Screwpiles: The Forgotten Lighthouses

Light-House Tenders (Vessels) Masters (Captains) of Light-House Tenders and Supply Vessels were also under the command of lighthouse inspectors. In addition to supplying lighthouse keepers with supplies, ship masters replaced and tended to light-vessels, buoys, stakes, day marks, and any other aids to navigation. Many served as coastal and river pilots for waters in their districts and kept corrected light and fog signal lists up to date. 13 Letters from the Keepers Some of the most telling insights into the lives of screwpile lightkeepers were in the numerous communications from keepers, including those aboard the James River lighthouses in the early 1900s. Although the National Archives only show the correspondence from lighthouse keepers to district inspectors, the letters still reveal an insight into daily life. Although a lack of polished writing skills is evident in a few letters, it is important to remember that the nature of their duties required lightkeepers to be literate. Friction is often evident between keepers and assistant keepers in their letters. Supplies were another topic of concern, and some of the letters mention the lighthouse tenders who delivered supplies periodically to the lighthouses. Lighthouse keepers also had small skiffs to make trips to shore for mail and in cases of an emergency, and those boats occasionally appear in the letters as well. The letters from E. M. Edwards, keeper of the Nansemond River Light, to Lighthouse Inspector Commander Henry McCrea from 1904 to 1905 illustrate the daily life of lighthouse keepers in the early 1900s. Many of the letters are requests for leaves of absence. On May 3, 1904, Edwards asked for a 10-day leave to spend time with his “aged and paraletic mother in Elizabeth City” and again later in the month. Other letters to the lighthouse inspectors were requests for transfers or promotions. In a continuing series of communications to McCrea, Edwards wrote the following letters beginning on March 15, 1905.

“As we finished listening to our favorite programs on our Philco radio, we decided to bring our bunks into the kitchen to be nearer the space heater. The wind was still howling outside and the structure even moaned and groaned even more. We turned off the kitchen light and proceeded to go to sleep, confident that the harsh winds would keep the fog away. During the wee hours of the morning I felt my blanket being pulled down to the foot of my bunk. It was extremely dark, and at first I thought one of the guys was playing a prank. I pulled the covers, which were pure wool and had the USLHS logo woven into them, back up around my neck and over my head. The same thing happened. Someone was playing a trick on me. Slowly, I made my way out of my bunk and edged my way across the room towards the light switch. I flicked on the switch and quickly checked on the other three bunks. The others were fast asleep. I woke each of them and told them what had happened. No one disputed me because strange things happened to them in the past as well. Could it have been that the blanket I was trying to wrest away from that stranger in the night belonged to Mr. Owens? “Another time was when I and another crewman were attacked by Navy fighter bombers. The planes dropped dummy bombs which landed in the nearby Chesapeake Bay waters and sprayed sand and mud on the 25-foot lighthouse boat that we had just painted. Today we would call it ‘friendly fire.’ I still think I should have gotten some type of combat pay for my ordeal.” Don Bishop served aboard Deep Water Shoals screwpile lighthouse and recalls that just before Thanksgiving in 1950, he saw the crew’s Thanksgiving dinner floating on the water not far from the lighthouse. “We had an old .22 rifle and it had been shot so much the bore was almost smooth. One day I saw a goose bobbing in the waves about 40 yards away. I knew it was too far for ‘old smoothie,’ but what the heck. I held about a foot over his head and let fly. Well, he dropped and we had to start lowering our boat to get him before the tide took him to sea. We got that old goose, and I took pictures and bragged about how good a shot I was. We made a stuffing and couldn’t wait to throw him in the oven. We sat talking and thinking about how good our Thanksgiving dinner was going to taste. The old bird was starting to smell. We had been cooking it for a couple of hours now and I could just see the roast in my mind. I opened the oven, took the lid off the pan, and was greeted with the most horrible dead fish smell you can ever think of. With Bill Skelton’s laughter in the background, I threw the pan and all overboard. If you look closely at the bill on the bird, you’ll see it’s not a goose, but one of the varieties of waterfowl that dive well underwater to catch large quantities of fish.” 12

From: E.M. Edwards

Dear Sir: As I am constantly bothered by people coming here to use this Station for taking Surveys of private Oyster Grounds. This has been the case for several years. I wish you to give me permission to forbid the same, unless by your permission previously obtained as its now about time for them to again do their spring survey. I would thank you for an immediate order to the request above.

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