Digest>Archives> September 1998

A Nautical Gravestone

By Jack Edwards

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Waugoshance Lighthouse, Michigan is on the ...
Photo by: Lynn E. Marvin

At the northwestern tip of Michigan's lower peninsula is a narrow strip of land known as Waugoshance Point. Extending west from this point lie eight miles of treacherous islands, islets, and shoals. At the far end is the abandoned Waugoshance Light Station (Lat. 45 47.1, Lon. 85 05.6). During the latter half of the nineteenth century, this light station marked the turning point for ships traveling through the Straits of Mackinac and along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan between the Beavers and the mainland. This area - with a water depth of mostly twelve feet or less - was one of the most dangerous parts of the Straits. Modern freighters require considerably deeper water and bypass Waugoshance as they make a "Grays Reef Passage" about 2 miles to the west.

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View from inside burned out keepers quarters, ...
Photo by: Jack Edwards


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Interior walls of keepers quarters of Waugoshance ...
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Shipping on Lakes Michigan and Huron increased dramatically during the nineteenth century. Ships traveled westward with cargos of lumber, coal, and merchandise to support newly established towns along the Lake Michigan shoreline and growing ports like Chicago. On the return trip they carried grain and iron ore to Detroit, Cleveland, and Buffalo. This was the heyday of waterborne commerce on Lake Michigan. Each season, vessels made thousands of trips through the Straits, a narrow passageway that connects Lake Michigan with Lake Huron.

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Aerial view of Waugoshance Lighthouse showing ice ...
Photo by: Dick Moehl


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Interior of burned out keepers quarters at ...
Photo by: Jim Tamlyn

The primary cause of shipwrecks in this area was grounding on the many shoals and reefs, though collisions were not uncommon. Today, vessels are crammed with communications and navigation equipment - marine radios, Loran, and GPS. This is a far cry from the pilot houses of schooners that had only a steering wheel, a magnetic compass, and a well-used spittoon. Downbound vessels (travelling from west to east), caught in storms or fog, found themselves on the open waters of Lake Michigan. Once they had passed the Beavers, there were no safe anchorages. They were forced to try to get through the many reefs around Waugoshance to reach safer waters. Upbound vessels, on the other hand, could seek shelter in the vicinity of Mackinaw City, Mackinac Island, or St. Helena Island.

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A lone gull stands watch on top of the bird cage ...
Photo by: Jim Tamlyn


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This dramatic aerial photograph of Waugoshance ...
Photo by: Lynn Marvin

Lightship was first stationed here

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During the early 1980s the steel plating peeled ...
Photo by: Sue & Leo Kuschel


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Interior view of tower at Waugoshance Light, MI.
Photo by: Jack Edwards

After numerous mishaps, shipping interests petitioned the government during the late 1820s to build a lighthouse at Waugoshance. At that time, lighthouses were under the control of the U.S. Treasury. The bureaucrats at the Treasury had little maritime or engineering experience and emphasized cost (they must have been ancestors of present day bean counters) to the detriment of everything else - including safety. Though the technology for building under-water cribs was well known in the early 1800s and structures had been built off the east coast, this was northern Lake Michigan. A lighthouse at Waugoshance would have to survive the grinding assault of the ice that developed each winter. A less challenging approach was chosen. In 1832, the first lightship - a floating lighthouse - on the Great Lakes was stationed at Waugoshance. This vessel, the Louis McLane, remained there during the shipping season for almost two decades.

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Lightkeeper Edward Wheaton (right) and assistants ...
Photo by: Sue & Leo Kuschel


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Andy Redies standing next to collapsing wall in ...
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Lighthouse Built

Finally, around mid-century, it was decided to replace the lightship with a lighthouse. Waugoshance was the first lighthouse in the Great Lakes to be built on a submerged crib, so the Topographical Bureau (now the Army Corps of Engineers) assigned personnel to assist the U.S. Lighthouse Service with engineering and construction. Before the construction of a foundation was begun, an accurate model was made of the crest of the reef. A wooden caisson was then built on neighboring St. Helena Island and towed to the reef, anchored in place, and sunk by filling it with massive stones. This was hardly a trivial task since the north side was in four feet and the south side was in fifteen feet of water.

