On the Banks of the Saco

1875 map of Biddeford and Saco

In the 1970s, having completed graduate school, I worked in construction in Portland, Maine. I was looking for a job teaching, but nothing had opened up. The crew I worked with all had French last names, and a couple of them spoke French on the job. They or their parents or grandparents had come down from Québec to work in the mills or in the building trades.

The crew included two brothers from Biddeford. Biddeford has been in the news lately, as the site where a Colombian immigrant was shot and killed by an ICE agent.

Biddeford is an old mill town on the south bank of the Saco River. The town of Saco is on the other side. John, one of the brothers, told me that historically Biddeford was labor, Saco was management. French workers on one side, Yankee bosses on the other. The kids from Saco called the French kids “frogs” and their city, “Biddefrog.” Same thing in Sanford, or “Sandfrog.” Same ethnic division in Lewiston on the Androscoggin River across from Auburn, and Waterville north of Augusta.

As I too had a French last name, and had just recently moved to Maine, John figured I should hear all the frog jokes from him, so I wouldn’t be caught off guard when I heard them elsewhere.

John also told me something that surprised me. He said that when the Québecois first came to Biddeford, and to other cities on Maine’s rivers, things got pretty nasty. He said his grandfather remembered when the Ku Klux Klan paraded in Saco and threatened to cross the bridge into Biddeford. But the French and Irish immigrants were waiting for them, and the Klan had second thoughts and retreated.

Maine, the home of several indigenous tribes, was colonized in the 17th and 18th centuries by both England and France. The French settled in Acadia, which included the maritime provinces as well as parts of Maine, and the English in central and southern Maine. After the conquest of Canada, British forces expelled much of the French population of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, sending them as far as Louisiana. Some, however, found refuge in Maine’s north along the St. John River.

In the 19th century, scarcity of farmland and economic hardship in Québec drove thousands of French Canadians south. Maine’s mills and lumber industry needed workers and they needed jobs. French-speaking and Catholic, they were seen as a threat by the Protestant majority. The conflict between cultures sometimes became violent.

In 1854 an anti-French mob in Bath burned the Catholic church. In Ellsworth, a mob tarred and feathered a Catholic priest. In 1919 a law was passed banning the speaking or teaching of French in schools.

The 1920s saw the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan, which directed its hostility not against African Americans, of which there were precious few, but toward French and Irish Catholics. In 1924 in the town of Greenville, forty Ku Klux Klansmen went after union workers trying to organize French lumbermen. Later that year, the Klan exploded a bomb in Lewiston, which had the largest Franco-American population in the state. At one time, the Klan counted over 100,000 members.

Although the Klan’s influence dropped off sharply in coming years, it did manage to infiltrate the Republican Party in Maine and helped elect Ralph Owen Brewster governor in 1924.

Things are different today. Although French Mainers are still a minority—11.5 percent of the population report French ancestry—the days of conflict are over. In recent decades, the pine-tree state has become more diverse, reflecting immigration and migration patterns across the United States. The groups with the fastest growing populations now are Blacks/Africans and Latinos.

A good case study of the integration of immigrants is what’s happening in Lewiston with the settling of refugees from Somali, beginning in 2001. Although there was considerable friction between residents and African immigrants, relations have improved. Fleeing civil war, the Somalis found a haven and jobs in Lewiston. Paying rent and rehabbing old property, they also started small businesses. A vacant downtown area is now lined with shops, restaurants and markets. And they enrolled their children in public schools. In 2015 Somali high school students helped Lewiston win its first soccer state championship. Two more championships followed.

Biddeford is another city that has welcomed immigrants. Last week Mayor Liam LaFountain (of French-Canadian ancestry) joined residents in mourning the killing of Johan Sebastian Guerrero, 25, an immigrant from Colombia. Authorized to work in the United States, Johan was driving to work when he was stopped by ICE agents and shot. His 3-year-old daughter was in the back seat.

A century ago, Biddeford residents stood up to the Ku Klux Klan. Now, like communities across America, they are suffering the ravages of ICE. On Tuesday at a packed city council meeting, Mayor LaFountain demanded justice and accountability for Guerrero and his family.

