[420 Girl]

On his way to a debate about legalizing marijuana, John Frary shuffled through fallen leaves in his drive. He had perched a black bowler hat on his head and was cradling a tan one in his left hand. From his right hand swung his other trademark, a cane that he says he needs because of an arthritic left knee.

One of the most eccentric candidates for U.S. Congress this state has seen, Frary, a Republican from Farmington, switches between at least 15 hats and about three dozen ornate canes; where the affectation ends and utility begins is difficult to tell. But why two hats at once today?

"Because I haven't heard, but my debate opponent, Father Lewis Glidden, may not show up," he said. "So I may have to debate myself."

And so he did. Some minutes later, he strolled into a small auditorium that held about 15 students, most of whom sat in shadows at the rear of the room.

Frary's demeanor took on an air that went beyond that of a retired professor at ease in front of a classroom (he taught history and political science at a community college in New Jersey for three decades). Clearly enjoying the stage, he demanded attention, and the students gave it to him, laughing at his antics and grilling him for more than an hour.

When giving his own opinion on legalizing marijuana -- he supports it, despite opposition from within his own party -- he wore his black bowler. When students addressed questions to his absent debate partner, Frary switched to the tan one and delivered responses for him.

Since Glidden is his priest at St. Stephen's Anglican Church in New Sharon, Frary said he felt qualified to relay his probable positions and comments. The character that Frary portrayed opposed legalization of the drug, swore occasionally and did not get nearly as much air time as Frary himself, who also did his share of swearing.

Reached at home, Glidden affirmed that he disagrees with Frary on legalizing marijuana. Even so, Frary's priest still plans to vote for him.

"John would do an excellent job for the people of Maine," Glidden said. "John is very up-front, a very honest person, and will speak his own mind, not necessarily what someone wants to hear."

Frary advocates legalizing marijuana and taxing its sale, but one female student questioned whether the fact that the plant can be, and is, grown in many people's backyards would hinder efforts to tax it.

Frary was unfazed.

"If we put a tax on orgasms, for instance, that would be relatively easy to evade," he said in a didactic tone. "There will always be moonshiners -- I know one, actually; he gave me a 136-proof jug of applejack.

"I keep it in my shed next to the kerosene in case I receive visitors from New Jersey."

An odd rapport developed between the young students and the 67-year-old, self-styled conservative Anglican. Frary then said his only experience with marijuana came in graduate school at Rutgers University when he accidentally ate a plate of brownies laced with cannabis (which, to many snickers, he pronounced 'can-NAUB-is').

Speaking with a rhythm, he alternated between using obscure, polysyllabic words to express his opinions and playground insults to describe those who disagreed or were different from him.

Responding to a question from the audience, he said he supposed he would support funding for counseling and rehabilitating drug addicts. But then with a world-weary sigh he dismissed the question: "I reckon they got into this sort of addiction because they are more or less idiots," he said.

He uses the same term when referring to his opponent, Rep. Michael Michaud, D-2nd District, who for the past six years has served as Maine's congressman.

"He's dumb," Frary said. "I don't know, it's probably genetic."

Greg Olson, Michaud's campaign manager, declined to respond to this.

The comment is typical for a conversation with Frary, although he did later say of Michaud that "he just might be a genuinely nice guy -- near as I can tell, he is." Frary said he does not fear that his negativity will lose him votes; rather, he seems to revel in controversy.

When first considering whether to run for the 2nd Congressional District, he said he told an acquaintance that his strategy would be "to annoy so many voters that they would vote me south of the Kittery Bridge out of sheer vindictiveness."

A brief stint with column-writing for the Kennebec Journal and Morning Sentinel in 2005 ended badly after Frary's editors tired of his writing about the same topic four columns in a row. Since he had been criticizing Democratic Gov. John Baldacci's health-care policy, Frary says Republicans in the state held him up as a martyr. Regardless of the truth of this statement, Frary said this event served as a catalyst for his aspirations for U.S. Congress.

He recognizes that most observers say he has almost no chance of winning, although occasionally he sounds a little bit hopeful. In interviews, Frary calls this an "educational campaign," but he also repeatedly refers to what he sees as its entertainment value as well.

"Planting ideas in people's heads is far more useful than actually winning office," he said, sipping rainforest nut coffee in his study. "As a freshman congressman, your powers are negligible anyway."

For this long shot, he says he has spent about $300,000 of his own funds. At this point, he is spending about $9,000 per week on advertisements around the state. Contributions, almost all from individuals, are on the rise, he says, now exceeding $1,000 per day. When he returns from the marijuana debate with a small entourage of aides, he goes straight for the mailbox. They want to know how much money in contributions has come in the mail.

But he leaves the counting to someone else, instead plucking a personal note from the pile and settling into an overstuffed chair. It is from a former student of his, who he says is serving in the French Foreign Legion. He reads portions of it aloud; the former student congratulates him on his campaign and finishes with a slogan in French exhorting him as if he is about to go to battle:

"Sans faiblesse ni pitiŽ," he reads, translating it into English: "Without weakness or pity.

"These are the kind of people who are supporting me," he crowed.

But in a more reflective moment, he elaborates on his reasons for campaigning. After all the talk of educating and entertaining the public, a somewhat different story emerges.

"I built a study. I built a gazebo. I stocked the wine cellar, and I said, 'This is it -- I'm well-positioned for a slow decline into senility and then death,'" Frary says. "When you get to be 67, you don't have a lot of time left, and you haven't met all of your objectives.

"Well, this is kind of a way of catching up."

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