Inland Seas – Page 26 – National Museum of the Great Lakes

Postscript to the War of 1812 NEWASH, TECUMSETH, and US/Canada Border Relations – Spring 2012

April 8, 2020/in Inland Seas /by Carrie Sowden

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

By LeeAnne Gordon

This year marks the beginning of bi-centennial celebrations commemorating the War of 1812, bringing new attention to the conflict which greatly shaped the cultural geography of the Great Lakes, as well as the rest of the country. Little has been written, how- ever, about the period immediately after the war, when the United States and Canada struggled to put aside the conflicts and come to peace with one another. On the Great Lakes today, we have the opportunity to observe that peace, found in the navigable waters that form the border in our region. It is appropriate, then, that the subject of post-war relations can be viewed in the history of two vessels, Tecumseth and Newash, built by the Royal Navy in the months following the Treaty of Ghent, which sailed for less than two years before being retired in favor of peaceful relations.

The Treaty of Ghent formally ended hostilities between the United States and Great Britain when it was signed on December 24, 1814. Peace between the United States and Great Britain had been under negotiation in Europe for some time, but officers on the Great Lakes frontiers knew peace was easier to achieve in a document than on a gundeck. Along the Great Lakes frontier, neither country was entirely ready to abandon the military vessels and outposts that had been constructed and populated during the war. American desires to conquer Canada had manifested themselves in several unsuccessful American raids into territory north of the border. The British had managed to repulse each invasion with the aid of native tribes. Still, the British were not eager to leave the frontiers undefended, particularly those along the Great Lakes, which offered an easy passage into Canadian lands.

In early 1815, Edward William Campbell Rich Owen had inherited a precarious perch as the Royal Navy’s Senior Officer of all troops in Canada, stationed at Kingston, Ontario. E.W.C.R. Owen’s jurisdiction included the Canadian shores of the Saint Lawrence River, the lakes Ontario, Erie, and Huron and the waters between. He was responsible for overseeing operations on naval ships along those waterways, and for coordinating with British troops in the adjacent regions. The Treaty of Ghent had promised both nations free navigation of the waters along the borders, even while the exact location of the border had not yet to be determined.

The close proximity of a former enemy was an unusual situation for the British. Cut off as the British Isles were from the rest of Europe, the Royal Navy was more familiar with having vast expanses of open water separating them from aggressors. The comparatively small size of the Great Lakes, however, gave the British opportunity to keep close watch on American activities, but also left them exposed to American activities. Provisions in the Treaty of Ghent returned any occupied lands back to their antebellum status, but said nothing of the manner in which lands could be defended. The British felt that maintaining naval vessels on the water was necessary to keep Americans from encroaching again into Canada. As natural geographic features — such as the Niagara River — prevented easy navigation along the entirety of the Great Lakes frontier, it was necessary to maintain multiple military establishments, despite the difficulties of keeping them informed and supplied.

The Battle of New Orleans has always been an ironic postscript to the War of 1812, fought after the treaty ending the war had been signed, but before news had spread. New Orleans was not, however, the last place to receive news of peace. Lieutenant Colonel Robert McDouall, commander at Fort Michilimackinac at the far end of Lake Huron, received word of the Treaty of Ghent on 11 May 1815.¹ This was nearly five months after the treaty had been signed, and a full two months after a letter containing the news had been dispatched. News was not the only thing that traveled slowly on the Lakes, and as the British were not willing to leave Canada undefended, the Royal Navy was presented with a new mission of provision transportation and peacekeeping.

The problem of transporting stores was greatest in Upper Canada, particularly in reaching the fortifications at the far end of Lake Huron.

E.W.C.R. Owen determined to build a small number of transport vessels. After some consideration, E.W.C.R. Owen determined that two transport schooners would be constructed on Lake Erie for service on both lakes. The lateness of the season concerned the Commodore. In a letter of 6 April 1815, E.W.C.R. Owen wrote, “I intend no longer to delay it, and will take immediate measures with the Commissioner for building on some convenient situation, a couple of sharp vessels.”²

Construction was led by Robert Moore, assistant shipwright at the Kingston yard, and he and a party of shipwrights and artificers departed for Lake Erie. With no extant shipyard on the lake, a suitable place had to be located before work could begin. The eventual site was located along the Niagara River, near the entrance to the Chippewa River. The mouth of the Chippewa River was blocked by the hulls of two schooners that had been scuttled there in 1814. Plans were made to raise and re-fit these schooners to act as transports as well. A nearby farm, owned by the Street family, provided adequate land for a temporary shipyard and wood was harvested from local resources along the rivers.

The proximity of the farm to the Chippewa River allowed shipwrights to work simultaneously on the schooners that were raised and the two new schooners. These were named Huron and Sauk, outfitted in the late spring and early summer of 1815, and put to immediate use transporting supplies on Lake Erie. For the new vessels, E.W.C.R. Owen specified, “two stout vessels of about 130 tons each,”³ though the ships would actually be slightly larger. He offered names for the ships: “I propose to name them Tecumseth and Newash from two friendly Indian Chiefs.”⁴ Tecumseth, also spelled Tecumseh, was a Shawnee warrior who resisted the encroachment of the United States into Indian lands. Later a British ally, he was killed in the Battle of Moraviantown in 1813. Newash was an Ojibway chief and British ally as well.

Construction draft for Newash and Tecumseth, prepared by Shipwright Robert Moore. (Public Record Office, Admiralty Fonds, ADM, Reg. No. 4562, Box 64.)

Robert Moore’s draughts of the two schooners built at Street’s Farm was made on 23 April 1815, as a plan for the ensuing construction. As drawn, the schooners were 166 12/94 tons burthen, almost 25% larger than Owen’s original orders. The draught shows they were 70 feet 6 inches on deck, with an extreme breadth of 24 feet 5 inches. The ships drew 6 feet of water forward and 9 feet aft. The drawing of the vessels shows that they were purpose-built, able to carry supplies and provisions, but also envisioned to serve as warships should the need arise.

Owen wrote that the schooners were to be, “adapted to receiving guns and acting as Men of War at any time hereafter if it shall be necessary.”⁶ Two 24-pounder long guns were mounted abaft the foremast on pivots, to maximize versatility and two 24-pounder carronades were placed on carriages abaft the mainmast. The decision on whether or not to carry the weapons was left to their commander. Captain William Bourchier, placed in command of the Lake Erie vessels, was instructed that, “such of the Guns as you think proper may be left on shore.”⁷ Complements of the vessels were reduced from typical wartime numbers, but the sailors were trained as soldiers as well. Owen instructed that, “the Seamen are to be exercised and trained to the use of Small Arms, the same as the Marines; one half of the Seamen of each Are to be armed with Muskets, and the rest with Cutlass, Pike and Pistol.”⁸

Deck layout of Tecumseth and Newash, showing placement of pivot guns and carronades. (Public Record Office, Admiralty Fonds, ADM, Reg. No. 4562, Box 64.)

The keels of Newash and Tecumseth were laid in the middle of May 1815, and construction continued at a brisk pace in the following months. Newash and Tecumseth were launched on 13 August 1815, their interiors whitewashed and the hulls painted black and yellow above the waterline. The schooners were launched without any armament and without their sailing rigs, which were quickly added. The new vessels joined Huron and Sauk before the close of navigation in the 1815 season, and were just as quickly immersed in the tense postwar climate.

In October 1815, Newash, under the command of Lt. Thomas Bushby, was sailing amongst the islands at the western end of Lake Erie. Onboard was the commander of Sauk, returning to his vessel, which was lying off Amherstburg. Newash’s crew observed a small schooner apparently coming from the Detroit River, and Bushby attempted to hail her, seeking news on Sauk. The incident, seemingly harmless from Bushby’s perspective, incited a fury of words and activity across the border.

Bushby’s account of the incident states:

“On my passage from Fort Erie to Amherstburg…I met a Schooner on the N.W. Side of Middle Island at which I fired a musket, she hoisted American Colours, as she did not shorten sail nor attempt to pass within hail, I fired another, she then brought to and hoisted her boat out, I then tacked and hove to close to her and desired her to send her boat on board…Master came on board, after having inquired where she came from, where she was bound, and whether she had passed any Men of War at Amherstburg I told the Master he might proceed.”⁹

The American schooner was named Mink and was said to have been in the employ of the British Commissariat. The incident made a distinct impression on at least one passenger aboard Mink at the time. Shortly after the schooners’ encounter, an editorial appeared in the Niagara Journal. The editorial was informed by the events witnessed by the passenger aboard Mink, although it contained a very different description of the incident than that recorded by Lieutenant Bushby.

“ ‘British Outrage!’

‘The American Schooner Mink, Captain Hammond, on her Passage from Detroit to Buffalo, when passing the British Armed Schooner Nawash, [sic] Lieut. Drury, [sic] on the 1^st Instant, near Ballast Island, about two Miles [—km] from Put-in-Bay, was fired upon by the Schooner without being hailed, or receiving the least other previous intimation.

“–The shot passed just over the Bowsprit of the Mink.– Captain Hammond immediately hoisted American Colors supposing that to be the object of the British.– Another shot was then fired from the Schooner, which passed through the foresail of the Mink, not four feet from where the Passengers were standing on the Deck.–

“Captain Hammond then brought his Vessel to, although there was great danger in doing it, of falling on the Breakers.

“–The British Commander ordered him to send his Boat on board the Nawash [sic]– the Boat was accordingly got out, and Captain Hammond went aboard.–

After making a number of trifling inquiries relative to the News at Detroit, and the Passengers he had aboard, the British Officer ordered him to return to his Vessel, without assigning any reason for his outrageous Conduct!’ ”¹⁰

The unnamed editorialist was doubtlessly annoyed by the incident, and may have presumed that the Mink had been brought to so that Bushby could search for British deserters. Seen from that light, the Newash-Mink incident touched on the still-tender subject of British impressment of American citizens. The matter of impressment had been one of the key aggravations that led the American government to declare war against the British in 1812. Americans perceived the issue as a threat to their national sovereignty and the issue was particularly sensitive to the Americans. President Thomas Jefferson, writing just as he received word of the peace, noted, “I am glad of it, although no provision being made against the impressment of our seamen, it is in fact but an armistice, to be terminated by the first act of impressment com- mitted on an American citizen.”¹¹

The matter of British and American relations on the Great Lakes weighed heavily on the mind of E.W.C.R. Owen and his successor, brother W.F.W. Owen. In late 1815, E.W.C.R. Owen wrote of his concerns regarding, “how much the authority of Government and Justice is weakened by its distance from the seat of the Government, by the irregularity and difficulty of communication and the want of a Superintending power immediately at hand.”¹² He wanted to strengthen the British presence in Canada, and maintain a military superiority over the Americans. “To this we may impute in some degree the growth of American feeling and Connexion [sic] which will require a firm and steady hand to wean them from, and prove to them (as is the fact) that the Interest of that portion of the United States which borders on the Lakes is much more in our hands, than that of the British Colonists can be in theirs.”¹³

W.F.W. Owen was understandably concerned over the state of affairs between the two countries. He pointed out that, “the recent occurrances [sic] on the more distant parts of the Frontier [have] so much the character of Enmity [sic] and so little of a Pacific disposition.”¹⁴ The governments in London and Washington may have been ready for peace, but the atmosphere of amity was not yet present on the Great Lakes frontier.

The next years for Tecumseth and Newash were more affected by diplomacy than anything else. Both vessels continued to sail the waters of Lakes Erie and Huron, usually in company with each other. The British officers who commanded squadrons on the lakes of Canada, and some of the men who worked under them, were used to warfare. These men had come of age steeped in the Napoleonic wars in Europe and were offered their own commands during the War of 1812. Part of the reason for some of the potentially volatile acts on the frontier may be that they simply did not know how to be officers at peace. W.F.W. Owen described the task of transporting stores as, “a Service so essentially different from our usual employment.”¹⁵

Additionally, the Great Lakes put these officers into a very unique position. The Treaty of Ghent secured the rights of both nations to navigate the waters of the Lakes freely. While allowing for increased trade and open commerce, this provision also resulted in an increase in smuggling. On Lake Erie, Captain Bourchier encountered this situation directly and felt obliged to take on the task of enforcing revenue laws on Lake Erie.

At both ends of the lake, American territory was at extremely close proximity and the unguarded expanses of Lake Erie allowed plentiful opportunities for illegal trade and smuggling. Bourchier was certainly aware of the lake’s legacy and the extant sentiments on the late war. Bourchier wrote of his assignment, “I am well aware we are placed on Lake Erie, on a very ticklish footing.”¹⁶ Finding the four schooners under his command the only royal authority on Lake Erie, Bourchier determined to use his authority to support the government of Upper Canada. W.F.W. Owen seemed to support Bourchier’s determination and wrote to non-naval officials for verification.