ICE agents arrest a women during “Operation Catch of the Day” in Maine. MSN Photo.

“We are here because Johan was a member of this community, our community,” he said. “When one of us is taken like this, we do not look away. We do not stay quiet.” 

LaFontain told immigrants in the city that “you belong here. You are part of who Biddeford is.”

The mayor also called for “humane immigration reform.” For a country reeling from the government’s mass deportation campaign, such reform is long overdue. It’s the only thing that will make us and our neighbors safe.

1936 & 2026–What will we remember?

The black-and-white photos are eerily compelling. A giant airship, the Hindenburg, hovers above the stadium. In a second one, Adolf Hitler and his entourage pass through the Brandenburg Gate.. The Führer is standing in an open Mercedez Benz. A third shows him arriving in the massive Olympic stadium as 100,000 Germans raise their arms in Nazi salute.

We remember the 1936 Olympics as a pivotal event, showcasing the glory and the infamy of the Third Reich. It took place three years after Adolf Hitler came to power and three years before Germany invaded Poland and World War II began. I think of these games with all their ceremony as I watch the final games of the World Cup, hosted by the United States, Mexico and Canada.

When the Olympics opened in 1936, anyone who was paying attention knew of Germany’s persecution of Jews, Roma and others. As early as 1933, the Nazis had instituted an Aryan-only policy in all athletic organizations. Jews were excluded from sports facilities and associations. Other actions were more sinister.

In April of ’33, the government barred Jews from holding civil service, university, and state positions. That same month it instigated boycotts of Jewish businesses and shops. In May, across the street from the University of Berlin, mobs burned over 20,000 books. That spring, the Nazis opened the first of 23 main concentration camps near Dachau.

In the next two years Hitler pushed through a series of “Nuremburg Laws,” stripping Jews of their citizenship and prohibiting intermarriage. Germany also began compulsory sterilization of the “unfit,” mentally and physically disabled persons in nine categories. Euthanasia would come later.

But in the summer of 1936, in preparation for the Olympic games, the Nazi government put on a kinder face for the world. Antisemitic signs and posters were taken down and government pronouncements muted. To show its racial tolerance, Germany included in its Olympic team of 433 athletes one Jew, the star fencer, Helene Mayer, whose father was Jewish.

Considered a triumph of propaganda, the 1936 Olympics showcased Germany as a respectable and welcoming member of the international community, a nation built by hard work, family values and patriotism.

What most Americans remember about the Berlin games, however, was the brilliance of Jesse Owens, who won four gold medals, defying Hitler’s racial ideology. With his stunning victories, Owens became an international hero, with little thought to the racial prejudice he and other African Americans faced back home.

There were 359 athletes in the American team, including 18 African Americans and two Jews. The Jews were Marty Glickman and Sam Stoller, both talented sprinters. Controversy would later erupt when it was learned that on the day of the 4×100-meter relay, for which they had trained, they were pulled from the race, many believe, to spare Hitler further embarrassment.

Despite the success of the Americans, the Germans won the lion’s share of Olympic medals, 38 gold and 101 total, bolstering the Nazis’ claims of Aryan superiority.

As we watch the finals of the World Cup on Sunday in New York, we close one of the most successful international sports events of our time. Sixteen cities in three North American countries have hosted 102 games, rich in ceremony and bonhomie. The 46 teams came from five continents, thrilling fans and spectators with their passion, pride and skills on the pitch.  

I’m wondering, though, how we will look back on the 2026 World Cup, and particularly, our country and what was going on out of sight. In writing this, I am not saying things in America are the same as in Germany in 1936. They are not. But there are similarities.

While athletes from around the world have been chasing soccer balls, the government has been chasing immigrants in what it promised would be the largest mass deportation project in American history. The slogan for ramped up enforcement in Maine was titled “Catch of the Day.” Arresting thousands a day in streets and job sites around the country, the government is holding some 70,000 men, women and children in 212 detention centers, where they await deportation. Thousands more are being flown every day to countries they had fled or other unsafe destinations.

Fathers and mothers have been taken from children. Wage-earners arrested have left families stranded. Men and women have been shot and killed, leaving their blood in the streets.

