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Remarks by: Bob Trapani, Jr., Executive Director, American
Lighthouse Foundation
I would like to start off by thanking the U.S. Coast Guard Lightship Sailors
and the Coast Guard Heritage Museum for this opportunity to address such a
wonderful group of preservationists and Coastguardsmen.
As we gather today to celebrate the dedication of a permanent exhibit to
honor our nation’s proud lightship sailors and the legacy they forged upon
the waters of our country, it’s obvious that this achievement goes much
deeper than simply recalling the grand service of lightships.
Accounts of steel-hulled vessels and historic statistics are just a part of
this human-interest story here at the Museum. For this lightship exhibit
will no doubt touch the hearts of countless people who will learn,
understand and appreciate what it meant to be a lightship sailor for many
years to come.
For the U.S. Coast Guard Lightship Sailors and the Coast Guard Heritage
Museum, this is your moment in time – to save and interpret a compelling
chapter in our maritime history that will not repeat itself.
Without the collective vision of this wonderful partnership – and the
dedicated action necessary to transform a moving concept into powerful
reality, the stories of our lightship heritage and the memories of the true
‘shining lights’ of these vessels – the crewmembers themselves, may have
faded further from the nation’s public consciousness.
Therefore it cannot be overstated as to the value of your efforts. Thanks to
this unique collaboration, the story of what it meant to be a lightship
sailor and the indelible contributions the crews made in the name of human
benevolence will be preserved, and more importantly, shared forevermore with
the public.
Our lightship sailors in attendance today know this all too well, but for
those less familiar with this great service, it is safe to say that
lightship sailors were a hardy breed, unafraid to go to sea and keep a good
light at locations where no lighthouse could be built – and along some of
the most dangerous shipping lanes in the country.
These lightkeeping sailors asked no questions and gave no quarter in the
face of countless dangers posed by storms and collisions with passing
vessels, not to mention the undeniable affects of solitude and routine.
Lightship sailors exemplified the meaning of the words ‘duty’ and
‘discipline.’
I personally do not profess to understand what it truly meant to be a
lightship sailor. I doubt few honestly could without having experienced the
duty firsthand, but I can say that I have the deepest respect for this
service based on the many moving accounts and contributions to mankind that
I have read about over the years.
I therefore will lean a bit on the words of others who did know and live the
lightship way of life in an effort to further express the meaning of this
historic dedication ceremony.
The following U.S. Lighthouse Service account from 1936 sheds light on the
instant action and discipline it took to save a lightship in the midst of a
would-be panic situation such as a collision with another vessel.
The heroic actions of the crew not only saved their own lives, such efforts
also saved the lightship itself. Talk about valor and pride coming together
in a moment’s notice.
(QUOTE) “Boston Lightship No. 54 was collided with by the British steamer
Seven Seas Spray on the morning of December 20, 1935, resulting in
serious damage. The lightship was cut into amidships in way of coal bunker
port side for a distance of about 3 feet, and from the top of the bulwark
rail down to 4 feet below the water line. The vessel was saved from sinking
by the action of the master and crew in stopping the opening with bags of
coal, reducing leakage to amount which could be controlled by the ship’s
pumps.” (END QUOTE)
When we think of ships at sea, we often think of storms. Needless to say,
lightships rode out many a storm, including powerful hurricanes, while other
ships scurried for safer harbors during these times.
One such example of a lightship going toe to toe with a powerful storm can
be found in another U.S. Lighthouse Service account of the great hurricane
of September 17-18, 1936 that caused Diamond Shoals Lightship No. 105
and Winter Quarter Lightship No. 107 to drag anchor and Chesapeake
Lightship No. 116 to part her moorings.
In describing the storm accounts involving these lightships, U.S. Lighthouse
Service commissioner Harold D. King noted, (QUOTE) “The above is a
matter-of-fact recital of events, behind which, however, lies a type of
humanitarian public service, characterized by steadfastness and faithfulness
to the point of heroism. That it is inconspicuous and even routine, to those
who know and understand, adds to, rather than detracts from, the
appreciation of what it means to stay and ‘take it,’ when all other craft at
sea are advised and expected to seek their own safety. That such ideals
continue to pervade the personnel of the Lighthouse Service both afloat and
ashore is a constant reassurance for future, at times when demands for
rights are more vocal than desire of opportunity for the faithful through
unheralded service of those who stand and wait.” (END QUOTE)
A keen observation of lightship duty was captured in the article ‘A
Lightship Rides the Gale,’ from the American Merchant Marine Library
Association’s Sea Letter of October 1936:
(QUOTE) “Lightship crews are unsung heroes of the deep. Their duty is to
warn vessels away from danger before disaster occurs, and in the performance
of this they ride at anchor, isolated from the world of men. It means
countless monotonous hours month after month and year after year. In great
storms they do not flee to port with other vessels of their size, but stay
on the job, buffeted and tossed by angry seas.” (END QUOTE)
The article continues by quoting Captain Eric H. Lindman of the light vessel
Swiftsure, anchored off the coast of Washington:
During storms, (QUOTE) “the noise of the wind and the sea at such a time
beggars description. The water writhed and steamed like a bowl of boiling
milk. The air was full of innumerable tiny particles of water torn from the
crests of the waves until the air was so thick, we could barely see half the
length of our vessel.”