“[Captain Bourchier] has directed His Majesty’s Naval Officers to aid and support the Government of this Province in the execution of the Revenue laws, it being notorious that smuggling is carried on to very great extent…The prevention of smuggling would be a direct object of pursuit to engage the attention of the Naval Service on the Lakes and would operate more than any other regulation to bring it to perfection, by insuring to its Officers the best local knowledge and most fitting experience ….I would ask for you to allow Officers, Boats and Crew to carry out these duties…and also that we be furnished with…the revenue laws and Coast regulations.”¹⁷

W.F.W. Owen did acknowledge that he was “not aware how far the Laws of Great Britain apply in such a case to this Province,” but was surprised by what he received in response. Governmental authorities in Upper Canada felt that the current civil authority was sufficient for the enforcement of its own laws, and refused to grant such authority to the Royal Navy. Darcy Boulton, Attorney General, elaborated: “The British Statutes are confined to the Sea…but in this part of the Globe, I am of the opinion that the Navy can have no Authority in times of Peace, unless Authorized by an Act of Parliament…Vessels of the United States…may pass unmolested, unless directed by the [Customs] Collector.”¹⁸

Area near Amherstburg and Bois Blanc Island, at the mouth of the Detroit River. Modern navigation channels are located on both sides of the island, with upbound com- mercial traffic passing east of the island and downbound traffic passing to the west

Lake Erie is connected to Lake Huron by two rivers, the Detroit and Saint Clair, and a small lake, Lake Saint Clair. Several islands in the two rivers were still disputed after the end of the war. Among these was Bois Blanc Island, near the British depots at Amherstburg and Fort Malden. A small channel separated Bois Blanc Island from the mainland of Canada. Another channel on the western side of Bois Blanc Island also offered adequate passage for vessels, and Bourchier considered the border to lie there. The British viewed Bois Blanc Island as their territory, and Bourchier felt that if the mainland and offshore island were British, then the channel between them was under royal jurisdiction. Bourchier may not have received W.F.W. Owen’s communication on the role of the Royal Navy when he issued a verbal order on 31 May to board and search all vessels transiting the channel off Amherstburg. He delicately clarified his position in a written order issued nearly two months later: “Herewith you will receive a chart of the river Detroit which has not been finished. You will ascertain the soundings between the Island of Bois Blanc and the U.S. Should there be eleven feet [3.38m] water you will board all vessels passing through the Port of Amherstburg.”¹⁹

The Lieutenants commanding Tecumseth and Newash began halting vessels so they could board and search them, which quickly piqued American interests. The goings on of some vessels, such as the American schooners Ghent and Brock, were recorded in logbooks and transmitted between vessels. Ghent was suspected of housing British deserters and had been boarded in Buffalo. Another particular boarding incident involved the American brig Union.

While transiting the Detroit River, the American brig Union had sailed into the passage east of Bois Blanc Island. H.M. Schooner Tecumseth brought the brig to, boarded and searched her. Though the incident did not appear to disturb the master of the Union, an irate passenger brought the matter to the government’s attention. The passenger’s story claimed that the British naval officer was, “supported by the Officer at [Fort] Malden, who drew out some pieces of cannon, and placed them in a situation to bear upon the American Vessel.”²⁰ Major Berwick, commanding officer at Fort Malden, formally denied this charge. Lieutenant Kent, in command of Tecumseth, did not feel that any indignity had been offered the other officers, as “they have always been treated as the subjects of a Nation at Amity with His Majesty.”²¹

Unlike the British, the Americans did not consider either Bois Blanc Island or the Port of Malden as British, and saw no reason to avoid either channel. Michigan Governor Lewis Cass viewed the channel as, “the usual Channel of communication between Lakes Erie [and] Huron.”²² Cass’s opinion of the boarding of the brig Union was that the situation warranted Washington’s attention.

“In an aggression like this the Government of the United States can alone determine what course the honour [and] interest of the Nation require should be taken. But until their decision shall be made upon the subject, it becomes my duty to remonstrate against a practice for which the Laws of Nations afford no pretence, which is inconsistent with the relations existing between our respective Governments, [and] the continuance of which must be attended with serious [and] important consequences.”²³

The case of the Union and of the actions on Lake Erie was brought to the attention of British Minister Plentipotentiary Charles Bagot, in Washington, D.C. Bagot was already involved in negotiations over the finer post-war details, such as the number and size of the naval force on the Great Lakes. Bagot may have agreed with other Royal Navy authorities who felt that Bourchier had overstepped the bounds of his authority, and had concerns on the effect that Bourchier’s actions would have on Anglo-American relations. Captain William Baumgardt wrote to Bourchier: “It is to be regretted that you should ever decree it necessary without reference to your commanding officer to adopt such measures as may in their operation, compromise the good understanding of the two Nations.”²⁴

The Rush-Bagot Agreement

Negotiations had been underway since the signing of the Treaty of Ghent as to the state of affairs between the naval powers. Charles Bagot had been in communication with then Secretary of State James Monroe throughout much of 1815 and 1816. Monroe and the rest of the American government felt that naval power should be severely limited on the Great Lakes, as “[maintaining] on the Lakes a large Naval Force, it would expose both [nations] to considerable and useless expence [sic] while it would multiply the risks of collision between them.”²⁵

Along those lines, John Quincy Adams, one of the American negotiators at Ghent, had proposed a drastic reduction of force from both sides. Adams’ proposal called for “one vessel on each of the Lakes [less than or equal to] 100 tons burthen with one 18-pdr gun, [and] none on Lake Champlain.”²⁶ Though this proposal was made shortly after the peace, British authorities avoided agreeing to any arrangement for several months. The British, particularly Captain W.F.W. Owen, felt that conceding to the United States’ request to limit both countries to the same number and size of vessel would place the British at a disadvantage in North America and leave Canada particularly vulnerable to American encroachment: “[To] reduce our armed forces to a level with what they may without endangering their safety reduce their to, would be to reduce ourselves as much below their actual force as their Physical strength and attainable resources exceed ours.”²⁷

American invasions of Canada during the War of 1812 left the British wary of reducing their naval force in areas where Canada was weak. W.F.W. Owen wrote of his fears regarding the potential result of such a scenario. Without a standing naval force, he felt, it would cost exorbitant rates to transport men and stores. He also foresaw future problems with a lack of knowledge of the waterways.

This would force the British to employ “American subjects on almost every occasion, which would not only operate to cramp the industry [and] exertions of this infant colony, but would foster [and] nourish a race of people, who in our own employment, would acquire the most accurate knowledge to be applied against us in the event of a future war; whilst on the other hand we should be left in emergency to be defended by the resources [and] Men of the mother country at a hundred fold rate of expense as was the case during the late War.”²⁸

Instead of a reduction of naval force that would place each country on par with the other, the British government proposed a gentlemen’s agreement. Optimistically trusting the new spirit of amity between the two countries, Britain suggested that each nation reduce its naval force to the minimum required to perform the requisite duties. This would allow both nations “to act in a spirit of mutual confidence without shackling either by any precise stipulations.”²⁹ The American feeling prevailed — unless the numbers of ships on the Lakes was drastically reduced and limited, there would be more opportunity for conflicts between the two nations.

American negotiations mentioned the actions of Captain Bourchier on Lake Erie and the British had little recourse. Even his fellow British officers had judged Bourchier’s actions overly zealous and unnecessary. In spite of W.F.W. Owen’s agreement with some of Bourchier’s policies and the fact that enforcement of revenue laws was eventually granted to the naval force, the manner in which Captain Bourchier had pursued his course left the British no point from which to argue. One zealous officer could shatter the brittle façade of peace with the right opportunity. On 2 August 1816, James Monroe drafted a new arrangement of reduced naval force that would eventually be accepted by both nations. The final agreement was signed by Charles Bagot and American Richard Rush. Each nation would retain one vessel on Lake Ontario of no more than 100 tons burthen, with one 18-pdr gun; two like vessels with like armament on the Upper Lakes; and one like vessel with like armament on Lake Champlain. Monroe’s proposal further stated that:

“all other armed vessels on those Lakes shall be forthwith dis- mantled, and likewise that neither shall build or arm any other Vessel on the shores of those Lakes…That the Naval Force thus retained by each party on the Lakes, shall be restricted in its duty to the protection of its Revenue laws, the transportation of troops and goods, and to such other services as will in no respect interfere with the armed vessel of the other parts.”³⁰

The Rush-Bagot agreement disarmed the Great Lakes and rendered Newash and Tecumseth obsolete. Even without their 24-pounder guns, the hulls were larger than 100 tons. Each vessel was to be laid up, stripped of her guns and most of her other equipment, and left at anchor. Penetanguishene Bay, on Lake Huron, was chosen as the retirement home for the two hulls, and they arrived there on 18 June 1817, just a few weeks after the Rush-Bagot Agreement had been passed and signed. The sails were loosed one last time to dry, then unbent from the yards, booms, gaffs and stays. Each of the masts was brought down and the smaller spars were laid on the decks. The ships were moored with iron cables, and the pennants were hauled down at sunset on 30 June 1817.

Newash and Tecumseth both fell into disrepair and eventually sank at the harbor in Penetanguishene Bay. In the 1950s, archaeological investigations of the harbor led to the raising of the hull of Tecumseth, which is on display at Discovery Harbour (Havre de la Dècouverte) along with a sailing replica in Penetanguishene, Ontario.

The short sailing careers of Tecumseth and Newash offer tremendous insight into a perplexing, if brief, period in Great Lakes history as the inhabitants adjusted to life as peaceful partners rather than combatants. There remains no standing navy on the Great Lakes, though the Rush-Bagot agreement has been altered somewhat since its original conception. Both the United States and Canada use sites on the Lakes as training centers for naval personnel. Coast Guard stations have also been set up on both sides of the border, but serve as bases of security and law enforcement, rather than military posts. Until 2001, the majority of Coast Guard vessels were armed in compliance with the treaty. After September 2001, the United States Coast Guard chose to equip several vessels on the Lakes with large caliber weapons, as a measure of national security. Since this was found to be a policing and peacekeeping purpose, Canada conceded to the armament.

Footnotes:

1 Robert McDouall to Forster, 15 March 1815, in William Wood, Select British Documents of the Canadian War of 1812, vol. III, part I, 532.
2 E.W.C.R. Owen to Drummond, 6 April 1815, PRO, Record Group 8, Series IC, vol. 734.
3 E.W.C.R. Owen to Croker, 19 April 1815. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2262. 4 E.W.C.R. Owen to Croker, 19 April 1815. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2262. 5 Draft of Schooners. PRO, Admiralty Fonds, ADM, Reg. No. 4562, Box 64.
6 E.W.C.R. Owen to Drummond, 4 April 1815. PRO, Records Group 8, Series IC, vol. 734.
7 E.W.C.R. Owen, “General Instructions for the Commander of the Naval Establishment upon Lake Erie,” 12 October 1815. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2264.
8 E.W.C.R. Owen to the Captain Commanding the Naval Establishment at Isle Aux Noix, 15 June 1815. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 106/1997.
9 Thomas Bushby to Bourchier, 9 November 1815. PRO, Record Group 8, Series IC, vol. 736.
10 Enclosed in E.W.C.R. Owen to Baker, 23 October 1815. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2264.
11 Thomas Jefferson to Crawford, 14 February 1815, with Postscript dated 26 February. “American Memory, The Thomas Jefferson Papers.”
12 E.W.C.R. Owen, “Observations relative to the defence [sic] of the Lake Frontier continued from enclosures to Letters 36, 37 and 48,” 5 November 1815. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2264.
13 E.W.C.R. Owen, “Observations relative to the defence [sic] of the Lake Frontier continued from enclosures to Letters 36, 37 and 48,” 5 November 1815. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2264.
14 W.F.W. Owen to Drummond, 17 January 1816b. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2265.
15 W.F.W. Owen to Drummond, 21 April 1816. LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2266.
16 William Bourchier to Baumgardt, enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
17 W.F.W. Owen, “Extract of a letter from Captain [W.F.W.] Owen to Lieutenant Governor Gore, dated Kingston Naval Yard 21 March 1816.” LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2266.
18 Darcy Boulton, “Case for the Opinion of the Attourney [sic] General respecting Seizures or Searches on the Lakes in Canada by the Navy.” LAC, Admiralty Fonds, ADM 1/2266.
19 William Bourchier to the Commanding Officers of H.M. Vessels on Lake Erie, 23 July 1816, enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
20 Charles Bagot to Sherbrooke and Commodore E.W.C.R. Owen, 14 August 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
21 Henry Kent to Bourchier, 28 July 1816, enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
22 Lewis Cass to the Officer Commanding His Britannic Majesty’s Schooner Tecumseth, n.d., enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
23 Lewis Cass to the Officer Commanding His Britannic Majesty’s Schooner Tecumseth, n.d., enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
24 William Baumgardt to Bourchier, 5 September 1816, enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
25 James Monroe to Bagot, 2 August 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 14.
26 James Monroe to Bagot, 2 August 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 14.
27 W.F.W. Owen to Baumgardt, 3 September 1816, enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
28 W.F.W. Owen to Baumgardt, 3 September 1816, enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
29 W.F.W. Owen to Baumgardt, 3 September 1816, enclosed in William Baumgardt to Bagot, 5 September 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 1.
30 James Monroe to Bagot, 2 August 1816. LAC, Bagot Papers, Military Group 24, Series A13, vol. 14.

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About the Author: LeeAnne Gordon was born in Erie, Pennsylvania, and has been a lifelong Great Lakes resident. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in English from Auburn University and a Master’s in Anthropology from Texas A&M University. Miss Gordon was awarded the Association of Great Lakes Maritime History Barkhausen Award in 2009, and this article was excerpted from her entry. In addition to her academic career, she has been a tall ship sailor for the past nine years, sailing on all five Great Lakes on several different vessels.

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McDougall’s Patented Anchor – Winter 2011

April 6, 2020/in Inland Seas /by Carrie Sowden

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

By Neel R. Zoss

Among the many unique and innovative features onboard Captain Alexander McDougall’s whaleback barges and steamers — the round turrets, the semi-arched spar deck, the flush mounted hatches and the upturned bow, to name just a few — there’s one small element that many folks overlook or, if they do happen to see it, don’t recognize it as one of the many patented ideas from Captain McDougall’s fertile, almost non-stop imagination. The item in question? It’s that triangular shaped what-cha-ma-call-it attached to the foredeck of, at one time or another, almost every whaleback vessel. Universally known as the “McDougall anchor,” most whalebacks had at least one of the anchors secured aside their bow turrets, while a fair number of the whalebacks carried two of the utilitarian anchors. As with many of the new and original concepts incorporated into the de- sign of the whalebacks, the McDougall anchor can be included on the list of ideas that were haltingly accepted by the Great Lakes sailing community at the outset of the construction of the whalebacks and died very quickly with the demise of the company that constructed the whalebacks, the American Steel Barge Company, just a decade later.

