Roxanne Quimby for Governor!

Despite her 30-odd years of residence in the state, Quimby has inspired resentment among the locals. One reason is because she had the poor judgment to be born in Massachusetts. The other, more crucial reason, is because she moved her company and its 40 jobs to North Carolina in 1994. At the time, she claimed she couldn't hire enough staff in Guilford, where Burt's Bees had been headquartered. No matter. To many residents, she's still a turncoat--an outsider who became an insider then abandoned her adopted community. Somehow, they seem to forget that she has lived in Winter Harbor all along. "Message from northern Maine to Quimby," wrote Eugene Conlogue, town manager for Millinocket, in a letter to the Bangor Daily News, "Leave us and our way of life alone."

Quimby is having none of it. She knows that way of life firsthand, and she has no intention of letting a few local graybeards' knee-jerk reactions slow her down. She has a characteristic defense ready on the question of origin. "There are people saying, 'Just because a cat has her kittens in the oven, you can't call 'em biscuits,' " she says. "But my ancestors were from Maine way before the Civil War, so I don't care what anyone says."

If she launches a gubernatorial campaign, Quimby says, she probably will run as a Maine Green Independent Party candidate. While the Green Party numbers just 16,000 members statewide, the most recent Green gubernatorial candidate, Jonathan Carter, took 9% of the vote in 2002. Quimby, controversial as she is, has at least as high a profile in a state with just 1.2 million residents.

But to run, Quimby needs money, which is one reason she has sold a stake in Burt's Bees. The decision was a careful one. Quimby looked for an outside investor with plenty of capital to commit,but with no immediate plan to fold Burt's Bees into a larger entity. She wanted a buyer who could ease her management burden--and her travel--while allowing her to stay as CEO for now. After lengthy discussions, AEA won her trust. Although Quimby won't confirm the exact figure, the deal reportedly was worth $180 million. It was set to close in early November.

Her wish to step away may seem surprising, but she never intended to enter the corporate world; Quimby wanted to solve all her political issues by living close to the land. Paradoxically, her love of nature and its raw ingredients have made her rich--and afforded her the resources she needs now to go home and raise some hell.

To date, Quimby has made no announcement of a run for the governorship. But the mere possibility that she might run has won the attention of the Baldacci administration. While the governor's press office chose not to respond to interview requests, Quimby says she has begun meeting regularly with Baldacci's commissioner of conservation and the head of inland fisheries. She has been approached by the administration about the possibility of helping the state preserve some choice acreage currently on the market.

So without even running, before a vote has been cast, Quimby is making her voice heard. She's throwing some weight around. "Almost single-handedly, she has changed the dynamic here," says Jym St. Pierre, Maine director of Restore, which has worked on the park campaign. This delights Quimby. Ultimately, it is political efficacy--and a profound desire to leave a lasting legacy for all Mainers--that motivates her.

To Quimby, being a good steward of the environment is no less than a political mandate. She believes, above all, that she owes her financial success to doing just that. "And if I stop being a good steward, it'll probably be over in a flash," she says.

Will she run? Can she win? She thinks she'd stand a pretty good chance. And no matter what the cost, it would be worth it just for the opportunity to stir things up.

Loch Adamson (bythe@aol.com) is a writer in New York.