Can a thriving little city in Maine bluff its way into the ranks of big-time Internet players?
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A thriving little city in Maine tries to beat its small-time rep and bluff its way into the ranks of big-time Internet players. Is the promise of a more rural lifestyle, coupled with cool opportunities, enough to lure great talent?
Portland, Maine, is the rare American town that looks exactly the way you would expect it to; design a perfect coastal New England city, and you'll get Portland. There's an old-fashioned commercial district, all brick and wood with a splash of Victorian frill. The waterfront hosts a still-active fishing industry. Nineteenth-century mills and grand mansions abound, many of them now being converted into new work space, others serving to house enclaves of working artists and musicians. There's a hip, wired scene; a music scene; and so many transplants from New York, you can almost get the Sunday Times on Saturday night. Just beyond the inner harbor there are more than 300 islands, and not far inland there are lush evergreen forests. People who live in Portland love the community for its liveliness and cocoonlike, rugged warmth -- the perfect antidote to harsh Maine winters.
It's also way off the beaten career path, which must be why a guy like Rory Strunk has such a hard time getting anyone to move there.
True, everyone's having a tough time getting good workers these days. Luckily, Strunk has a big advantage. He's got a hot company -- his Resort Sports Network feeds information about weather, trail conditions, and more to resort cable stations, its own Web site, and (most recently) CNN Headline News -- and it's attracting a lot of attention for the way it's blending Web and TV distribution.
Not exactly what you'd expect from a company with a view of Portland Harbor. Fishing boats piled high with lobster traps sit docked just beneath Strunk's window. It's picturesque, but it's not exactly Tribeca.
That dichotomy presents as-yet unanswered questions for Strunk's company and for other growing Portland businesses: Does the provincial reputation of rustic Maine amount to an insurmountable psychological barrier for recruits now living in Atlanta, New York, or Palo Alto? Or can the beauty of coastal northern New England and its more relaxed lifestyle (along with a first-rate electronic infrastructure) be the lure? Can Portland hook the talent it needs to join the ranks of the San Franciscos of this new world?
When John Coleman won the account, his competitors called his people clam diggers, but he got the last laugh.
Less than two hours by car from Boston, Portland is caught between its old-timey charms and its aspirations toward sophistication. Local CEOs and other image makers both embrace and distance themselves from the city's long-standing reputation for quaintness -- the lobster rolls and lighthouse watercolors, the renovated Old Port neighborhood with its art galleries, chichi shops, and yupscale cafÉs. Portland's old Yankee charm brings a lot of money into the city: out-of-state vacationers drop their dollars in the downtown while on their way to summer homes or outlet shopping in L.L. Bean country. Last summer 17 cruise ships docked in the harbor, and this summer 50 are expected to drop anchor.
Ideally, the city wants to be known as being "so far from and yet so close to" the rest of the world, an insulated yet accessible retreat. "It takes less time to drive from Portland to Boston than it does from San Jose to San Francisco," says John Coleman, president of VIA Inc., a Portland-based marketing company. "People view San Francisco and San Jose as being in the same area, as part of a corridor. We have to get people to see Portland, Portsmouth, N.H., and Boston as part of a New England tech corridor."
But the corridor between Boston and Portland is quite different from the one between the two California cities. Instead of connecting pockets of technology and culture, such as Palo Alto, Stanford, Los Altos, and Mountain View, the drive from Boston to Portland features 110 miles of forest. The most significant pocket of culture is the New Hampshire State Liquor Store located at the halfway point.
It's a drive that can be good for the soul, but it does make you feel as if you've stepped off the grid. When you cross into Portland, driving past longtime local hangout Gritty McDuff's BrewPub and gliding onto the quiet main drag of Commercial Street, there's little to signal that you've returned to city life. Mostly what you see are fishing boats and seagulls and (in the wintertime) thick down jackets and Bean boots. There are few suits and fewer cell phones, and there's not a lot of attitude. It can take a while before you realize that this is not just a whistle-stop but a mini-boomtown on the new economic frontier.
At the heart of Portland's newfound vitality are businesses like VIA, Coleman's 100-employee, $8.8-million company. Housed in a very hip renovated molasses factory, VIA is one of four Maine operations that made the 1999 Inc. 500. (Yankees are not like the people in, say, Dallas; they never throw anything away, including their buildings. That gives Portland an abundance of old mill space, which can be easily transformed into creative offices.)
Cool space notwithstanding, Coleman has seen his company's image stung by the perception bee. For a 1995 trip to California to pitch National Semiconductor for its marketing and Web-site business, Coleman brought one colleague. A prominent West Coast competitor showed up with a team of eight. When his competitors realized a company from Maine was in the house, "they all started laughing, saying, 'They must be clam diggers,' " Coleman says. He now tells the story comfortably, however, because his little crew of clammers won the account.
Even in Boston, Portland gets a backwater rap: It's basically part of Canada, right? "The Boston perspective still is, 'Can I fly there?' " says Colleen Coxe, an exec with the Portland PR agency Hauptman & Partners Communications.
"I thought it would be like Anchorage," concedes Patricia Garey, who launched a Portland office of her North Carolina company, eMedia Staffing, after her husband was transferred to the region.
Portland people do not subscribe to an insanely obsessive work culture, and for that the town both wins and loses points. "I recently met a classic 26-year-old, New York Silicon Alley guy, the kind who sleeps on a couch at work a lot," says Coxe. "I was telling him about Maine, and he asked, 'Do you really think people there can work as hard as they can in New York?' I said yes; but remember, people live 10 minutes from home here, so they have productive, whole lives, too. For now, it's easier to balance that here. He was unconvinced -- but that was fine with me, because I don't need to see him at the supermarket."
