MAINE'S SCANDAL ISLAND: The Sad Tale of Malaga Island
copyright 2000 by Curtis Rindlaub
reprint ONLY with permission please.


Malaga Island’s tranquillity belies a sad history of hope and desperation. Malaga was settled sometime during the Civil War by Benjamin Darling, a black man. He had a wife, who may have been white, and two sons. Soon he was joined by a group of blacks, Indians, and other mixed breeds who built a community of driftwood shacks. The squatters and their descendants fished and scratch-farmed the rocky soil. They dug clams and caught lobsters and heated with whatever washed ashore. Occasionally they would work as laborers for mainland farmers.

But rumors began to grow. It was said that the social order of the Malagoites was loose and that incest was rampant. Ben Darling was said to have been an escaped slave, and the women were thought to have been concubines of local sea captains in the West Indian trade who were put ashore before the captains returned to their wives. Others were reported to have escaped from a slave-trading ship headed to the south. Some claimed that the children grew horns and lived like beasts in tunnels.

One of the group was James McKinney who was born in Phippsburg into a family of Scots. He became known as the “King of Malaga,” but by the time he became the leader of this desperate outpost, his kingdom was a shambles. The natural bounty of clams had been depleted, the topsoil had eroded, and much of the population suffered from malnourishment and lack of education.

By 1903, the Malagoites were so desperate that they sought help from the town of Phippsburg, which at the time was being discovered as a place for summer cottage development. Not wanting the problems or the embarrassment of Malaga, Phippsburg was quick to argue that the island belonged to the town of Harpswell. For better or worse, the dispute publicized the islanders’ plight. State legislators finally settled the dispute by granting Malaga to Phippsburg, but then, at the urging of Phippsburg, reversing their decision, leaving the Malagoites, by default, wards of the state. Locals called Malaga No Man’s Land.

Malaga’s plight caught the attention of Captain George Lane, who had a summer house on what was then called Horse Island to the south. George was a descendant of the Lanes of Lanes Island at the mouth of the Royal and Cousins River and Malden, Massachusetts. He used to sail into isolated coves and preach the Good Word. Concerned for the Malagoites, he approached the Superintendent of Schools only to discover that there was no money to build a school on the island. At Lane’s insistence though, he conceded to providing a teacher if there was a suitable building.

In the spring of 1908, James McKenny, the King, allowed Lane to set up a temporary school in his house, taught by Lane’s daughter. She would row across from Horse Island for classes. The Lanes raised food, clothes, and money, and by July, they broke ground on a new school building. When it was completed in October, the Superintendent, true to his word, supplied Malaga with a teacher.

In the summer of 1911, Governor Fredrick Plaisted visited Malaga to observe the progress. Instead, he saw only the squalor. Appalled, he suggested burning the shacks down, drilling a well, and rebuilding. But by this time, Malaga had become a highly publicized scandal and a political liability. Newspapers dubbed it “Maine’s Scandal Island” and a “salt-water skid row.”

The politically safer and more expedient alternative was eviction. The next year the State evicted the 56 residents, dug up the remains of the dead, and burned down the hovels. For lack of any other expeditious solution, many of the Malagoites were committed to the Maine School for the Feeble-Mined in Pownel. Others were left to fend for themselves.

Sadly, Malaga’s stigma still haunts descendants of Malaga’s exiled in the form of local taunts and jeers and name-calling.

In the process of helping the Malagoites, Captain Lane founded the Maine Sea Coast Mission. They saved the little red schoolhouse by dismantling it and moving it to Louds Island in Muscongus Bay, where it was reassembled to be used as a church. The Sea Coast Mission still operates today from its headquarters in Bar Harbor. Their Sunbeam V sails from its homeport of Northeast Harbor to bring religious services, practical help, and good cheer to the few remaining island communities along the coast.
COPYRIGHT 2006 DIAMOND PASS PUBLISHING

From The Maine Coast Guide for Small Boats: Casco Bay