Do you know anyone who grew up in a lighthouse?
Well, here is a true story of the Roberts family's three generations of lighthouse keepers in the U. S. Lighthouse Service. Their dedication and devotion began in 1894 when grandfather was assigned to the Cape Saint George Lighthouse in Apalachicola, Florida, and lasted for over fifty-eight years and three generations. This story, recorded by a family member, is all about their lighthouses, family lives, duties of maintaining & operating the lighthouses along with childhood stories of his growing up on lighthouse stations during the depression years.
A review by The St. Simon's Soundings, Fort Walton Beach, Florida: "This life at the lighthouse has succumbed to electric power, automation and GPS and it was wonderful to hear of it from one who was there; the author informs and entertains with tales of his youth. Moreover, Billy Roberts is a breath of true history for all of us who have recently become 'natives' of this Gulf Coast".
William was born in Carrabelle, Florida, while his father was an assistant keeper at the Crooked River Lighthouse. He has lived on lighthouse stations for over twenty-five years and attended local Florida schools in Apalachicola and Port Saint Joe; graduated from The Florida State University in 1950. While serving his company as contract administrator, he enrolled in The Florida State University Graduate School and is the author of two technical documents submitted to the graduate school as partial fullfillment of the requirements of the MBA degree program. Additionally, he authored several labor and cost saving documents that are currently being used by his company.
He retired from his company after 35 years service as an accountant, contract administrator and senior contracts manager and lives in Mary Esther, Florida, with his wife of 57 years, Verner Mahon Roberts. They have four children, five grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.
He is a lighthouse historian and story teller and has presented his lighthouse lecture series to numerous historical societies, churches, universities and interested organizations throughout Northwest and North Florida.
When I was four years old, my parents agreed I could spend the next two years on Saint George Island with my father until I was school age. As Dad and I took care of the lighthouse on the island, Mother took care of her two children in Apalachicola; they spent the summers and holidays on the island with us.
Dad taught me how to fish, bait a hook, steer the lighthouse boat, steer the horse and wagon and to navigate the deep waters of Apalachicola Bay using the beacons and buoys. I learned how to read a compass before I went to school. He taught me the meaning of doing a job right the first time, responsibilities, honesty and loyalty.
He let me steer the boat on the days we “tended” the beacons in the bay. The five or six beacons burned kerosene and we refueled the beacons on a set schedule. On days when the bay was calm, I would steer the boat to a beacon ladder; Dad would stand on the bow of the boat with a five-gallon kerosene can in the crook of his elbow; climb the ladder; refuel the beacon as I circled the boat around the beacon until he signaled. I drove the boat to the ladder, he would get on board and we would be off to the next beacon. On days when the bay was rough or rainy, I became the designated rider as Keeper Silva and Dad took care of the steering.
I often steered the boat on our weekly trips to Apalachicola for supplies and mail. We always docked the lighthouse boat at the Marks Brokerage Company docks on the Apalachicola River waterfront and visited with Dad’s friends, DeWitt, Homer and Aubrey Marks while we shopped for groceries. During the summer, Dad kept our car parked in a garage near the Marks Brokerage Company building. When we completed our shopping and errand running, we stopped by the Jitney Jungle store for a few slices of sandwich meat (called “boneless ham”), bread, mayonnaise and soft drinks (Cokes were known as “dopes”) and drove to our house for lunch. Our friends, the Porters, nicknamed me “Cap’n” and called me by that name until I was a teenager and moved to Port Saint Joe.
One of my jobs was to help Day with painting chores around the station, working on lights and boat repairs. I remember one cold day he was working in the boat on the lift and asked for a wrench (I was in charge of the toolbox), I handed the wrench to him but it slipped out of my hand and fell into the water. Being four or five years old, I became frightened as to what he might say or do. Without hesitation, he removed his clothes and jumped into the water, dove to the bottom and picked up the wrench. I thought he was Superman! While drying and putting on his clothes, he looked at me, smiled and said “No big deal”. Those may not be his exact words but that is the kind of person he was.
One of my daily tasks was to assist Dad with preparing the lantern room each morning after the light was extinguished. He would wipe, clean and polish the lens and brass works while I hung the canvas curtains using a long pole with a gadget on the end to hold the curtain rings. The curtains were hung on three sides of the lantern room to keep the sun off the lens. The curtains were made of soft canvas material about three feet wide and six feet long and hung from the wall hooks. The curtains were taken down at sundown, folded and neatly stowed in the lantern room until the next morning when they were hung for the day. We did not use curtains on the north side of the lantern room.