Charlie Rose is playing the other room and it's his repeat of Friday's tribute to New York Socialite Brooke Astor, who died last week. As I'm listening, I was initially reminded of my post from last January about her family and thus far, I haven't heard much of anything about the controversy which was such a large part of her final years and my blog entry, so I thought I'd offer a link.

PS) If anyone decides to visit Mr. Rose's site and if they're feeling particularly geeky or fearful, his recent hour about preparing for and protecting ourselves against a global pandemic is pretty dry, yet incredibly interesting.

For the past several days, I've been thinking about writing a book about something closer to home, but if I had the time and the inclination, there's probably another one which could be seeded from the following clips, which I'm putting under a cut.

( A Modern Day Soap )

When my wife and I lived in Maine, I'd pick up side money as a step-on guide. Because I've always have had a pretty fluid schedule and always received good reviews for my tours, I was often called on for a random tour company, but the real money was from servicing the cruise ships. Their numbers have increased over the past decade, but a quick glance at the Chamber's schedule for 2006 easily illustrates that it is big business for the town. The tourists shop, eat and take tours, while for some reason the foreign workers that would actually make the ships run, often seemed to force a line to form outside of the Timberland store.

Back when I would lead tours, there was an established operator who coordinated for both bus companies and cruise ships, plus he had a much smaller competitor in each field. The older gentleman with the most business would "punish" you, if you did any work for his competitors and since I considered him to be as friendly with me, as he possibly could be with anyone* and because he had all of the major operators and the biggest ships under contract, I stuck with the fellow that introduced me to the industry.

I remember my pay was $35 a tour, plus tips and we were employed as independent contractors. A standard step-on job would give you between $25 and $50 in tips, while most ship tours would provide between $50 and $100 in immediate, unrecorded cash. On a good day at the peak of foliage season, if there were enough reservations for some of us to do two tours, you could easily pocket $175-$200 for a morning's work and that'd be on top of the $70 that you'd get later by check. Also, if anyone is keeping score at home and might be considering the business, the cruise ships usually booked between ten and twenty buses, per trip.

Of course my tour was heavily researched and orchestrated. I'd give them all the facts and figures. I'd touch on early history of the island and explain how glaciers carved the landscape. When we were in sight of "The Bubbles", I'd give them the legend about how they looked like breasts from the sea and their names were cleaned-up for a general audience. As we'd go up Cadillac Mountain, I'd tell about old-timers driving on the frozen lake below and talk about the geology, flora and fauna, plus I'd explain about the old cog railway that used to go up the hill. On the way back down, I'd give a count of the islands of Maine and how it has the longest shoreline of any state, if you count the perimeters of these islands and I'd list modern celebrities who have homes in the area.

A large percentage of my tour was cultural history. I'd point to the lawn where the Boston Symphony would play during the "Gilded Age", back when Bar Harbor rivaled Newport as a playground for the rich. As we'd go by the yellow house, I'd point to the garage, where there is a turntable built into the floor. "You just drive onto the plate and use the controls to spin your car, so that you wouldn't have to back out". This story would segue nicely into a legend about Fredrick Vanderbilt having his formal dining table built on a hydraulic lift, so the maids could set the table out of sight and it'd rise through the floor, fully prepared for service.

When we were over by the Rockefeller estate, I'd start by pointing toward the drive that used to go back to the Ford Estate, then I'd explain how that after you cross a tiny strip of National Park, you'd be on the remaining Rockefeller property and how it is mostly open to the public. I'd go into a little detail about John Jr's "Eyrie" and how it had 2,280 windows and I used to know how many baths, but I've long ago forgotten. I'd tell them how the old man had ordered the house to be torn down upon his death, but David and his family have a small compound of houses on the non-public part of the property and I'd usually throw-in that Nelson was born on the island, then I'd wait to see if any old guy would pipe-up with a joke about his death, before I'd do one of my own.

As we'd make our way through the woods toward the road up Cadillac Mountain, I'd rattle off a bunch of big money names who had homes on the island. I'd explain how the double whammy of World War II and the Great Depression, followed by a fire that destroyed most of the "cottages" on the Bar Harbor side of the island, prompted John D. Rockefeller Jr. and a man named George Dorr to ask the wealthy landowners to donate their property to what would become America's first national park, east of the Mississippi. I'd also go into some detail about Mr Rockefeller financing the CCC to build an extensive and elaborate system of trails and carriage roads, plus how he had employed the leading landscape architects of the day to pick the views and manage the cuttings and plantings.

If you were to visit the island today, there are still some of these celebrated homes in Bar Harbor proper, Seal Harbor, where the Rockefeller Estate is actually located and over around Northeast Harbor. Most of the more ostentatious homes that remain are up an unmarked drive, guarded by their isolation, caretakers and a handful of household staff, but there are some pretty impressive homes visible from the street or the Shore Path. The area has obviously evolved into the modern era and there is a greater mix of incomes than there may have been in the day. Mount Desert Island is still something of a playground for the very rich, but as I've said before, during the summer tourist season, I'd guess there's two to three hundred homeless workers living in the woods.

It is with all of this background, plus a lot more knowledge that I can understand this article from the current Bar Harbor Times, though it still gives me pause. A developer is planning a luxury condo development on a hillside with spectacular harbor views, but four or five blocks from the bay and I assume no water access, or at least none on the main property. They have planned twenty-six units marked at $1 million apiece, plus another twenty-six timeshares to be sold at $200,000 for a two week annual stay.

*Both, him and Scrooge were cut from the same cloth