Patent 445,816, Page 1. Image from United States Patent and Trademark Office.

The design of Captain McDougall’s anchor was granted patent number 445,816 by the United States Patent Office¹ on 3 February 1891.² McDougall had submitted his short, three-page patent application (one and a half pages of written specifications and one page with four diagrams of the anchor and parts thereof) for the anchor on 24 March 1890.

Although a patent related to some aspect of water transportation was hardly an unusual occurrence for Alexander McDougall (he applied for and received more than 50 U.S. and foreign patents in his lifetime),³ the timing of McDougall’s anchor patent seems quite telling. It’s almost as if McDougall had to push himself further and further, harder and harder, every minute of every day so that he could see just how much he could accomplish. It seems at this exciting time in his life that McDougall couldn’t stop himself from engaging in a wide range of semi-related activities in, perhaps, some sort of internal effort to justify the faith and trust so many people had placed in him. McDougall was neck deep in is so many complex business processes at the time he submitted his anchor patent that completing any one of them, much less all of them, would certainly be a mark of stellar personal achievement. In March of 1890, the time he sent in the preliminary patent application paperwork, McDougall was in charge of the newly formed American Steel Barge Company. This company was undergoing an expansion program of additional employees, burgeoning size and increased production that would make any of today’s Fortune 500 companies turn absolutely green with envy. At the same time McDougall was supervising the final construction details of two whaleback barges, Barge 105 and Barge 107, he was in the middle of the construction of the first whaleback steamer, the Colgate Hoyt,⁴ in his Duluth shipyards while tending to the long distance management of the building of two more whaleback barges, Barge 201 and Barge 202, at the Handren and Robins Atlantic Dock Company in New York City.⁵ McDougall was also overseeing thousands of details associated with the transfer of the American Steel Barge Company shipyard lock, stock and whaleback plans from Duluth to West Superior, Wisconsin, and the setting up of an entirely new whaleback shipyard.⁶ Just so his down time was kept to a minimum, McDougall and his staff were in the midst of planning the construction of the Joseph L. Colby, the first whaleback to be built in the new West Superior shipyard. By any conceivable stretch of the imagination, McDougall’s plate was extraordinarily full and yet he found the time and energy to think about, design, refine and put pen to paper to document and protect his ideas for a new fangled anchor.

The whaleback steamer James M. Colgate towing a whaleback barge as they exit the Soo Locks sometime in the late 1890s or early 1900s. The two McDougall anchors on the bow of the James M. Colgate (lying on the deck to each side of the bow turret) can clearly be seen. Image from Great Lakes Historical Society Collection

In his patent specifications, McDougall detailed his reasons for deciding that his new type of anchor was needed by saying, “The principal objects of my invention are to provide and produce an anchor of that variety which can be manufactured very cheaply, which will be extremely portable and occupy little space on the deck, and will be very effective in operation.”⁷ In keeping with McDougall’s somewhat utilitarian view of the world, the anchor was simplicity itself. McDougall described his new invention as a “… stockless single-fluke…” anchor.⁸ McDougall seems to have distilled to the most basic level what the elements of an anchor needed to be and fairly much eliminated anything else that was not directly and specifically related to the function of the anchor. No frills and no creature comfort additions — very much like his whaleback vessels.

McDougall’s simple, triangular shaped anchor was formed by bending two, 7 inch wide by 3¼ inch thick by 12½ foot long⁹ “… rectangular wrought-iron or steel bars heated and hammered to the proper shape”¹⁰ bands into identical shapes to form the two sides of the anchor. A ring for the anchor chain was bolted between the shaped steel bands at the top of the anchor. Between the bands at the bottom of the anchor a simple, pivoting single fluke (or “blade”¹¹ as McDougall sometimes called it) was placed. When completed, the anchors were ten feet four inches in length, five feet wide at their widest point and weighed approximately 2,050 pounds apiece. The flukes were eleven and a half inches wide and just a hair over four feet long.¹²

The steamer Pathfinder at the Soo Locks has its McDougall anchor secured to the deck next to the bow turret. Image from The Great Lakes Historical Society

Interestingly, as with so many of McDougall’s patents, including the whaleback turrets and the rudders attached to the pig boats, a subtle progression of design can be seen from his initial patented drawings and ideas to the final product sailing onboard the whalebacks. McDougall’s patent design presented a blunt end on the fluke while the anchors were actually manufactured with a semi-pointed end.¹³ The pivoting mechanism (McDougall labeled this “…a link mounted on the pivoting-pin”…)¹⁴ which allowed the fluke to dig into the lake or sea bottom but limited its range of motion, was slightly altered to become a single unit, as opposed to McDougall’s original concept of several different component pieces bolted together. The anchors, made at the American Steel Barge Company shipyard in West Superior, were retrofitted on a number of the earliest whalebacks and became standard equipment for the later barges and steamers that were constructed in the shipyard.

According to the Lake Superior Marine Museum website, “It is believed that about 50 of these anchors were produced by the American Steel Barge Company in Superior, Wisconsin.”¹⁵ As previously indicated, while sailing the Great Lakes, the vast majority of the whalebacks, both barges and steamers, had at least one McDougall anchor on their bows. Today, only two of McDougall’s anchors are known to exist on dry land. One of the anchors, from the famous whaleback passenger steamer Christopher Columbus, was given to the Mariners’ Museum in Newport News, Virginia, in 1936, after two of the Museum’s field agents found the anchor in the scrapyard of the Manitowoc (Wisconsin) Shipbuilding Company as the Christopher Columbus was being cut up. The anchor is stored at the Museum “anchor farm” in Newport News and is not currently on public

The McDougall anchor from the wreck of the Thomas Wilson is now on display in Duluth’s Canal Park. Image from author’s collection.

display.¹⁶ The second McDougall anchor, the port anchor from the wrecked whaleback steamer Thomas Wilson, is on display outside the Lake Superior Marine Museum at Canal Park in Duluth, Minnesota, just a few feet from the waters of Lake Superior and less than two miles from the location of the wreck of the Thomas Wilson. The anchor was located by Duluth diver Randy Bradford during the summer of 1978 and, with the assistance of several private boats, raised and recovered for display. The anchor now sits next to the starboard kedge anchor recovered from the Thomas Wilson by famed Duluth diver Elmer Engman during the summer of 1973.¹⁷

Much like too many of McDougall’s inventions, his anchor was close … but just not quite. By most reports, the McDougall anchors were not the most efficient of tools for keeping a boat in a specific location due, for the most part, to the anchor’s single fluke. While being a novel and money-saving idea, they often failed to secure the boat to the lake bot- tom. Many times McDougall’s anchors allowed the whalebacks to drag their anchor significant distances until the crew took the pains to raise the anchor and reset it. As a result, the anchors failed to gain any interest from other ship owners and were destined to sail only aboard whaleback steamers and barges. There are no known reports or photographs of any other Great Lakes boat using the McDougall anchor. Although they were not popular, the anchors did, in some cases, accompany the whalebacks during their transfer to saltwater service in the years between 1905 and 1912. The same problems that dogged the anchors on the sweetwater hounded the anchors in saltwater and the McDougall anchors were, one by one, replaced on the seagoing whalebacks with standard anchors.

The McDougall anchor was another of Captain Alexander McDougall’s seagoing experiments that never quite caught on. The anchors went the way of the whalebacks, failing to gain popular support and fading into history as little more than a footnote in the lore of the Great Lakes.

Footnotes:

1 Now called the United States Patent and Trademark Office, an agency of the United States Department of Commerce.
2 United States Patent #445,816, United States Patent and Trademark Office, Washington, D.C., page 1, introduction and title information. 1932).
3 McDougall, Alexander, The Autobiography of Captain Alexander McDougall, pages 211–214 (privately printed, 1932).
4 McDougall, Alexander, The Autobiography of Captain Alexander McDougall, page 209 (privately printed, 1932).
5 New York (New York) Times, 23 July 1890.
6 McDougall, Alexander, The Autobiography of Captain Alexander McDougall, page 86 (privately printed, 1932).
7 United States Patent #445,816, United States Patent and Trademark Office, Washington, D.C., page 1, lines 14–19.
8 United States Patent #445,816, United States Patent and Trademark Office, Washington, D.C., page 1, line 10.
9 Dorr, Kenneth S., The McDougall Anchor (drawing), Nautical Research Journal, Volume 27, Number 3, September 1981, page 132.
10 United States Patent #445,816, United States Patent and Trademark Office, Washington, D.C., page 1, lines 43–45.
11 United States Patent #445,816, United States Patent and Trademark Office, Washington, D.C., page 1, line 80.
12 Dorr, Kenneth S., The McDougall Anchor (drawing), Nautical Research Journal, Volume 27, Number 3, September 1981, page 132.
13 United States Patent #445,816, United States Patent and Trademark Office, Washington, D.C., figure 2.
14 United States Patent #445,816, United States Patent and Trademark Office, Washington, D.C. , page 2, lines 49 and 50.
15 Lake Superior Marine Museum website www.underwaterminnesota.com.
16 E-mails from Jeanne Willoz-Egnor, Director of Collections Management, Curator of Scientific Instruments at the Mariners’ Museum, Newport News, Virginia, 20 May 2010 and 21 May 2010.
17 Engman, Elmer, In The Belly Of A Whale, Duluth’s Shipwreck Tragedy, Innerspace, 1988, pages 38, 39, 40, 41 and 42.

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About the Author: Neel R. Zoss has researched McDougall’s whaleback barges and steamers for many years and has written a number of articles about the boats, including several in Inland Seas.

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Four Boats Named CHIPPEWA! A Pictorial History – Fall 2011

April 2, 2020/in Inland Seas /by Carrie Sowden

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

By Al Hart

When the Arnold Transit Co. was formed in 1878 by George T. Arnold and his partner L. B. Coats, their plan was to have a fleet of vessels to transport lumber in the Mackinac Island and Straits area. The best laid plans often have a way of changing and, before long, transporting passengers and other freight became their primary concern.

Down through the 133-year history of the Arnold Line there have been dozens of vessels in the fleet, from large passenger steamers to modern high-speed catamarans. For some reason, the company has had a penchant for naming its boats for Native American tribes. The Arnold Line has had two boats named Ottawa, two named Iroquois, one named Huron, one named Mohawk , and FOUR named Chippewa. In this article, we will take a closer look at four boats named Chippewa.

The First Chippewa. Photo from the author’s collection

The first Chippewa (U.S. 127440) was built as Hull 78 in 1900 by Craig Shipbuilding of Toledo. She was 200 feet x 34 feet 4 inches x 19 feet 8 inches. She was only 75% completed when she was side-launched on June 23, 1900. She made her maiden voyage to Mackinac Island less than a month later on July 7, 1900, and was placed in regular service from Cheboygan to Mackinac Island to Sault Ste. Marie and return. Craig Shipbuilding guaranteed she could run the St. Marys River in just five hours and she exceeded that goal, although she was not so successful in other areas of service.

This Chippewa was apparently too large for the route and in 1907, along with her slightly larger sister, Iroquois, she was sold to the Puget Sound Navigation Co. of Seattle, Washington. Both sisters went out the St. Lawrence River to the Atlantic, around Cape Horn and up the Pacific to their new home. In 1926, the Chippewa was rebuilt as an auto ferry and in 1932 her steam plant was replaced with a diesel engine. She continued sailing until 1964, when she was laid up until purchased to be used as a museum and restaurant. Sadly when she burned at Oakland, California, under mysterious circumstances in 1968, she was scrapped.

The Second Chippewa. Photo from the author’s collection.

The second Chippewa (U.S. 206249) was an iron side-wheeler built as Hull 33 in 1884 as the U.S. Revenue Cutter William P. Fessenden at the Union Dry Dock Co. of Buffalo. She was 177 feet x 28 feet x 10 feet and did regular patrol duty on Lake Huron and Lake Erie for a number of years.

In 1908, she was towed to the Craig Yard in Toledo where she was rebuilt into a fine-looking passenger steamer with new dimensions (181 feet 5 inches x 28 feet x 9 feet) and re-named Chippewa. She sailed for the Arnold Line in the Straits of Mackinac between Cheboygan, St. Ignace, Mackinac Island, Detour and Sault Ste. Marie. (Because of her speed, she also could cover the 100 miles to the Soo in just 5 hours.) She must have been successful in many ways, for just two years into her new career this second Chippewa was lengthened to 198 feet at Manitowoc.

She ran the same route as before until the fall of 1922, when she came to Lake Erie. After the Arrow (which had been running the route between Sandusky and the Lake Erie islands) burned, another passenger steamer was needed. The Chippewa filled the bill admirably. In addition to sailing from Sandusky to the Lake Erie islands, she sailed excursions to Detroit, Cleveland and Toledo, adding a few Canadian trips in her later years. In the autumn months she also carried cargos of grapes to Detroit.

Her last year in active service was 1938, and after serving as a barge for a few years, she was finally scrapped in Hamilton, Ontario, in 1943.

The third Chippewa. Photo from the author’s collection.

The third Chippewa, Hull 69 (U.S. 223348), was built in 1923 as the Mary Margaret by Defoe Boat & Motor Works at Bay City, Michigan. The small passenger and freight vessel was built for Philip R. Eaglesfield of St. Joseph, Michigan. She was 61.5 feet x 17.9 feet x 6.6 feet and 54 gross tons.

