Great Lakes Ladies — Winter 2000
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The Great Lakes… 84% of the continent’s fresh water… a different story in every drop.
By Bette Lou Higgins and Shelley Pearsall
Like most other parts of our past, the story of women on the Great Lakes has largely been ignored. And as you might guess, there has never been a shortage of women living and working along the Great Lakes — just a shortage of publicity about them!
- Mrs. May Inman was the only lady on the Great Lakes to hold a pilot license issued in the United States during the 1890s. She sailed the tug Ariel and the side-wheel steamer E.T. Carrington. She was also a photographer and a painter of lake pictures.
- Edith Morgan was the daughter of lighthouse keeper S.W. Morgan of the Grand Point Au Sable light saving station. She was involved in several heroic rescues — two of which earned her the Silver Life Saving Medal.
- Bev Van Hall began commercial fishing with her father in 1942 — when she was a mere 15 years old!
- Madeline La Framboise became a Trader for the American Fur Company upon the murder of her husband, Joseph, who had traded for the Company.
Three of the more “famous” of the Great Lakes Ladies are Elizabeth Williams, Harriet Colfax, and Maebelle Mason. These are their stories.
Many lighthouse keepers were actually couples — a husband and wife working together to keep the light burning. One of these couples was Mr. & Mrs. Van Riper.
For those who live along the Great Lakes, or make their living from the lakes, the water can give great bounty or bring terrible tragedy. Elizabeth Whitney had spent her girlhood on Lake Michigan islands and called herself “A Child of the Sea.” Her three brothers, and the waters of Lake Michigan, were her constant companions.
Her brothers grew up to become Great Lakes sailors. Eliza also managed to find a way “to make a living on the lakes.” She fell in love with Clement Van Riper who shared her fondness for the inland seas. Together, they became the keepers of the Harbor Point Lighthouse on Beaver Island.
The Harbor Point Lighthouse was a cozy building with a brick kitchen and a round tower lighthouse. Elizabeth loved to look out at the ever-changing waters of the bay from the tower windows. She imagined her brothers sailing somewhere out in the distance…and how the light of their lighthouse might be guiding them to the harbor.
Each night, Clement kept the oil burning and the wicks trimmed, so that the light would not go out. Elizabeth helped with the care of the oil lamps and the polishing of the beautiful glass lens which cast out a thousand rainbows of light. It was the kind of quiet existence that she expected to continue forever.
But in 1872, tragedy struck. Elizabeth and Clement were awakened by the noise and lights of a sinking ship, caught in a midnight storm which raged outside. The helpless boat had tried to reach harbor and had sunk just after entering the bay. Clement quickly dressed and took his small rowboat out to try to save the sailors who were calling for help from the storm-tossed waters. That was the last time Elizabeth would see her beloved Clement. During the daring rescue attempt, he was drowned in the bay.
Although tragedy is a part of life for those who live on the Great Lakes, it does not make the tragedy any easier. For three days, Elizabeth remained in the darkened tower of the lighthouse, blaming the cruel water which had turned from friend to enemy, and taken away her husband. She decided that she would leave the lakes, never to return. She vowed that she would never set eyes on the Michigan shore again.
But the lighthouse and the bay were the only home that Elizabeth knew. Who would keep the lamps lit and the lens polished if she left the bay? Who would keep the lighthouse beacon burning so that her brothers could find their way to safe harbor?
Just a few days after the tragedy, Elizabeth Van Riper applied to become the official lighthouse keeper at Beaver Island Harbor Point Lighthouse, and she took the appointment by herself just a short while later. She remained in her job for 12 years, even after her second marriage to a man named Daniel Williams.
Sometimes, on the nights when a midnight storm would once again blow in across Lake Michigan, she would sit alone in the tower and keep a watchful eye on the lamp. It was a silly habit, she knew, but she did it just in case there was someone, somewhere out in those dark waters, who needed a shining light to guide him home across the bay. Unlike Elizabeth Williams, our next Great Lakes Lady did NOT come to the sea naturally.
Harriet Colfax had tried many different occupations in her life. She had been a teacher of voice and piano, a typesetter for her brother’s newspaper, and a small town music teacher. But none of these jobs really prepared her for the position that she would hold for more than 40 years, as the official keeper of the Michigan City lighthouse on the shores of Lake Michigan.
Now, you may wonder, how does a small town piano teacher become a lighthouse keeper? Well, there were many others in Michigan City who wondered the same thing. Keeping a lighthouse was traditionally a man’s job, and Harriet Colfax was a petite woman with features as delicate as the ivory piano keys which she played. Her hair was pulled back in a tight-woven bun like a prim and proper schoolteacher, and her dresses appeared neat and stylish. Why would she want the difficult job of being a lighthouse keeper?