The Waugoshance lighthouse was finally completed in 1851. The conical tower was 76' high, with a diameter of 20' at the base and 15' at the parapet. The massive walls were 5' thick at the base and over 2' thick at the top. The "bird cage" lantern was one of the styles used in the 1850s. Only two other examples of this lantern architecture survive on the Great Lakes. One is at Bailey's Harbor, Wisconsin, and the other in Selkirk, New York. By the 1860s, polygonal shaped lantern rooms became the standard for all lighthouses built on the Great Lakes.

Official records indicate that Waugoshance may have housed the first Fresnel lens that was installed on the Great Lakes. Actually, the Fresnel lens system had been devised in the 1820s, but was not introduced in U.S. lighthouses until much later. Again, it was bureaucratic blundering, if not outright corruption, that was responsible for this delay. The supplier of an older, less efficient, design was a close friend of the Superintendent of Lights for the United States. He used his "cozy" relationship to remain the sole supplier of lighting equipment for lighthouses until Congress, besieged by complaints, finally created a nine-member Lighthouse Board to manage the system. This board came into being around the time Waugoshance was completed.

For nearly two decades, the foundation of the light resisted nature's year-round assaults. During the shipping season, rampaging nor'westerners sent waves crashing against the crib. With the coming of spring, great fields of broken ice from Lake Michigan piled up as they converged on the Straits. Year after year, this ice made a grinding assault on the crib that supported Waugoshance. In 1865, the Lighthouse Board appropriated funds to make the necessary repairs. A coffer-dam was constructed about the crib and the water was pumped out, leaving the shoal on which it stands dry. Cement was laid down to form a base, and massive limestone rocks - 4' x 5' x 8' and weighing 12 tons apiece - were set on the cement and bolted together. A circle of solid masonry was then built up around the light. This enlarged the crib from its original 32 by 60 feet dimensions to 48 by 66 feet.

Initially, the light station was equipped with a bell that was rung when the visibility was poor. The sound of a bell is less distinctive than that of a steam whistle (fog horn) and, on at least one occasion, this contributed to a mishap. During May of 1881, Captain Johnson of the schooner Flying Mist ran aground in a dense fog just southwest of Waugoshance Light Station. He had heard the bell, but confused it with what he thought was a vessel laying at anchor.

Time and the elements

The elements continued to take their toll on Waugoshance. Both the crib and the soft-brick of the tower deteriorated. In 1883, the tower and adjoining keeper's dwelling were encased in a skin of 3/8" boiler plate to protect the poor quality brick from further crumbling. The steel plating was painted with red and white horizontal bands. A fog horn with dual 10" steam whistles was also added. In 1896, the stone crib was further enlarged to 80 by 90 feet.

Scott's New Coast Pilot, published in 1896, lists Waugoshance Light Station as displaying a fixed white light, varied by a white flash every 45 seconds, that is visible for 16 miles. Scott's goes on to warn of the potential hazards to navigation in the area - "There is a passageway to the eastward, and close to the light, but it should not be used unless familiar with the locality. During thick or foggy weather there is sounded a steam whistle, giving blasts of five seconds at intervals of 25 seconds."

Though the Waugoshance Light was an invaluable aid-to-navigation, other hazards also existed in the area. Another reef, White Shoals (Lat. 45 50.5, Lon. 85 08.1) that lies about 4 miles north-northwest of Waugoshance, had become increasingly important as newer vessels with larger drafts had to follow a deeper water route to the west. As early as 1878, the Chicago Lumbering Company had stationed an old water-logged vessel over White Shoals to mark this dangerous reef. In 1891, a government lightship was assigned to mark the reef. Because of the difficulty of moving lightships into position at the beginning of the navigation season and removing them at the end, a permanent structure was preferred. Construction of the White Shoals light was begun in 1908 and completed in 1910.