In 1936, she was sold to Hazel M. Allers of Charlevoix, then sold again in 1947 to Leroy Allers of Charlevoix. She came to the Arnold Line in 1948. After being converted to a passenger boat in 1950, she sailed for a number of years to and from Mackinac Island. She was sold in 1962 to Robert S. Weber of Bayfield, Wisconsin; to Apostle Islands Cruise Service of Bayfield in 1975; to Apostle Island Outfitters in 1978. She was sold off the Lakes in 1994, and continues to sail as the Chippewa for the Bay Taxi Service of Portland, Maine.

The Fourth Chippewa. Photo from the author’s collection.

The fourth Chippewa (U.S. 288825) in the Arnold fleet was built for the company in 1962 by Paasch Marine Service of Erie, Pennsylvania. Her dimensions were 72 feet x 31feet x 8 feet and 87 gross tons. She was lengthened by Paasch during the winter of 1968–1969 to 84 feet 4 inches x 29 feet 8 inches x 5 feet 2 inches and 81 gross tons. Although not as busy as the faster and more modern catamarans, the current Chippewa is still a part of the Arnold Transit Co. at this writing.

(Ed. note – The Arnold Transit Co. ceased operating as a passenger ferry company in 2016 and sold its boats to the Star Line Ferry)

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About the Author: Al Hart is a Trustee of the Great Lakes Historical Society, serves as chair of the Society’s Publications Committee and is a photo editor for this journal. He is an avid collector of Great Lakes photographs and a self-proclaimed boatnerd. The photos featured in this article are from the Al Hart collection.

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Let the Lower Lights be Burning – Spring 2011

April 1, 2020/in Inland Seas /by Carrie Sowden

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

by Matt Foss

Pilot Island Light. Image from the United States Coast Guard

Since 1858, the lighthouse on Pilot Island, a small island off the Door County Peninsula in northeast Wisconsin, provided navigational aid for mariners. The light guides vessels through the Porte des Morts Passage, a sometimes treacherous connection between the waters of Lake Michigan and the bay of Green Bay. There are strong and unpredictable winds in the area and dangerous shoals border the passage.

While the Porte des Morts Passage carried a reputation for being dangerous, ships transited the passage because, for a long time, it was the quickest route for travelling between the bay of Green Bay and southern Lake Michigan.¹ So while merchants conserved time, they took a calculated risk by shipping via the Porte des Morts Passage. The gamble for many did not pay off. An undeterminable amount of shipwrecks occurred in and around the passage and many more vessels ran aground or became stranded along the shores of the peninsula and nearby islands.

While some vessels made it safely and others did not, one thing remained constant. The light from the Pilot Island lighthouse and the sound from the fog signal on the island provided guidance through this passage. Whether or not they saved vessels from disaster, the civilian keepers and assistant keepers that kept the light and later U.S. Coast Guardsmen who oversaw the automated light, made sure that every day of the year it was there for all who traveled these waters.

In 1858, the Porte des Morts Passage, also known as “Death’s Door,” had already become a busy waterway for merchant vessels. On nearby Plum Island, the lighthouse there since 1848 was not properly marking the passage and keeping ships away from the rocky shoals which surround it. Determining the light on Plum Island was too far west to be effective, the U.S. Lighthouse Board, the government agency responsible for all matters concerning lighthouses in America, decided to build a lighthouse on Porte des Morts Island, also near the passage.²

The 3.7-acre island, known today as Pilot Island, was a superior place to build a lighthouse with its location relative to the passage and its lack of tall trees to obstruct a light. Shortly after its reservation from public domain by President James Buchanan in 1858,³ construction began on a two-and-one-half story combined keeper’s dwelling and lighthouse. Whether it was realized at the time or not, this lighthouse, its keepers, keepers’ families, and crew would provide an immeasurable service to merchant vessels, personal watercraft and many others as they braved the waters of Death’s Door. Since the middle of the 19^th Century, this light on Pilot Island has shone without interruption, a beacon that has transcended generations.

A view of Pilot Island from the north. Image from Friends of Plum and Pilot Islands

The reason why the Pilot Island light provided such a great benefit for ships in the region was the work of those who kept the lights. While the job description was simple — making sure the lamps were lit by sunset and extinguished in the morning; and sounding the station’s fog signal during inclement weather — it took a special type of person to be a keeper or a keeper’s assistant, especially on tiny Pilot Island. The person needed to be comfortable with a daily routine that could seem monotonous over the course of months, and content with only the company at night of waves and dreams of distant lands.

The daily routine for the keeper included cleaning and polishing the lens, checking and filling the oil lamp, and trimming the wick. The assistant keeper, if there was one, needed to clean the brass and copper fixtures of the apparatus, and clean the tools in the lantern room. The assistant was also responsible for the daily cleanliness of the walls, floors and balconies of the lantern room, and the area from the lantern to the oil room.⁴ Of course, if there was no assistant, the keeper was responsible for all of these tasks.

The first to keep the Pilot Island light was a man named William Shurtteffy and an assistant named Royal Riggins. The U.S. Lighthouse Board transferred Shurtteffy and Riggins from the recently abandoned lighthouse on nearby Plum Island to the Pilot Island light in 1858.⁵ While Shurtteffy and Riggins were the first to keep the Pilot Island light, their time on the island was brief.

Just one year later, the Lighthouse Board removed Shurtteffy and Riggins and appointed a 50-year-old apparent widower named William Garey. Rather than appointing a formal assistant for Garey, the Lighthouse Board allowed Garey’s 15-year-old son to serve as the assistant and Garey’s 18-year-old daughter to perform housekeeping duties inside the keeper’s dwelling, work typically done by the keeper’s wife.⁶

Less than two years later, Garey, too, left Pilot Island along with his son and daughter and the Lighthouse Board sought a replacement. This trend of short durations for keepers continued. In fact, from 1857–1866 there were seven different keepers of the Pilot Island light, resulting in a situation which scholar Steve Karges likened to a “revolving door.”⁷ Even more interesting, this was unlike the situation at other lighthouses on the Door County Peninsula where long periods of service for keepers were usual. The exact reasons for frequent turnover during this time on Pilot Island are unknown.

The revolving door ended in 1866, when the Lighthouse Board appointed 35-year-old Civil War veteran Victor Rohn as keeper.⁸ Immediately, a family takeover of Pilot Island occurred. Rohn’s wife Jannette received an appointment as her husband’s assistant, and with their seven children under the age of thirteen, they turned the island into their personal play place during the summertime. A portion of their time included commuting to and from nearby Washington Island, where the Rohn’s owned a farm and lived in the off-season, when navigation through Death’s Door subsided.⁹

The Rohns’ tenure provided stability that had been lacking at the light station. Recognizing this, the Lighthouse Board made improvements to the station in the late 1860s and 1870s. In 1868, a government crew plastered the inside of the tower, fog signal and dwelling, and repainted the buildings. Six years later, a congressional appropriation of $1,200 allowed the Board to construct a boathouse and marine railways for the station’s boats and replace the roof on the dwelling.¹⁰

Although Victor Rohn oversaw improvements to the station during his tenure, by the mid-1870s, his attitude appeared to sour, as evidenced in his writings in the station’s daily logs:

“July 4th 1874: Independence Day came in fine, after a heavy gale, this Island affords about as much independence and liberty as Libby prison, with the difference of guards in favor of this place, and chance for outside communication in the other.”¹¹

“September 30th 1874: Had a circular from the Inspectors office in regard to Keepers duties. The officers of the Lighthouse Dept. seem to think that Light Keepers have very little or nothing to do. It may be the case at some stations, for my part I cannot find it the case here, and would like to see some of these gentlemen trying it here for a short time, then they would find, that the Keeper of this station is a worse slave than a plantation negro.”¹²

For unknown reasons, the Lighthouse Board replaced Victor Rohn in 1876; however it is noted that right before his removal he voiced his displeasure in a way that could be noticed by his superiors. Even more interesting, the Lighthouse Board replaced the seasoned keeper Rohn with Emmanuel Davidson, a 56-year-old native Norwegian with no prior lighthouse experience.¹³ The intriguing part regarding this appointment was the job of keeper on Pilot Island had recently become more difficult.

A year earlier, in 1875, the Lighthouse Board replaced the fog signal on the island with a first-class steam powered fog siren that could be heard 20 miles away. Operating this fog siren consumed a considerable portion of the keeper’s time. A strong fire needed to be built and maintained in order to provide steam for the siren which sounded continuously during inclement weather. Additionally, the operating parts of the fog siren needed to be cleaned and polished after use and the wood needed for the fire had to be cut from logs, then split and carried to the fog signal building. So either operating the fog siren or preparing for its operation became a daily task on the island.¹⁴

A reason why the Lighthouse Board was comfortable appointing a keeper with no lighthouse experience was the directions given to a keeper like Davidson. Over time, the written instructions the Lighthouse Board provided to keepers at light stations became more detailed, and very little at the lighthouse was left to the keeper’s discretion. With the Lighthouse Board’s major pre-requisite for lighthouse keeping being the ability to read, this was their goal.

An example of the detailed instructions included the following directives for extinguishing the light each morning:

“125. When the light is extinguished in the morning the keeper must hang the lantern curtains and immediately begin to put the apparatus in order for relighting. While doing this the linen aprons provided for the keeper’s use must be worn, that the lens may not suffer from contact with the wearing apparel. The illuminating apparatus must be carefully covered before the cleaning is begun.”

“126. The lens and the glass of the lantern must be cleaned daily and always kept in the best possible condition. Before beginning to clean the lens it must be brushed with the feather brush to remove all dust. It must then be wiped with a soft linen cloth, and finally polished with buff-skin. If there is oil or grease on any part it must be taken off with a linen cloth, moistened with spirits of wine, and then polished with a buff-skin. Under no circumstances must a skin which has been wet or damp be used, as this will scratch the lens.”¹⁵

While the Lighthouse Board felt comfortable enough with their instructions to appoint a keeper with no experience, they were cognizant of the amount of work needed to keep the Pilot Island station functioning. To help Davidson, the Lighthouse Board made sure there were two assistants on the island. While this aided Davidson’s efforts as keeper, it also added the responsibility of supervising workers which impacted a portion of Davidson’s working day of his tenure on the island.

One such assistant, who undoubtedly made Davidson’s job difficult, was first assistant John Boyce. Noted as an eccentric, John Boyce killed himself on Pilot Island on June 20, 1880.¹⁶ The daily log provides a chilling account of the suicide:

“June 19 1880. 1^st Assistant John Boyce does not feel well.

June 20 1880. 1^st Assistant Mr. John Boyce went into the bushes and committed suicide by cutting his throat with a razor at about 1 p.m. Some of Mr. Miller’s work men who were doing some building near our fog signal happened to walk around the beach, discovered Mr. Boyce lying down on his face, and called to him, but there was no answer. Then they walked up and seen blood on his hands, they called me and we turned him over but he was dead, we seen that he had two deep gashes, one on each side of his throat. Mr. Miller the foreman had his men build a coffin and took the body to Washington Island and held a funeral. This was a sad day out here and also in Detroit Harbor. The men returned to this station the next day.”¹⁷

While some attributed the taking of his own life to a love affair gone wrong, others believed it was the isolation of Pilot Island which led him to suicide.¹⁸ While Pilot Island seems like it would have been a lonely and isolated location due to its size and distance to other communities in the area, Door County lighthouse historian Steve Karges, feels life on Pilot Island was not solitary. His research found that almost every day, either the keeper or his assistants made trips to Newport or Hedgehog Harbor on the Door County Peninsula or to Washington Island for mail, supplies, or to visit friends and family.¹⁹

Additionally, many visitors came to Pilot Island throughout the years to call on the crew and families. Names of visitors included those familiar to nearby Washington Island such as Richter, Jessen, Cornell, and Anderson.²⁰ One such event found its way into the pages of the nearby newspaper, the Door County Advocate:

“June 26, 1889: A party of young people went to Pilot Island for a picnic on Sunday. They left Washington Island at 8 a.m. and arrived at dinner time. When they got to the table it was spread with goodies to which ample justice was done, after which ice cream was served by the ladies in a most liberal way. They covered seeing the station and island until around 4 p.m. Among them were Misses Clara Higgins, Carrie Decker, and Eva Cornell and Messrs. Elsie Cornell, Carl Richter, August Koyen, George Tong and Charley Young.”²¹

Another article found in the Door County Advocate around the same time paints Pilot Island and life there as rather appealing:

“Pilot Island consists of three and a quarter acres of rocks and boulders of which there is an imported croquet ground, a few ornamental trees, a strawberry patch, two fog sirens, a lighthouse, a frame barn, a boat house, and some blue, bell-shaped flowers and golden rods that grow out of niches in the rocks. This is truly an isolated spot and some people might call it a very dreary place, but I have now spent five days on Pilot Island and they are among the happiest days of my eventuality.

“At sunrise every morning the first assistant, Chas E. Young, would wake us up with an invitation to go bathing. Then the keeper and second assistant and myself would leave our cozy beds, run down with him to the landing and plunge into the almost ice-cold water. We would swim to the leeward of the island where the breakers meet as they come from both sides.”

