A “fish story” is a very American sort of legend. The fish story doesn’t need to involve fish, but it does need drama and most of all bigness. A fish story triggers the B.S. alarm of all but the most credulous listener, and unlike some legends, the moral or import of a fish story isn’t always clear.
America, which exudes bigness, coined the term “fish story,” the Oxford English Dictionary concedes. Arguably, the home of the fish story is the most folksy and maritime corner of the country, Down East Maine .
Out of Columbia Falls in Washington County comes a grand fish story these days.
At first, the tale might look like a small story of small-town petty bureaucracy .
“The family that unsuccessfully tried to build a patriot-themed flagpole park in Washington County,” reported the Bangor Daily News, “has paid back just a fraction of the associated planning costs spent by Columbia Falls, despite previously offering to reimburse the town for that spending.”
Yes, the media are hounding property owner Morrill Worcester for repaying only some of the costs the town incurred by throwing up roadblocks to Worcester's plans: a privately funded park he wanted to build on his own land in order to honor American war veterans.
That much is true, and it’s very American, involving litigiousness, private enterprise, and patriotism .
But the details make the story more complicated — and harder to believe.
Worcester described his planned park as “part national monument, part historical adventure, part immersive museum, and part architectural wonder.”
If that sounds like it might be beyond the scope of a park for tiny town in rural Maine, you’re starting to get a glimpse at the size of this fish.
The flagpole at the center of Worcester’s “Flagpole Freedom Park,” would be not only the tallest flagpole in the world. It would be taller than the Empire State Building. And the flag that would fly atop it was to be larger than a football field — by about 50%.
The park was to include its own version of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, but it would have the name of every fallen veteran in every single American war from the Revolutionary War until today.
All of this in a town of 476 people.
It’s a plan big enough to set off B.S. detectors, but it's also big enough to spur local bureaucrats into action.
The mandarins of Columbia Falls moved instantly to block the development. Then they set about crafting far more comprehensive land-use codes than Columbia Falls had ever believed it would need. Eventually, Worcester scrapped the plans for the park, but the town continued with its regulatory overhaul.
The public was agitated, not merely by the prospect of a Tower of Babel looming over them, or its loss, but also that the new codes would curb their own property rights.
Aga Dixon, an attorney hired by the town, stood up at a January town meeting to note that most rights, including property rights, have limits. The Maine Monitor quoted Dixon’s argument: “My father used to say, 'Your right to throw fish in the air is unfettered until it hits my nose.' "
Is this a thing in Washington County, Maine? Do fishermen throw mackerels in the air with abandon? Do innocent passersby get struck in the nose by falling flounder? This story was getting better every minute.
CLICK HERE TO READ MORE FROM THE WASHINGTON EXAMINER
I reached out to Dixon to ask her the meaning of her fishy metaphor. She told me she was misquoted. She says she spoke about fists, not fish.
Alas, nothing ruins a good fish story like checking it.
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