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Where Is “Down East” Anyway?

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Where Is “Down East” Anyway?


By Will Grunewald
From our July 2024 issue

Driving over the Penobscot Narrows Bridge never fails to stir a certain hard-to-define feeling, a mixture of awe and calm and anticipation conjured up by the span’s swooping lines, the sight of its namesake river slowly unspooling seaward, and the impression, however foggy, of crossing a threshold. Coming from the south, the midcoast is all of a sudden in the rearview, and the down east region lies somewhere ahead. But exactly where down east begins has long been a source of disagreement. Some people contend it starts halfway across the bridge, upon entering Hancock County. Others exclude Mount Desert Island, on account of its seasonal crowds feeling contrary to the area’s otherwise quiet vibrations. Another point of view holds that only Washington County, the state’s easternmost, truly qualifies (the “real down east” is a familiar refrain). Ask however many Mainers to define the region, get as many differences of opinion. 

The Penobscot Narrows Bridge. Photo by Dave Waddell

The lack of consensus owes, at least in large part, to the fact that down east started out not as the name of a place but as an Age of Sail directional term. To reach Maine from Boston, a ship headed downwind and east, or down east for short. It was a purely relative concept (and that’s what inspired this magazine’s name almost 70 years ago). The notion of down east as a separate region within Maine seems to have developed both gradually and arbitrarily. But perhaps, finally, we can consider the debate over the boundaries settled. Last year, President Joe Biden signed legislation, supported by Maine’s congressional delegation, to designate a Downeast Maine National Heritage Area, which notably comprises both Hancock and Washington counties, in their entireties. So that’s that, right?

Going forward, the National Park Service will administer the new heritage area, though a heritage area is, unlike a national park, neither a federally owned nor cohesively managed unit. Rather, the designation primarily enables nonprofits and municipalities and other organizing groups within the defined area — and there are more than 60 such areas across the country — to tap into some federal funds and technical assistance for projects related to historic preservation, environmental conservation, and economic development.

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The appeal of such an arrangement is clear enough, but it also begs a new question: What’s so uniquely heritage-y about this one part of Maine? Heritage, after all, is slippery — it implies something to do with history and culture, but history and culture exist everywhere humans have ever set up shop. There is something to be said for tight-knit communities, deep-rooted families, and traditional ways of making a living from the land and the sea. But is any of that particular to down east?

Maybe heritage is one of those sum-is-greater-than-its-parts, know-it-when-you-see-it kind of things, and you just have to discover for yourself whether the past is somehow more present down east. What follows here is hardly a comprehensive guide to the region but rather a sort of primer, an introduction with an eye toward sites with something to say about that nebulous idea of heritage. So point your car downwind and east, sail on up Route 1, and see if you think the membrane between then and now is truly thinner in Hancock and Washington counties. See if you experience another one of those hard-to-define feelings.

Where to Stay

You’ll find far more options for accommodations in the western half than the eastern half of the region, but there are options nonetheless throughout down east, and a number of them check some heritage-y boxes. The Queen Anne–style Pentagöet Inn, in Castine, was built in 1894 to capture the turn-of-the-century summering crowd, and it retains historic touches throughout. If 1894 isn’t old enough for your tastes, consider instead the Pilgrim’s Inn, on Deer Isle, which dates from 1793 and was originally the private home of a prominent gristmill and shipyard owner. Continuing eastward, there are too many offerings to count on Mount Desert Island, then a dry stretch until the Chandler River Inn, in Jonesport, which occupies a 1797 home high above its namesake river and leans into antique and vintage décor. All the way down east, in Lubec, the 1860 Peacock House Bed & Breakfast was built by a sea captain and was subsequently lived in by a family that owned a sardine cannery. In Eastport, a similar feel from a similar era comes in the form of the 1887 Kilby House Inn. Of course, if lodging that comes with historic vibes isn’t a priority, your range of options becomes considerably wider.