“On moonlight nights it is like being in a dream of ideality to walk alone over the moss-covered rocks and listen to the swish of the breakers that break over the breakwater at the boat landing, hear them roaring on all sides of the little island, and to see huge vessels under full sail crossing the moon glade on their way through the Door. One seems to be completely separate from all that is worldly and bad. There is no field for gossip out here. The land is not suitable for general farming purposes, but is a splendid place to raise an ample crop of good pure thoughts.”²²

Pilot Island light crew with family and friends. Image from Friends of Plum and Pilot Islands

While those who worked on the island nearly year-round might not have shared the same sentiments as the writer of the commentary above, Pilot Island in the late 19^th Century was a destination for local visitors, and a frequent beneficiary of improvements to the station from the federal government. In September 1890, a lighthouse district lamp technician by the last name of Crump came to Pilot Island and changed the light from a white flashing light to a fixed red light.²³ Just ten months later, the lighthouse tender Warrington delivered an iron oil house along with bricks and cement for the construction of a cistern to be built in the basement of the lighthouse/keeper’s dwelling to collect rain water.²⁴

The early 1890s saw constant repairs and improvements to the station. In 1893, a large, new landing crib was built on the west side of the island, using logs cut from nearby Plum Island and lumber salvaged from local wrecked vessels.²⁵ In 1894, the Lighthouse Board changed the light again and replaced it with a 4^th Order Fresnel lens, and also switched the fixed red light to a fixed white. Additionally, the steam fog siren was taken out and steam powered fog whistles were put in.²⁶

It is only fitting the keeper during this period was Martin Knudsen, a man who suggested and assisted many of these repairs. Knudsen was essentially raised to work and live at a lighthouse. Not only did his two brothers Peter and Nelson also become lighthouse keepers, but they would all serve on Pilot Island at one time or another. Even a year of Martin’s education as a child occurred in a lighthouse. While the Knudsen family lived on Rock Island, Wisconsin, in 1866, Martin and his two brothers walked across the island to receive schooling in the basement of the Pottawatomie lighthouse on Rock Island from the assistant keeper’s wife.²⁷

Knudsen became keeper of the Pilot Island light in 1889, and he created a legacy unmatched by any other in the light’s history. The reason Knudsen is regarded so highly came in the fall of 1892, when he went above and beyond his duties as keeper to help the crew of a wrecked vessel on Pilot Island. There was actually a small collection of wrecked vessels on the island by October 1892. The first was the schooner Forest which went aground on the southwest side of the island in October 1891. Part of the Forest was caught in the rocks of the reef, and efforts to refloat the schooner were futile.²⁸ A year later, the Forest remained in the same spot, but it soon had company.

On October 17, 1892, the J. E. Gilmore, a 138-foot-long schooner, stranded on the same reef when the wind shifted and the crew did not raise the sails high enough in time.²⁹ The Gilmore’s keel was destroyed and it, like the Forest, became a fixture on the Pilot Island landscape. For a week, the crew of the Gilmore remained on board while Martin Knudsen repeatedly took the Gilmore’s captain to Newport on the Door County Peninsula to call for assistance. Eventually, the captain and crew left their ship after hailing a steamer, but the Gilmore remained on Pilot Island.³⁰

Just 11 days after the wreck of the Gilmore, another storm developed in Death’s Door. The gale-like conditions — including sleet and snow — caused several vessels to anchor in the lee of nearby Plum Island. One vessel’s anchor, that of the 147-foot-long A. P. Nichols, did not hold and the vessel dragged toward Pilot Island.³¹ Around 8 p.m. on October 28, the A. P. Nichols crashed on Pilot Island’s rocky shore in the proximity of the Gilmore and the Forest.

Hulks of the A.P. Nichols and J.E. Gilmore at Pilot Island. Image from Alpena County George N. Fletcher Public Library

Knudsen and crew responded immediately. Taking the lead, Martin Knudsen walked out 40 feet into the water over slippery rocks, in darkness, to assist the crew of the A. P. Nichols.³² Knudsen convinced the six crewmembers, including the captain, to jump overboard into the surf, where he promised to grab them before they drifted out. After initial reluctance, they agreed, and Knudsen caught them all and guided each one over the slick rocks toward the lighthouse.³³

Considering the time of day, weather, and environmental conditions, Knudsen’s efforts were heroic. However, Knudsen remained modest. The only entry in his log the following day noted that he put a concrete floor in the cellar and he saw that the captain of the A. P. Nichols was put aboard a passing steamer for Escanaba, Michigan, to alert his family and insurance underwriters of the wreck.³⁴ It took the captain of the A. P. Nichols, David Clow, Jr., to bring attention to the efforts of Martin Knudsen:

“It is a wonder to me how Martin Knudsen found his way out along that ledge of rocks in the darkness to the Nichols. He is about the bravest man I have ever seen. How he managed to keep his bearing after rescuing the crew has been a wonder to me ever since. A single misstep and we would have all fallen off the rocks into deep water and undoubtedly been drowned. He seemed to know the reef as well under water and in the darkness as if it had been above water and in the daytime.”³⁵

Clow’s comments caught the attention of regional newspapers, and in March 1893, the Life Saving Benevolent Association of New York awarded Martin Knudsen a gold medal, their highest award, for his efforts in rescuing the crew of the A. P. Nichols.³⁶ Eventually, Martin Knudsen also received a silver medal for his actions from the federal government delivered by a Lighthouse Board inspector in July 1893.³⁷ While Knudsen garnered praise and recognition for what he did that night in 1892, the event also brought attention to the idea of bringing a U.S. Life-Saving station to the area, so lighthouse keepers would no longer be responsible for assisting with shipwrecks.

It took almost four years before that came to fruition. In October 1895, Knudsen and assistants helped the crew of the 112-foot schooner Mystic get ashore after they ran aground on the south side of Pilot Island.³⁸ While Knudsen and assistants definitely proved their worth in rescue situations, it was not what the Lighthouse Board wanted to see. By March 1896, a U.S. Life-Saving station was built on nearby Plum Island. Following the construction, if there was an impending shipwreck visible from Pilot Island, the keeper would signal the Plum Island Life-Saving Station and the Plum Island crew would attend to the wreck.

Plum Island Rear Range Light. Image from United States Coast Guard

There were other adjustments on Pilot Island. First, the government transferred Martin Knudsen from Pilot Island to the new range light station on nearby Plum Island in 1897, and promoted Gottfried Hansen from first assistant to keeper on Pilot.³⁹ Then, after the district engineer inspected the station in the summer of 1898, he suggested to the Lighthouse Board that a well be drilled on the island, the keeper’s dwelling re-shingled, and the length of the dock extended. The Lighthouse Board agreed.⁴⁰

While improvements were made to the station, tragedy again struck the crew. On December 11, 1898, first assistant Charles Boshka and second assistant Peder Pedersen were travelling with the station’s official mail to Detroit Harbor, Washington Island, when the station’s sailboat capsized. While Boshka made it ashore, Pedersen could not swim and was taken under the icy waters. Making matters worse, attempts to recover Pedersen’s body were futile due to ice forming in the area of the drowning.⁴¹ It was not until April of the next year, that Pedersen’s body washed ashore on Detroit Island (between Pilot Island and Washington Island).⁴²

Frank Drew, an assistant at the Green Island Light in Green Bay, received a transfer to Pilot Island in early 1899. The only problem with the transfer was that his family wished to accompany him. To accommodate his family’s needs, he built a small structure for himself and family on the north end of Pilot Island, using wood salvaged from around the island. While not commonplace at lighthouse stations, the district inspector approved the construction and even authorized Drew to use the station’s paint supply for the building.⁴³

After the entire crew returned to full complement, routine activities returned to the Pilot Island light. One task that was new and troublesome for the crew was to keep the lights burning and the fog signal sounding throughout the winter. For the first time, at the beginning of the 20^th Century, the Lighthouse Board required the Pilot Island light to be lit for the benefit of the Ann Arbor car ferries, which traveled to and from Menominee, Michigan.⁴⁴

Since the keeper and crew had traditionally moved to nearby Washington Island for the winter, getting to Pilot Island now became a difficult operation in itself. First, they had to get from Washington Island to Detroit Island, a 3.5 mile long island essentially between Detroit Harbor on Washington Island and Pilot Island. Once on Detroit Island, either via boat or on foot over ice, they travelled the 3.5 miles to the southern end of Detroit Island. From there, they either walked (if the ice was thick enough) or took a small boat to Pilot Island, just over a mile away.

Even though no Ann Arbor car ferry passed through the Porte des Morts passage during the winter, deciding to travel through the more time efficient Sturgeon Bay ship canal instead, keeper Gottfried Hansen and crew exhibited the light and fog signal during this time.⁴⁵ Although the Lighthouse Board failed to communicate regularly with Hansen, the Pilot Island crew continued to do as ordered. As time progressed, it would become commonplace for the light to remain burning during the winter. Eventually, vessels navigated a much longer shipping season, relying on Pilot Island’s light throughout the year.

While some could interpret this lack of communication as a sign the Lighthouse Board was not overly concerned with Pilot Island, continual improvements made to the station’s exterior and interior proved otherwise. In 1901, a government crew came and made repairs to the chimneys and brick exterior and then built an addition to the southeast side of the dwelling, creating seven total rooms for the keeper, first assistant, and their families.⁴⁶ The crew also refurbished the unused fog signal house as a new dwelling for the second assistant and his family, abandoning the cabin built by Frank Drew.⁴⁷

Inside the Pilot Island fog signal building, 1909. Image from Friends of Plum and Pilot Islands.

The Lighthouse Board also needed to replace the Pilot Island fog signal on the island after it became damaged by fire. Gone were the days of building strong fires to produce steam for the boilers when the Lighthouse Board had automatic fog sirens installed in 1904.⁴⁸ The Door County Advocate reported the improvement:

“The Lighthouse Board also has other additions and improvements underway, it being the purpose to make that otherwise solitary spot as pleasant and home-like as possible. A great man is your Uncle Sam, who regards nothing as being too good for his cousins that are doing his work everywhere.”⁴⁹

With these changes, the Lighthouse Board brought the Pilot Island station into the 20^th Century. However, lighthouses in America would soon be under the watch of a different government agency. In 1910, Congress dissolved the Lighthouse Board and designated the U.S. Lighthouse Service, also known as the Bureau of Lighthouses, to oversee the American aids to navigation.⁵⁰ The Lighthouse Service, like its predecessor, continually pushed for technological advances and improvements in light station equipment. However, not many improvements were made to the Pilot Island station following the transfer to the Lighthouse Service.

Although physical improvements to the station were infrequent, maybe there was no need for alterations. In an article from the Door County Advocate dated June 23, 1911, the writer expounds that:

“A visit to Pilot Island is one of the enjoyable past times of tourists and pleasure seekers. Here the visitors are made welcome by Lightkeeper Henry Bavry and his two assistants, who with their families make it their home during the eight or nine months that the lights are in operation. Everything about the island is as neat and clean as it is possible to make it.”⁵¹

Just over a year later, the Door County Advocate reported a news story about the Pilot Island crew:

“Pilot Island keeper Henry Bavry and assistants Alfred Cornell and Roy Peterson recently won the pennant for the best kept lighthouse out of over ninety in this district. The fog station boilers, in constant use over fourteen years, were pronounced best in the district.”⁵²

A personnel change did occur, however. Gone were the days where a keeper and assistants served for short periods, eventually being transferred to other stations in the region or removed for lack of experience. From 1913 to 1939, the Pilot Island station only had three keepers, Walter Otteson, Robert Young and C. I. Haas.⁵³ With long-tenured keepers and very few alterations to the daily routine and the station itself, the 1910s, 1920s and 1930s represented a time of consistency for Pilot Island and light keepers during this time.

By 1939, major change did come to Pilot Island when President Franklin Roosevelt disbanded the 29-year-old Lighthouse Service and transferred responsibilities to the United States Coast Guard.⁵⁴ Following this decision, keepers were given the choice to either remain as civilians under government contracts or officially join the Coast Guard. After one year as the keeper on Pilot, Clarence Anderson decided to join the Coast Guard in 1940, taking advantage of steady employment and retirement benefits.⁵⁵ This decision officially made him the last civilian keeper of the Pilot Island light.

Keepers at Door County lighthouses were split on their individual decisions to either retire or join the Coast Guard. While Clarence Anderson at Pilot Island and the keeper of the Sherwood Point light decided to continue their careers in the Coast Guard, the keepers of the Cana Island light and Chambers Island light decided to retire soon after the 1939 change over. One thing was common at all operational Door County lights: by the end of World War Two, all lights, including Pilot Island, were operated by members of local Coast Guard stations. No more keepers, assistants, or families living and working day after day to keep the lights burning.

Following Clarence Anderson’s retirement in 1945, Pilot Island fell under care of the Coast Guard station on nearby Plum Island.⁵⁶ Unlike many stations in Door County, such as Cana Island light in Bailey’s Harbor, and Eagle Bluff light overlooking Ephraim, the Pilot Island light was not yet automated. After keepers and assistants left Door County, but prior to automation, the Coast Guard employed a different system to keep the lights burning.

For those lights not yet automated, the Coast Guard sent three men to each station during the shipping season where they would remain for 23 days on, followed by 7 days of vacation, rotating so there were at least two Coast Guardsmen at each light at any given time.⁵⁷ Each person served a 12-hour watch, preparing to sound the fog signal whenever necessary. Besides sounding the fog signal and making sure the Kohler-generator powered battery bank kept the light burning, their tasks on the island were not that different than their predecessors’.⁵⁸

The crew mowed the station’s two-acre lawn at least once per week, kept fresh coats of paint in the interior of the dwelling, maintained the light tower and machinery including cleaning, and occasionally waxed the floors in the machinery room.⁵⁹ No longer with their families accompanying them, the men ordered groceries from a store in Sister Bay on the Door County Peninsula and prepared it themselves. In later years, a $35 television was brought to the island for entertainment (powered by an AC power converter). Receiving stations from Milwaukee and lower Michigan alleviated some of the isolation the three men could face alone on Pilot Island.⁶⁰ While their direct responsibilities and methods might have been different, and the equipment differed from the station’s earlier days, the Coast Guardsmen who oversaw the Pilot Island light during the period following World War Two seemed just as effective in keeping the light as those who did before.

