PORTLAND, Maine – For more than four decades, the people of Portland, Maine, awoke on Valentine's Day to find large and small red hearts festooning storefronts, statues, parking garages and some of the city’s biggest landmarks.
That tradition was imperiled by the death of the so-called Valentine's Day Bandit last spring.
Recommended Videos
But the bandit's admirers responded with plenty of heart Wednesday, plastering hundreds of the smaller paper decorations everywhere, including mailboxes and even trash bins, and hanging larger banners on a floating restaurant, construction scaffolding and the library.
“Long live the Valentine’s Day Bandit,” said Cary Tyson, executive director of Portland Downtown.
Kevin Fahrman led the group of pranksters who always struck early on Feb. 14, and the mystery of it all held since 1979, when he got started. His identity was finally revealed after his death in April at age 67.
There was a revolving cast of helpers, but the one constant was Fahrman.
“It wasn’t for recognition, it was completely selfless. And that’s what made it feel so magical,” said one of his daughters, Sierra Fahrman, who found beauty in the “simplicity and sincerity” of his gesture.
After his death, a foundation was created and a website, BeAKevin.com, was launched, where people can download and print the simple red hearts and become bandits themselves.
“We are so excited to see this beloved tradition continue. Thank you to the new Valentine’s Bandit crew for keeping Kevin’s spirit as well as his message of kindness and love alive,” said Jessica Grondin, city spokesperson.
The tradition had its roots in the 1970s when Fahrman moved to the city. He loved the red hearts and was bummed when they stopped, his daughter said. So he decided to take it on himself.
Fahrman, who lived in neighboring Falmouth, was a musician, a photographer and an artist, among other things. He used to play in a band called The Van Gogh-Gos and showed his humor in the band’s slogan, “Lend us an ear.”
“He was so funny, kind and generous,” his daughter said. “He was caring and funny, and in a way flawed, but people adored him for his quirkiness.”
For all the fun and frivolity, the bandit’s wife, Patti Urban, dubbed herself a Valentine’s Day widow. She said her husband was usually too exhausted from his late-night shenanigans to enjoy the day.
But Sierra said her dad always made sure to decorate their home with hearts, and usually had a basket of goodies for her — similar to the way other families get visits from the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny or Santa Claus. It wasn’t until she started school, she said, that she learned that other people didn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day with the same fervor.