Where to Eat

Food, surely, is an important part of any heritage. Down east, that means lots of seafood, especially lobster, and lots of blueberries. For the former, there’s a high degree of futility in enumerating all the can’t-go-wrong establishments along the coast. The key test is to make sure you’ve got a view of the water. And Bagaduce Lunch warrants some special attention, since the James Beard Foundation conferred its America’s Classic award on the little takeout operation back in 2008 and it’s still going strong. Fried haddock, scallops, or clams all make for solid orders there too. Those seafood staples (along with heaping breakfasts and more) are also available at the hundred-year-old WaCo Diner, in Eastport, and if that doesn’t count as heritage, tough to say what does. As for blueberries, those always taste best straight from the grower, whether at a farmstand or a pick-your-own operation. Plus, if you stop during your travels to hike, say, Great Pond Mountain or Tunk Mountain, watch for freebie berries you can pluck fresh along the trail. 

Blue Hill Peninsula 

Soon after the Penobscot Narrows Bridge, the Blue Hill Peninsula juts south, forming the ragged eastern edge of Penobscot Bay. The rural roads that wind from town to town have a leisureliness to them, especially after driving on Route 1. In Castine, Maine Maritime Academy, itself a connection to the region’s centuries-old tradition of producing commercial seafarers, is home to the Bowdoin, a 1921 schooner and the official vessel of the state of Maine. Although the Bowdoin mostly spends its summers plying far-flung waters, it’s available for public day sails in the fall. On the other side of the peninsula is charming little Blue Hill, home to the Blue Hill Fair, a classic affair that got its start as an agricultural showcase in the 1800s — and helped inspire elements of Charlotte’s Web, by E.B. White, who lived in nearby Brooklin (Aug. 29–Sept. 2, 2024). Speaking of Brooklin, that’s where the Wooden-Boat School does its part to preserve traditional maritime ways, offering classes in boat-building and sailing — plus a gift shop if you’re just passing through. Heading all the way down to Stonington, on Deer Isle, you’ll find the most productive lobster fleet in the country hard at work. And up in Brooksville, the Good Life Center is situated on the Forest Farm homestead of Helen and Scott Nearing, who inspired legions of back-to-the-landers to settle in the area. Today, the center is open to visitors throughout the summer and hosts workshops on everything from composting to building stone walls, plus talks on everything from microplastics to presidential politics. While breezing through the Blue Hill Peninsula in a day is manageable, the easy rhythm of the place sinks in better with a night’s — or several nights’ — stay. Plus, it’s a good home base for forays farther down east.

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Clockwise from left: Class at the WoodenBoat School, in Brooklin (photo by Tara Rice), and scenes from the Blue Hill Fair (photos by Jeff Klofft).

Ellsworth to Cherryfield

Leaving the Blue Hill Peninsula behind, Route 1 soon passes through downtown Ellsworth and then neighboring Hancock, where the Downeast Scenic Railroad departs on weekends and select weekdays through mid-October. The restored passenger cars run on a line that was built 140 years ago to carry well-heeled city folk to rusticate on Mount Desert Island. Nowadays, ducking south to Mount Desert Island to explore Acadia National Park, the heart of the region’s recreational history, requires traveling by car. Continuing farther east along Route 1, vestiges of the quarrying industry appear. In Franklin, a short detour leads to the Robertson’s Quarry Galamander, one of two rare stone-hauling vehicles known to have survived in Maine. In Sullivan, the Granite Art Garden, five minutes off Route 1, is part historical site, part outdoor sculpture gallery, part trail network around an old quarry, while the nearby Gordon’s Wharf, on Mount Desert Narrows has a few informational plaques that help visitors to imagine how the now-tranquil site was once a hotbed of activity, massive granite blocks being loaded onto schooners for shipping down the Eastern Seaboard. For even more granite, but in unhewn form, loop down through Acadia National Park’s Schoodic section and pull off at Schoodic Point, where huge ledges slope toward the ocean — and offer impressive views back across the water toward the main section of the park. Farther along Route 1, evidence of past industrial prosperity takes the shape of grand old homes. Cherryfield, once a shipbuilding hub, has quite a few, including the exceedingly well-kept William M. Nash House, a sprawling Second Empire mansion that’s perched on a hill above the Narraguagus River. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places, but take note: it’s a private residence, so don’t turn around in the drive as you continue making your way down east.

