Titanic left the port of Southampton, England, just after noon April 10, 1912. A few hours later the huge ocean liner docked in Cherbourg, France, to take on more passengers. On April 12, she stopped in Ireland to pick up the last of the 1,320 passengers who would sail on her maiden voyage across the Atlantic to New York.

In the early morning hours of April 15, the ship struck that fateful iceberg and headlines around the world soon screamed the news.

That day’s Front Page headline of the Lewiston Evening Journal declared “ALL PASSENGERS ON THE TITANIC SAVED,” and subheads said “Removed To Other Steamships Which Hastened To Aid Of White Star Liner,” and “Damaged Vessel Making Her Way To Halifax Under Own Steam.”

Within a few hours, newspapers were learning of the true tragedy that had taken place. The first optimistic reports had been relayed by Titanic’s slightly smaller sister ship Olympic, which was said to be close at hand.

It showed the limitations of still-new wireless telegraph transmission, and a detailed account of how the Lewiston Evening Journal received telegraphed news was published on April 20, 1912. It was headlined “HOW LEWISTON LEARNED THE TERRIBLE TITANIC STORY” … “First and Only Complete Account of Wreck Given in Lewiston Journal Extras.”

The story began, “ ‘Lights of the Carpathia are now visible from the Battery,’ so chatted the brass-tongued sounder of the telegraph equipment in the Evening Journal office Thursday night as Patsy (P.J. O’Connor, the expert telegraph operator who received The Associated Press report dispatched for the Journal) cut in on The Associated Press circuit for what was to be one of the most exciting nights in the newspaper history of the world.

“For hours before the Carpathia docked in New York, every editor worthy of the name had known that once she was in harbor the great story would be upon them,” it continued. The story explained that The Associated Press had sent a “Special Order” telling newspaper that on the arrival in New York of the Carpathia, the rescue ship carrying an as-yet-unknown number of survivors, “all available matters will be sent E.O.S and therefore for immediate publication.” E.O.S. meant extraordinary service.

“It was just after 7 o’clock Thursday evening when the managing editor of the Lewiston Journal received a telephone message from W.C. Jeffords, Maine agent of The Associated Press, telling him that the eagerly awaited Carpathia was nearly to dock,” the article said. It was earlier than expected. Friday was a holiday and the Journal had announced no edition, so an extra was ordered and urgent calls went to all the Journal personnel.

It was about 8:45 p.m. when O’Connor arrived, “hung his overcoat and hat up, turned to the switchboard and pulled the plugs. Instantly the little instrument which was to play so important a part in the night’s labors began to talk.

“Patsy read to us the words which open the story. He pulled the typewriter stand around beside the table on which the instrument was, seated himself and began to put on paper, in neatly typewritten characters, the translation of the sounder’s clicks,” the news account continued.

“It was a long, hard night which started then. With but two brief pauses to give the operators opportunity for refreshments, the wire was busy until 6 o’clock the next morning and O’Connor was ‘taking’ stuff for more than two hours after every morning paper in Maine had cried quits and closed up.”

The report described the news crew’s break for midnight lunches at the “Owl cart” . . . an all-night lunch establishment.

In those days, the newspaper relied upon delivery by newsboys. Great bundles of extras went out on the first trains and trolleys to all points in central Maine.

Calls went to dozens of newsboys to get out the extras, and all but three arrived as requested in the afternoon. A message was sent to the Empire Theater in Lewiston on the chance that they might be there.

“The message was flashed upon the screen by the stereopticon and five minutes later three excited lads were on the job in the Journal circulation room.”

Through the years, every detail of the Titanic’s sinking has been meticulously documented. That edition printed only a couple of days after the momentous news broke still carries a spell-binding feel for the actual events.

Dave Sargent is a freelance writer and a native of Auburn. He can be reached by emailing [email protected].