Port Clyde

I see what you did there.

It's just offshore from the mainland town of Village of Port Clyde, Maine.

And for the last 20 years, Old Balls and Strikes has enjoyed, let's see, 26...

Gosh, that's right, about the same time he became Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.

Did he

go crying to Susan, did he?

Well, I don't know who he was crying, but yeah, he's crying because the New York Times found out when they went up to Port Clyde, they talked to more than two dozen people who actually live there.

They're not just summer people.

John, who swaps favors with neighbors and endures jokes about his boating skills from more experienced operators.

John, who has spent many mornings on the dock in Port Clyde, the postage stamp-sized town across the water from the island, nursed in a half caf and a cinnamon bun.

For a long time, the chief justice's life here was a story of potluck dinners and easy friendships, according to a summer of interviews with more than two dozen residents.

Neighbors reveled in his position but kept exchanges with him about it brief or light.

He is now ringed by far more security than in the past, residents say, adding to the distance.

The chief justice's narrowing world in Maine shows how the court's controversial decisions and languishing public trust, along with increasing peril for public officials, have reshaped the lives of justices.

"From what I see, the barrier runs both ways," says Marianne Mason, a friend and former law partner of the chief justice who lives in Port Clyde.

It's harder for him to feel comfortable approaching people and vice versa.

Ain't unusual in these parts.

He lived with his uncle after that, Captain My Mitchell of Port Clyde.

Male boy? Uncle My.

He's dead, too.

He used to take me gunning.

Uncle My? Well, it wouldn't be Captain My Mitchell.

It used to be down to Port Clyde, would it?

What if it is?

And now a listener-suggested story from Ellen in Augusta, Maine.

Chief Justice John Roberts keeps a low profile while vacationing on a private island off Port Clyde, Maine.

But that peace was interrupted last weekend by progressive activists who arrived by kayak, canoe, and rowboat to protest the nation's top jurist.

21 people and one dog used small paddlecraft to hold a one-hour floating vigil in the waters between Port Clyde and Hopper Island, where Roberts has a home, while another 20 people line the edge of the public landing.

The roughly 250-acre island, accessible only by boat but not far from shore, is home to about two dozen properties.

The kayaktivists, including one dressed as a giant frog, held simple black and white signs accusing the Roberts court of serving as a rubber stamp for fascism by failing to resist President Donald Trump.