Lighthouse of the Week: Crabtree Ledge Light, Maine

Maine has been luckier than many coastal states; only a handful of its 65+ lighthouses have been lost over the years. One of the most prominent of Maine’s lost lights was Crabtree Ledge Light, which stood offshore at the entrance to Sullivan Harbor from 1890 to 1950. Named for a prominent local family, Crabtree Ledge Lighthouse is still fondly remembered by older residents of the vicinity.

The following is a condensed version of the chapter on Crabtree Ledge Light from my new book, The Lighthouses of Maine (2009, Commonweath Editions). I’ve also added some new material from an article recently sent to me by lighthouse historian Ted Panayotoff. The article by Donna Gronros concerns the memories of her Aunt Dot, whose grandfather was the first keeper at Crabtree Ledge.

By 1886, various steamers were making 15 to 20 runs daily in summer between Sullivan Harbor and the popular resort of Bar Harbor. There were also many vessels carrying lumber and granite passing through the area. Crabtree Ledge, a dangerous obstruction about a mile from Hancock Point at the entrance to Sullivan Harbor from Frenchman Bay, suddenly assumed new importance. Funds for a light and fog signal at the ledge were appropriated by Congress on August 4, 1886.

Work began in 1889, when a cast-iron cylindrical caisson, 25 feet in diameter and 32 feet tall, was put into position on the ledge, in a spot 15 feet below sea level. After the caisson was filled with concrete, it was surmounted by the cast-iron lighthouse superstructure, 37 feet tall from the base to the center of the light. A fifth-order Fresnel lens showing a fixed white light, interrupted by a more intense flash every two minutes, went into service on January 15, 1890. A 1,200-pound bell and striking machinery were installed in 1891.

The first keeper was Charles Chester, a native of Philadelphia who had been a cabin boy at age 11 and the captain of his own ship at 19. He and his wife, Mary (Blake), eventually had 11 children, the last five of whom were born in a house at Hancock Point. Chester remained in charge at Crabtree Ledge until 1908. One of the Chesters’ granddaughters, Dot, who was born in 1903, later described her memories of the lighthouse:

As the lighthouse was a cylinder, all the rooms were round. The kitchen and living room were on the second level. The third level was the bedroom. Above that was the lantern deck. The lowest deck was the basement, where rainwater from the roof was caught in a cistern and provided the water supply. Coal was also stored there.

Most of Grandpa’s nights were spent in the lighthouse, although the house on the mainland was located so the bedroom window faced the light so he could see that all was well. If the light went out, as it sometimes did, Grandpa would dress quickly, rush down to the little boat and row out to the light. If there was a smokeout, everything would be all covered with soot and it would take all day to clean it up.

(LEFT: Keeper Charles Franklin Chester and his wife, Mary Ellen Chester, courtesy of Charles Libby. Chester was keeper at Crabtree Ledge 1890-1908.)

Chester Brinkworth of Hancock Point served as an assistant keeper beginning in 1914. In the fall of 1916, Chester’s younger brother, Leon, filled in as a temporary assistant while the principal keeper, Jerome Peaseley, was on shore recovering from pneumonia.

In late September, 18-year-old Leon Brinkworth returned from a trip to shore. According to some accounts, as he climbed the ladder on the side of the lighthouse with provisions in his arms, he slipped and plunged into the water. Other accounts report that the younger brother’s boat capsized. In either case, Chester, 35 years old, quickly dove into the water in a valiant but vain attempt to save his brother.

Both of the Brinkworth brothers drowned in the lighthouse’s worst tragedy. A reporter for the Kennebec Journal wrote of the Brinkworths, “Both were bright, able, and highly esteemed young men and their tragic death has brought shock and grief to friends and associates.” Another assistant keeper, Joseph Whitmore, also drowned just six months later.

The lighthouse was discontinued in 1933, the same year local ferry service ended. The father of Newbold Noyes, editor of the Washington Star, subsequently bought the lighthouse for a reported $115. Noyes gave the lighthouse to his three sons as a gift. The sons sold the lighthouse in 1937 to a friend, Fritz Allis, who summered at Hancock Point. Allis and some friends moved a reed organ into the lighthouse.

