John Alfred Poor got frostbite and pneumonia on his grueling trek to bring trains from Canada to Portland.
The sailors came back one night, three weeks later, with a 6-pound cannon. They fired it into King’s house.
Before she was 20, at a time when women weren’t trusted to vote, she rode a motorcycle to stardom on the wall of death.
There’s still two remnants of Union Station you can see in Portland today. Part of the train shed made its was to Thompson’s Point. What’s left of the old clock sits in a glass case in Congress Square.
He used the three cents in his pocket to buy three newspapers, which he sold on the corner at a profit. By the end of the day, he had nine cents. When he died, 71 years later he was worth $174 million, which is $43.2 billion in todays cash.
He wanted to see his son, Elwood, before he died. He was the only family Modoc had left. His wife and two other children had already succumbed to disease.
The creature had a long neck and a broad head held up, out of the water. It stopped 125 feet from their boat. Though they could see no eyes, they knew it was looking at them.
Later, while Dow and the militia were enjoying their crackers, a doctor came in and asked Dow if he knew a man lay dead outside.
The English surrendered and a carnival of death ensued. The French and Natives bludgeoned, shot and stabbed almost everyone. Neither women, children or the wounded men were spared.
Thompson reportedly said, “F-f-fire away. F-f-fire away. For every gun you fire, I will cut off a joint.”