The Town That Wants a Data Center Next Door

Most people in the United States do not want a data center near their home. About 70 percent of Americans say they are against having one in their community. But the small town of Jay, Maine, felt differently. Jay not only accepted plans for a data center — it fought to make one happen. This is the story of why one town of about 5,000 people stood apart from the rest of the country.

Data centers are large buildings packed with computer servers. They store and process huge amounts of digital information for companies like Google, Microsoft, and Meta. They need enormous amounts of electricity and water to run. In many places, people worry that data centers hurt the environment, raise electric bills, and create too much noise.

Maine almost became the first state in the country to ban new data center construction. A lawmaker named Melanie Sachs proposed a bill called L.D. 307. The bill would have paused large data center building in Maine until 2027. Both Democrats and Republicans in the state legislature voted yes. It looked like Maine would make history.

But Governor Janet Mills vetoed, or rejected, the bill. Her main reason was the town of Jay. Leaders from Jay had written to her asking her to block the ban and protect their data center project. Because of one small town, a law that would have covered all 1.4 million people in Maine never took effect.

A farmer named Katlin Hilton lived just five miles from Jay. She had bought a run-down farm in 2022 and spent years fixing it up. When she learned about the data center plans, she was scared. She had read about problems data centers caused in other states — polluted air, disappearing water, and rising electricity costs. She wrote letters to 165 lawmakers asking them to support the ban, signing each one, 'Make today wonderful.'

To understand why Jay wanted the data center, you have to know about the paper mill that once stood there. The mill had run since 1965 and at its peak employed 1,500 people. It paid for the town's police, fire department, and trash pickup. For the people of Jay, the mill wasn't just a workplace — it was the reason the town existed.

On April 15, 2020, the mill exploded. A weld inside the structure — which worked like a giant pressure cooker — suddenly failed. A black cloud shot hundreds of feet into the sky, and brown sludge splattered on nearby cars. The blast was enormous, yet somehow no one died. Many people in Jay said it was the grace of God.

More than 500 workers lost their jobs that day. For a town of 5,000, that was a devastating loss. After the mill closed, the town itself became the second largest employer in Jay, behind the high school. A grocery store called Hannaford became the third largest. Young people began to leave, and the future of the town looked uncertain.

The data center was planned for the exact spot where the old mill once stood. This made a big difference to the people of Jay. In other parts of the country, data centers are often built on farmland or forests. But here, the land was already an old industrial site. The mill had used 35 million gallons of water a day from the river. The developer said the data center would use just one percent of that amount.

Lucien Richard, who worked at the mill for decades, was now in charge of getting the site ready. He walked reporters through the huge, empty buildings. The paper-machine rooms were cold, dark, and seemed to go on forever. On one wall, there was a mural of a wooden boat full of puppies looking out at a row of ducklings — a small reminder of the workers who used to fill those halls.

Residents compared the planned data center to the old mill at every turn. The mill had been loud, smelly, and polluting for decades. Residents argued that a data center couldn't possibly be worse. For them, the mill set the bar for what they were willing to accept in their town.

The developer said the project would bring 125 to 150 permanent jobs and up to 1,000 temporary construction jobs. Experts say the real number of long-term jobs might be closer to 30 to 50. Even so, people in Jay said that one job is better than zero. Union electricians like Cody Jacques pointed out that temporary construction work is still real, full-time work.

Cody Jacques grew up in Jay and worked at the mill until the explosion. After it closed, he trained as a union electrician and began building data centers across the country. The pay was good, but the work kept him far from home for weeks at a time. Once, when he couldn't get back to Jay, he and his girlfriend drove to meet halfway in Albany, just to spend a single day together. A data center in Jay could mean he'd get to stay home.

Jay also stood to earn about six million dollars a year in property taxes from the project — nearly three-quarters of the town's entire budget. The town offered no tax breaks to the developer. Young local politician Trevor Doiron said the people of Jay would decide together how to spend the money. Many residents had also done serious research on the project, asking detailed questions about water use, power, and noise levels.

On June 11, just weeks after a reporter visited Jay, the town posted a message on its Facebook page with comments turned off. The company behind the project, Sentinel, had backed out. The data center was placed on indefinite hold. Most residents were disappointed, but not entirely surprised — the data center was just the latest thing to arrive in Jay one day and disappear the next.