When Allis married Tiense Gummere, the two spent their honeymoon at the lighthouse; they were subsequently marooned there for several days during stormy weather. He never returned after that, and the lighthouse fell into poor condition until it finally collapsed into the bay in a winter storm in February 1950.

National Lighthouse Stewardship Act Update

I recently let you know about Senate Bill 715, the National Lighthouse Stewardship Act introduced in the Senate by Senator Levin of Michigan and several colleagues. The bill is currently in the hands of the Energy Subcommittee. Sue Clark, on her excellent Lighthouse News site, has listed the members of that committee on this page. PLEASE contact these senators and let them know that you support the bill.

Click here to read the bill and follow its progress.

Improved Access at Hospital Point Lighthouse

New England lighthouse buffs know Hospital Point Light Station in Beverly, Mass., as the home of the admiral in charge of the First Coast Guard District. Because this has been the case since the 1940s, public access to this station has been very limited. For years, the public has been able to visit the lighthouse on one day each year, during Beverly Homecoming Week.

There's wonderful news in today's edition of the Salem News. Rear Admiral Dale Gabel, the station's current resident, has agreed to make the station more accessible to the public by allowing Coast Guard Auxiliary to provide tours. Details aren't available yet, but the lighthouse might be opened as often as one day each month.

"We think it's one of the crown jewels of Beverly," said Phil Karwowski of the Auxiliary. "It's one of the big things in Beverly's maritime heritage." I couldn't agree more!

Bravo to the Coast Guard Auxiliary and Admiral Gabel. Thanks to them, the public will have the opportunity to experience one of the most beautiful light stations in New England, up close and personal.

Here's a quick historic side note on Hospital Point. During the presidency of William Howard Taft (1909–12), a large home at Woodbury Point, on the shore between Hospital Point and Beverly Cove, became the summer White House. A newspaper item of August 24, 1909, reported that the president’s son Charley—about 12 years old at the time—had visited the lighthouse: “He climbed the lighthouse in order to look out on to the water and when he reached the top he complained of being sick. The little fellow was assisted to the ground floor . . . and he felt much better.”

For more, visit my website or read my book, The Lighthouses of Massachusetts.

Keeper Arthur Small: Hero and Artist

The following is an edited version of an article I wrote a few years ago for Lighthouse Digest magazine; you can read the whole thing here. The saga of Keeper Arthur Small and his wife, Mabel, is sad and inspiring at the same time. I've spent a great deal of time researching Small and retracing some of his steps around the New Bedford area, and I feel strongly that he deserves to be remembered as a true hero.

In 1922 Keeper Arthur A. Small, a native of Brockton, Massachusetts, became keeper at Palmer’s Island Lighthouse in New Bedford, moving there with his wife Mabel and two sons from Boston Harbor’s Narrows (“Bug”) Light. Known to many as Captain Small, he was a well-traveled seaman who had first gone to sea on a Maine fishing schooner at the age of 14 and had traveled around the world in 1907-09 in President Theodore Roosevelt’s Great White Fleet of battleships.

Arthur Small was also a gifted artist of sailing ships and harbor scenes, praised for his attention to detail. He started painting on scraps of sail as a hobby during his years at sea, and he later took classes to sharpen his skills.

Small was a member of the Mariners’ Club, which met for conversation and chowder at the Peirce and Kilburn Shipyard in Fairhaven just across the Acushnet River from New Bedford. A number of Small’s paintings were displayed in the area where the club met.

The popular historian Edward Rowe Snow quoted Arthur Small’s description of the importance of Palmer’s Island Light to the commerce of New Bedford Harbor, saying that without the proper functioning of the light and fog bell, “all the city would be seriously crippled.”

But Small downplayed the so-called heroism of keepers. “Whenever they say anything about a lighthouse keeper,” he once said, “they always act as if he were some kind of hero. We’re not heroes. Here I am on this island, perfectly safe, working and painting pictures, while you wander around in New Bedford, crossing streets with automobiles and trolley cars whizzing by, just missing you by a few feet. Why, you people take more chances in a week than I do in ten years.” He would later disprove his own words.

