Digest>Archives> March 2004

Geraldine Spencer Hall

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Captain Bob Spencer in Charleston Harbor, SC in ...

At the mouth of Winyah Bay, looking out towards the beautiful Atlantic Ocean stands the one hundred and ninety-one year old North Island Lighthouse, also known as Georgetown Lighthouse. It is about fourteen nautical miles from historic Georgetown, South Carolina. Standing eighty-five feet high, its shape is conical and it is made of white washed brick with a black lantern room. One hundred and twenty-four stone spiral steps lead to the top. The lighthouse today dates to 1812.

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Robert Henry Spencer and Ivy Lena Vick married in ...

On the other side of Winyah Bay is South Island and Cat Island. Tom Yawkey, former Boston Red Sox owner owned the three islands. He maintained a large plantation on South Island. A small portion of North Island was allocated to the lighthouse. Upon Mr. Yawkey’s death, the islands were bequeathed to the South Carolina Heritage Trust, creating the Tom Yawkey Wildlife Preserve. In 2001, the lighthouse property was added to the preserve. The lighthouse is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It is one of the seven official lighthouses of South Carolina. It became automated in 1986. How sad it is to see the lighthouse so alone, as many are today.

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Keeper Spencer, Geraldine, Mrs. Spencer and ...

In 1939, when the Coast Guard took over the Lighthouse Service, Robert Henry Spencer (known as Captain Bob) became one of the keepers at North Island Lighthouse. He was born in Southport, North Carolina on October 27, 1884 and died on March 11, 1954. His father, Captain James Tilton Spencer (1849-1914), was a sea captain. He owned a schooner and made his living taking cargo to various seaports up and down the southern coast. Capt. Bob was an only child. His mother died when he was about seven years old. He was raised on the schooner with his father.

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Robert Henry Spencer

Years later, during a trip along the coast, they pulled into one of their familiar places, Murrell’s Inlet, South Carolina, a little fishing village with a wonderful history, located between Georgetown, South Carolina and Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. During the 1600’s and 1700’s, pirates used this inlet to hide. They left behind loot and legends. The pirates moved on to Pawley’s Island and to North Island (later to become my home). Captain Bob met Ivy Lena Vick at this village. Her father, James Stanley Vick, was a prominent farmer. Her mother was Elizabeth Thompson Vick. Captain Bob and Ivy were married in 1906 at her family homestead, “Woodlawn.” Their first child, Donald was born in Murrell’s Inlet. He died at the age of three. Captain James Spencer lived with them until he died in 1914.

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Keeper Spencer with son, Aldon at the lighthouse ...

They lived in Georgetown, South Carolina several years and had three more children, Roberta, Robert and Louise. Captain Bob worked on barges, tugboats, yachts and such. They moved on to Charleston where Richard, Aldon and I were born. He joined the Lighthouse Service and served on three buoy tenders, The Cypress, The Mangrove, and The Palmetto.

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Front of keeper’s house in 1947.

When Dad became one of the keepers at North Island, my mother, two brothers Aldon and Richard, and I moved to our new home at the lighthouse. I was eleven, Aldon was fifteen and Richard about nineteen. He was in the Merchant Marines. We had driven from Charleston, South Carolina in our 1934 Chevrolet. It was a long drive. We crossed the Coastal Inland Waterway late at night on a hand-pulled cable ferry, leading us to South Island. We drove through South Island to our dock. Dad was waiting for us in a twenty-six-foot motor launch. We were happy to see our father. Now we could be all together. We had brought with us “Taffy” our white cat, and “Inky,” Aldon’s black pet piglet. We crossed Winyah Bay and as we got closer to North Island, we could see the light from the tower shining on the water. Our furniture, piano and belongings had arrived a week earlier. Everything was moved to the island by the Cypress.

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Ivy and Geraldine cooking breakfast in 1941.

The next day was full of excitement. It was love at first sight when I saw the lighthouse. That magnificent white structure made me feel alive and safe for many years. We saw our pretty two-story white house in the daylight. Dad had everything in order inside the house. There was another large one-story house. Keeper August Myer, his wife and six-year-old daughter, Lorraine lived there.

