It's All in a Name: Layers of History in Southern Maine

In this corner of southern Maine, place names aren’t just labels—they’re sedimentary layers revealing how New England evolved: from precarious English colonial outposts to fishing and shipping villages, farming towns, Victorian summer resorts, and today’s polished tourism destinations. The shifts tell stories of survival, reinvention, cultural collision and romanticized branding.

Kennebunkport: From Porpoises to Ports

Few names capture this fluidity better than Kennebunkport.

* The area began as Cape Porpus (or Porpoise), a 17th-century English settlement named for the harbor teeming with marine life (legend ties it to Captain John Smith spotting porpoises in 1614).

* In 1719, it was reincorporated as Arundel, borrowed from the English town in West Sussex—where I am from—a nod to aristocratic Old World roots and a fresh start after conflicts with Native Americans and French forces.

* By 1821, it became Kennebunkport. “Kennebunk” draws from Indigenous (Abenaki-related) roots tied to the river, while “port” highlighted its maritime economy. The change reflected a shift from broad colonial identity to a more localized, functional one centered on shipping and the Kennebunk River.

The irony is rich: “Arundel” sounds far more genteel and heritage-laden today, evoking a quaint English village—which it literally was transplanted from—yet the working harbor identity won out in the 19th century. In 1957, residents revived the old name Arundel amid renewed interest in local history.

Result? Old Arundel is today’s coastal Kennebunkport; new Arundel is the rural inland town that reclaimed the name. Classic Maine pragmatism and reverence for the past.

Wells: Deep English Roots

Wells stands as one of the most straightforwardly English names in Maine. Incorporated in 1653 as the third-oldest town in the state, it was named after the cathedral city of Wells in Somerset, England.

Settled in the 1640s, it endured as a northern frontier outpost—farms, fishing, small churches, and defensive garrisons amid conflicts. Over time it layered on mills, coastal trade, then inns and grand hotels in the late 1800s. This evolution explains the eclectic feel along Route 1: colonial farmhouses next to motels beside nostalgic resorts. The landscape itself narrates repeated reinvention.

Ogunquit: Indigenous Name, Gay Resort

Ogunquit stands apart from its neighbors because its identity was not built around an English transplant name or an inherited colonial hierarchy. Its name is Indigenous, tied to the Abenaki landscape and often interpreted in connection with its setting as a “beautiful place by the sea” or similar meanings.

For centuries, Ogunquit was part of Wells rather than an independent town. Only in 1980 did it become its own municipality, making it one of the newest towns in the region despite carrying one of the oldest names.

Its transformation followed a different path from nearby coastal communities. Kennebunkport developed around maritime commerce, shipbuilding, and later old-money summer society. Wells retained the broad character of an old colonial town — farms, villages, mills, and a working coastline. Ogunquit, meanwhile, became a place repeatedly discovered and reinvented.

First came the artists, who were drawn to the coastline and helped establish Ogunquit as a creative enclave. Later, especially in the late 20th century, the town became one of New England’s most visible LGBTQ+ destinations, developing a reputation as a welcoming summer refuge with theaters, restaurants, guesthouses, and a strong gay cultural presence.

Perkins Cove still preserves echoes of the old fishing village, but the Ogunquit experienced today is largely a 20th-century creation: part artist colony, part seaside resort, and part LGBTQ+ cultural enclave. Its appeal comes from the collision of those layers — and a destination identity built through reinvention

York: The Quintessential English Transplant

York feels like the heart of “English America” here. Originally Agamenticus (an Indigenous name for the river/mountain area), English settlers renamed it after the English city of York. The broader region echoes southwest England: York, Wells, Arundel, Berwick, and nearby Exeter in New Hampshire. Settlers literally recreated a familiar mental map across the Atlantic.

The Deeper Pattern: Three Worlds Colliding

Southern coastal Maine names reveal three overlapping layers:

* Indigenous: Kennebunk, Ogunquit, Saco, Piscataqua, Agamenticus—tied to rivers, mountains, and landscapes.

* English Colonial: Wells, York, Arundel, Berwick—direct imports that anchored frontier settlements.

* Victorian/Modern Branding: “Colonial,” “Sea View,” “Ocean,” “Grand,” “Manor”—romantic overlays from the resort era.

This collision makes the area’s charm so potent. The wealthy summer colonies and tourism sheen of Kennebunkport and Ogunquit sit atop a grittier foundation of shipbuilders, farmers, fishermen and resilient English outposts that survived wars, abandonment and reinvention. Many 20th-century motels and resorts feel like stage sets because they were: manufactured nostalgia layered over multiple prior realities. The real history is messier, more contested and far more fascinating.

Driving these roads today, every name invites you to peel back a layer. What looks like timeless New England charm is actually a palimpsest—old names, new purposes and endless adaptation. In Maine, it really is all in a name.