A whoopie pie almost made me sick last week.

Well, not the pie but an editorial about the ubiquitous staple of Maine desserts. That’s right, I said, “Maine desserts.”

What drove the dagger deeper was that the editorial making light of Maine’s claim that it’s the birthplace of the whoopie pie appeared in our own Times Leader.

I have dual citizenship in Pennsylvania and Maine, my birthplace. I love the Phillies and admire Penn State football and the fervor of its fans. Cheesesteaks have no equal outside of Pennsylvania.

Add pizza and virtually all Italian food in Northeastern Pennsylvania to a list of foods that bring us pride.

I love Pennsylvania and in fact have made the best friends of my life here, but Friday’s editorial went too far. It pushed my loyalty to the limit.

I read every Times Leader editorial before it is published and our principal writer, Mark Jones, is one of the finest editorial writers in our business, at any paper, large or small. His voice in expressing our institutional assessment of issues, individuals and institutions is consistently steady, well-reasoned and fair.

So be it on such substantive matters. Last week Jones showed he knows absolutely nothing about whoopie pies. His editorial was so off base I was tempted to squish and squash it the way you might chomp down on a soft, fresh whoopie pie, or the way you might crush one if you left it on the car seat and accidentally sat on it.

Rarely would the latter be a possibility for me. I buy them and eat them before I start the car. That is when I am in Maine.

Maine is dotted throughout its 16 counties with general stores that make their own whoopie pies and also carry state-made commercial ones. All of them are good: Firm but moist, sometimes with a balance of sweetness and a slightly bitter chocolate taste.

I’m a sucker for whoopie pies labeled “homemade.”

I know a woman in Maine who has been making me homemade whoopie pies for more than 60 years and she set the standard.

When I try a new one I first give it the squeeze test, which can be done with the wrapping still on and without putting a permanent dent in the pie. It must be squishy and fresh-feeling.

Editorials, by the way, should not be squishy.

Anyway, on a vacation day along the Maine coast, I had just found a new homemade whoopie pie. As I sank my teeth into it, I glanced at my email and saw that Jones had sent me this smart aleck, wise-cracking editorial.

In case you missed it, I’ll let you read a snippet of it. But first an observation. I have lived in Pennsylvania on and off for more than 30 years and in all that time I have seen only one dessert pretending to be a whoopie pie in the Keystone State. It was at a campground near Harrisburg. The camp store offered customers a choice for starting grills: either the pie or charcoal.

I was born in Maine. I know who invented the whoopie pie: Maine.

Here’s a sampling of Jones’ attempt at humor and parochialism.

“We tried to let it go, but by gosh, Maine lawmakers, you overstepped your bounds this year when you brazenly claimed a rich Pennsylvania culinary tradition — the whoopie pie — as your own.

Pennsylvania is no pushover, its 12.7 million residents not cream puffs. So, in the strongest terms possible, hear this: You can have our whoopie pie when you pry it from our sticky dead fingers.

“At first, your illegitimate claim to establish the chocolate wonder with marshmallowy-like midsection as Maine’s “official state dessert” amused us. Then, you had the audacity to actually bestow that distinction on blueberry pie, while surreptitiously declaring whoopie pie your official state treat.

“Heresy, plain and simple.

“The Amish of Pennsylvania concocted the recipe for ‘gobs,’ or whoopie pies, as assuredly as Ben Franklin invented the Franklin stove. We call on good Americans everywhere to flatly reject Maine’s revisionist confectionary history.”

There was more but you get the idea. Sarcastic. Condescending. After bragging a bit about several people and things with Pennsylvania roots, Jones dropped the curtain with a classic cheap shot based on an old and popular Maine joke:

“For those of us in the northeastern corner of our marvelous commonwealth, it’s an expedient and enjoyable trip into the cradle of the Keystone State.

“And, unlike traveling in Maine, you always can get there from here.”

Very funny, but let’s turn it around. You can get to Maine from here but if it’s you, Mark Jones, the state police have been alerted to your blasphemy.

About the Author

Richard L. Connor is Editor and Publisher of the Times Leader and president of Wilkes-Barre Publishing Company.

Richard L. Connor is Editor and Publisher of The Times Leader. Mr. Connor’s career in the newspaper business spans nearly 40 years in four states and in a variety of positions including editor, publisher and owner.

In June of 2006, Mr. Connor formed The Wilkes-Barre Publishing Company, purchased The Times Leader and returned to the post he previously held from 1978 to 1986.

He has worked for several media companies, including 25 years as an executive with Capital Cities Communications, later Cap Cities/ABC and then the Walt Disney Company. During that time he served for over 10 years as President and Publisher of The Fort Worth Star-Telegram in Fort Worth, TX.

His work to have his newspapers not only serve the community as a voice of needed change but also to build bridges among its leaders and diverse forces has been recognized constantly for its unique brand of media leadership. He has won numerous awards as a columnist and for his editorials and has received a number of awards for his newspaper and community leadership and achievement. He has served on numerous community and industry boards, including two times as a member of the Pulitzer Prize Nominating Committee.

He resides in the Back Mountain with his wife, Deborah, and daughter, Meredith. Mr. Connor also has two adult children.

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