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Capt. Bob Spencer and Capt. Ludie Munn, ...

They left the island about two years later. Keeper Ludie Munn and his wife, Susie replaced them. Our house was the first house built there in 1812. Keeper Munn’s house was moved there by boat and assembled during the 1920’s or 1930’s. Both houses weathered many storms over the years. Ours was destroyed by fire, date unknown. Keeper Munn’s house was disassembled time unknown. Their house was haunted. There were times we could hear chains dragging the floor overhead in the attic. Pictures would slide down the wall and crash to the floor. This went on for years. There were no reasons known to explain the noises and incidents.

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Keeper Spencer and son, Richard.

Before World War II, life on the island was slow. We fished, roamed the island for treasures and the beaches for driftwood, shells or whatever might wash ashore. Dad and my brothers crocheted nets for casting. On bad rainy days, my brothers and I enjoyed sketching at the dining room table. Most everyone in the family had artistic ability. Dad liked to whittle. He was never without his sharp pocketknife. He made a schooner and a replica of the Palmetto. A real lively Saturday night would find him in the kitchen, sitting in his wooden rocking chair, listening to country music. His foot would keep time to the music. Taffy was close by, sitting on Dad’s shoes. We liked to listen to “Amos and Andy.” Sometimes we just got a lot of static.

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Geraldine “Jerry” on the beach in 1942.

Once a year, Dad whitewashed the tower sitting on a scaffold. I was afraid it would tip over and he would come crashing down. It didn’t bother him. He was dedicated to his job. He was responsible and meticulous in everything he did. When we, the children, were assigned tasks, they were to be done immediately. Dad didn’t have to yell or scold. All he had to do was look at us with that sharp look in his eye and we would move very quickly. When it came to work, foolishness wasn’t tolerated. Captain Munn and Dad kept the station shipshape. They were always prepared for a government inspection. The boathouse had to be painted. The launch had to be pulled up once a year and barnacles scraped. My Dad painted anything that wasn’t nailed down, even the ashtrays in the house. If he wasn’t painting, he was scrubbing the floors or outside steps with a scrub brush, bucket and Octagon soap. Outside by the cistern, he had made a wooden platform where we could put our large washtubs. We used a washboard. He scrubbed and I rinsed. We rinsed the heavy things together. I washed my hair at the cistern using the Octagon soap and rinsing with cider vinegar and lemon juice when we had it.

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Geraldine and Lightning at the beach barracks in ...

Aldon had joined the Navy and Richard had gone to sea on a Liberty Ship. My fishing buddies were gone. Dad had given me a 16-foot skiff, painted white and dark green trim. At the bow on both sides were the letters “JERRY”. I spent many happy hours rowing along the shore or anchoring in a pretty spot to fish. At times, I would see the mother doe walking along the shore with her fawn.

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Keeper Ludie Munn’s house moved to the lighthouse ...

Captain Munn and Mrs. Munn were close to my Mom and Dad’s ages. We all got along well. We enjoyed walking on the beach late in the afternoon after supper. The sunset behind the South Island trees was a beautiful sight.

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Keeper Spencer’s wife, Ivy at the base of the ...

Sitting on the dock, the two keepers would exchange sea stories. Two big pelicans would arrive, perch on the dock railing, and patiently wait for treats we gave them. Taffy, our cat, followed Dad and me everywhere we went. He loved the water. If I dived in the water from the pier, he would jump in after me. He loved to ride in the boat. He was a very unusual cat. Not afraid of anything. During the war, Taffy jumped onto the patrol boats tied up at the dock. The sailors loved him. Towards the end of the war, Taffy disappeared. The patrol boats left and so did Taffy. We never saw him again. We had another beautiful orange, Persian cat named Cricket. He was smart too, but like most cats, he didn’t like the water. He and our dog, Goodie liked to chase each other.

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Keeper Spencer in 1947 with a Schooner he made.

My mother didn’t own a bathing suit or anything similar to one. She wore cotton dresses on the island. At times, she would sit on the water’s edge and watch me swim or play in the water with Taffy.

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Keeper Spencer’s wife, Ivy made all the slip ...