Clockwise from left: view from the Schoodic Peninsula (photo by Dave Waddell); Downeast Scenic Railroad (photo courtesy of Downeast Scenic Railroad); William M. Nash House (photo by Tara Rice), in Cherryfield; sculpture at the Granite Art Garden, in Sullivan (photo by Dave Waddell).

Deeper Ties

The Wabanaki can measure their down east heritage by millenia, not just centuries. 

The most well-known and oft-visited museum in Maine dedicated to indigenous peoples is the Abbe Museum, a Smithsonian affiliate in the middle of downtown Bar Harbor. Its core exhibit, People of the First Light, provides a wide-angle view of 12,000 years of tribal history across what’s now Maine, while rotating shows tend to focus more tightly on certain elements of culture, contemporary life, and the arts. Nowadays, the Passamaquoddy are the only tribe with lands down east, split between reservations at Pleasant Point, near Eastport, and Indian Township, northwest of Calais. At Pleasant Point, also called Sipayik, the concise but thoughtful Sipayik Museum is managed by Passamaquoddy-language specialist Dwayne Tomah — one of few remaining fluent speakers — and displays traditional examples of clothing, tools, baskets, and canoes, among other artifacts. Hours at Sipayik vary, so it’s best to call ahead. In downtown Calais, the small Wabanaki Culture Center and Museum includes objects from both the Passamaquoddy and Penobscot tribes and has informational dioramas as well as a birch-bark canoe (39 Union St.). No experience of the down east region — no effort to understand what heritage means there — is complete without taking into account the past and present roles of Wabanaki tribes.

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Clockwise from top left: a diorama and a traditional basket at the Wabanaki Culture Center and Museum, in Calais; examples of tribal clothing and tools at the Sipayik Museum; Dwayne Tomah, who runs the Sipayik Museum; a teepee reconstruction at the Wabanaki Culture Center and Museum. Photos by Dave Waddell.

Harrington to Machias

Eastbound from Cherryfield, the next two small towns you pass through are Harrington and Columbia Falls. Then, jumping off Route 1, a scenic loop can be made through the fishing village of Jonesport. Its harbor, best viewed while crossing the bridge to Beals Island, is chock-full of lobsterboats, whose now-familiar design got its modern shape from local boatbuilders. Outdoorsy travelers ought to continue along Beals to Great Wass Island, where a Nature Conservancy preserve provides several miles of trails through pristine, hushed coastal woods and bogs, reminding that conservation is a major part of down east’s past and present. All throughout this stretch of down east, too, is wild-blueberry country. Barrens of the scrubby low-bush plants line Route 1 — and turn brilliant red in the fall. In Machias, consider stopping for a slice of rightfully renowned blueberry pie at Helen’s Restaurant, especially during harvest season in late summer, for a satisfying taste of agricultural heritage. If you hunger for a history lesson as well, stop by the Burnham Tavern Museum. That’s where, in 1775, locals convened to discuss what to do about the arrival a British navy vessel and two merchant ships, looking to procure supplies that British troops needed in Boston, following the battles of Lexington and Concord. What ensued was the first naval engagement of the Revolutionary War, with Machias’s gutsy militiamen emerging the victors. 

Clockwise from left: Burnham Tavern , in Machias (photo by Tara Rice); blueberry barren in the fall (photo by Benjamin Williamson); blueberry pie at Helen’s, in Machias (photo by Tara Rice); Jonesport Harbor (photo by Benjamin Williamson).