“The foghorn was blowing, but one could scarcely hear it. Screaming fiends
seemed to be racing along the outer deck. To add to the pandemonium, objects
broken loose by the wild corkscrew wallowings on the vessel set up an
unearthly clatter as they raced about in the alleys and on the decks below.
“
“Soon the waves broke over the pilot house. The water would force itself
into the ship through every fissure; no matter how small, even squirting in
through the keyholes of the outer cabin doors in the pilot house. It was
impossible to sleep, and the sailors welcomed the order to ‘turn to’ and
make all articles fast. It was something to take their minds off the storm.”
(END QUOTE)
According to Alexander Anderson, master of Fenwick Island Lightship No. 52,
regarding the gale of January 1, 2, and 3, 1925:
(QUOTE) “I beg leave to state the condition and action of this vessel during
the three days gale, which blew at hurricane force at times. The wind being
from the northeast and the sea from the southeast, the vessel lay in the
trough of the sea all the time, and took one sea after another over the
quarter afterdeck. Gangways were flooded, decks over cabin leaked, and also
the wireless house. Deck and skylight over engine leaked, and all around
bunker plates over coal bunkers and oil engine.”
“The engineer and firemen were wet all day. I never saw the vessel roll as
badly as in this last gale. Engineer Johnson, who has been on vessel since
1892, said he has never seen anything like this.” (END QUOTE)
There were no doubt lighthouses that proved undesirable duty stations
because of their remoteness or sea-swept locations, but a lighthouse was a
fixed structure that offered a sort of stable reprieve from the dangers at
sea. A lightship on the other hand had no place to hide and was anything but
stable as it held station in the midst of raging tempests.
Lightship sailors were uncommonly dedicated to their station at sea; they
kept a good light; made sure the foghorn was bellowing its audible warning
during periods of fog and thick weather; maintained a quality daymark for
vessels to spot during daytime hours with their distinctive red hulls and
endured transiting vessels passing by too close – and on occasion, incurring
a bone rattling collision that immediately threatened the safety of the
lightship and her crew.
With that said, I would be remised if I did not mention the
Nantucket Lightship tragedy, which is an eternal sad reminder to us all of
the dangers that lightships and their crews once faced at sea.
For those in the audience who are unaware, the White Star
liner Olympic, sister ship to the ill-fated Titanic, cut
through Nantucket Lightship # 117 on the morning of May 15, 1934.
The 40,000 ton ship was making 16-knots at the time of the
disaster. The sheer size of the ship, along with the speed and weather
conditions, made for a tragic situation that unfolded in a matter of mere
seconds.
The collision, which occurred during foggy weather, naturally
caught the unsuspecting crew off-guard and left the servicemen with no time
to react.
Four crewmen of light vessel #117 lost their lives instantly,
and three others died later from injuries they suffered. The captain and
three crewmen were fortunate to survive this horrible ordeal.
The crewmen on this lightship paid the ultimate price for trying to
safeguard others at sea – a sacrifice we should never forget. In all, over
55 lightship sailors lost their lives in the line of duty.
To show just how unique lightship duty was, let’s compare numbers with
lighthouses. It is estimated that approximately 1,600 lighthouses were built
throughout our nation’s history, dating as far back as 1716 with the
construction of the first lighthouse at Boston Light Station.
In comparison, according to U.S. Lighthouse Service statistics, there were
only 111 lightship stations ever established. The maximum number of
lightships in service at any one given time was 56 in 1909.
From that point forward, the number of lightship stations continued to
dwindle until they were removed altogether from America’s waters with the
decommissioning of the Nantucket Lightship Station in 1983.
And sadly, as this group here knows all too well, there are only 17
lightships remaining in existence today, which makes today’s dedication of a
permanent lightship exhibit here at the Coast Guard Heritage Museum that
much more vital to America’s maritime history.
All this brings us full circle, for before the men who served aboard
lightships were lightship sailors, they were first – and forevermore, proud
Coastguardsmen.
Today the United States Coast Guard continues to protect our nation’s
waterways and vast coastline with vigilance and valor, and in doing so, the
Coast Guard makes new history each and every day.
There to record this wonderful history is the Coast Guard Heritage Museum,
which has and will continue to preserve these incredible Coast Guard
contributions on behalf of our great country for future generations.
Thanks to this partnership between the U.S. Coast Guard Lightship Sailors
and the Coast Guard Heritage Museum, the ‘anchors’ of your lightship
history, valor, dedication and human benevolence will never drag off
station, but rather hold fast for posterity here forward.
And as the public visits the Coast Guard Heritage Museum to learn about the
U.S. Coast Guard’s past, present and future, your accomplishments will be
shared with new audiences -- individuals who will come to better understand
what it meant to be a lightship sailor -- to stand duty in the face of
danger – and take it.
In closing, it is with great pride that we can honor all lightship sailors
today by saying, rest assured, your contributions to America are now shining
bright here at the Coast Guard Heritage Museum.
It is now a deck watch we all share with you as we work together to preserve
your rich legacy.
Welcome aboard shipmates!
Thank you.
Posted: 11/13/2008 |
