The Sun Journal scoured the countryside for examples of cities and towns that successfully consolidated and ones that weighed the idea only to skip it. Consolidating is such an ambitious undertaking, there aren't many in modern times to pick from.

A long time ago, Foxcroft wooed Dover long and hard.

The towns, about 2,000 people each, shared a Main Street. They put in sewers and phone service at the same time. Dover kids went to Foxcroft Academy.

People quite typically worked in one, lived in the other. Why not join forces?

But Dover wouldn't have it.

More agricultural, people there worried Foxcroft wouldn't fund projects like better country roads. Not until 1921, after four or five other votes failed, did Dover relent - the first time women had a right to vote.

"They figured a tremendous percentage of the women voted to go through with the marriage, so to speak," said Lou Stevens, author of a 1,300-page, two-volume set on local history. "I think they were more open-minded about it and they could see the advantage."

A mock wedding with actors sealed the deal: Mr. Foxcroft married Miss Dover.

In 1922, at that first joint town meeting, the Piscataquis Observer noted the new town saved more than $3,000.

Plus: "All the money articles that would benefit Dover were approved," Stevens said.

Both towns had been equals, he said; one didn't have all the poverty and one all the wealth. That helped. And there wasn't intense rivalry, although, Stevens said, "One man told me, at night you didn't go through the bridge to the other side of town."

Just friendly advice. No one got "roughed up," he said.

Dover and Foxcroft were the last two Maine towns to get hitched.

Since 1992, Mapleton (1,954), Castle Hill (443) and Chapman (500) in Aroostook County have shared one town manager, one assessor, one everything.

Home base is the one town office in Mapleton.

They operate with an interlocal agreement and pay for fire and recreation departments and general government using a formula based on population and property value, so fair's fair.

Each town kept distinct boundaries and selectmen. Reps from all three boards hire the town manager; the town manager hires staff.

Everyone works well together and everyone benefits, said Treasurer Tammy Getchell.

"The only headache that we've had - and that's actually improved - is the bookkeeping," she said. Until the towns went to the Legislature last year for special permission, they had to keep three separate accounts for everything, a numerical nightmare. "What an incredible difference. It's a huge time saver."

It's hard to put a dollar amount on savings from the arrangement, Getchell said. You can't assume, if they all split up, little Castle Hill would fund a fire department or build a town hall or install a community pool.

Even though it's worked for 15 years, there isn't interest, for now, in becoming one in name, too. Residents' roots run deep.

"We don't want to lose our identity, but we want to get in on the opportunity," she said. "There's fears. People just have fear and they don't want to take that plunge."

What they've got now: "It not only enhances what Mapleton has, it's at a lower cost. It's almost like it's a no-brainer."

Bolstered by savings from buying supplies together, Richmond Heights and Clayton took another step toward sharing things a couple years ago by having one town enforce the other's parking meters.

That kicked off the courtship.

"The two councils starting thinking about how they could continue this conversation and how it could evolve," said Richmond Heights City Manager Amy Hamilton.

Due in September: A two-year study by 40 volunteers that will recommend whether the Missouri suburbs ought to consolidate departments and how a full merge would work.

The premise: "Can we do this better and cheaper?" And do it without layoffs, fewer services or costing more money.

Both cities are small but dense, 25,000 people in an area half the size of Bath. St. Louis County has more than 90 municipalities - governments that would also presumably like to cut costs, should someone find a way.

"The larger community is very interested in what we're doing," Hamilton said.

She said they looked for cities to model themselves after in this process. No luck.

"There's a lot of city-county consolidation. There really has been no city-city consolidation (on this scale,)" she said.

"Some residents wonder why we haven't hired a consultant to look at this - well, there haven't been that many mergers." At least not enough for someone to develop a specialty.

Citizen subcommittees' results so far are mixed. One found merging Public Works services could, best-case scenario, save $877,652 the first year.

Or, worst-case, cost $621,160 more.

Ouch.

Various reports, as they come in, are at mergerstudy.org

They already shared a fire chief.

