The Portland Logbook #9

This Week in Portland Maine

Jake Newman
April 01, 2025

Portland Maine’s Hidden Underground: The Tunnels No One Wants to Talk About

Portland doesn't give up its secrets easily. They creep up on you when you least expect it. Usually, after a last call at Ruski's, in the haze of a half-true story from someone's uncle who's seen too much. Or when you follow the wrong staircase in a building that hasn't changed since the 1800s.

Ask anyone who's worked downtown long enough; they know someone who has ended up in a basement they weren't supposed to be in.

This lore surfaces every year like clockwork and always starts with something small: a sealed door in a basement, a hatch behind a walk-in freezer, or a floorboard that sounds hollow when you tap it.

Portland, Maine, has a beautiful surface, quaint brick streets, some of the best cafés in Maine, and lobster rolls, and butter around every corner (yes, exaggerated, but not by much). But underneath? That's where things get strange. This city sits on a skeleton of shadowy tunnels and half-remembered routes that few ever see and even fewer acknowledge. Real? Who knows. Imagined? Often. But the stories never stop.

The Strange Maine blog has chronicled these tales over the years, collecting accounts from Portlanders who swear they’ve seen parts of the underground tunnel networks, or at least know someone who has.

You'll hear about a passage connecting the State Theatre to the Eastland Hotel, possibly built when the Rines family owned both. A bootlegger's tunnel beneath High Street and the Infamous Seagull Hole underneath Reny's. Most of these stories begin the same way: "My uncle swore there was a tunnel under…" or "A friend of mine used to work in a basement and found…" Then it fades into a shrug and that look that means you're not supposed to ask more.

But there's truth down there, too. In 1966, the Portland Press Herald dug out a tunnel beneath Congress Street to shuttle heavy lead printing plates from their offices at 390 Congress to their printing facility across the street. It was no rickety crawlspace; it was 13 feet wide and 10 feet high and even advertised as a potential bomb shelter. [Source]

Credit: Corey Templeton

One of the few confirmed rumors. Subterranean bowling alleys. Plural. There was once the Bowlodrome, tucked beneath a parking lot near Forest Ave and the old Strand Theater. Locals used to knock pins underground to escape the cold, candlepin-style. Access was reportedly through a trapdoor in a parking booth. It has long since been paved over. Photos surfaced in 2020 showing what's left: warped lanes, broken machinery, and the eerie quiet of something real and forgotten. WCYY covered it in a feature, with rare photos showing what remains of the lanes.

Deering High School has a pedestrian tunnel. The Eastland had a maze of halls below ground where staff called themselves "the mole crew," workers from nearby Congress Square Hotel regularly got lost. Then there are the industrial remnants: coal chutes, loading docks, and tide-timed warehouse vaults. These aren't myths; they're just forgotten infrastructure hidden behind renovations and drywall.

A contractor once counted over 15 hidden rooms and multiple walkways beneath City Beverage. At one point, the basements between Oak Street and Arcadia were connected—a network that has since been walled off by current residents like MECA and CVS.

Then come the maybes. Did Len's Market (now just a parking lot at Cumberland and High Street) have a bootlegging chute? Possibly, and unfortunately, since Lens Market was demolished, we will truly never know.

Even out on the islands, the rumors run wild. Fort Scammel, Fort Gorges, and House Island are said to have hidden passages, but the owners insist it's geologically impossible. There is too much water and granite. But that hasn't stopped whispers of sealed trapdoors and lost rooms.

So, no, you won't find guided tunnel tours. This isn't Paris. There's no official map, no cataloged catacombs. What there is, though, is a city that rewards curiosity. A barstool confession. A flash of brick behind a panel. A rusted key with no known door. Portland always tries to keep its best mysteries a secret.

A few people have gotten close. In 2018, a photographer named Nick Gervin was granted access to some of Portland's more dangerous underground spots. His photos capture rusted corridors, collapsing walls, and tunnel mouths sealed with concrete. What stood out wasn't what he found—it was how fragile and forgotten it all felt. BDN Archive

Credit: Nick Gervin | BDN

Maybe that's why people don't talk about them much—not because they aren't real but because they are. What's down there isn't safe. These spaces were never meant for curious explorers or TikTok thrill-seekers. They're crumbling, airless, and sealed for a reason. There's a protective instinct at play.

Do you think the tunnels are real?

Vote with your gut:

Things We’re Getting Weirdly Into Lately: Climbing at Salt Pump

Viola and Mak

Finding something to do this winter has been a challenge. But lately, a group of friends and I have been spending our evenings falling off walls at Salt Pump. It started with a text: “Hey, I’ve been climbing for a few weeks, I think you’d love this.” Then came another: “Get in my car. We’re going.” I was hesitant, truthfully, I’m afraid of heights.

Luckily, there are two sides to the gym: one with towering rope climbs and another with shorter bouldering walls and two-foot-thick mats to catch your fall. I’ve yet to step foot on the rope side, and I’m okay with that.

No one in our group is good, except Mak and Viola, but they’re better than me at almost every new activity we try. But that’s kind of the point. Climbing is humbling in the best way. It’s just you, a wall, and your body deciding if it’s going to cooperate today. Sometimes it does. Sometimes you drop with a startled yell onto a two-foot-thick mat while someone across the room politely pretends not to notice.

The place has its own rhythm. Chalk in the air, chalk on your pants, chalk in your hair. You leave feeling like you’ve been dusted for prints. People scattered around trying to solve their own little physical puzzles. There are dyno comps, Indy’s Sandwich dinner events, and always someone letting out a noise that lands somewhere between triumph and terror.

I’ve never done another physical activity that pulled me this far out of my comfort zone and still made it this easy to make new friends. Something about being a little scared, a little bad at something, in a room full of people doing the same, it breaks the ice fast.

And honestly, with so many routes and color tags, no one can really tell if you’re good or bad. So yes, I’ll be doing the V9 run… more like the V1.

You don’t need to bring anything. They’ve got all the gear. Six bucks for rental shoes, a day pass to start, and you’re in. Show up. Fall. Try again.

Highly recommend. Especially if you think you’ll hate it.

Let me know if you’ve gone. Or if you want to. Maybe I’ll see you there. Then it’s back to bagels and pretending our forearms don’t hurt.

🐾 Adoptable Buddies of the Week! 🐾

🐕 Otis – 70 pounds of laid-back charm. Otis is six, sweet, and happiest as your one-and-only. He’s all about sun-soaked strolls, couch time, and being your ride-or-die. No other pets at home, but he’s cool with dog park playdates. Best with teens or adults. Available for pre-adoption while his medical needs are managed.

🐕 Cheerio – Small guy, big heart. Cheerio’s 14 pounds, 10 years old, and fully retired. He’s lived with cats and chill dogs, but mostly he just wants a soft bed and a quiet place to nap. Available for pre-adoption while he waits on a dental—personal health insurance required.

No cats, birds, or bunnies this week! Got a rescue I should feature? Hit reply.

🐕 Interested? Check them out here