Wiring the Maine Line

Wedged between spent soda tanks and boxes of recyclables whirs a 486 clone that for two years has hosted the only local Internet service in Newport, Maine. Marc "Grouch" Warren bought the Tandy in October 1993 to balance the books at his pub. Within months he’d racked up a four-digit phone bill calling Virginia to […]

Wedged between spent soda tanks and boxes of recyclables whirs a 486 clone that for two years has hosted the only local Internet service in Newport, Maine. Marc "Grouch" Warren bought the Tandy in October 1993 to balance the books at his pub. Within months he'd racked up a four-digit phone bill calling Virginia to reach America Online. Annoyed by the huge bills, Warren decided to download some BBS software to begin offering connections himself. Though the pub now sits vacant ­ a relic of former rowdiness ­ Grouchy Marx, the BBS, continues to hum in Warren's new joint, a combination bar, store, restaurant, and barbershop.

Newport, a central Maine town of 3,000, is a rough-and-tumble place where the houses cluster to fend off the cold. The town was never a bright light, and what economic shine it once had has since faded. The local mill is considering layoffs, and logging work in the area often leads to crushed hands and broken backs. Warren, who is 30, thinks the Internet could encourage members of his generation to stay in Newport. "People here make handmade canoes," he says, "but the citizens of Newport can't afford to buy them. We could find a market for them on the Web."

Warren speaks so quietly his words seem taxed, but he became a public figure in his effort to wire Newport. He gave classes and made house calls. He posted public notices and the library's card catalog online. Some 250 people signed on with Grouchy Marx, but much of Newport saw little value ­ and some threat ­ in the digital unknown. "People are afraid to call me," Warren says. "People used to ask, 'What stops somebody from calling back and breaking into my computer?'"

Even so, Grouchy Marx has brought commerce to town.

Hugh Flye's record shop, a whistle from Warren's emporium, has fewer square feet than a horse stall. Flye uses Grouchy Marx to reach beyond Newport's borders and keep his shop alive. "Grouch sends out my product list when he does a mail run," Flye says. By combining direct mailings with BBS ads, Flye has sold records to Net users in Ireland, Denmark, Austria, and Slovenia.

Warren is newly married and expecting a child soon. "I'd like to find a way to stay," he says. "Newport is real Maine. It would be great if people would just open up a little and let me do this."

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Wiring the Maine Line

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