PORTLAND, Maine — The family of Kevin Fahrman, also known as Portland's Valentine's Day Bandit, is hosting a memorial boat parade Thursday to celebrate his birthday.
The boat parade was expected to begin at 4:30 p.m. and would be visible from Bug Light and the Eastern Promenade, according to the nonprofit group Portland Downtown.
Fahrman was chief instigator of a group of feel-good pranksters who struck Portland every year on Feb. 14, a tradition that put smiles on people’s faces while leaving behind an enduring mystery of who was responsible. He was 67 when he died in April.
Organizers are hoping to convene as many boats as possible. People can watch the parade from the shore and purchase "Be a Kevin" shirts and hats. More information can be found here.
"'Be a Kevin' reminds us what a kind & giving person Kevin was, & that everyone could afford to be a little more like him," Portland Downtown wrote in a Facebook post.
The Valentine's Day Bandit tradition started in the mid-1970s before Fahrman took it over in 1979.
Over the years, simple white sheets of paper with large red hearts appeared in Old Portland and in downtown on Feb. 14. The hearts were plastered on storefronts and business windows.
It grew more elaborate over the years, with larger hearts appearing in unusual places, like Fort Gorges in Portland Harbor, and over the entrance of the Portland Library. This year, a big heart was draped from the city’s tallest building, an 18-floor apartment tower, which is still under construction.
It was a courtship made in heaven — Fahrman loved Portland, and Portland loved him back.
Fahrman was an accomplished photographer, and one of his favorite subjects was SailMaine. Fahrman’s daughter was involved in sailing, and she was one of his subjects.
The Valentine effort went to great lengths.
It was no small feat to put a giant heart on an old fort in the Portland Harbor, reachable only by boat, by the dark of night in February, or from high vantages like the top of an 18-floor apartment building, the state’s largest building.
His wife, Patti Urban, told the Portland Press Herald that she was a Valentine's Day widow. She said her husband was usually too wiped out from his late-night shenanigans to enjoy the day himself.
Cary Tyson, executive director of Portland Downtown, marveled at the work that was accomplished in one night.
"We have always thought it was one-part magic, one-part sea salt and one-part fairy dust, but that’s just our guess,” he said.