Targeting not only those without documentation, but 1.3 million here legally under the Temporary Protected Status, the government has in effect instituted ethnic cleansing, considered a crime against humanity. Most of those arrested are black or brown.

Before mass deportation began, the President and others engaged in persistent slander of people from Haiti, Africa and Latin America. Is this not reminiscent of the Nazis’ decades-long efforts to dehumanize Jews, necessary before action can be taken against them? Necessary before “the final solution”?

Years from now, we will recall the glorious World Cup games of 2026, a time when athletes and fans from around the world joined us, competed against us and celebrated with us. Yet so much has been going on behind the curtain.

What will we remember?

Photos from the National Archives

Lessons from the Pitch

I didn’t grow up with soccer. The only time I played was in a pasture in Austria, where I was a student. The school, Seminar Schloss Bogenhofen, was in the countryside near the town of Braunau, infamous for being the birthplace of Hitler.

One of only a few American students, I was encouraged to join my Austrian classmates in a pick-up game of Fussball. On the field, I quickly embarrassed myself with my clumsy moves. I also kept a lookout for cow pies.

Fast forward to Stoneham in the 1980s and my wife and I are standing with other parents on the sidelines at the soccer field off Broadway. Our 10-year-old son has just received a pass and punched it into the goal.

Although he would later abandon soccer for basketball, we gradually developed an interest in “the beautiful game.” Not yet serious fans, we nevertheless enjoyed World Cup and Olympic contests, especially the successes of the USA Women’s team.

This year, with World Cup games coming to Boston, we’ve spent way too much time watching matches on TV. We’ve cheered not only for our country, which showed great talent before losing to Belgium, but for various teams from around the world.

In picking which teams to cheer for, besides USA, I follow two principles. The first is, I like the underdogs. Who doesn’t like an upset? Or a herculean effort by a low-ranked team, like Cape Verde, who pushed Argentina to the limit before bowing out in the round of 16.

The second is, I like teams from places I’ve been, or have friends and family members living there. For this reason, and also because they were such fun to have in Boston, we cheered loudly for Scotland.

For similar reasons, I cheered for Germany because I have cousins there. I cheered for African teams because I was born in Tanzania. I cheered for Portugal because of our neighbors, who came from Portugal. I cheered for Mexico because we once took a train to Mexico City. I cheered for Brazil because we have so many Brazilians among us. And I cheered for Canada because, well, how can we not?

Having the World Cup in North America allows us to see some of the best players in the world. Like Messi, Ronaldo and Mbappé. Erling Haaland and Harry Cane aren’t bad either. And it brings hordes of fans into our cities, stadiums, bars and streets. In the faces of fans from around the world we see the same spectrum of emotions as those we feel—boisterous displays of joy and pride, bouts of anxiety and the agony of defeat.

We also learn about their countries and culture. Googling during water breaks, I find out that Cape Verde has a tiny population of only half a million, or that Uruguay is in the southern cone of South America east of Argentina and south of Brazil. Its name comes from the river Uruguay, which means “bird river.”

Watching the World Cup, I realize that the world we are seeing is richly diverse and abundant in cross-border bonhomie. In many ways, it reflects the demographic landscape that is already here. A nation of immigrants, we revel in the reunion of cultures from around the world.

I also realize, sadly, that this is a world our President and his lieutenants despise. It’s not just his America First doctrine and his disdain for other nations and cultures. Or his contempt for “shithole countries,” and his slanderous rants against Haitians, Mexicans and Somalians. It’s his open espousal of white nationalism and his attempt to rewrite American history.

It’s also his attempt to purge America of its black and brown immigrants. Even as I sit on my couch enjoying a World Cup match, I know that in 212 detention centers around the United States, some 70,000 immigrants are awaiting deportation. Thousands more are being arrested each day. They are in essence no different from the players we see on the pitch, or the fans that follow them. They are no different from us.

As we watch the semi-finals and championship game—and as we celebrate our 250th Birthday—this World Cup has something to teach us. Like the inspiring photographs of the earth taken from the recent moon voyage, the World Cup should convince us that we are, in truth, one world. It’s time we start acting like it.