Booze king Paul Coulombe wants to upgrade a coastal Maine town into a luxury destination. He says he just wants to save a dying hamlet. But his neighbors think he’s putting them on the road to ruin.
The guy you’ll want to thank for the existence of the best-selling,
personal-fortune-making, all-but-undrinkable Pinnacle whipped-cream
vodka is standing on a pile of rubble, wearing a pair of knee-high
wellies and a shirt that’s unbuttoned halfway to his navel. It’s late
March, and 62-year-old liquor magnate Paul Coulombe is observing the
remnants of a mediocre golf course he’s in the process of luxe-ifying,
from the hilly site of what will one day be a gargantuan clubhouse.
“This view,” he comments, “is spectacular.” Swiveling his head to the
left, he notices something less spectacular. “Now, we can see the
cemetery, which I’m not that fond of.” A brief, slapstick discussion
ensues, between him and his contractor, about the problem of the dead
people across the street who are ruining the panorama. It is determined
that the dead people can’t be moved.
It’s fairly clear that Paul Coulombe was never committed to the possibility of a mass unburial. Nonetheless, there’s symbolic value here: Coulombe is of the opinion that the town of Boothbay—along with neighboring Boothbay Harbor and Southport Island—is for all intents and purposes dead. “I always saw the town as kind of folding and getting passed by Camden or Kennebunkport or Bar Harbor,” says Coulombe, who has a tuft of white hair and a honking voice that makes his nose sound perpetually clogged. “There’s just not been investment, I hate to say it, in the last 50 or 60 years. So I’m the first one who’s come to this town and thought it was worth saving.”
It’s fairly clear that Paul Coulombe was never committed to the possibility of a mass unburial. Nonetheless, there’s symbolic value here: Coulombe is of the opinion that the town of Boothbay—along with neighboring Boothbay Harbor and Southport Island—is for all intents and purposes dead. “I always saw the town as kind of folding and getting passed by Camden or Kennebunkport or Bar Harbor,” says Coulombe, who has a tuft of white hair and a honking voice that makes his nose sound perpetually clogged. “There’s just not been investment, I hate to say it, in the last 50 or 60 years. So I’m the first one who’s come to this town and thought it was worth saving.”
No comments:
Post a Comment