On September 20, 1938, Mabel Small took part in one of her regular activities, a sewing circle in Fairhaven. One of the other women there saw Mrs. Small looking anxiously out at the water. The woman asked what was wrong, and Mabel Small replied that the seas were rough and she feared that Arthur would not be able to row over from Palmer’s Island to pick her up. But her husband was waiting at the landing at the usual time, and Mabel shouted, “See you girls next week!” as she headed home to Palmer’s Island.

The very next day, a ferocious hurricane took the area by surprise as it battered the south-facing coast. During the afternoon of the storm 53-year-old Arthur Small attempted to walk the 350 feet from the house to the lighthouse on Palmer’s Island. He left his wife at the oil house, which he considered to be relatively safe as it was on the island’s highest point.

As he struggled to reach the tower, Arthur Small was struck by a large wave and was swept underwater. He managed to swim back to safety. He looked back and saw his wife attempting to launch a rowboat to come to his aid. As Mabel Small tried to launch the boat a tremendous wave destroyed the boathouse, and Arthur Small lost sight of his wife.

Keeper Small later said, “I was hurt and she knew it. Seeing the wave hit the boathouse was about the last thing I remember. I must have been hit by a piece of timber and knocked unconscious. I came to some hours later, but all I remember was that I was in the middle of some wreckage... Then I must have lost my sense again, for I remember nothing more.”

Somehow Arthur Small kept the light burning through the night. The morning after the hurricane, two friends of the Smalls had rowed to the island. They took Arthur Small to a local hospital under police escort. They had first contacted the Lighthouse Service for permission, as no keeper was to leave his post until relieved “if he is able to walk.”

Three days after the storm, Commissioner Harold D. King of the Bureau of Lighthouses called Arthur Small’s performance during the storm “one of the most outstanding cases of loyalty and devotion that has come to the attention of this office.”

Mabel Small had not survived. Her body was later found and identified in Fairhaven. Many of Keeper Small’s paintings were lost in the hurricane along with his large library of several hundred books. His wife had their savings of about $7,500 in her possession when she drowned, and this was also lost.

Arthur Small asked for no compensation for his paintings, but in his official report he assigned a value of $75 to his library and $100 to his records and notes on sailing ships, “the result of thirty years’ work and used for reference in painting the history of sailing ships, a spare-time hobby.” After an extended leave that included time in Panama, Small became keeper at Hospital Point Light in Beverly, Massachusetts, in 1939. During World War II he maintained a shore patrol in the area and had to check Derby Wharf and Fort Pickering lights in Salem in addition to Hospital Point Light.

When Arthur Small died in 1958, he was honored by the Coast Guard with a burial at Arlington National Cemetery. A plaque honoring Arthur and Mabel Small can be seen today on the Fairhaven side of the harbor at Fort Phoenix.

Dining with the Dead

Author and lighthouse historian Jeremy D'Entremont and renowned paranormal investigator and radio personality Ron Kolek discuss some of the most haunted lighthouses in New England at the Windham Restaurant in Windham, NH, on Monday evening, April 27, 2009.

They will reveal the legends and the results of their investigations into these buildings including their Emmy-winning investigation into New London Ledge Lighthouse. A portion of the proceeds of the evening will go to Friends of Portsmouth Harbor Lighthouse.

Click here for more info and tickets.

Lighthouse of the Week: Morgan Point Light, Connecticut

This lighthouse in the quaint fishing village of Noank is seen by few tourists, but lighthouse seekers can get views from cruises out of Waterford, Groton, and Mystic. Just up the street from the lighthouse is one of the best places in New England for lobster: Abbot's Lobster in the Rough.

The name of Noank, a village of Groton, comes from the Mohegan Indian word for "point." Noank was a busy port in the nineteenth century. To help mariners enter the Mystic River and the harbor of Noank, Connecticut, from Fisher's Island Sound, the federal government decided to build a lighthouse at Morgan Point in 1831. Land for the light station was purchased from shipbuilder Roswell Avery Morgan, a descendant of an early settler of the area, Deacon James Morgan.