The beginning of the end

Waugoshance was decommissioned in 1912. Official records indicate that it was made obsolete by the new White Shoals light. However, there are local citizens who claim otherwise. According to them, Waugoshance was closed because it was haunted by the ghost of a keeper (Wobbleshanks) who drowned in 1894. Wobbleshanks has become the slang name for Waugoshance. Its origin is uncertain. Some maintain that, like Waugoshance, it is an Indian name. Others attribute it to just plain silliness, a distinct possibility since nearby Skillagalee (Ile Aux Galets) is sometimes called "silly gully." There is yet another possibility. The "wobble" in Wobbleshanks may derive from the distinctive walk of the intoxicated lightkeeper who drowned after staggering off the pier and whose ghost is alleged to haunt the place.

The lighthouse sat undisturbed, except possibly by its ghost, until the early 1940s. Then, with the advent of World War II, the Waugoshance area once again came into prominence. The area was placed "off limits" to civilians. Asphalt was laid down on some of the islands and islets to provide naval aviators with bombing practice-particularly with heat seeking missiles. The lighthouse was a target for strafing practice. Apparently, it was hit by a stray missile and the resultant fire destroyed the interior of the tower and keeper's dwelling.

Some years ago, Waugoshance was placed on the National Register of Historic Places - and promptly forgotten. The concrete pier has completely disin tegrated. Vandals, scavengers and souvenir hunters added their own special touches. Items of obvious value, such as the solid copper sheeting that covered the dome on the bird-cage lantern room, disappeared. Even the cast-iron staircase that once led to the top of the tower is now gone. Though the lighthouse may once have been a towering inferno, it was hardly a blast furnace. The iron staircase didn't just melt, it was carried away. What happened to it? Does it adorn someone's house today, or was it appropriated by some enterprising individuals who sold it as scrap? If so, they would probably prefer that this mystery be blamed on the ghost. Regardless, there is an upside to this case of the disappearing staircase - it has successfully discouraged anyone from removing the historic bird-cage lantern room that sits atop the light tower.

During early 1983, the old bullet-and-shell-ridden steel plating on the tower began to peel off. This created a safety hazard and re-exposed the soft brick to the elements. The plating has since dropped into the lake. Today, a large crack, extending from top to bottom, can be seen on the northwest side of the tower wall. In 1983, the Coast Guard surveyed the tower and recommended that it be declared surplus and demolished. This has not yet happened. The Great Lakes Lighthouse Keepers Association has requested permission to remove the historic bird-cage lantern room if and when the tower is demolished.

Today, the burned-out hulk of Waugoshance Lighthouse sits offshore like a nautical gravestone, a monument to the ships and seamen who were lost a century or more ago. Waugoshance might be thought of as the maritime equivalent of the old markers found in long-abandoned overgrown cemeteries throughout rural America - occasionally visited by the curious or those in search of their roots - and possibly haunted by spirits from the past.

A Superintendent's Nightmare: Staffing Waugoshance

Superintendent of Lighthouses was one of those "cushy" government jobs we have all heard about. However, mid-nineteenth-century "personnel records" hint at the frustration the Superintendent of Lighthouses must have experienced. The Register of Lightkeepers for the Great Lakes, preserved by the National Archives in Washington D.C., reveals that during the first four years of its operation, a total of eight people served as keepers at Waugoshance. Some did not even stay for an entire season. It had taken the Superintendent almost twenty years to convince the bureaucrats in Washington to build a lighthouse. Now that he had the latest and greatest lighthouse on all of the Great Lakes, he couldn't get anyone to staff the blasted thing. A modern analogy might be, staffing a fast-food restaurant with teenage help - just when you think you got it all worked out, somebody else quits!

