The politics hung as thick as a morning fog Tuesday when Gov. Dannel P. Malloy announced his intention to turn the former Seaside Regional Center in Waterford into a shoreline state park.

This had all the appearances of a rushed announcement to bolster the political standing of the Democratic governor here in southeastern Connecticut and boost the candidacy of a fellow Democrat, Betsy Ritter.

Ms. Ritter is fighting to maintain the 20th state Senate seat for the Democrats, having left her secure 38th District seat in the House of Representatives. Democratic Sen. Andrea Stillman had long held the seat, but it is in play for the Republicans, who nominated a strong candidate, East Lyme First Selectman Paul Formica.

Ms. Ritter has faced criticism for a lack of involvement in determining the future of the historic property, which served as a sanatorium for people with tuberculosis and later provided institutional care to the developmentally disabled. What to do with Seaside has pitted town leaders who wanted to see the property developed against neighbors who want it to remain undeveloped.

It seems more than coincidence then that the governor, just more than a month before the election, delivered this gift-wrapped solution as to what should become of the property.

While it may be a good political move - and even that remains to be seen - it is difficult to discern if it is a good public policy move, given the lack of information.

The state doesn't know how much this will cost.

There is no evaluation that we know of as to whether it makes sense to open another 32-acre state park so close to Harkness State Park, just a short ride down the road in the same town.

The governor can't say exactly what kind of park this will be, whether it will include swimming or what amenities it will offer. It is unclear how the state will deal with the historic, but badly deteriorated buildings on the property. Whatever the choice - demolition, preservation or some combination of both - it will be expensive, in excess of $10 million based on earlier assessments.

Taxpayers might have these answers if the state bothered to study the idea before Gov. Malloy made his announcement, but that certainly could not be accomplished before the election.

The proposal brings a threat of litigation, which waiting may have avoided.

Developer Mark Steiner has been pursuing development of the property for 15 years. His deal with the state calls for a low-impact use that maintains public access to the shoreline. Mr. Steiner's efforts do not instill confidence. After receiving two earlier zoning change approvals, the developer recently failed in his attempt to change the zoning rules yet again, as he tried to produce a plan that makes fiscal sense.

The latest version maintained the luxury condominium development he had long sought, reusing in some fashion existing structures, but added a high-end resort inn. Though the Planning and Zoning Commission approved 3-2, the proposal fell short of the four votes needed because a neighborhood petition opposed the zone change allowing an inn.

By giving Mr. Steiner's plan a heave-ho now, the governor invites a lawsuit. Mr. Steiner has preferred developer status. In maintaining that Mr. Steiner is now in default of that contract, the state points to the developer's "failure to receive … necessary Land Use Approvals." Yet the land-use decision is not final, it would seem, until a court rules on Mr. Steiner's appeal.

After 15 years, why can't the governor wait for the appeals process to play out before finding the developer in default? A pending election, that's why.

Adding to the political nature of this decision, the governor's office notified Waterford's Republican First Selectman Dan Steward of the state park decision only a couple of hours before the announcement, and it extended him no invite. Mr. Steward has supported the proposed development, a $200 million project that would have boosted tax revenues.

Political realities and neighborhood opposition may ultimately make a state park the best option for the property, but this hurried decision smells like low tide.