The first lighthouse was a 25-foot white granite tower with a separate six-room stone keeper's house. The tower held 10 lamps and reflectors. The first keeper, Ezra Daboll, made some additions to the house and was reimbursed for his expenses of $100.

Daboll died in 1838 and was succeeded by his widow, Eliza, who remained keeper until 1854. Lieut. George M. Bache reported in 1838 that "the establishment is kept in great neatness by the widow of the former keeper." Eliza Daboll had six children, and her eldest daughter took great interest in maintaining the light. The girl became known for her habit of singing loudly while working at the lighthouse in foul weather.

There were complaints that Morgan Point's Light was too dim; the nearby lights at New London and Stonington could be seen from far greater distances. The situation was improved somewhat in 1855 when a sixth-order Fresnel lens replaced the old array of lamps and reflectors.

Captain Silas Spicer, who became keeper in the 1850s, once saw a burning vessel offshore. He quickly rowed to the ship and rescued the captain, his wife and child, bringing them safely back to the lighthouse. The grateful family spent a few days recuperating at the lighthouse.

The shipbuilding industry was growing in Noank by the 1860s. It was decided that a new lighthouse was needed, and construction began in 1867. The new lighthouse, finished in 1868, was a two-story, eight-room granite structure with a cast-iron light tower attached to the front of the roof. The building's style was very similar to others built in the same period at Sheffield Island, Block Island, Great Captain Island, and a few other locations.

The lighthouse was built under the supervision of a local man named Henry Davis, who later became the U.S. Assistant Superintendent of Lifesaving Stations.

Morgan Point Light had a second female keeper in Frances McDonald, who took over for her husband Alexander, a Civil War veteran. Frances McDonald kept the light from 1869 to 1871. She was replaced by her brother, Mystic native Thaddeus Pecor, a Civil War veteran who served 48 years at the station. There are rumors that the ghost of Keeper Pecor still frequents the lighthouse.

One winter during Pecor's tenure, the survivors of a wreck rowed to Morgan Point. The keeper had to cut the frozen clothing and shoes from some of the frostbitten sailors.

In 1921, the lighthouse was discontinued and replaced by an automatic light to the east on Crooks Ledge. The lighthouse was sold to a private party for $8,625. According to some sources, the original lantern was destroyed in the hurricane of September 1938; others say it was removed in the 1920s.

In 1991, the property was purchased by Jason Pilalas from San Marino, California, a partner in an investment management firm. Pilalas grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut, near the Great Captain Island Lighthouse that is almost identical to the one at Morgan Point.

He set out to restore the exterior of the lighthouse to its original appearance, while converting the interior to a comfortable living space for his family. Herman Hassinger Architects of Moorestown, NJ, were commissioned to do the renovation.

The interior was gutted to the granite walls. The rooms were designed to create a more spacious feel and more interior light. The first floor of the lighthouse became a living space and library, while the upstairs was converted to bedrooms.

A new lantern room was fashioned of aluminum and glass from U.S. Lighthouse Service designs, at a cost of $35,000. An extension including a master bedroom and office was added at the back of the lighthouse.

The Pilalas family summers at Morgan Point. Jason Pilalas has said, "I couldn't be happier. I get so excited every time I come here." The lighthouse is the setting for an annual Fourth of July party. Rena Pilalas, Jason's wife, told Coastal Living Magazine, "They sleep on couches, they sleep on the floor. They don't care -- they just like being here."

You can read much more about this lighthouse in my book The Lighthouses of Connecticut. Also see lighthouse.cc/morganpoint/ for more info.

Lighthouse of the week: Cape Elizabeth Light, Maine

For many years, the approach to Portland Harbor from the south was treacherous, and as maritime trade increased, so did shipwrecks. A 50-foot black and white pyramidal stone day beacon was erected in 1811 on a rocky promontory at the southeastern point of Cape Elizabeth, at the southwestern limit of Casco Bay and about five miles southeast of Portland Harbor.

Shipping in the vicinity continued to increase, and officials recognized the need for a light station. A sum of $4,500 was appropriated in February 1828. It was determined that the station would have two lights, one fixed and one revolving, to differentiate it from Wood Island Light (revolving) to the south, and from Portland Head Light (fixed) to the north.