There were rumors of a broken romance in her younger years and Harriet had never been married. Now, at 37 years old, she figured that she was destined to become a gray-haired, old spinster. But how could a woman support herself for the rest of her life? This was not an easy question in 1861. Harriet thought of an answer — a job which remained constant season after season, year after year…a job with a steady salary and government benefits…a job which provided free housing and all of the food that you could eat…the Michigan City Lighthouse keeper.
Harriet also realized that she had an important qualification: an influential relative who could get her the position. Her cousin, Schuyler Colfax, was a Congressman who would later become General Grant’s Vice President. There was MUCH grumbling in Michigan City about the frail piano teacher who got a government job, but Harriet became the official Michigan City lighthouse keeper in 1861. However, she soon discovered that she had a lot to learn about keeping a lighthouse…
First, there was the leaky roof in the station house which sent cascades of water down the inside walls when it rained. Then, there was the cracked cistern with its foul-smelling water. And finally there was the problem with the ancient, leaky outhouses which seemed to have been built during the War of 1812. “New outbuildings are wanted,” Harriet mentioned politely in a report to the lighthouse board. When some of these repairs took almost a year to complete, working for the U.S. government did not seem to have quite as many advantages.
The job was also a bit more “challenging” than she had expected. Before becoming a lighthouse keeper, she had visited the lighthouse on warm, summer days. On these lazy afternoons, she had watched the keeper polish the lenses, demonstrate the lamps, and talk pleasantly with the many visitors who happened by the Station House. But all of that changed in September, October and November of each year, she soon learned.
As the weather worsened and fierce autumn storms swept across Lake Michigan, the responsibility of keeping the lights became dangerous — even life-threatening. Not only did Harriet have to maintain the station house light, but she was also responsible for a beacon light which was located at the end of a narrow pier 1,500 feet out in Lake Michigan. Regardless of the weather, Harriet had to make her way down the narrow pier each night, carrying the hot lard oil to light the beacon. On one September evening, she wrote in her official log that she was nearly swept off the pier by the waves and gale force winds. Ten days later, she said, “Four vessels ran against the elevated walk and broke it again. I went to the beacon with considerable risk of life.” Trying to make her way down a slippery pier, in women’s shoes and soaked woolen skirts, she began to understand why the job was better suited to a man — or at least to a man’s clothing!
Just a few years later in 1874, the dangerous beacon was moved to a new location — even farther away. To reach the beacon, she would now need to cross a creek by boat, walk along the water, climb up to the pier, walk 2,000 feet down the pier, and crawl up a ladder to light the beacon. This was a little too much to expect from a woman who was now 50 years old, but Harriet was not yet ready to give up. She requested a lighthouse assistant, a “temporary beacon tender,” she called him. With a little political arm-twisting (after all, her cousin had just served as the Vice President of the United States) — the request was granted.
As the years passed, Harriet continued to face storms, shipwrecks and government bureaucracy. During one period of cutbacks, her assistant position was cut and she spent an entire season trying to tend both lights before she was allowed to hire another assistant. On another occasion, she received an official order stating that all lighthouse keepers had to wear trousers and jackets. The sight of a tiny, gray-haired lady in trousers and a jacket would have created quite a stir in her little town, but she was quickly notified that women were not included in the order! During later years, her salary and supplies were often cut back without notice. At the beginning of one winter, the government even notified her that they would no longer pay for the wood to heat her station house — she would need to find her own. Still, she continued to do her job, season after season.
In the fall of 1904, she finally decided that she’d had enough. The time had come to leave, to retire. Although she had won the position with influence, people couldn’t say that she hadn’t done the job well. They couldn’t whisper that she was too small, too frail, too fragile to be a lighthouse keeper — she had weathered the worst of the storms. The only thing Harriet really regretted was leaving so quickly. (Who knows what kind of inexperienced person they would hire, she thought, but people couldn’t expect her to be a lighthouse keeper forever!) She inventoried and sold all of her belongings just as the government instructions for lighthouse keepers required. She wrote her last official entry on October 12, 1904.
October was a good time to retire, she decided. It was the middle of the treacherous storm season. It was starting to get colder. And it marked the beginning of a new year for Harriet…
When she left the Michigan City Light Station for the final time, Miss Harriet Colfax, veteran lighthouse keeper, was eighty years old.
On the other side of Michigan in the Detroit River there was another courageous lighthouse “keeper.”
Maebelle Mason, daughter of lighthouse keeper Orlo Mason. Bentley Historical Library: Bentley Image Bank, University of Michigan Library Digital Collections.
Maebelle Mason was the daughter of a lighthouse keeper on a small, lonely island called Mamajuda Island in the Detroit River. When she was fourteen years old, she saved a man from drowning.
One day in early May of 1890 her father, Captain Mason, left the island for a day or so to buy some supplies. Mrs. Mason and Maebelle remained in charge of the lighthouse. Their only means of transportation, since the Captain had taken their large boat, was a small rowboat.
It was early in the evening when Mrs. Mason and Maebelle noticed Steamer C. W. Elphicke approaching their lighthouse. Although it was a clear and calm evening, the freighter was sounding its warning whistle.