In June 1962, when the Coast Guard decided to decommission the Pilot Island station, people were at last removed from daily work and life on the island. The Coast Guard also removed the 4^th Order Fresnel lens and replaced it with a plastic lens and took all of the machinery from the fog signal building.⁶¹ In order to discourage future vandalism on the island, the Coast Guard intentionally ruined the landing cribs on the east side of the island and removed the marine railways from both landings.⁶²

In the years following decommission, many of Pilot Island’s buildings were removed. The wooden fog signal house, assistant’s frame dwelling, frame carpenter shop, wood shed, boathouse on the east landing, privy, summer kitchen, and metal oil house were all torn down.⁶³ Only the keeper’s dwelling with tower and lantern and remnants of the brick fog signal dwelling still stand today.

While destroying elements singular to Pilot Island seems unusual, this was common for Door County lights. At the Cana Island light, the Coast Guard removed the barn, boathouse, pier, oil tank, and summer kitchen following World War Two when the Coast Guard leased the station to a family from Milwaukee for $19 per year.⁶⁴ By 1955, the Coast Guard also made changes to the Chambers Island light station near Fish Creek. They removed the landing pier, shuttered the buildings, and removed the Fresnel lens from the tower, eventually selling it at a surplus property auction in Chicago.⁶⁵ Even closer to Pilot Island, the Plum Island range lights were also not immune. Following Coast Guard takeover of the station and eventual automation, the oil house, privy, barn, boathouse, docks, lamp and lens were all removed from the station site.⁶⁶

After more than 50 years, tracing human life and service on Pilot Island is difficult. The tall trees which once occupied the island have been destroyed from the overabundance of nesting birds, mainly cormorants and seagulls. The portions of buildings that remain on the island are in desperate need of repair, and with each year that passes, the physical remains and the memories of human involvement fade as generations that remember those times are getting older. The one constant reminder of the proud work and time spent by many numbers of keepers, assistants, their families, government crews, summer visitors, and Coast Guardsmen is the light that continues to shine every night, guiding mariners through the Porte des Morts Passage.

1 When the Sturgeon Bay ship canal opened in 1882, there was competition for what was the most expedient water route between Green Bay and Lake Michigan. Regardless of the shorter or more efficient route, vessels continued to use the Porte des Morts Passage as frequently as before the construction of the canal.
2 Steve Karges, Keepers of the Lights: Lighthouse Keepers & Their Families, Door County, Wisconsin— 1837–1939 (Ellison Bay, Wisconsin: Wm. Caxton, Ltd., 2000), 52–57. This book is a competent and informative social history, detailing many aspects of life at a lighthouse in Door County. Besides examining the lives of those who kept the lights, there is quality information regarding the construction of each lighthouse, the politics involved in the lighthouse service, and the significance of the lights in the region.
3 Records of the Washington Island Archives, Box 5, Folder 5. The scope of this collection includes newspaper clippings and photographs relating to Pilot Island and it also includes transcripts of the daily logs for the lighthouse station.
4 Frederick Stonehouse, Great Lakes Lighthouse Tales (Gwinn, Michigan: Avery Color Studios, Inc., 1998), 32. Frederick Stonehouse’s Great Lakes Lighthouse Tales is anecdotal in nature, providing interesting tales of some of the most well known lights on the Great Lakes. The extended introduction provides ample information and historical context regarding lighthouses in the United States.
5 Karges, 92.
6 Ibid.
7 Karges, 92–93.
8 Karges, 93–94.
9 Karges, 94.
10 Ibid.
11 Records of the Washington Island Archives, Box 5, Folder 5. 12 Records of the Washington Island Archives, Box 5, Folder 5. 13 Karges, 96.
14 Karges, 95–96.
15 Great Lakes Lighthouse Keepers Association, Instructions to Light-Keepers, a photo reproduction of the 1902 edition of Instructions to Light-Keepers and Masters of Light-House Vessels (Allen Park, Michigan: Great Lakes Lighthouse Keepers Association, 1989), 20.
16 Records of the Washington Island Archives, Box 5, Folder 5. 17 Records of the Washington Island Archives, Box 5, Folder 5. 18 Karges, 100.
19 Karges, 107.
20 Karges, 127.
21 Hannes M. Andersen, Washington Island: A Maritime History Through the Years, Volume II (Washington Island, Wisconsin: published by the author, 2009), 47. This book is a compilation of news articles from a regional newspaper, the Door County Advocate. The book is compiled chronologically and provides tremendous insight into the weekly maritime news concerning Washington Island and its surrounding waters.
22 Andersen, 59–60.
23 Karges, 110.
24 Ibid.
25 Karges, 119.
26 Karges, 120.
27 Karges, 97.
28 Karges, 110.
29 Karges, 113.
30 Karges, 113–114.
31 Karges, 114–115.
32 Karges, 115.
33 Karges, 115–116.
34 Karges, 116.
35 Door County Advocate (Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin) 12 November 1892. Also, Karges, 116.
36 Karges, 116.
37 Karges, 116–118.
38 Karges, 124.
39 Karges, 126.
40 Karges, 130.
41 Karges, 131.
42 Karges, 132.
43 Karges, 132.
44 Karges, 133.
45 Karges, 133.
46 Karges, 134.
47 Karges, 135.
48 Ibid.
49 Andersen, 103. Also, Door County Advocate (Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin) 27 August 1904.
50 Stonehouse, 12.
51 Andersen, 148.
52 Andersen, 155. Also, Door County Advocate (Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin) 19 September 1912.
53 Karges, 138–139.
54 Stonehouse, 13–14.
55 Karges, 139.
56 Karges, 139.
57 Jack A. Eckert, “Life on Pilot Island in 1955,” Lighthouse Digest (August 2003): 28–30. This article, while not scholarly in nature, provides a firsthand account of living and working on Pilot Island during the time when the light was not manned by keepers and assistants and before automation. The author was a Coast Guardsmen who recorded his memories of the island during the season of 1955.
58 Ibid.
59 Ibid.
60 Ibid.
61 Karges, 139.
62 Ibid.
63 Karges, 140.
64 Karges, 220.
65 Karges, 275.
66 Karges, 89.

Bibliography:

Primary Sources:

Unpublished Papers
Records of the Washington Island Archives. Washington Island, Wisconsin.

Newspapers
Door County Advocate (Wisconsin).

Secondary Sources:

Articles
Eckert, Jack A. “Life on Pilot Island in 1955.” Lighthouse Digest (August, 2003): 28–30.

Books
Andersen, Hannes M. Washington Island: A Maritime History Through the Years, Volume II. Washington Island, Wisconsin: published by the author, 2009.
Great Lakes Lighthouse Keepers Association. Instructions to Light-Keepers, a photo reproduction of the 1902 edition of Instructions to Light-Keepers and Masters of Light-House Vessels. Allen Park, Michigan: Great Lakes Lighthouse Keepers Association, 1989.
Karges, Steve. Keepers of the Lights: Lighthouse Keepers & Their Families, Door County, Wisconsin — 1837–1939. Ellison Bay, Wisconsin: Wm. Caxton Ltd., 2000.
Stonehouse, Frederick. Great Lakes Lighthouse Tales. Gwinn, Michigan: Avery Color Studios, Inc., 1998.
Thomas, Stacy and Virginia Thomas. Images of America: Guarding Door County, Lighthouses and Life-Saving Stations. Chicago: Arcadia Publishing, 2005.

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About the Author: Matt Foss is a historian and a young museum professional whose research includes Great Lakes lighthouses, the U.S. Life-Saving Service, and maritime labor relations on the Great Lakes. He received a Master’s degree in history from the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire in 2009 and lives with his wife Mallory in Wausau, Wisconsin.

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Records from the U.S. Customs House on Mackinac Island: Witness to Early Life on the Upper Great Lakes – Winter 2010

March 30, 2020/in Inland Seas /by Carrie Sowden

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

By Fred Neuschel

Even though the old Northwest became part of the United States after the Revolutionary War and the campaign of General Anthony Wayne precipitated the departure of the last British soldiers from American soil, the American era of commercial sail on the upper Great Lakes did not develop until the end of the War of War of 1812.¹ Once there was a prospect of peace between the United States and Great Britain and a potential for profit, it did not take long for enterprising and adventuresome sailors to begin to build decked and sail-powered vessels to promote the trade that canoes, bateaux and barges had done in earlier years. Little remains to give witness to their presence. Ship’s logs and business records were kept, of course, but few have survived. In this huge hole in the historical record, however, there is one landmark of knowledge that has survived: the records of the U.S. Customs House on Mackinac Island. Like the island rising above the water of the strait, these records stand in silent testimony to thousands of voyages that would otherwise be unknown.

This wood block print shows the town and harbor at Mackinac Island in the 1850s. Image from Mackinac State Historic Parks Collection.

Well into the 19th Century, Mackinac was the western-most customs house on the Lakes. Consequently, vessels that were bound for Sault Ste. Marie, Green Bay, Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Joseph or Grand River [Michigan] — all were obliged to go through a customs check at Mackinac. Its central position among the Upper Lakes and its proximity to Canada made it an obvious place for the federal government to assert its right and obligation to regulate trade across its borders.

Created by an act of Congress in July 1789, the Customs Houses were charged with the responsibility of collecting duties on imported material of any kind and enforcing the laws governing the import and export of goods. In August of that same year, Congress passed an act establishing lighthouses and beacons to protect mariners; in September, Congress mandated the registration of vessels which participated in the coastal trade of the country. The responsibility for carrying out these acts was also assigned to the Customs Service. And so, the paper trail left by the operation of the customs agent on Mackinac Island beginning in 1801 is rife with information documenting activity on the Lakes. Granted, some might see the documents with their description of what vessels were carrying in their cargo holds as the dry bones of history, but to those whose imaginations are inspired by such things, these documents add an otherwise unavailable color, depth and detail to our picture of what early commerce on the lake looked like.

In the 1870s, the U. S. Customs Office was housed in the white building with the symbol of an anchor painted on it. Image from Mackinac State Historic Parks Collection

The manifests are by far and away the most numerous documents to survive. They were being created even before the Customs House opened and the early examples are sometimes quite crude affairs consisting of little more than a rough list of what the vessel was carrying.² As time went on, however, a convention for the manifests was developed and pre-printed forms were used. The remoteness of Mackinac Island is reflected in the fact that vessels upbound from Detroit, Cleveland or Buffalo almost universally had the printed manifest forms, while many vessels downbound from Mackinac and other ports in the hinter lands continued to carry the informal and often haphazard lists well into the 19th Century.

If the forms were correctly filled out, they would contain the basic information about the vessel: vessel’s name and type, master’s name, tonnage, port from whence sailed, destination and date of clearance. On some manifests the vessel’s homeport would appear. So, for instance, the schooner Farmer is often referred to as the Farmer of Grand River [Ohio]. On some of the earliest printed forms the place where the vessel was built and the name of its owners were also given. Unfortunately, this practice, so helpful to modern researchers when enrollments cannot always be located, was soon abandoned.

Below the heading which introduces the vessel there are seven columns labeled Marks, Quantity, Cargo, Shipper, Residence, Consignee and Residence. “Marks” referred to how the cargo was labeled so that it would find its way into the hands of the intended recipient at the far end of the voyage. Most often the mark would simply be the name of recipient such as “O. & W. Newberry” or “J. P. Arndt.” However, companies that did a great deal of business on the Lakes could have a distinguishing mark which functioned more like a brand. The American Fur Company’s mark was “AMF,” the United States Army’s goods were often marked simply “U.S.” and materials intended for the Indian Factories at Green Bay or Chicago were frequently marked “U.S.F.”³

There was no standard for the quantification and description of cargo. As a consequence, there is a great variety in the way cargos are described. One manifest might record a cargo of “one lot of shingles” while another might describe the cargo as “8,000 (or 8M) shingles.” One manifest might report a cargo of 1,780 bushels of corn while another will enumerate the number of barrels or bags of corn on board. Clothing may be given as a tierce, box, barrel, chest, bundle or that most indefinite of measures — a “lot.”

The imprecision with which cargo was quantified and recorded makes it difficult to get a detailed tally of goods and material shipped. Instead, the manifests are much better suited for seeing the larger trends in shipping on the Upper Lakes. The shipment of lumber upbound from Detroit tells us something about the primitive state of life in communities that did not even have the benefit of a saw mill. On the other hand, when upbound cargos began to include brick, grindstones, [ship’s] rigging, oakum and iron castings, it is evident that a rudimentary manufacturing is taking hold on the distant frontier. When [maple] sugar, furs and peltries are no longer the only commodities going downbound, other natural products start to appear. Fish is a major example, but eventually shipments of farm products give telling proof to the advance of settlements around the Lakes.

A striking example of how the manifests bear witness to the progress of settlement in the old Northwest are five manifests from 1833 documenting the shipment of 5,979 bushels of wheat from St. Joseph, Michigan, to Detroit and Buffalo. Although a small detail to most, this figure is impressive evidence of how far agriculture had advanced in the fertile prairie land of southwestern Michigan. While most think of Chicago as being the pioneer port shipping wheat to eastern markets, the manifests show that St. Joseph, Michigan, deserves that credit.

Another surprise might be the shipment of cast iron from St. Joseph, Michigan, in the early 1830s. While most iron and steel and products made from iron and steel were being shipped up the Lakes, bog ore had been discovered and was being mined in northern Indiana. Some cargos do not appear very often in the manifests, but when they do, they speak loudly about how society was changing in dramatic ways. So, for instance, troop movements and shipments of munitions are documented as the federal government asserted its sovereignty by building forts. The effort to wrest the land away from the Native Americans is also traceable in the manifests. Vessels carried delegations to treaty meetings, goods to pay the annual annuity to the Native peoples and, when the Black Hawk War broke out in 1832, armaments and powder to supply the soldiers.

