Lighthouses are not simply inanimate towers made of brick and granite. Their walls are filled with stories of the people who lived, worked, and sometimes died there. It is the human stories that provide us with the tower’s true story and offer us a glimpse into a vanished way of life.
Some of the information contained in this article was obtained from rare oral histories and personal interviews with members of keepers’ families and local residents. Other information is excerpted from the author’s new, Shipwrecks, Scalawags and Scavengers: The Storied Waters of Pigeon Point published by Glencannon Press Maritime Books.
Pigeon Point: After the gold rush of 1849, the number of ships sailing up the California coast increased dramatically, and so did the number of shipwrecks. In spite of these shipwrecks, it took years of petitioning the U.S. Lighthouse Service Board before money was allocated for a lighthouse at Pigeon Point.
H.A. Scofield, editor of the San Mateo County Gazette, was particularly ardent. “Pigeon Point is the most extensive promontory on the coast south of the Golden Gate, and the point seems especially adapted for a lighthouse,” he stressed. “No other place on the Pacific Coast has proved so fatal to navigators as this locality. Several vessels have been wrecked in that vicinity within the past few years and many lives have been lost.”
At the end of 1868, Congress appropriated $90,000 for a lighthouse at Pigeon Point, and two years later the site was purchased. In 1871, before a light became functional, a fog signal went into service. According to Diane Bettencourt, when the tower was erected in 1872, her great grandfather, Manuel Bernard, “boasted that he painted the first coat of white paint on the lighthouse.”
Pigeon Point housed a head keeper and three assistant keepers in a two-story Victorian style home. Divided into four apartments, the residents grew to know each other well. Sometimes members of the families played cards together in the evenings and enjoyed home made fudge. On other occasions they went swimming and shared picnics on the beach.
While there were many advantages to the living arrangement, there was one disadvantage the residents all agreed on. The house was located too near the fog signal. “When we’d have to hear that old fog horn, we’d think, oh, what a miserable noise,” Jessie Mygrants Davis, the daughter of one of the later keepers declared, “but when we’d think of all those men on all those ships on the briny deep, we could tolerate it.”
Keepers’ Tales: Between 1871 and 1939, over a dozen men served the U.S. Lighthouse Service as principal keeper at Pigeon Point. Many more served as assistant keepers. Anecdotes about these men put a human face on the often romanticized view of a lighthouse keeper’s life. Some were heroes, some were scamps, but all are part of Pigeon Point’s history.
Richard H. Fairchild served as head keeper of the lighthouse from 1873 to 1875. As a young man, he came across country on a wagon train pulled by oxen. His first job was delivering mail in Santa Cruz. “That’s how he met his wife, Maggie,” Linda Rogers, his great granddaughter, explained. “He showed up riding a white horse and she thought he was her knight in shining armor.”
Although the lighthouse at Pigeon Point undoubtedly reduced the number of shipwrecks that occurred, it couldn’t prevent them entirely. In 1896, the Colombia, a passenger steamer making its first run from Panama to San Francisco, ran aground just south of the tower. Head Keeper James Marner was on watch when he heard the vessel strike. A veteran seaman, Marner had served on many ships and viewed them with great sentiment.
Looking down from the lighthouse tower, Keeper Marner watched the ship succumb to the sea. “She was lifted by the roll of the sea and dropped again, onto the rocks. She breathed out her life in great struggles with the waves,” he exclaimed. “Do you see how she fights for life? She won’t let go of the rock. She’s afraid of going down if she does. She thinks she’ll hold on and live a little longer. But it’s useless. She is not to be saved.” Left in ruins, the once grand vessel was dynamited three months later.
In 1913, Keeper John E. Lind saw the steam schooner Point Arena sink as it was loading a cargo of tanbark. “The seas were quite rough that day,” he reported. Unexpectedly, the ship fouled a mooring line in her propeller. Lifting and falling with the breakers, she tore a hole amidships. As the sea foamed over the deck, the captain ordered everyone to abandon ship. Keeper Lind and the stunned crew could only watch as the vessel sank into the churning water.
During the 1920s and 1930s, when prohibition was in full swing, the flow of liquor from the sea was unprecedented. After California voted to join other dry states, rum runners flocked to the coast. Secluded coves like Pigeon Point were ideal locations for their illicit operations.
Jesse Mygrants was assistant keeper in 1925 when the schooner Pilgrim ran afoul of the rocks beneath the lighthouse tower. Aboard were two smugglers and a cargo of illegal brew valued at $10,000. “They were quite ruthless men,” his daughter, Jessie Mygrants Davis, observed.
“We’d watch for them. They always came on moonlit nights, so we could see them clearly.
They sailed in on the south side of the tower and were audacious enough to use the lighthouse derrick to unload their ships. Once, one of the dories hit the rocks and the cargo was lost. There were lots of divers in the area after that.”
In 1932, Head Keeper Gerhard W. Jaehne became a real-life hero when he saved eleven men from a wrecked fishing vessel. The Western Spirit was caught in the worst sleet squall in twenty years and smashed to pieces on the rocks below Pigeon Point. Keeper Jaehne was later honored by the Coast Guard with the Treasury Department’s Albert Gallatin Award, the highest award given to civilians. “The tribute is especially meaningful,” his grandson Claude Bond reflected, “because he was the last head keeper before the Coast Guard took over.”
A New Era: From 1955 to 1960, Chief David L. Nimmo was Pigeon Point’s head keeper. He and his family were the last to live in the old Victorian keepers’ quarters before it was demolished by the Coast Guard to make way for four bungalow structures. Keeper Nimmo’s step-daughter, JoLynn Werner, commented, “My brother and one sister sat on the bulldozer as it was heading for the once fantastic house.”
Throughout the 1970s, Pigeon Point entered an era of “modernization” when the Coast Guard launched its Lighthouse Automation Program. Boatswain’s Mate James A. Hanks was head keeper in 1972 when Pigeon Point was automated with a twenty-four inch aero-beacon. “We were upset when we heard the lighthouse would be automated,” his wife, Anne, admitted. “Economically that’s what they’re supposed to do, but it just didn’t seem right - tradition, I guess.”
During their stay at Pigeon Point, the Hanks’ had some untraditional pets. “Jim would go down to the office with his ducks, Click and Clack, following him,” Mrs. Hanks mused. “They loved him and would sit outside the door of the lighthouse waiting for him.” Apparently, the ducks weren’t fond of everyone. “Once, they bit the group commander who came to conduct an inspection,” she chuckled. “They had good taste!”
In 1974, all personnel were withdrawn except one family which remained as caretakers. On April 15, Boatswain’s Mate Jerry S. Jolley was the last keeper to secure the station. “Placed light and fog signal in operation. All equipment normal. Station secured and automated,” he reported in his final log entry. “It was very sad,” his wife, Joyce, noted, “because we didn’t know what would happen to the lighthouse after we left.”
In 1980, Pigeon Point was declared a State Historic Landmark. That same year, the Coast Guard cottages became a hostel which is open for overnight stays. Public tours were initiated in 1984 by the California State Parks. Although the tower needs repair and has been closed to the public since 2001, a new Visitor Center opened in 2007. Housed in the fog signal building, it sends a message that the people of Pigeon Point are more than just a passing memory.
This story appeared in the
October 2008 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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