Cutler to Lubec

Boot Head, Cutler, MaineBoot Head, Cutler, Maine
The Cutler coast. Photo by John K. Putnam

Something happens the farther down east you go: the fewer must-see sights around, the greater the sense you’re getting a real feel for the area. Heading toward Lubec, leave Route 1 behind and angle toward the tiny community of Cutler. The road skirts the shore for a time, then rolls along through bucolic scenery. A little farther, if you brought your hiking boots, find an excellent — but minimum-half-day — stop at the Cutler Coast Public Reserved Land (parksandlands.com). The trail there traverses the boldest section of a long stretch of shoreline known as the Bold Coast, combining some of the grandeur of Schoodic with some of the quietude of Great Wass. Is the hike instructive on the matter of heritage? Your mileage may vary, but here’s betting you’re a little more attuned afterward to what’s so special about the region’s terrain. The same can be said of Cobscook Bay, where the down east coastline’s massive tides are acutely felt, the basin emptying and swelling twice a day, many species of birds and other wildlife flocking to the marshes and grasslands. En route to Lubec, the Cobscook Shores network of parks provides a number of options for fairly quick strolls along the shore (cobscookshores.org). Then, in Lubec, consider what the waterfront would have felt like in the late-19th and early-20th centuries, when seafood canneries and smokehouses had their heydays, with about 50 such facilities in Lubec alone. Not a single one still operates there, although the McCurdy Smokehouse remains atop its pilings as a small museum that offers a glimpse into that defunct industry (mccurdysmokehouse.org). Ten minutes outside town is the sight probably most visitors come to see, West Quoddy Head Light, standing sentinel over the easternmost point in the contiguous U.S., with its iconic red and white stripes marking the entrance to the Quoddy Narrows (westquoddy.com). It might also serve as a reminder to travelers: follow the narrows, on toward Eastport.

Clockwise from top left: Lubec Landmarks now owns the McCurdy Smokehouse (photos by Dave Waddell); view down the Cutler Coast (photo by Tara Rice); Cobscook Bay at sunset (photo by Benjamin Williamson); lobsterboat off Quoddy Head (photo by Matt Trogner).

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Eastport and Beyond

statue at the Saint Croix River International Historic Site.statue at the Saint Croix River International Historic Site.
A statue at the Saint Croix River International Historic Site. Photo by John K. Putnam

In Eastport, signs of a working waterfront are everywhere in the harbor-fronting downtown, from the fishing boats at their moorings to the tugboats that can pilot large ships into the deepwater port. At one point in the early 1800s, Eastport was the second-busiest trading port in the entire country, after only New York (although it’s far from that busy these days, and all the less so since the pandemic and the war in Ukraine threw global supply chains out of whack). While strolling around town, stop by the Raye’s Mustard gift shop. The museum and factory, with the country’s only traditional stone mustard mill still in operation, has churned out mustards since 1900 but is undergoing renovations and isn’t offering tours. After Eastport, you face a choice: either make the return trip the way you came (heading “up west,” one supposes?) or explore a little ways up the Saint Croix River, toward the border town of Calais. In the latter case, stop to check out the Saint Croix Island International Historic Site, where a French expedition landed in 1604. The group of settlers moved along after enduring a brutal winter, but French colonization in North America — and Acadian influence in Maine — was underway. Finally, head west via Route 9. Known as the Airline, it’s indeed a breezy way to travel — light on traffic, thick with woods. The relaxing drive is a good time to really absorb everything you’ve seen down east.

From top left: Route 9, aka “the Airline”; Scenes from around Eastport’s working waterfront (photos by Dave Waddell).

May 2024, Down East MagazineMay 2024, Down East Magazine

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The 10 Most Popular Restaurants in Portland, Maine, Back in 1996

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The 10 Most Popular Restaurants in Portland, Maine, Back in 1996


It seems commonplace now that people visit Portland, Maine, for the food.

Portland is home to a mix of classic and new restaurants that people travel long distances to experience.

But that wasn’t always the case. Looking back 30 years ago, Portland, Maine, was home to delicious restaurants that were not home to many frills or fanfare.