A particularly poignant chapter in the history of the First Nations of the United States is reflected in manifests that list as their cargo simply “Indians.” These were “shipments” of Stockton, Brotherton, St. Regis and Oneida people from New York State to Wisconsin where they had been promised a land whose title was unassailable by white settlers. Some of the manifests show several hundred Indians in a single “cargo” for a single vessel. Conditions for their travel could not have been good and likely not even humane. Although they did not travel in chains, they did not travel with dignity either. The very fact that they are listed as “cargo” while Euro-Americans on board the same vessel are designated “passengers” tells the story. The witness of an army officer at Green Bay gives an indication of what shape the “cargo” was in when it arrived on the western frontier. “We have two Missionaries,” he wrote to a friend, “to crown all a motley assemblage of half-starved Indians from the immaculate State of New York.”⁴

Manifest for the Schooner Constitution by which about 200 Indians were sent from Buffalo to Green Bay on July 5, 1830.

Altogether, ten manifests have been found from 1823 to 1834 which list Indians as part of their cargo. Several of them use the vague term “a lot” to describe how many. But those that do designate a number tell us that at least 1,023 men, women or children were sent west. An 1830 manifest shows 100 Indians shipped on the two-masted schooner Napoleon, a vessel which was 70 feet, 10 inches long and 22 feet wide, with a depth of hold of 7 feet 10 inches. Take out the space designated for crew, galley and cargo and very little room is left for the comfort of the vessel’s human “cargo.”⁵ The manifest indicates that it took two full weeks for the schooner to sail from Buffalo to Mackinac in the middle of July and it could easily have taken another three to five days to reach Green Bay depending, of course, on weather conditions. The one consolation which the Native Americans might have had was that the Napoleon was a relatively new craft at two years old and was likely sound and dry.

Another example of how the manifests help to flesh out the historical record pertains to the 1816 voyage of the schooner George Washington from Presque Isle (Erie), Pennsylvania, to Mackinac. On that voyage, the cargo included the following items: 47 kegs high wines, 2 bbls. high wines, 178 bags flour, 78 kegs powder, 3 boxes muskets, 2 nine-pound cannon, 4 six-pound cannon, 305 iron shot, 209 bags lied corn, 754 bags lied corn, 27 bbls. mess pork, 73 bbls. prime pork, 46 kegs lard. All of this material was destined not for the American port of Mackinac Island but for the British military post on Drummond’s Island and all of it was consigned to Monsieur LaCroix. The importance of this manifest is realized when we discover that M. LaCroix was the agent of Lord Selkirk, the British nobleman and humanitarian who was trying to protect the haven he had created in the Red River Valley (near modern Winnipeg) for the poor and landless agrarians of the Scottish Highlands. In 1816, Selkirk’s dream was being threatened by fur traders who were trying to drive the farmers from the land. Selkirk’s troops went to the rescue, traveling the faster route of the voyageurs by way of the Ottawa and French rivers to Georgian Bay, the Sault and the north shore of Lake Superior. But the many portages of that route would not allow for transportation of armaments, and so an American vessel was hired. Were it not for the manifest, this American contribution to Selkirk’s mission would be lost.

One area in which the value of the manifests has not been adequately tested is researching maritime disasters on the Lakes. Before potential investigators make too many assumptions, a sobering word about the limits of the extant manifests should be sounded. First, the manifests are only for vessels visiting the Mackinac Island Customs District. Second, and equally important, there are obviously many significant manifests that have not been preserved. If a researcher finds a significant voyage mentioned in another primary source, he or she might naturally go to the manifests in hopes of learning more about the vessel and its cargo. Too often, however, the manifest is missing. In 1824, for instance, the missionary Eleazer Williams left Mackinac Island for Green Bay and recorded that the vessel sailed into a violent storm as it made Green Bay and had to retreat all the way to the other side of the lake where it found shelter in the lee of the Manitou Islands.⁶ Rev. Williams was the prime motivator for the movement of the New York Indians to Green Bay and so it would be most interesting to have a manifest for this voyage but, unfortunately, none has been found yet.

On the other hand, manifests have a potential to add some vital details to studying the careers and fates of vessels. A rare example is an 1821 manifest for the schooner Monroe which was making a late season attempt to reach Green Bay. The Monroe left Detroit on October 16 and cleared Mackinac Island on October 21 with 222 articles of entry in her hold (primarily containers of apples, cider, turnips, onions, oats and corn) but it never reached Green Bay. The manifest contains the following explanation: “The schooner Monroe Capt. Woodworth in attempting to go to Green Bay was overtaken by a severe storm — was driven on shore at the Beaver Islands where he lost a good part of his cargo — and nearly his vessel — he succeeded in getting her off returned to this port leaving part of his cargo on the Island — repaired his vessel and cleared for Detroit Nov. 14th 1821.”

1 This is, of course, a generality. It is not meant to ignore that prior to the War of 1812 there was a substantial regional trade between the southern end of the Niagara portage and Erie [Pennsylvania] or that commercial traffic between Buffalo Creek and Detroit (with intermediate layovers at Grand River, Cleveland, Sandusky) was sufficient to keep several vessels busy. In comparison, however, these early ventures are dwarfed by the amount of trade that developed in the years immediately following the end of the war in 1814.

2 Although the emphasis of this article is more on the decked sail vessels, canoes, barges and open boats also carried manifests and were required to pass through Customs.

3 The Indian Factories were government-operated trading facilities where Native Americans could exchange products of the land (fur primarily) for manufactured goods. They were established to provide an alternative to private traders who were often unscrupulous in their trade practices. The factory system ultimately failed because the private traders competed more successfully for their customers’ loyalty and offered the added inducement of liquor, a commodity that factories were not allowed to trade.

4 “Letter of John Bliss to David Bates Douglass, February 5, 1825,” David Bates Douglass Manuscripts. Wm. L. Clements Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan.

5 The size of the Napoleon is found in the digital record of vessel enrollments prior to 1861 which was created by historian Walter Lewis. www.hhpl.on.ca/GreatLakes/ scripts/enrolment/Enrolment.asp?EventID=782. Web address accessed 11/11/2008.

6 “Fragment from a Journal 1824,” Eleazer Williams Papers. Wisconsin Historical Society Area Research Center, University of Wisconsin at Green Bay. Micro 19, reel 4, frame 348.

Editor’s Note: Since this article was published, the Association for Great Lakes Maritime History supported the digitization of many files including the Mackinac Island Customs House Manifests. You can look at all of these amazing documents and see what you can learn about shipping here: http://images.maritimehistoryofthegreatlakes.ca/109321/gallery

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About the Author: Fred Neuschel was born in Buffalo and now is a resident in Illinois. Mr. Neuschel is a long time member of the Great Lakes Historical Society and has written several articles for this journal over the years.

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“She Always Looked That Way”: The Loss of the CITY OF PORT HURON – Summer 2010

March 27, 2020/in Inland Seas /by Carrie Sowden

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

By Paul Schmitt

During the American Civil War, rates to ship wheat from Chicago to Buffalo averaged 7 to 8 cents per bushel. In the years immediately following the war, the northern states’ economy boomed and freight rates on the Lakes soared. During the 1866 season, rates went from 12 cents per bushel to 23 cents by season’s end. This in turn spawned a shipbuilding boom – 71 new vessels were commissioned during the season.¹

Shipbuilding activity remained vigorous throughout the winter of 1866-67. When navigation opened in the spring, 99 new vessels were launched around the Lakes.² One of these hastily constructed vessels, launched on April 3, was the propeller City of Port Huron. Built in Port Huron, Michigan, by Joseph P. Arnold, the steam barge was 411 new tons; she was 169 feet in length with a beam of 31 feet and a depth of 11 feet. Her machinery was manufactured by the Phoenix Iron Company of that city.³

CITY OF PORT HURON in Dunkirk, NY

With Captain George Bedford in command, the City of Port Huron entered the lumber trade for her owners, Crawford, Johnston and Company, in June 1867. Her normal duties saw her carrying lumber from Collins Inlet in Georgian Bay to Detroit and other Lower Lake ports, often returning with supplies. The Detroit Post on August 6, 1867, reported her in Detroit with 450,000 feet of lumber. While the vessel continued to operate for the entire season, design flaws became apparent requiring her to be fitted with a port and starboard side arch truss and other strengthening modifications over the winter of 1867-68.⁴

Like most vessels of her day, the City of Port Huron had her share of scrapes and minor accidents. In May 1870, she was reported aground on Stony Island Reef, south of Detroit. In December 1871, she again found the bottom, going ashore on the Clay Banks where she had to be towed off by the steam barge B.W Jenness. The 1873 season saw her on the rocks in the Neebish Channel. In late July 1874, she was involved in a minor collision with the scow St. Charles near Harsens Island in the Saint Clair River.⁵ Owing to these bumps and scrapes, her practice of towing as many as four barges, and possible fundamental design flaws, her insurance rating was reduced to A-2 in 1873, and B-1 in 1875. ⁶

While ownership and her port of enrollment remained in Port Huron, her master for the 1868 season was Charles Ely. From the 1869 season through the 1875 season, her master was Captain A. B. Drake who, with others from Dunkirk, New York, purchased the vessel in 1873. Interestingly in 1874, before the last rating downgrade, the City of Port Huron was reported hauling grain from Toledo to Erie. During the 1875 season, she was permanently shifted to the iron ore trade.

As early as July 3, 1876, the City of Port Huron was reported leaking badly when it departed Presque Isle where it had stopped for repairs while downbound with a load of iron ore.⁷ Despite her condition, the vessel remained active in the ore trade until September 4, 1876, when her luck ran out. While downbound in Lake Huron with the barge Dictator in tow, her pumps could no longer handle the incoming water. Captain George Davis ordered the Dictator be cast adrift and headed the City of Port Huron for shore where he hoped to run the vessel aground to avoid sinking.

Sadly, just a mile from shore off the village of Burtchville, Michigan, the steam barge broached to, broke her back and foundered in about six fathoms of water. Captain Davis, his son and seven other crewmembers climbed on top of the cabin roof, which was just above the water’s surface. Two other crewmembers climbed the foremast, which also stuck out of the water. Soon, however, the City of Port Huron‘s cabins began to break up in the heavy seas. Those sailors that had taken refuge on the roof were cast into the lake and scrambled to secure any piece of floating wreckage that they could find. Residents from the village of Lakeport, seeing the plight of the shipwrecked sailors, transported a fishing boat some three miles overland to the beach adjacent to the site of the wreck. They successfully launched the boat and rescued five of the survivors. Captain Davis and three others floated to shore. Three more along with the Dictator were rescued by passing vessels. Miraculously all 11 crewmembers were thus saved and transported to their shipwrecked vessel’s namesake city.⁸

In Port Huron, controversy arose as to why the nine-year-old vessel had been lost. Some vessel men believed that the steam barge was over loaded, which Captain Davis vehemently denied. Others blamed vessel design and poor construction. It was even speculated that when loaded with a heavy cargo, such as iron ore, her stern would rise as her coal bunkers were emptied. As her cargo hold was forward of her engine room, this would result in a bow down condition. In such a condition, her wheel (propeller) and rudder could not perform properly, and her siphon pumps would become increasingly ineffective at clearing her hold of water. Again, Captain Davis responded to this accusation indicating that the down by the bow appearance was a result of her design, claiming in effect that “she always looked that way.⁹

In the days following the loss of the City of Port Huron, marine inspector Captain John McKenna went to the wreck site and salvaged the vessel’s foresail. In his opinion, any attempt to raise the vessel would be a waste of time as she was breaking up and rapidly going to pieces.¹⁰ While some interest was expressed by various wreckers, no action was taken. The following season it was determined that the vessel had broken in two. Machinery, fixtures and some cargo were salvaged by the wrecking tug Monitor in August 1877,¹¹ and sold at auction by U.S. Marshall Matthews in Detroit on December 12, 1877. The winning bidder at $1,000 was Darius Cole.¹²

Epilogue

Underwater shot -CITY OF PORT HURON with diver Mike Schmitt. Photo by Paul Schmitt

In the years since the Marshall’s sale in 1877, the remains of the steamer City of Port Huron lay largely undisturbed and mostly forgotten. Then in the summer of 2001, local scuba divers David Losinsky and Paul Schmitt rediscovered the shipwreck. Ironically, though the two had been looking for the wreck on and off for the past 20 years, the discovery was, for the most part, an accident.

Most newspaper references to the shipwreck had the steam barge foundering a mile off shore near the village of Burtchville. Though the village of Burtchville no longer exists, a check of the 1873 Atlas of the State of Michigan revealed that a village of that name did exist where Burtch Creek empties into Lake Huron. The village was completely destroyed during the Great Michigan Thumb Fire of 1881 and never rebuilt. Lonsinsky and Schmitt focused their search for the shipwreck in the waters about a mile off shore at that location without success. Then in the late spring 2001, Losinsky, while flying a helicopter, spotted a dark patch on the lake bottom off Lexington Heights, some four miles north of Burtch Creek. Later that summer, the two located the site by boat and rediscovered the wreck of the steamer City of Port Huron. The wreck, which is broken in two, lies one and three quarter miles from shore (location 43 13′ 400″N, 82 29′ 050″W). Iron ore is still heaped on the cargo deck. The starboard and port sides with their arch trusses lay on the lake bottom. The stern section is broken away and lies near by.

