Then there was the shameful case of
Malaga Island ,
formerly known as Negro
Island . (As many as nine
islands off the Maine coast have been named Negro, most now whitewashed to
Anglo-Saxon names like Curtis, which sits just off tourist-conscious Camden,
and which is named after the founder of the ultimate white-bread magazine The
Saturday Evening Post.) Blacks had lived in the Casco Bay
area for most of the 19th century, and one of their “settlements” in the
mid-part of the century was a tiny island just a hundred yards off the
Phippsburg peninsula. Soon enough, in the view of the whites, Malaga became
“degenerate” and an eyesore (what with colorful mixed marriages, disregard of
churches and schools, and the flagrant use of alcohol and tea, never mind that
except for race, it resembled any number of poor white fishing communities of
cussed Mainers) and not suitable for tourism, which by the turn of the century
was in full pursuit of rich New Yorkers and Bostonians. The hubbub grew.
Neither nearest town, Phippsburg to the east nor Harpswell to the west, wanted
to take responsibility, so the Malaga-ites became wards of the state in 1905.
Some white do-gooders started a school. Yet, in 1911, Governor Frederick
Plaisted (a Democrat) visited and took public offense (or was he up for
re-election?); by 1912 all of Malaga’s buildings were razed, the bodies in the
cemetery dug up and re-buried on the mainland, the few remaining living people
transported to the Maine School for the Feeble-Minded, and the island deserted
and desolate. It still is, for it is owned by the Maine Coast Heritage Trust,
with a Cabot and a Rockefeller on its Board, to “preserve its unique history.”
So the Gilded Age came shamefully apart in
Excerpted from Saving
Maine: A Personal Gazetteer
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