A nine-month study found combining fire departments would save $250,000 a year by 2012 without layoffs.

It would also improve coverage. And lead to better-trained workers.

Persuasive arguments that didn't work.

Winslow said no to Waterville last summer.

Like L-A, the two towns got money from the state to study merging public safety services.

"Municipalities realize that we need to look at any way, all ways, to reduce property tax burden," said Waterville City Manager Mike Roy. That seemed like a good place to start.

The hiccups: very different retirement systems and bargaining agreements - "I don't think there's any union out there (willing to say,) 'Oh, I'll join the less attractive union to save the city money'" - and, ultimately, insurmountable size differences.

Waterville, at 16,000, is double the size of Winslow.

"At 8,000 you're still a small town in many ways," Roy said. "There's always a feeling on the smaller side (that,) 'They're just trying to get us to pay their bills for them' (or) 'Their savings are going to be much greater than our own.'"

Fire would have been the easier first step. Merging police presented other issues; each force responds to different sorts of calls.

"Police highlighted my theory that different population sizes really impair the ability to regionalize," Roy said. "Winslow has one bar, Waterville has nine. Winslow has no appreciable population that has special needs or special problems," Waterville does.

Ultimately, Winslow councilors voted against taking steps toward a merge.

"It was very, very disappointing," Roy said.

Ten years ago the local chamber hired a consultant to look at the advantages of consolidating or merging these two northwest Washington neighbors. The economy wasn't so hot. The timber industry wasn't doing well. Maybe this was a way up.

The consultant identified long-term savings, but by one description, neither town had its heart in it.

"The cities are pretty independent of each other," said Jack Durney, current mayor of Hoquiam (9,000) and former mayor of Aberdeen (17,000).

Merging would have meant better salaries to retain and attract employees, better services and more efficiencies, lower interest rates, "more oomph with the state."

But the idea didn't muster enough excitement to prod a vote on either council.

"Everybody had reasons why it didn't work," he said. "And we've even talked about sharing equipment - why would you have two street sweepers? - but that goes nowhere."

There's concern about getting absorbed into something you no longer control.

"The dominant community in size and resources is going to rule the day," he said. That played out more recently in talks about merging police. Aberdeen suggested Hoquiam disband its force, let Aberdeen hire their best guys and cover the city on a contract.

Hoquiam didn't warm to that.

Relations aren't helped by Hoquaim's response to Aberdeen's frequent septic issues.

Every time it looks like it's going to back up, Hoquiam lays down a sand dike in the middle of the street, at its border. "Of course it backs up on the other side of the wall we've built and everybody gets mad," Durney said. "Those kinds of things have been going on for years."

Bill Fraser landed a job as Montpelier city manager 12 years ago and found a University of Maine classmate in the same position in Barre, one town away. The two seized the moment. (They're practically neighbors; the small town of Berlin sits between them and doesn't have much in common with either when it comes to services or full-time employees.)

There were preliminary consolidation studies. "We sat down, we pulled our city departments together, everybody agreed we'd like to do it," Fraser said.

They started with police, but, how to work patrol routes with a town in the middle?

They talked about a combined dispatch center on the edge of Montpelier, closer to Barre.

"Our voters turned that down," Fraser said. Instead, Montpelier rebuilt its police station downtown.

The two are the same size (roughly 8,000), but kids go to different school systems. The communities have different identities, different economic issues.

Efforts began anew a year or two ago when Barre, Montpelier and Berlin held public forums with 10 or so other towns. The message: "Folks, everyone's taxes are going up, how can we consolidate, what can we do?"

"Nothing substantial came of it," he said. Smaller towns were too leery. "We're always open ... anytime it's going to work."

Lewiston and Auburn are equals with a long, linked history, Fraser said. He doesn't see those same obstacles popping up here.

He offered a warning, however, about getting hung up on details and perfect equality. Several towns around Montpelier recently talked about creating a regional ambulance service. Everyone would save money, but some were "upset that they were saving less than others," Fraser said.

So, no regional ambulance service.