PORTLAND, MAINE -- Angus King is trying to turn back time in this state. I hope he can do the same across the country.
In a speech Saturday morning, the self-made millionaire-turned-independent politician deftly displayed the qualities that helped him serve as a popular two-term governor here from 1995 to 2003. The 68-year-old hailed Abraham Lincoln, Bill Bellichick, Sam Walton, and his teenage son in a 30-minute talk that made the audience at the Maine Historical Society's annual meeting howl with laughter. King was a self-deprecating, pragmatic, and non-partisan everyman, a character type that flinty and fiercely independent Maine voters have sent to Washington for decades.
But as in the rest of the nation, politics in Maine have dramatically changed in recent years. The state's dynamic new political force is Gov. Paul LePage, a take-no-prisoners, tea party-backed conservative Republican. Since winning a three-way race for governor with 39 percent of the vote in 2010, LePage has assailed public-employee unions, unleashed blistering attacks on his opponents, and delighted his conservative Republican base. Like them or not, the Tea Party has out-organized its rivals and gained an outsized voice.
King, a former Democrat who now rejects both Republican and Democratic dogma, is either an anachronism or a sign that some voters are tiring of partisanship. Keep in mind that a record number of Americans -- 40 percent -- identified themselves as independent in a January Gallup poll; 31 percent identified as Democrats and 27 percent as Republicans.
For now, King is the favorite to win the Senate race. And in one unlikely but possible scenario, he could be the deciding vote in an evenly divided Senate.
A lawyer, businessman, and 18-year host of the Maine public television show "Maine Watch," King's long-shot campaign for governor in 1994 was the first time he had ever run for public office. Bitter partisanship among Democrats, Republicans, and a Green Party candidate who drew 6 percent of the vote helped King eke out a win with 35 percent of the vote. So did the $950,000 that King -- whose alternative-energy business boomed at the time -- spent on the race.
In office, King supported abortion rights but opposed increasing the minimum wage. He oversaw the largest increase in conservation lands in Maine's history but opposed regulations supported by environmental groups. And while cutting some taxes, he backed a program that gave every seventh- and eighth-grade student in the state a laptop computer.
Reelected in a landslide in 1998, he supported George W. Bush in the 2000 presidential campaign -- "I thought he was a compassionate conservative," King told me in an interview after his Historical Society stem-winder -- but backed John Kerry in 2004. "I didn't like the direction that the Bush administration had taken," he explained, "particularly in starting two wars and tax cuts that weren't funded."
As evidence of his bipartisanship, King's campaign says that the bills he proposed during his eight years in office had 891 Democratic sponsors or cosponsors and 755 Republican sponsors or cosponsors. His self-described political philosophy is, "I call 'em as I see 'em."
More than anything, King is an iconoclast. The day after he completed his second term in office, he, his wife, and two youngest children set out on a five-month road trip across the United States. King, a self-described environmentalist, piloted a diesel-burning, 40-foot long RV with a car towed behind for 15,000 miles through 33 states. He also owns a Harley.
Olympia Snowe's surprise February decision to not seek reelection prompted King to enter the race. Her complaint that partisanship had made it impossible to get anything done in Washington is King's battle cry.
The independent argues that average Americans are turning less partisan, not more partisan. "I think we're divided among the people who talk a lot," he said.
As he campaigned, he says, he hears a clear message from 95 percent of voters. "Why can't they talk to each other?," he said, paraphrasing voter questions. "What happened to common sense? Why can't they work together?"