It was her way of cooling off in the hot summer. Mom was a wonderful cook. She made three big meals a day. Dad was strict about being on time. We had to be clean and presentable. Good table manners were a “must”. Grace was said and God was thanked for His blessings. Cooking took time in those days. We had a wood and coal stove and kerosene stove. In the winter, the kitchen was snug and warm. It was the largest room in the house. The island was full of blackberries. We had blackberries and dumplings when they were plentiful. Dad made delicious bread pudding from left over biscuits. Mom topped it with her delicious lemon and raisin sauce. Mealtime was social and enjoyable.

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Keeper Robert Spencer with his favorite pets at ...

In my mother’s spare time, she read, wrote poetry and short stories and sketched. She loved birds and flowers. She was gifted in so many ways. She braided rag rugs, made my dresses, curtains, bedspreads, quilts, and slip covers for our living room furniture. She had a Singer sewing machine with foot pedals that sat by one of the kitchen windows.

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Ivy Spencer and dog “Goodie” in front of Keeper ...

We went to Georgetown about once a month for supplies. If we needed seafood, we got it from the shrimp trawlers when they came in or we fished using hand lines we made. If we wanted flounder, we went gigging according to the moon and the tide. We had chickens, eggs and pigs. Collards, turnip greens, tomatoes, corn and other vegetables Dad got from the farms on South Island. They were plentiful. He always had something to give them in return. On Thanksgiving and Christmas, Mr. Yawkey gave each family at the lighthouse a large turkey and generous amounts of fruit and nuts. Dad and Mr. Yawkey enjoyed talking and laughing together when they ran into each other. During the 1940’s Mr. Yawkey brought his Boston Red Sox team to North Island to hunt. We met all the players. That was a thrill!

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During the school days, Dad got me up at 4:30 am. It was a rule that my bed be made and my room neat before I dressed and went downstairs to the warm kitchen. There would be a big breakfast waiting for me. It would be a long time until supper. I met Dad at the boathouse. He would be warming up the launch. I cast off the bow and stern lines and we would be off. We crossed the bay, tied up at our dock on South Island, got the car out of the garage and drove to the Coastal Inland Waterway ferry. I crossed over on the ferry and met the school bus on the other side. From there I rode ten or fifteen more miles to get to school in Georgetown. The same thing coming home. Dad met me at the ferry. Timing was crucial in everything we did. Bad weather would make it extremely difficult. On stormy days when we couldn’t get the boat out of the slip, I got to stay home! Mom and Dad sacrificed a lot to have me graduate from high school. I graduated in 1946. The family and I went to Georgetown in our boat for the ceremony. We returned home in the dark, following the ranges and lights. It was always a welcomed sight to see our lighthouse blinking in the night. We were almost home. We had a little party that night and everyone gave me a gift. Dad and Mom gave me a black trunk, which I kept for about thirty years. Robert gave me luggage. It would soon be time for me to go out into the world.

The lighthouse had a resident ghost. About sixty-one years ago, I was sitting in the tower when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I called out but no one answered. I went down the ladder to the stone steps and started going down to meet whoever was coming up. I called out again. No answer. I continued to hear the shuffling feet coming up, slowly. I thought, maybe someone was playing a trick on me. “Who is there?” Still, no answer! I went back up the ladder, climbed to the tower and closed the hatch to the outer ledge. I started down the ladder and closed the hatch above. I went back down the winding stairs. The footsteps kept coming up as I was going down but no one ever appeared. I could feel the presence of someone just around the next winding step. I checked the windows for cracks. Everything was secure. I descended all the way to the bottom, opened the tall thick door, went outside and down the stone steps to the walkway. There was no one in sight. Whoever it was had to be inside the lighthouse, but where?