Some of those restaurants are still rolling along today, others failed to move forward.

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Here’s a look at the 10 most popular restaurants in Portland, Maine back in 1996.

Back Bay Grill

Officially opening its doors in 1988, the Back Bay Grill quickly became one of the places for fine dining in Portland, Maine.

In 1996, it was one of only a handful of restaurants within the city that would be considered upscale.

The Back Bay Grill ended its lengthy run when it closed permanently in 2022.

Becky’s Diner

Opening in Portland’s waterfront in 1991, it didn’t take long before Becky’s Diner was a regular part of the working waterfront’s routine.

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As the working waterfront began diminishing, Becky’s has managed to transform itself into a place locals still enjoy while simultaneously serving as a tourist destination.

35 years later and Becky’s is still going strong.

Granny’s Burritos

Opening in 1995, Granny’s Burritos has taken on an almost mythical presence for that fondly remember it.

Granny’s called several different spots around time home over the years but remains fondly remembered for its stellar nachos and signature burritos.

The last iteration of Granny’s Burritos officially closed in 2017.

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Fore Street

Officially opening in 1996, Fore Street is widely considered the restaurant that took Portland, Maine, and put it on the map for food.

Almost from the day it opened, Fore Street became a cornerstone to fine dining in the city and laid the groundwork for many other upscale restaurants to follow.

Fore Street still remains one of the most popular restaurants in Portland, Maine, 30 years after it initially opened.

Squire Morgan’s

Now home to Cutie’s, the corner of Market and Milk streets was once home to one of Portland’s most popular pubs called Squire Morgan’s.

Squire Morgan’s had a fantastic run in the city through the 80’s and early-90’s before a fire burned the restaurant in 1996.

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Squire Morgan’s rebuilt but it was never the same and closed permanently in 1998.

DiMillo’s Floating Restaurant

There is something unique and elegant about dining aboard a floating restaurant. That has been the draw for DiMillo’s since it opened in 1982.

Like Back Bay Grill, DiMillo’s was one of a handful of restaurants in Portland during the mid-90’s where people could visit and receive upscale service and dining.

Despite the restaurant scene changing drastically around it, DiMillo’s remains a destination restaurant for many visiting Portland.

Silly’s

Even amongst a slew of restaurants serving pub grub and classic New England fare, Silly’s always stood out.

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It was a quirky spot with a eclectic menu that people consistently flocked to, especially on the weekends. It became a staple in the city throughout the 90’s.

Silly’s had a couple of starts and stops in Portland in more recent times before finally reestablishing itself in Standish.

The Sportsman’s Grill

Opened in 1952, the Sportsman’s Grill on Congress Street was a staple of dining in Portland, Maine, for decades.

The restaurant was sports themed as the name would suggest and evolved over the years to draw in sports fan and casual diners.

1996 proved to be one of the final years for the Sportsman’s Grill as it closed permanently in 1997.

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The Great Lost Bear

Originally known as Grizzly Bear, the Great Lost Bear got a name change in 1981 and really grasped a rapid fanbase throughout the 80’s.

The Great Lost Bear has always been known for its large menu and larger portions and was one of the first spots in town to fully embrace craft beer and champion it.

The Great Lost Bear remains a favorite for many as it approaches its 50-year anniversary.

Walter’s

Originally opening its doors in 1990, some credit Walter’s as a stepping stone restaurant to what most see throughout Portland today.

It was a cornerstone upscale restaurant throughout the 90’s and eventually sold in 2004.

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Walter’s moved from its original location at 15 Exchange Street to 2 Portland Square in 2009 and operated there for years before closing permanently in 2019.

The New York Time’s Best Restaurant Lists Feature These 7 Maine Spots

Gallery Credit: Sean McKenna

61 Maine Restaurants That Closed in 2025

Gallery Credit: Sean McKenna





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Data centers are coming for rural America

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Data centers are coming for rural America


At its peak, the Androscoggin paper mill in Jay, Maine, a rural town about 67 miles northwest of Portland, employed about 1,500 people — until a pulp digester exploded in 2020, forcing the mill to close permanently.

