrees, and the 280-capacity theater has had several sellouts recently.

The Portland-based Fenix Theatre Company, which stages free outdoor Shakespeare performances in Deering Oaks park, has its own unique set of problems related to the heat. This year’s show was “Love’s Labor’s Lost,” which wrapped up Saturday.

Some years, the company has performed on the park’s large stage, which doesn’t have a lot of trees for shade nearby and can get very hot, said Peter Brown, the artistic director. But this year, mostly because it made sense for this particular show, performances were in a much shadier spot near the park’s footbridge. As summers get hotter, picking a spot based on how shady it is could be a consideration, Brown said. If the “feels like” temperature outside gets to 100, the company cancels its performance that day, but as of last week, that hadn’t happened yet this year, Brown said.

People take their seats at Hackmatack Playhouse for a performance of “Into the Woods” on July 19. Ben McCanna/Staff Photographer

THE SHOW MUST GO ON

Linette Miles, an actor who began performing at Hackmatack in 2007 and was recently in the musical “Into The Woods,” said the heat this season has been tough for actors to rehearse and perform in. She said an actress became dizzy and vomited during one hot spell. Others worry about keeping up their stamina and focus.

Miles said this year has been the first time she’s noticed audience members at the 200-seat Hackmatack Playhouse leaving matinees, on very hot days, before the performance is over.

“I don’t remember seeing audience members leaving during the show. That’s something I’ve only seen this year,” said Miles, who lives in Durham, New Hampshire. “During the matinees (this year), it’s been really hot, and we’ve seen quite a few people leave.”

Guptill said the heat has not kept actors out of the theater’s shows, partly, he says, because there are so many who are looking for summer gigs. But he worries that some may not come back again, if they find the heat has been too oppressive.

At Lakewood Theater, Meneses said that, when it’s 85 and humid outside, it will feel like 90-95 degrees on stage, even with energy-saving LED stage lights. The theater replaced its incandescent stage lights to save money on electricity a few years ago. Those lights could make the temperature on stage feel like it was about 120 degrees, Meneses said.

Lakewood Theater staged the energetic musical “The Prom” in late June, when temperatures soared for several days. They decided not to have actors suit up in their costumes for dress rehearsals, and they performed in T-shirts and shorts instead. There have also been super-hot days when the theater’s woodshop workers, who build sets and props, were sent home because it was too hot, even with fans, Meneses said.

People enter the Lakewood Theater in Madison before a matinee on July 24. Shawn Patrick Ouellette/Staff Photographer

FANS WHO NEED FANS

Besides having several large fans to circulate air in the theater, Lakewood has been handing out small, battery-powered fans to audience members who want a personal cooling device during the show, Meneses said. At Hackmatack, the owners recently spent about $2,500 on large, commercial-grade exhaust fans and portable fans for the theater, Guptill said.

Hackmatack Playhouse season-ticket holder Kathleen Szmit of Alfred said that when she saw a nighttime performance of “Into the Woods” on July 6, the show was “incredible,” and the heat was “ridiculous.” But she wouldn’t let the temperature stop her from enjoying the full show.

“Even though it was sweltering and almost impossible to sit through, I was not going to leave, because the quality of the shows is so high,” said Szmit, who works as a library assistant. “It’s so sad to me that (Hackmatack’s owners) are facing this issue, when it’s not their fault.”

Greg Pizzo, whose wife and daughter have been in shows at Lakewood Theater, doesn’t think the heat will keep him or his family from seeing shows there. He says the theater stays cool enough for him, unless it’s a matinee on a very hot day.

“Certainly there have been some super-hot days this year, but the theater is so dark and old that it stays fairly cool,” said Pizzo, who lives in China but has a camp in Skowhegan. “Overall, I don’t think it will affect how often we come.”

Late-day sunlight spills through the entrance at Hackmatack Playhouse as Conor Guptill, one the theater’s producers, prepares to open the venue for a performance of “Into the Woods.” Ben McCanna/Staff Photographer

THE COSTS OF COOLING 

Guptill says the money that’s been spent on fans and exhaust systems for Hackmatack Playhouse are mostly stop-gap measures. He said he and his brother have started to explore possible longer-term solutions, like air conditioning, by reaching out to other summer theaters to see what problems they are facing and what solutions they are considering.

Installing air conditioning would mean significant infrastructure work on the barn and cost at least “tens of thousands” of dollars, Guptill said, which would probably require the owners to reach out to patrons and the community for a capital campaign. He said he and his family have also considered shifting the theater’s season to having the bulk of shows in September and October, instead of July and August. Guptill thinks there are enough tourists coming southern Maine at that time of year to support the change.

“The big question is, should we raise the money to put in some true heat mitigation? If not AC, is there another way to get cool air or other things we can do?” said Guptill.

Air conditioning alone is not a cure-all for small theaters dealing with increasingly hot summers. The 250-seat Stonington Opera House, which is open all year but has a busy summer season, has air conditioning. But the electricity bill has become a real burden for the venue’s operator, Opera House Arts. The building dates to 1912 but had air conditioning installed and other major upgrades made over the years.

The venue’s July electricity bill was $801.51 in 2022, $913.42 in 2023 and $1,243.97 this year, said Erika Sanger, executive director of Opera House Arts. That’s about a 55 percent increase in two years, Sanger said.

Meneses said the heat this summer has affected the theatergoing experience at Lakewood in some unexpected ways. The audience might show up in good numbers, but sometimes it’s too hot for them “to laugh or really be present.” As for the future, Meneses thinks he and others in summer theater will have to continue monitoring the weather and thinking about possible solutions. And, because they are in show business, they’ll find ways to carry on.

“Certainly, some audience members ask us if we have AC, so I think we’re going to have to continue having these discussions about what’s the most efficient way to keep this place cool,” said Meneses. “We’ll just we keep going, through thick and thin.”

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