Gerard Gawalt and his wife Jane Frances at Pemaquid Point Lighthouse – one of their favorite spots to frequent during the summer. Gerard Gawalt photo

Historian Gerard Gawalt splits his time between New Harbor and Springfield, Virginia.

He recently completed a trilogy of nonfiction books on Maine history; his latest work, “A River of Blood: Two Centuries of Conflict Along the Kennebec,” flying off Sherman’s Maine Coast Book Shop shelves, in addition to “Terror on the Maine Frontier: The Ordeal and Triumph of John Gyles” (2023) and “Fire and Ice: Henry and Lucy Knox and the Settling of Maine” (2022). 

The 2024 release tells a story of hope, violence, dispossession and settlement. It examines how English settlers, armed with European goods and weapons, drastically changed the Abenaki way of life, destroying their economic independence and undermining their control over land.

Given the Kennebec River’s expanse, the book references several Midcoast towns, including Brunswick, Topsham, Bath, Georgetown, Arrowsic, Phippsburg, Woolwich, Southport, Harpswell, Wiscasset, Damariscotta, Bristol, Boothbay and Monhegan Island. The aim? To encourage locals to confront the harsh truth of Maine’s colonial past. 

“Even with the best intentions, conflicts were likely,” Gawalt wrote. “Intentions were not always good. Sometimes, they were just evil. But through it all, the Kennebec flowed wild and free.” 

‘The lifeblood of the Abenaki’

When the English arrived in Maine, they were immediately drawn to the Kennebec. Its 170 miles of water, rich in salmon, sturgeon, striped bass and shellfish, made it attractive for trading posts. 

The river, Gawalt said, was the “lifeblood of the Abenaki tribe — the main artery for travel from the ocean to the deep roots they followed routinely during hunting/gathering seasonal cycles.” 

Initially, the Abenaki benefited from selling furs. Later, they captured their enemies for ransom (a more grotesque financial transaction) and sold land. 

Property acquisition was done through Robinhood bargains — tribes were duped into signing documents revoking ownership of their territory. And, as Gawalt wrote, “both parties spoke to each other but did not hear what the other was saying” — be this the language barrier or pride. 

“A River of Blood” tracks the steady decline of Native populations along the Kennebec River, which started at an estimated 12,000 in the 17th century and dwindled to just 130 by the early 18th century.

The benefit of confronting local history

After Native/settler violence tapered off and the English ruled the eastern seaboard from Newfoundland to Florida, a new conflict prevailed — this time between loyalists and patriots. 

Interestingly, during the American Revolutionary War, the Americans turned to tribal warriors for support. After the U.S. signed the Treaty of Watertown in 1776, many Natives enlisted in the army, fighting alongside those they used to fight against. 

Accurate data on Maine’s Indigenous population was not reported until after the Civil War. The 1890 federal census counted 559 Indigenous individuals. By 2020, they comprised 1.1% of the state’s population, with 758 individuals residing on Penobscot Nation land.

In an interview with The Times Record, Gawalt emphasized how confronting local history, as uncomfortable as it may be, helps address ongoing biases and deepen one’s connection to place and people.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity. 

Fort Pentagoet (Pentagoüet), a French fort established day in present-day Castine, was one of the settlements Gerard Gawalt researched while developing his nonfiction trilogy. Gerard Gawalt photo

What inspired you to write “A River of Blood: Two Centuries of Conflict Along the Kennebec”?

I got the idea writing my previous book, “Terror on the Main Frontier,” about John Gyles of Pemaquid, captured by a Maliseet warrior at age 9 in 1689. He spent nine years as a captive before returning to become the commander of Fort George on the Kennebec River. This inspired me to conduct further research, honing in on Native/settler conflict along the Kennebec during the 17th and 18th centuries. 

How does your identity as a historian shape your approach as a nonfiction author? How do you conduct research?

A view of Mount Katahdin. Gerard Gawalts likes to take his work outside as often as possible. He said he finds himself most inspired and immersed in nature. Gerard Gawalt photo

Most people start by gathering materials. I prefer to research as I write, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph. This allows me to work more fluidly. As a historian, I have a knack for seeing how everything fits together, and I trust that. Plus, the internet has made research much easier. Books that once required a trip to a rare book library are now available online. 

However, I still rely on librarians for guidance. Creating this book, I received help from staff at the Pohlick and Fairfax branches of the Fairfax County Library; the Maine Historical Society; the Whitefield Historical Society; Susan Balbo, the director of Whitefield Library; Peggy Konitzky, the Midcoast site manager for Historic New England; and Jackie Bennett, the librarian at Bristol. 

