Aurelius Hinds’ legacy includes a grave in Evergreen Cemetery, a couple of old factories in Portland and an obscure, Mexican skin cream label — not to mention a 90-year-old Boy Scout camp built on ladies’ hand cream.
A massive wave lifted the ship clean out of the water. The forward third broke off and sank to the bottom.
School children all over New England collected $17,000 in pennies, nickels and dimes. Their names are in a sealed box, somewhere within the pedestal.
The bullet mangled his guts beyond repair — but it took 50 agonizing years before he finally succumbed to his injuries.
By April, inflamed by fake newsmakers of the day at the New York Journal and the New York World, the United States was at war with Spain.
On a winter’s day in 1899, the city of Deering vanished from the map of Maine. It was eaten up by its hungry neighbor to the east that wanted its land and its Republican voters.
A statue of him now sits in a director’s chair at the corner of York, Pleasant and Center Streets.
In the Western Cemetery, there are hundreds of unmarked graves. It only hints at the number of people in the ground.
They dug up hundreds of graves in the almshouse cemetery. The bones were trucked to a pit at Forest City Cemetery in South Portland.
Less than an hour later the ship struck the top of Alden’s Rock, tearing a hole in the engine compartment. Before the water quenched the boilers, Capt. Borland gave the order to steam directly for land.