In 2023, the 1.4 million-square-foot facility was purchased through a joint venture by JGT2 Redevelopment and a number of other holding and capital companies. The project is led by developer Tony McDonald. Over the next three years, McDonald and his team broke down the mill’s machinery and shipped it to Pakistan, and worked to clean up the industrial site for resale. That resale agreement was finalized earlier this year, according to McDonald — turning Jay into the latest flashpoint over giant data centers in America.

Maine is particularly appealing for data center developers for its relatively cool year-round temperatures, lax land-use statutes, and 54 percent renewable energy mix, the eighth highest in the nation. There is a handful of planned data centers around the state, which recently prompted the state legislature to pass a bill ordering an 18-month moratorium on permits and building of any proposed data center that consumes more than 20 megawatts of power. Lawmakers wanted to pause construction in order to study data centers’ impact on local economies, the power grid, and the environment.

But that bill, which would have been the country’s first, was vetoed by Maine Gov. Janet Mills last month. In her veto, she cited one overriding reason: jobs. A $550 million facility proposed for the shuttered paper mill in Jay, she argued, would create 125 to 150 permanent, high-paying positions in a town that had watched its largest employer close.

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From mill towns in Maine to farm counties in Indiana to desert plots outside Abilene, Texas, data center developers are telling local governments: Bring us in, give us what we need, add some tax breaks, and the jobs will follow. More than 35 states have responded by offering incentives and more to attract the industry.

There’s little research into whether massive industrial sites actually deliver the long-term economic gains they promise, but early reports suggest otherwise. Experts say that rural communities often lack the governmental expertise to properly assess how data centers might impact an area. According to recent Pew Research Center data, 67 percent of planned data centers in the US are headed to rural areas, and 39 percent are going to counties that currently have none. As data center development scales rapidly, it’s becoming clear that what rural communities around the country are actually getting isn’t jobs, but a power- and water-hungry industrial facility that temporarily employs about as many people as a midsize restaurant.

The data center fight in Maine

Originally, Tony McDonald had planned to sell the mill to an oriented strand board company called Godfrey Forest Products, which would have employed approximately 150 people, he said. When federal tariffs killed the financial backing for that project, McDonald pivoted to an idea he’d been getting pitches about.

“Most of the people that were contacting us, you know, they were all hat and no cattle,” McDonald said. He fielded multiple calls from what he terms “data center cowboys” who claimed to have one of the seven big tech companies as a client and were looking for a place to build a new data center. When he’d dig deeper on the caller, he’d find that they didn’t actually have the backing they claimed.

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After a few conversations, he began pursuing a data center partnership with Sentinel Data Centers, a New York-based company that specializes in data centers serving the healthcare, financial, and hyperscale industries, according to its website. Sentinel did not respond to multiple requests for comment for this story.

McDonald says that, as he understands it, the project in Jay will be a neocloud data center, a specialized facility built to deliver high-performance GPU computing for AI and machine learning workloads. If a neocloud data center is going into the old mill, it will require more than 100kW of energy per rack, according to industry standards, and will need either direct-to-chip or immersion cooling, both of which require ample space and water resources.

“Most of the people that were contacting us, you know, they were all hat and no cattle.”

— Tony McDonald, JGT2 Redevelopment

While McDonald has repeatedly said that he is not interested in tax breaks for the project, he did want to leave the door open for potential tax benefits down the road if the town determines that it’s worth it. Just before Mills vetoed the moratorium, the Maine state legislature passed a law that excludes data centers from some of Maine’s tax breaks for businesses, but it leaves the door open for local municipalities to offer tax break agreements and other municipal incentives. That could spell trouble for small communities like Jay, hoping for a tax windfall to help them invest in schools, community buildings, and roadworks.