The station was established on 12 acres of land. The east light was built on the former site of the stone day beacon, and the inner or west light was built directly to the west, 895 feet away. The lights were considered among the most important on the coast; mariners approaching Portland Harbor would line them up to know they were on course.

In 1872, the Lighthouse Board announced that the two towers had deteriorated to the point that they had to be rebuilt. A pair of identical 67-foot cast-iron towers replaced the original towers in 1874, after a congressional appropriation of $30,000. The lighthouses were given delicate Italianate architectural detailing. Second-order Fresnel lenses were installed in both towers.

Marcus Aurelius Hanna, the best-known keeper in this station’s history, was born in 1842 while his father, James Tolman Hanna, was keeper of Franklin Island Light. His grandfather had been one of the first keepers of Boon Island Light.

Marcus Hanna went to sea as a cabin boy at the age of 10. During his service in the Civil War, he was praised for exposing himself to enemy fire while retrieving water for his men, an action that later earned him the Medal of Honor.

On the night of January 28, 1885, Marcus Hanna was suffering from a bad cold. A storm hit and increased in severity as the night progressed. Hanna sounded the steam fog whistle all night despite being ill and exhausted. Hiram Staples, the assistant keeper, relieved Hanna at 6:00 a.m. The blizzard was by then “one of the coldest and most violent storms of snow, wind and vapor . . . that I ever witnessed,” Hanna later said. He had to crawl through enormous snowdrifts back to the house.

Hanna was soon asleep. His wife, Louise (Davis), who held one of the assistant keeper positions for some years, extinguished the lights in both towers after sunrise. Then, at 8:40 a.m., she looked out toward the ocean and saw a schooner aground on Dyer’s Ledge, near the fog signal building. The vessel was the Australia out of Boothbay, which had been headed for Boston with a cargo of ice from the Kennebec River in the hold and 150 barrels of mackerel on deck. The captain had already been swept away by the waves; only two crew members remained alive. The men had climbed to the rigging and were practically frozen alive in the bitter cold.

Louise Hanna shouted to her husband, informing him that a vessel was ashore. The keeper rushed to the signal house. Staples hadn’t seen the wreck through the thick snow. The two men hurried to the edge of the water near the schooner. Hanna later recalled, “I felt a terrible responsibility thrust upon me, and I resolved to attempt the rescue at any hazard.” He tried a number of times to throw a line to the vessel but failed. Staples returned to the fog signal building. Meanwhile, Hanna’s wife alerted neighbors.

Hanna, practically frozen by this time, waded waist-deep into the ocean and again threw a line to the schooner, this time hitting his target. One of the crewmen, Irving Pierce, managed to pull himself from the rigging and tied the line around himself. Hanna somehow pulled the helpless man through the waves and over the rocks to the shore. According to Hanna, “Pierce’s jaws were set; he was totally blind from exposure to the cold, and the expression of his face I shall not soon forget.”

After several tries, Hanna landed the line on the Australia again. The other crewman, William Kellar, tied the rope around himself. Hanna’s strength was giving out and he faltered as he tried to pull the man to safety. Just then, Staples and two neighbors arrived. The four men hauled Kellar to the shore, and then carried the two sailors to the fog signal building. The men were given dry clothes and, once they had thawed enough, hot food and drink. After two days they had recovered enough to be taken to Portland by sled.

Six months later, Marcus Hanna received a gold lifesaving medal for “heroism involving great peril to his life,” in recognition of one of the greatest lifesaving feats at an American lighthouse.

In 1924, government officials decided to change the station to a single light, and the west light was extinguished for good on June 14. In May 2000, the east tower was licensed by the Coast Guard to the American Lighthouse Foundation (ALF). The tower’s foundation was repaired in the fall of 2008.

Unfortunately, public access to this very handsome lighthouse is limited because it's surrounded by private property. You can get a nice view from the nearby Two Lights Lobster Shack.

For more, information, visit these sites: http://lighthouse.cc/capeelizabeth and http://www.lighthousefoundation.org. You can also read much more about this lighthouse in the book The Lighthouses of Maine, to be published by Commonwealth Editions in June 2009.