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It was a typical February day in 1935
off the barren, rocky coast of Bar Harbor in Maine, when Assistant Keeper Clinton Dalzell left Egg Rock Lighthouse.
He said goodbye to his pregnant wife and two small children and shoved off in a small boat for the mainland . . .
Dreams Of Being A Keeper
Clinton Dalzell, known to most of his friends and acquaintances as “Buster,” had always dreamed of being in the Lighthouse Service. Having been born and raised on Vinalhaven Island, off the coast of Rockland, Maine, he was all too familiar with lighthouses. Browns Head Light was only a short distance from the home he grew up in, and, on his many trips to the mainland, he would pass Owls Head Light and Rockland Breakwater Light.
When he graduated from Vinalhaven High School in 1925, he enlisted in the Army and was stationed in Hawaii for three years where he apparently fell in love with lighthouses all over again. Almost immediately after his discharge from the Army, he enlisted in the United States Lighthouse Service.
His first assignment was as assistant keeper at Heron Neck Light Station, one of the most beautiful island lighthouse locations on the entire eastern coast. He felt pretty lucky.
Wedding At Heron Neck
One beautiful Saturday afternoon in 1930, Reverend P. J. Clifford, pastor of the Union Church, rowed Buster’s fiancée, Elizabeth Smith, toward Green’s Island and the Heron Neck Light Station. This was their wedding day, the first wedding to ever be performed at the Heron Neck Lighthouse. Having grown up in the area, they both had many friends from both the mainland and the islands. The maid of honor was Bertha Miller and the best man was Malcolm H. Winslow. Elizabeth fell in love with lighthouse living at once.
Over the next few years, they were stationed at Matinicus Rock Light, Seguin Island Light, Boon Island Light, and even spent one Christmas at Nubble Light before being transferred to Egg Rock Light.
While Assistant Keeper at Boon Island Light, Buster was fortunate enough to have his wife with him. He recalled reading in an old newspaper story, “Long nights, but cozy and comfortable - plenty to eat, read and a bit of tobacco, and the world is ours.”
Assistant Keeper Batty, who was stationed at Boon Island with him, had three children who were boarding with an aunt and attending school in Portland. Keeper H. I. Hutchins had his family living in York Beach, and the children attended school there.
Mrs. Dalzell recalled that when June 10th came, and school was out, there was a big reunion on the island. That summer there were eighteen adults and children living on the desolate island rock. She also recalled how Clinton always climbed to the top of the lighthouse two stairs at a time.
Were the days happy?
They recalled happily, “We’re telling you!” That Christmas, Keeper Hutchins spent the holiday with his family on the mainland. It was the first time in seven years.
Mail Day Is A Gala Day
In an interview with a local reporter, the Dalzells and Hutchins recounted life at Boon Island Light. “Mail and supplies come every two weeks during the winter months.
“Mail day is a gala day in lighthouse life. Letters and papers take up the time for many days to come. All here have radios and there is a telephone in the Keepers Quarters. We are doing our duty and enjoy life here. Although isolated from the mainland, we keep in touch with outside affairs via radio and telephone. God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.”
Little could they possibly imagine the events that would later unfold after their transfer to Egg Rock Light.
The Lighthouse Inspector
Were there any really hard times? No, recalled Mrs. Dalzell. The only time they ever worried about anything was when the Lighthouse Inspector came.
She recalled that the brass was always kept shiny, and all the lantern room windows were kept so clean you couldn’t even tell they had glass in them. She remembered being reprimanded by one Inspector. Yes, even the wives of assistant keepers were subject to reprimand.
The Inspector told her to take down the swing-out lamp she had over the stove to help her see while it cooked. She was never sure if it was because of a regulation that didn’t allow the lamp to be there or because it was too close to the wall and might start a fire.
That Fateful Day
Dalzell was going to visit J. Franklin Anthony that fateful day in 1935. Anthony was the caretaker at the Herbert L. Satterlee summer estate at Schooner Point. It was there that Buster was going to pick up some batteries for his new boat that he had just finished building; a boat which he was proud of. It had taken many long weeks of hard work, but it was now finished. All it needed was some batteries for the motor.
Perhaps it was an iceberg, but what really happened next no one will ever know.
It was some time after Assistant Keeper Dalzell left the island light station that Keeper J. B. Pinkham remembered another errand that he wanted done on the mainland. He telephoned the Satterlee estate. That’s when he found out that Dalzell had never arrived.
Fearing that something had happened to his assistant, whom he considered a friend first, he immediately called Chief of Police George C. Abbott. Abbott in turn called the Coast Guard and soon police and Guard boats as well as an airplane were searching for Dalzell.
Keeper Pinkham launched his own boat for his own search. About a mile and a half from the lighthouse, he found Dalzell’s overturned skiff, and there was so sign of Dalzell. In those bitter cold waters, he knew he couldn’t have lasted long.
The Coast Guard conducted a search for the next several days, but Dalzell’s body was not to be found. It was over a month later that the Gloucester trawler Eliza C. Riggs discovered the body while traveling between Cat Island and Egg Rock Light.
Keeper Dalzell’s third child was born three weeks after his death.
Franklin Dalzell
Franklin Dalzell, who was too young to remember these happenings, had only his mother’s recollections along with some old photographs and yellowed newspaper clippings. Franklin recalled that his mother sold the boat that Clinton had built and thereafter lived on the survivor’s pension from the Lighthouse Service to raise her three children. She never remarried, telling Franklin that no one could ever replace his father.
He remembered many a night that they would sit by the fire while he asked questions about his father and lighthouse living. His mother’s memories were always happy ones, ones that she always loved to talk about, that stayed with her and kept her going for many years.
This story appeared in the
June 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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