For a long time I had dreams of someone living beneath the lighthouse. I dreamed of a middle-aged male ghost coming into the kitchen. He walked right through the door. I could never see his face, just a figure. He wore a baggy shirt and trousers. His shoes were black and scruffie. There was a mist around his face. Suppose there were such things as ghosts? About fifteen years ago, I read about a Coast Guardsman who had been stationed on North Island. He had reported strange happenings around the light, such as tools missing, things moved, etc. Fireman Alan Cassell, U.S.C.G., placed a cassette recorder in the lighthouse one night and the next morning, when the tape was played back, there were unexplained noises, sounding like very weary footsteps. He claimed that the sounds were not those of living human feet. What then? We can’t be sure. But I can still hear the slow, shuffling feet coming up the lighthouse stairs to meet me. Maybe he did!!

The light from the tower shone in my bedroom window at night. As I lay there, I counted to see if I could guess the seconds before it came back on. The light shone in my Dad’s window too. If anything went wrong, he would be up in a second. The lighthouse was part of us. In the evening at dusk, the deer came outside the fence by my bedroom window. They were looking for food and company. The island was so still. The silence made your heart ache. The deer made soft, snorting sounds. The whippoorwills would start to sing. Their sounds made the most beautiful music I have ever heard. It was, also, the loneliest music.

The Coast Guard built barracks for about ten men. It was outside our gate. They built barracks on the beach side of the island for the horse patrol. They had about five men and horses. We had a jeep to ride over the dunes, the wooded trails and on the beach. The entrance to Winyah Bay was well guarded. From the tower you could see miles out to sea. An enemy submarine could be spotted. Our coast was protected.

When the Coast Guardsmen arrived at the island, arrangements had been made with my father to supply them with three meals a day. The Coast Guard gave us a large refrigerator. They supplied us with the food, canned milk and juices. Mom, Dad and I worked to get the job done. The young fellows made fun of our serving “grits” every morning. We weren’t use to “Yankee” cooking and they weren’t use to “Southern” cooking. Eventually, we became accustomed to each others likes and dislikes. It wasn’t a long arrangement. When they got their cook aboard and the galley working, we were invited to the barracks for supper. The food was delicious. They had a great chef!

Sometimes the Coast Guardsmen would sit on our front porch in the swing or sit on the front steps. They had to walk by our house to get to the dock, the lighthouse and their barracks. We learned about their families and where they were from. Most of them were very young. The island could be lonely. I’m sure some of them were homesick. They weren’t too much older than I was, but my dad made me call them “Mister.” At different times, Dad would invite one of the young fellows to bring his wife to the lighthouse to visit us. This was good for the morale of the young men. They reciprocated by inviting me to visit with their wife up north.

On occasion, the skipper and his first mate on the patrol boat visited us at night. Mrs. Munn, Mom, the sailors and I played canasta at the kitchen table. They brought a case of cokes, fruit or other goodies. Mama and Mrs. Munn baked pies or cakes. Captain Munn and Dad just sat and talked and had refreshments, of course. We had a great time laughing and playing cards.

After the war, the Coast Guard pulled out. The barracks were disassembled. The horses were taken off the island. There were no more patrol boats at the dock. No more sailors standing watch. The island was back to the way it was. Time had moved on for everyone. In 1946, I went to live with my sister Louise and her family in Charleston. Later, I was married. I have three daughters, Suzanne, Audrey and Desiree; three granddaughters Tara, Desiree and Leslie; four grandsons Tom, Robert, Christopher and David and three great-grandsons, Taylor, Cein and Anthony.

I visited my home, the lighthouse one more time in 1947, never to return.

I have so much admiration for my parents. The love and joy they gave me and the memories of the lighthouse are endless.

It was an awesome feeling to know there are so many people in the world today who share my love for these wonderful old structures, their beauty, history, and keepers of the light.

My family and I were truly blessed to have had this experience. The love of God and His beautiful creations made it even more endearing.

Keeper Spencer and Ivy retired from the lighthouse around 1948. They moved to Murrell’s Inlet, South Carolina. Later they moved to Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina, to be close to their children in Charleston. Dad spent the rest of his life there. He died in a veteran’s hospital in Savannah, Georgia in 1954. My mother died in Charleston in 1975. They are both buried in Murrell’s Inlet where it all began.

This story appeared in the March 2004 edition of Lighthouse Digest Magazine. The print edition contains more stories than our internet edition, and each story generally contains more photographs - often many more - in the print edition. For subscription information about the print edition, click here.

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