American Scene: Participatory Democracy

AT mud time in New England--a kind of fifth season between winter and spring--residents in scores of towns still assemble for one of American democracy's oldest rites: the town meeting. The tradition is as old as the colonies and, some say, retains about as much relevance as a ducking stool. As population increases and modern municipal problems intrude, many Yankee communities find that they need the expertise and steady ministration of professionals. Yet in smaller towns the annual caucus survives as a functional exercise in participatory democracy.

In mud time 1970, 120 of the 596 inhabitants of Mount Vernon, Me., gathered at the elementary school for the 182nd annual meeting since the first one was held in 1788. Also attending was TIME Correspondent Gregory Wierzynski. His report:

Twenty miles northwest of Augusta in hilly farm country, Mount Vernon is too poor to be a traditionally quaint New England town. At the start of the century, it had a flourishing sawmill, gristmill, tannery and barrel factory. By 1940, the industries were gone. Now the townsmen cut lumber or work in neighboring communities in shoe factories, mills or government offices. The average family income runs between $3,000 and $4,000 a year. "Downtown" is a cluster of frame buildings, including the abandoned log mill, a general store and a pizza joint. It was in Mount Vernon, where his mother lives, that Erskine Caldwell wrote Tobacco Road --and he might have been inspired by the setting, if not the climate.

Mount Vernon's people are nonetheless proud, independent and intent on keeping the town alive. At least part of their pride derives from the fact that they very literally govern themselves. There is also a sense of stability. Apart from minor vandalism there has not been a crime for years. Despite the poverty, a welfare budget of $1,000 suffices; few are willing to apply for public assistance.

In the schoolhouse, which also serves as the town office, friends who had not seen each other since the first snows of winter exchanged exuberant greetings. Then the townspeople settled down to choosing their three-member board of selectmen and debating a $117,280 town budget. They approved $9,000 for a new school bus and $100 for steel roofing to cover the shed that houses salt to spread on winter roads. But no, they would not repair a section of road leading to the house of the community's second-largest taxpayer. An appropriation for other winter road maintenance was passed, however, because a housewife exclaimed: "I got stuck twice and couldn't get the old man to work."

A proposal to allot $600 to help the state root out a blight called pine blister rust went down because, as one man said: "We can do it better, and for nothing." One item on the "warrant," or agenda, suggested replacing Mount Vernon's 22 conventional street lights with 17 mercury-vapor lights to provide better illumination. When the first selectman explained that the change would increase the monthly electric bill by $25.90, a resident shouted: "Forget it!" It was unanimously voted down.

Short Time. There was some excitement over the town's accounts, which have been in disarray since 1967, when the selectmen did not bother to submit a financial report. "I wish to ask the town treasurer," one citizen snapped, "why there are so many discrepancies in her accounting." Mabel Smith, town clerk and treasurer, a sturdy, pugnacious widow who between meetings virtually runs Mount Vernon, crustily invited any doubters to check the receipts at the bank. One of Mrs. Smith's responsibilities is to record the town's deaths, births and marriages. These days, however, she publicly reports only the deaths, because she noticed a lot of her neighbors snickering at the short time elapsed between some marriages and births.

No Lightning. Before recessing for cookies and coffee provided by the Women's Auxiliary, the townspeople discussed their $64,000 school budget. Superintendent Perry Shibles reported that they would have to spend at least $6,000 on new teachers and raise the salaries of those already working in Mount Vernon. The townspeople gasped but went along with the proposal.

Jefferson called the New England town meeting "the best school of political liberty the world ever saw." To a degree, the town meeting represents an older communal spirit not unlike that of hippie settlements. Now the technology that the communards seek to escape is beginning to close in on towns like Mount Vernon. Until a couple of years ago, Mount Vernon was served by crank telephones and calls routed by two elderly operators who knew everyone in town. One townsman recalls: "They knew where everybody was and used to transfer calls if you were visiting somebody. Now we just have this dial stuff that gets only a lot of noise in the receiver."

There was little superfluous static at the town meeting. Moderator Robert Johnson managed the session with quiet efficiency. For one thing, the townspeople have a deep respect for parliamentary procedure and law. For another, the bootlegger who used to supply enlivening white lightning has been dead for several years. Nowadays the nearest liquor store is twelve miles away.

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