The high personnel turnover at Waugoshance occurred in spite of premium pay - $400 to $600 - compared to about $350 a year for keepers of other nearby lights during the same period. An 1882 publication, Mackinaw Region and Adjacent Localities, by J. A. Fleet, contains a paragraph about Waugo-shance that might have been taken from an classified job advertisement placed by a frustrated Superintendent of Lighthouses. "On some accounts the business of lighthouse keeping is desirable. It is not excessively hard work. The lighthouse keeper is not much troubled by disagreeable neighbors. He lives in absolute freedom from miasmas, mosquitos, congestive fevers, intermittents, calomel, liver diseases, jaundice, colera morbus, dyspepsia, blue devils and duns."

Over the years, scores of lightkeepers served at Waugoshance. Some served only a short time before deciding the isolation was not for them. Others, like James Davenport, became career keepers. James was born on Mackinac Island in 1847. For a time he sailed the Great Lakes on various schooners. His sailing career was cut short by marriage in 1870. James and his bride moved to Mackinaw City where he began a career with the U.S. Lighthouse Service. On April 18, 1871, he was appointed assistant keeper at Waugoshance at a salary of $400. His experience as a seaman undoubtedly left him with an appreciation of the importance of lightkeepers and contributed toward making him a model employee.

A scant seven months after beginning his new job, James was alone at Waugo shance when the great fire in Chicago broke out. We have two accounts of his actions. The first is contained in Memories of Mackinaw, by Ranville and Campbell. "A fierce wind was blowing the smoke of a Chicago fire over Lake Michigan, creating a dense fog. It was during this lonely vigil that a schooner piled up on the Waugoshance Reef, and the crew swam ashore. In the harrowing three weeks following the wreck, the rations consisted of a meager diet of beans, their hunger perhaps somewhat abated by Captain Davenport's accomplishments on his violin, the sounds blending in with the turbulent waters of Lake Michigan."

A second account is told in The Northern Lights. "The station had a rope operated fog bell and James Davenport sounded the bell for three days without rest. He sat in a chair with the rope in one hand and several pots and pans on his lap, so that when he dozed off, the pans hit the floor and woke him up. Because of his efforts, only seven ships ran aground on nearby reefs during this long ordeal."

Were one or both of these accounts true? Three days, three weeks - did he play his violin with pots on his lap? Whatever, James Davenport remained at Waugoshance for three years. In 1874, he was appointed keeper of Petite Point Au Sable Lighthouse where he served until 1879. At that time he was transferred to Old McGulpin Point Light where he remained until 1907. His last appointment was as keeper of the Mission Point Light Station, from which he retired in 1918 with a pay of $540. James Davenport, who cut his lightkeeper's teeth, so to speak, at Waugoshance, was a dedicated keeper who faithfully served the U.S. Lighthouse Service for forty-seven years. Throughout all those years he was rewarded with a cumulative salary increase of only 35%. He must have liked the job!

Other keepers at Waugoshance included Edward Wheaton and the brothers Thomas, James, and George Marshall. Like Davenport, they were professional keepers who spent many years in the employ of the U.S. Lighthouse Service.

One keeper that I must mention is John Herman. Not much is known about the longevity of John's service; however, Waugoshance was his last post. One might say that his service was terminated prematurely. As the story goes, while in an intoxicated state, he staggered off the pier at the light station and drowned. Ever since that time, his ghost has allegedly haunted Waugoshance. There is one thing we can be sure of, the unconventional demise of Herman didn't make life any easier for the Superintendent of Lighthouses who had to staff the place. Imagine the conversation as he sat down to dinner that evening. "Honey, remember Waugoshance? You'll never guess what happened today."

Editor's note: This story originally appeared in Great Lakes Cruiser Magazine in October 1994. We have added additional photographs.

This story appeared in the September 1998 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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