Maine state Rep. Melanie Sachs, the sponsor of the Maine moratorium bill, claims that McDonald did not inform the Jay Select Board of the new plan to turn the mill into a data center until late February 2026, just days before her moratorium bill was scheduled for a floor vote. Her bill was first introduced to committee on January 30th.

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The Select Board heard McDonald’s presentation in March and voted 4-0 in support, according to The Maine Monitor. The moratorium bill passed both the state House of Representatives and Senate on April 14th, and Mills vetoed it on April 24th, citing the job creation in Jay as her reason.

Sachs, who chairs Maine’s House Energy, Utilities and Technology Committee, said her legislation was never about banning data centers. “This bill was about creating the playbook,” she said. “And we were told, ‘Don’t worry your pretty little heads about it, data centers are not coming to Maine anytime soon.’ They came anyway, and without a framework in place, towns have no mechanism to evaluate the claims developers are making.”

“Even if it’s 30 jobs, that means a lot to Jay, then, okay, but you’ve swept away protections for 1.4 million Mainers for 30 jobs,” Sachs said.

The economics of data centers

Michael Hicks, the director of the Center for Business and Economic Research at Ball State University, is an economist and a professor who last November published one of the first causal analyses of data center employment effects in the United States. He studied data center openings across 254 Texas counties and measured their actual effect on local long-term employment.

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He found that net job creation was effectively zero. Whatever long-term jobs existed at data centers were being offset by losses elsewhere in the same sector.

”As you drive by a data center, you see people working on it,” Hicks said. “You see construction workers. The hotels locally are packed. But there’s no net pulse of that. A lot of these workers are there for three weeks to do their part of it, and then they’re gone … The real question is whether there are permanent jobs associated with data centers, and in Texas, the answer is no.”

“A lot of these workers are there for three weeks to do their part of it, and then they’re gone.”

— Michael Hicks, Ball State University

Texas serves as an ideal test bed because of its isolated grid and a mix of large, fast-growing metros and tech hubs alongside rural, remote towns, which mirrors the rest of the country. As Hicks puts it, it’s essentially a mini-United States with its variety of regions, and the economic lessons learned in Texas can be widely applied across the country.

Rural towns are often “outgunned” when trying to negotiate deals with large data center builders, said Anthony Elmo, public education funding defender at Good Jobs First, a nonprofit research center focused on corporate and government accountability in economic development.

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“They don’t have the resources to negotiate,” said Elmo. “They don’t know what to ask for. They don’t have the legal expertise, and they don’t feel like they have the leverage, which I think is part of the issue.”

On the national level, the math isn’t much better, either. Business Insider recently reported that the national subsidy for data centers exceeded $2 million in costs per permanent job, and in some cases, like one in New York, companies received nearly $77 million in tax breaks for a facility that created exactly one permanent position.

Microsoft’s Quincy, Washington, facility, which is roughly comparable to the initial plan in Jay, employed as many as 500 workers during construction but now operates with just 50 full-time employees. The type of data center being built determines where on that spectrum of long-term employment a community lands. Neocloud data centers, like the one coming to Jay, can require 30 to 50 full-time staff, depending on size.

“Of those, say, 50 jobs, a chunk of them are maintenance, a chunk of them are technicians in charge of backup generators. The high-tech jobs make up maybe 10 percent of the facility,” Elmo points out. And many times, data center companies will count remote workers in other states as employees of the state in which the data center is located. “We may get a little bit of an economic effect from that, but it isn’t nearly as much as if it were a physical person in Maine buying goods and adding to the local economy,” he said.

Most of the lobbying around data centers focuses on job creation and “upskilling,” or training workers for new or better-paying jobs. But according to researchers, even the retraining argument holds little water.

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Just under 30 percent of Jay’s population has a bachelor’s degree or higher, while 90 percent have a high school diploma, according to recent census data. And, as Ball State University’s Hicks says, education matters for upskilling.

In the 1800s, when farm laborers were sent into the workforce in the Midwest, they had a basic education that made them trainable for factory work. Following World War II, men and women returned from the factories and the battlefield having learned many new skills, and in the post-Civil Rights South, more Black men and women became educated and entered the workforce in ways they had been unable to before.