Well, that seemed very peculiar, so Maebelle and her mother stepped outside of the lighthouse. They could see the captain of the freighter leaning across the railing of his boat. He shouted through a megaphone at them — “Man capsized in the river. Impossible for us to rescue him. Send Captain Mason to save him.” And the rest of his words were lost as the freighter steamed past them.
But Captain Mason was still in town. It was only Maebelle and her mother and their little rowboat. Knowing they were the only ones who could save the drowning man, Maebelle and her mother dragged and pushed and pulled the rowboat from the lighthouse, down to the water. Since there would not be room for all of them in the rowboat, Maebelle insisted she would go alone after the man.
Now, you should keep in mind that Maebelle was a rather small girl, but nevertheless, she pulled on those oars with all her might, until the boat was fairly skimming across the water. Soon, she could see the man in front of her, slumped over his sinking rowboat. Leaning over the edge of her boat, until it was nearly tipping in the water, she pulled up on the man’s coat with all the strength she could muster. But, it seemed as if the river was stronger because she could feel it dragging him down. And the bottom was many feet below…
So, she pulled more — and the river pulled harder. She pulled — and the river pulled harder. She could feel the man slipping out of her grasp…
With one last desperate attempt, she grabbed the man’s arm and pulled. And this time, she managed to get him halfway into her boat. One more tug, and he slid into the bottom of her boat, eyes closed, pale as death.
Grabbing the oars once again, Maebelle rowed back to her mother and together they dragged the man to the lighthouse. With strong tea and warm blankets, they managed to revive him, and by the time Captain Mason returned, he was resting comfortably.
After the man recovered, word of Maebelle’s bravery spread across the Great Lakes. She was even awarded the United States Lifesaving Medal at a big celebration in Detroit.
And for many years after, whenever a ship passed that little lighthouse on Mamajuda Island, the captain would blow the ship’s whistle twice, in honor of 14-year old Maebelle Mason and her great courage.
As you can see, the Great Lakes is NOT just a man’s place. In fact, there is ONE group of Great Lakes Ladies that haven’t been mentioned — the boats! As you know, all boats are referred to by the feminine pronoun, she. So, in fact, the Great Lakes have LOTS of Great Ladies!
SOURCES
http://www.ipl.org/exhibit/light/GL/MichiganCity.html. (Colfax).
http://www.lhdigest.com/archives/1997/feb97/women.htm.
Lighthouse Digest. (Stebbins: North Point, Milwaukee; Williams).
“41 Years In A Lighthouse; Wonderful Life, Says Woman;” Grand Rapids Herald; c. 1922. (Williams).
History Of The Great Lakes; J.H. Beers & Co., Chicago, 1899; reprinted by Freshwater Press, Cleveland, 1972. (Inman).
Adamson, Hans Christian; Keepers of the Light; Greenberg Publishers; New York; 1955. (Colfax).
Boyer, Dwight; True Tales of the Great Lakes; Dodd, Mead, and Company; 1971.
Brehm, Victoria, Editor; The Women’s Great Lakes Reader; Holy Cow! Press; Duluth, Minnesota; 1998. (Mason, Williams, Colfax).
Clifford, Mary Louise & J. Candace; Women Who Kept the Lights; Cypress Communications; Williamsburg, Virginia; 1993. (Williams, Colfax).
Eccleston, Guy; “When Michigan Had A King;” Great Lakes Pilot. (Williams).
Entine, Lynn; Our Great Lakes Connection (A Curriculum Guide For Grades Kindergarten Through Eight); Board Of Regents of the University of Wisconsin; 1985. (LaFramboise, Colfax).
Grunst, Robert C.; “Scale-Spangled Apron: A Woman’s Commercial Fishery Experience In Grand Haven, Michigan”; Inland Seas®; Volume 55 #3; Fall, 1999. (Bev Van Hall).
Higgins, Bette Lou & Shelley Pearsall; “Lady of the Lake;” Eden Valley Enterprises; Vermilion, Ohio; 1994. (Maebelle Mason story).
Hill, Becky; Unpublished story written for Eden Valley, “Abigail Becker;” c.1995.
Hyde, Charles K.; The Northern Lights. (Mason, Colfax, Williams).
O’Brien, T. Michael; Guardians of the Eighth Sea, a History of the U.S. Coast Guard on the Great Lakes; The U.S. Coast Guard. (Morgan).
Palmer, Richard F.; “The Morman Pirates Of Beaver Island;” Inland Seas®, fall 1998 (Williams).
Web site: Legendary Lighthouses — Great Stories: Western Great Lakes; PBS Online Old Michigan City Light, Indiana, 1837 and Michigan City East Pierhead Light, 1904, Lake Michigan. (Colfax).
Williams, Elizabeth Whitney; A Child of the Sea; 1905; reprinted by the Beaver Island Historical Society, St. James Michigan, 1983.
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