Another part of my process is visiting the sites where history took place. Even though centuries have passed, much of Maine has retained its character. I went to all the places mentioned in this book to acquaint myself with the geography and imagine what life was like for the English settlers facing the Abenaki people and vice versa. 

Maine often gets marketed as a vacationland. Chock full of natural beauty, why is it important to acknowledge our state’s gory past, too?

This trilogy explores how Mainers are more suspicious of others than other states. Historically, the English feared French Canadians because they supported the Abenaki for many years. The Abenaki were cautious about Europeans because they were “from away.”

Not much has changed. This trepidation is evident in how locals perceive seasonal residents or “summer people.” Their acceptance varies, but outsiders are generally never fully integrated into the community without family ties. As a historian, I still see two distinct social groups: those along the coast and those living in small interior towns in the Northeast. 

Geography plays a role, but so does Maine’s past and the foundation of distrust it was built upon. 

One statement you often mention in the book is that the Abenaki and settlers spoke to each other but didn’t listen. Can you discuss how this was at the root of the tension?

The Abenaki did not have a written language, and all treaties were written in English. Both parties did not understand each other and often did not try to, as they were reluctant to compromise. 

As a result, most of the attempts to collaborate were manipulative. 

The Abenaki wanted the English settlers to leave, but they wanted traders to remain. So, they aimed to keep Europeans south of the Piscataqua River, the Kennebec River and the Penobscot River. This was repeatedly included in signed treaties, but it was often overlooked. 

Once the Abenaki became accustomed to European goods — guns, steel hatchets, knives, clothes, alcohol and even English peas — they abandoned a hunter-gatherer society. When the fur-bearing animal population was depleted and lacked alternative goods to trade, they turned to land treaties. This was the start of the end. 

Seeking common ground without understanding the other party is never successful. 

Much of this is reminiscent of today’s political landscape. Do you think opposing parties can meet in a ‘gray space’?

A sunset view of Johns’ Bay from Gerard Gawalts’ cottage on Pemaquid Point. Gerard Gawalt photo

There is always room for negotiation. However, opposing sides typically have specific goals they want to achieve, which means someone has to sacrifice. 

In the context of this book, the Abenaki and English sought common ground at early trading posts; they both agreed that was beneficial. Yet, beyond that, they were often at odds.

Maintaining a hunter-gatherer lifestyle while engaging in commercial trading is impossible — it simply doesn’t work. Sometimes, leveraging adaptation to one’s enemy is the best advantage. And this was something, justifiably so, the Abenaki weren’t willing to do. 

Both sides wanted to coexist peacefully, but unfortunately, they could not harmoniously occupy the same land. The Natives fished for subsistence, taking only what they needed, while the English caught everything they could, driven by money. They had different core values, which made things tricky. 

What was the most interesting thing you learned during story development?

I was surprised by the violence on both sides. Most history books portray conflict in a dual biography format. What struck me was that there were no clear heroes. … Native populations and white settlers both exhibited cruelty and were determined to destroy each other. 

What do you hope readers take away from this trilogy?

Maine’s rich and varied history is fascinating but also complicated. There are “good” and “bad” people on both sides of past conflict. 

For instance, in “Terror on the Maine Frontier,” I explain what motivated John Gyles’ captor. Most people believe that he was an innocent kid captured by a Maliseet warrior, which is true. But I describe how the captor had his land taken, his villages attacked and his loved ones harmed, justifying his actions. 

When I ask attendees at author events whom they sympathize with, 90% of the crowd will initially sympathize with Gyles. Then, after reading a portion that offers context, many express sympathy for the Maliseet warrior. Ultimately, most people acknowledge the situation’s complexity and sympathize with both sides. 

Gerard Gawalt on Monhegan Island during a research trip. Gerard Gawalt photo

What are you currently working on?

In an attempt to shift away from violence, my next book about Maine will be a collection of biographical sketches of women who were notable during the 17th and 18th centuries. 

The challenge is that women often aren’t the focal points in local history, making it challenging to find credible sources on them. 

I’ve been sifting through the letters and diaries of Lucy Knox (Rockland), Elizabeth Walker (Knox), Abigail May (Portland), Sarah Johns (Yarmouth) and Anna Thompson (Biddeford). I recently found information about an illusive Mrs. Winter from Richmond Island, dating back to the 1630s. 

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Fans can expect Gawalts’ next book to be published in 2026. In the meantime, if there are any Mainers with information on notable women (circa 1600–1800), including Indigenous women forced to flee to Canada during that time, contact gandjgawalt@gmail.com.   

While Gawalt aimed to use available sources to examine the Native/settler conflict from both sides, he admits he did not make a connection with local tribes or the Wabanaki Alliance during the research of “A River of Blood: Two Centuries of Conflict Along the Kennebec.”