Neocloud data centers, like the one coming to Jay, can require 30 to 50 full-time staff, depending on size

As Hicks points out, each of these three industrial revolutions only worked because of the big, new supply of educated people ready to move into those jobs. By contrast, the US currently has negative net immigration, low birth rates, and consistently underfunded education; there is no equivalent human-capital “wave” to support a similar jobs boom in data centers and AI, he says.

“The waves of industrialization accompanied waves of human capital into the United States,” Hicks said. “So, where do we think there’s this surge of employment surrounding data centers that can mimic those three events?”

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”The big tech companies are investing in upskilling the construction trades,” Elmo points out, citing OpenAI’s recent agreement with NABTU and noting that in fully developed data center markets, electricians and HVAC maintenance workers float from project to project as contractors. “For states that don’t have developed data center infrastructure, like Maine, it’s not a permanent job. It’s an 18-month job. That’s it.”

The jobs promise, Hicks argues, distracts from the one benefit a data center can reliably provide to a rural community: tax revenue.

Using the Jay data center as an example, Hicks says that a $550 million data center in a town of 4,620 people, where the median home value is around $215,000, would carry an assessed value exceeding the combined worth of every home and every business in the town. The former mill had a tax abatement but generated roughly $1.8 million in tax revenue for Jay in its last year of operation, according to the Livermore Falls Advertiser. Taxed at the same rate as any other commercial property, that revenue could fund schools, rebuild infrastructure, and attract residents for generations.

”You could make that town into a Hallmark Channel town with those sorts of tax dollars, and then jobs would follow,” Hicks said. But that all depends on whether or not the town decides to grant the future project special tax breaks.

Rural towns are often “outgunned” when trying to negotiate deals with large data center builders

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It’s not clear precisely how much tax revenue the data center could generate, as of this reporting, because there are still many unknowns about the project, including who Sentinel’s clients might be, the type of data center that will be built, what kind of tax incentives the town Select Board might offer, and even how many jobs the data center might bring to Jay.

McDonald’s job estimates have been all over the map, ranging from 100 to 150 as the project has progressed. He says the numbers he gave the Select Board and the state legislature are based on what Sentinel has told him, but warned that he’s “not a data center guy.”

What data centers actually mean for jobs

Ultimately, this is a tech ouroboros. The same data center infrastructure, subsidized as a jobs program, is purpose-built to reduce human labor, and the AI it powers is explicitly designed to automate work. Communities are being asked to trade tax revenue and grid capacity for jobs in an industry whose core product is labor replacement.

“It’s the biggest capital expenditure since the Manhattan Project, and it isn’t going to create tens of thousands of jobs in the long term,” Elmo said. “It’s not some economic boom. Meta, Amazon, OpenAI, Oracle, they’re shedding jobs in real time while spending billions on data centers so that other organizations can shed additional jobs through AI. At some point, people need to ask more critical questions about this.”

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As Hicks points out, rural America is being sold the same bill of goods it has been sold for 50 years. “Civic leaders are living 75 to 150 years in the past,” and framing these data center deals in the old industrial-boom mindset without the educational and demographic conditions that made previous booms possible.

The mill didn’t save rural towns, nor did the manufacturing center, the call center, or the Amazon warehouse. Based on the economic data, data centers will not save them either, and the one thing that could genuinely help — treating the facility’s tax base as a community windfall rather than a negotiating chip — is precisely what most states are legislating away.

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Environmental groups unveil policy roadmap with an eye towards Maine’s future leaders

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Environmental groups unveil policy roadmap with an eye towards Maine’s future leaders


A coalition of Maine environmental and community health organizations have published a five-year policy guide outlining how Maine can address environmental challenges and opportunities ahead of this year’s pivotal elections for governor and Maine Legislature. “Maine’s future leaders will be stepping into a critical moment for our environment, our health and the future we’re leaving […]



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