1 History of the Great Lakes, Volume I. J.B. Mansfield, (Chicago: J. H. Beers & Company, 1899), 704.
2 Ibid, p. 706.
3 Port Huron Press, April 10, 1867.
4 Detroit Post, August 6, 1867, March 28, 1868.
5 Detroit Free Press, May 3, 1870, December 5, 1871, August 4, 1874.
6 Lake Underwriting Directory; 1873, 1875.
7 Detroit Free Press, July 4, 1876.
8 Port Huron Daily Times, September 5, 6, 7, 1876.
9 Ibid, September 9, 1876.
10 Buffalo Commercial Advisor, September 7, 9, 1876.
11 Cleveland Port Herald, August 22, 1877.
12 Port Huron Daily Times, December 13, 1877.

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About the Author: Paul Schmitt retired as Dean of Instruction at St. Clair County Community College in 2006. He and his wife, Marilyn, presently live in Lakeport, Michigan. His previous contributions to Inland Seas® were, “Two Sister Ships Tell of the Side Wheel Steamers” (Winter 1995) and “A Hard Luck Boat, Loss of the Propellor Troy” (Winter 2000).

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The Life and Times of Captain Alfred Parker – Fall 2009

March 24, 2020/in Inland Seas /by Carrie Sowden

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

as told to John Borman

Capt. Alfred Parker. Collection of the Great Lakes Historical Society

Alfred Parker was born in 1910 on a grape farm on the South Shore of South Bass Island (Put-in-Bay). By the age of eight, he could harness horses for vineyard work. For additional income, the men would camp on Starve Island for several days at a time so they could fish the waters adjacent to the island. Upon arriving, they would clear an area of sea gull eggs; these eggs would become omelets for the campers’ breakfast the next morning. If the women folks needed them at home, they would signal the men by hanging a lantern in the window. Alfred attended Put-in-Bay school. However, it was necessary to drop out after the eighth grade to help support the family. His father was not in good health and his support was needed. He went to work for Rittman’s Market which was owned by a relative. He was the best worker they ever had. He bragged about how fast he could kill and dress chickens. By the time the Depression hit, Alfred was doing most of the management duties as well as the work. The owner and his son Raymond spent a lot of their time in the saloons. Parker recalled they would milk the cash register so hard that sometimes it was difficult for him to pay the bills. To add insult to injury, they told him that due to the Depression, they were going to cut his pay in half. He thought they were joking and continued to work. At the end of the pay period the check was in the cash drawer for half the amount. He locked up the store and played baseball. The owner and his son were on a good toot and the store was closed for several days before they realized that Alfred had quit.

Parker’s period of unemployment did not last long. Pop Miller, the owner of Miller Boat Livery and father of Lee Miller, heard Parker was out of work and looked him up … Miller needed a good strong man to deliver ice to the homes and cottages around the island. This was before the days of modern refrigeration. It was customary for the customers to leave a tip consisting of a shot in the ice compartment. Despite the fact that Parker was in his prime, he told me that it was sometimes difficult to make it through the day!

Pop Miller took a liking to him and assigned Alfred as skipper on one of his fishing party boats. Parker was a good fisherman and soon became one of their best guides.

Miller transferred Alfred to his large wooden freight boat named the Avon, which also pulled scows. The net result was a big decrease in pay as his tips had been as much as his pay. He asked for a raise and Pop Miller was agreeable. However, his son Lee vetoed it. Alfred quit and went to work for Newman Boat Line as the skipper of the Mascot from Sandusky. This was in 1940.

In addition to the Mascot, Newman Boat Line had a sister ship named the Messenger. Both were getting old and showing signs of age. I remember that the Messenger had her rounded stern section cut off, which made her transom flat. Otherwise the boats were identical. Sandusky was the homeport and they served the islands of Kelleys, Middle Bass, and North Bass in addition to South Bass, where they landed at Dollers Dock in Put-in-Bay. The boat that Alfred ran stayed overnight at Put-in-Bay while the other one docked in Sandusky. This made it possible for them to provide maximum service.

Newmans had the majority of the passenger and freight business. While they had no service to Port Clinton, they did serve Catawba. However, there were no services in Catawba, no stores, gas stations, etc., and, at that time, very few islanders owned mainland cars. Also, the one boat did not have the capacity or number of trips that are available today.

Therefore, almost all of the island passenger traffic was to Sandusky and the downtown area where there was the shopping mall, doctors, dentists, gas stations, etc. I remember trips on this line when my sister would get very seasick as the boats could really roll. She was so bad that she could not get to the rail in time. Due to this, my mother carried paper bags with her. Little brother thought it was funny!

Alfred told me about the worst crewman he ever had. His name was Gayous Hallock. In the late fall, Alfred was coming out of Sandusky with a full load of freight. The wooden hull was leaking and he could feel her getting unsteady. He instructed Gayous to start the bilge pump. By accident, Gayous opened a sea cock. Alfred felt her getting worse and stuck her nose into an ice floe to steady her. He then had to go underwater in the engine room to close the valve. He wanted to fire Gayous but the Newman family would not allow it.

The next spring Alfred had a scow in tow coming into Sandusky. When a tow boat slows up, the scow takes longer to slow down. Due to this, a crew member must stay alert to take in the extra line. However, Gayous got distracted by a pretty girl, and the line got caught in the wheel. The whole mess drifted into a dock. Using Newman’s diving helmet and hand pump, Alfred went overboard in his undershorts to unwind the line from the wheel. You guessed it! Gayous quit pumping! Alfred told me, “I chased that kid clear down Market Street but I could not catch him. However, he never came back to the boat.” It’s a good thing he got away as it most likely kept Alfred out of jail.

The captains and crews worked very hard in the old days. All the freight was loaded and unloaded by hand. Due to the design of the boats, only limited use could be made of the two wheelers, and they were considered a high-tech material handling device at the time. Those were the good old days of wooden boats and iron men. The crews of today are just traffic directors.

Near the end of World War II, the E & K Wine Company of Sandusky purchased a large amount of vineyard land on South Bass Island. All of it needed replanting. Due to his vineyard experience as a young lad, coupled with his experience in directing people, Alfred Parker was offered the job of foreman. He worked for E & K from 1944 until 1953. By then all of the vineyards were planted and producing, but E & K was not doing as well in the wine business as they had projected and they no longer needed Alfred.

Parker told me he was on his way to Cleveland to ship out on a freighter when he decided to stop in Sandusky to tip a few with his old friend Harold Newman. Harold told him that the Erie Isle Ferry Company had a new boat built in Cleveland which was laying in Sandusky in need of a skipper.

The Erie Isle Ferry Company had previously owned the Mystic Isle. In excess of 100 feet, the Mystic Isle required a large crew with a lot of licensed people, which made her very expensive to operate. She was built in 1941 and originally ran to Catawba. When the Catawba dock came up for sale, the owners offered it to the Erie Isle Ferry Company. When they grew tired of waiting for a response, they accepted an offer from Lee Miller. Miller built the South Shore which was under 65 feet and economical to operate. This boat took enough business away from the Mystic Isle to make her unprofitable. Due to this, the company moved its mainland operation to Port Clinton. They still did not do well and the Mystic Isle was sold to the state of New York in 1952 to operate on Long Island Sound.

While having another boat built, the ferry company was out of business for a year. The cabin was still a bare shell when Alfred applied for, and got, the job as her skipper. Alfred secured the money to complete the boat, and he hired some carpenters and designed and finished the interior.

Erie Isle. Collection of the Great Lakes Historical Society

In the old days the island ball field was where Mr. Ed’s Motel and Bar is now. We were playing ball at recess when the Erie Isle came in from Sandusky for the first time. We all ran to Fox’s Dock to see the new boat. Alfred told us that he was making his first trip to Port Clinton in the afternoon and invited us to come along. In the entire school of around 70 students in 12 grades, only a couple of first graders didn’t get the word. The rest of us were on the maiden voyage with Alfred the Pied Piper. As luck would have it, the county superintendent picked that afternoon to inspect the school. He was not amused and we heard about it.

As mentioned above, Alfred was only the paid skipper the first year. He collected the money from the passengers, and each evening he gave it to a woman the ferry company had hired for this purpose. Alfred also kept a record of the amounts turned over. To his surprise a large amount of the money was missing when the ferry company’s annual report came out. He talked it over with his wife and they decided to try to lease the company. They made an offer which was accepted.

The Erie Isle was a very poorly designed boat. Almost half of the main deck was covered by the pilothouse and cabin. She was under powered which caused many engine problems. Her hull design caused her to leave a large wake, and to make matters worse, she was bow heavy, even when fully loaded. Due to this, it took a very strong, determined man to make her pay.

By working long hours and giving good service, Alfred Parker made her pay. He started running when the ice broke up in the spring and stayed on the lake until it froze in the late fall. In the meantime, he purchased as much stock in the company as he could, obtaining most of his shares at bargain prices. Within a few years he was able to dissolve the ferry company and replace it with the Parker Boat Line.

After Parker had the company paid for, he realized that he had a serious capacity problem, he needed another boat. He located a used one in Fort Meyers, Florida. It was only a few years old but was being replaced by a bridge to Sanibel Island. He sent his son, Bill, and Bill’s wife by car to pick up the boat and bring her back to the Bay. Parker recalled, “The owner of this boat was a Florida Cracker. He previously had a wood boat that needed replacing. He called Blount up in Rhode Island and asked him to come down. When Blount arrived, he told him he wanted ‘something similar to that old cypress SOB over there.’ Blount took some measurements and went back home. About six weeks later Blount called and asked what he wanted to name it … the boat was almost done and ready for delivery. The buyer told him that he made a lot of money clipping Yankees. Blount suggested Yankee Clipper, which she became.”

By running almost day and night, Bill managed to get the boat to the island in 10 days. Alfred told him, “I am proud of you, Son, how about making my next trip to Port Clinton for me.” Bill told him no and went home for some much-needed sleep.

The Clipper was only 65 feet and not a very good sea boat. Due to this, in 1982, Parker had her cut in two and had 33 feet added. This made her a good boat, she went faster with the same power and burned less fuel. Even more important to Alfred, he had beat Miller Boat Line as Parker now ran the first 100-footer.

Even working 100 plus hour weeks, Parker still found time for politics. He served as a township trustee for 32 years, most of that time as President. He made sure that the needy were supplied with food baskets, and that regular visits were made to the County Home. He accomplished a great deal with very little money. In his honor, his successors named a park after him on the west side of the island.

One of the better Alfred stories took place in the late winter. His brother, who ran the local gas station, ran low on fuel. To help him out, Alfred prepared to make his first trip of the year to Port Clinton which would require busting a little ice on the way. However, Parker did not yet have a tanker license. When he arrived at the dock, the Coast Guard was waiting! Someone must have turned him in. Following a Coast Guard inspection, it was determined that the only piece of equipment the boat needed was a fire extinguisher. Although he made trips to both Toledo and Sandusky, he was unable to purchase one. In the meantime, there was a Mexican standoff back at the dock. By late afternoon, the Coast Guard was tired of watching Alfred’s crew play cards and decided to go out to eat. They left strict instructions that the fuel trucks had better be “on the dock” when they returned. When they came back, the boat was gone and the trucks were still on the dock – empty! (The fuel had been put in a couple of the water tight compartments.)

Parker has been described as a benevolent bull … he trained a lot of people – including some that no one else wanted. It was widely known that after a man had worked for Alfred a couple of years, anyone would hire him – even Lee Miller. At one time, the majority of the Miller Boat Line crew were ex-Parker men. If any of his crew had problems, he would do his best to help them. If it was financial, he would take out his wallet. If a young man came to him and really needed a job, he would hire him and then find something for him to do.

One of his last hires was an island boy who had been caught stealing gas on his dock. The police came to Parker and asked if he was going to press charges. He said, “Not, unless he won’t come to work for me.” The lad is now a Miller Boat Line skipper.

Alfred had a heart attack and passed away in July of 1986. The lake was very rough the morning of his funeral, and they ran both boats together with guests. When the hearse was unloaded, everyone half expected him to jump out and direct traffic. And it was said, a couple of old ladies looked like they needed the coffin worse than Parker did.

Appropriately, Alfred Parker’s epitaph reads, “HE LOVED THE LAKE.”

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About the Author: John Borman was born and raised on Put-in-Bay and knew Captain Parker all his life. John even helped raise three of Captain Parker’s grandchildren and wrote, “I am very proud of them!” Borman has many fond memories of riding alongside Parker in his wheelhouse.

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Postscript to the War of 1812 NEWASH, TECUMSETH, and US/Canada Border Relations – Spring 2012

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McDougall’s Patented Anchor – Winter 2011

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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Four Boats Named CHIPPEWA! A Pictorial History – Fall 2011

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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Let the Lower Lights be Burning – Spring 2011

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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Records from the U.S. Customs House on Mackinac Island: Witness to Early Life on the Upper Great Lakes – Winter 2010

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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“She Always Looked That Way”: The Loss of the CITY OF PORT HURON – Summer 2010

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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The Life and Times of Captain Alfred Parker – Fall 2009

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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VISIT US

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EXPLORE THE MUSEUM

~ The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

Learn more about our award-winning Inland Seas© journal and become an Inland Seas member

~ The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

Learn more about our award-winning Inland Seas© journal and become an Inland Seas member

~ The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

Learn more about our award-winning Inland Seas© journal and become an Inland Seas member

~ The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

Learn more about our award-winning Inland Seas© journal and become an Inland Seas member

~ The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

Learn more about our award-winning Inland Seas© journal and become an Inland Seas member

~ The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

Learn more about our award-winning Inland Seas© journal and become an Inland Seas member

~ The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

Learn more about our award-winning Inland Seas© journal and become an Inland Seas member

VISIT US

HOURS

EXPLORE THE MUSEUM

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.

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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.