There can be no argument that Maine has a long and storied history, and as we close in on our 200th anniversary of statehood (1820-2020), a look at an infamous time in 1855 is in order.

You see, the state was experiencing its fourth year of prohibition as a result of legislation led by Portland Mayor Neal Dow, the Napoleon of Temperance, making Maine the first “dry” state in the union long before national prohibition.

A provision of that legislation provided for the purchase and distribution of alcohol for “medicinal, mechanical, and manufacturing” purposes only, but that task was restricted to a designated liquor agent who was chosen by “the selectmen of any town, and mayor and aldermen of any city.”

Whether it was through bad luck or egotistical design, Mayor Dow ordered and had delivered to Portland City Hall, under his name, $1,600 worth of alcohol prior to the selection of a liquor agent for Portland.

This was, in fact, a technical violation of the laws he was personally instrumental in getting passed. Since no politician is without his or her detractors – and Mayor Dow had more than his fair share because of his staunch prohibitionist stance – an anti-Dow city councilman brought this violation of state law to the press.

On June 2, 1855, the morning newspaper Eastern Argus ran an editorial, and distributed handbills of the same, denouncing Mayor Dow and his actions. What followed came to be known as the Portland Rum Riot.

By early afternoon, a small crowd of people had gathered, coming to see if a search warrant sworn by and issued to three city residents that day would be served on the mayor, with many hoping for his eventual arrest. To the contrary, however, access was denied to the room where the alcohol was being stored and Dow called on police to protect what he called city property.

As evening settled on the city, the crowd had grown to between 1,500 and 2,500 people and was becoming more unruly. Around 11 o’clock the now-belligerent crowd, emboldened by turning away a small group of militia called out by Mayor Dow, succeeded in breaking into the liquor room and threatening the guards inside.

A volley of gunfire pierced the night air, forcing the mob back but leaving behind one John Robbins, a sailor from Deer Isle, the sole fatality in the incident.

By this time the mayor had returned with a larger and more heavily armed force of militia, and finding the crowd bracing for another move on the rum room gave the order to open fire on the mass of people. The resulting barrage injured several and successfully dispersed the riot. You’ll have to research the rest on your own.

Though the Portland Rum Riot is one piece of colored glass in time, it is part of the great mosaic that is Maine history.

 

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