Lore - Episode 173: Darkness and Light

Episode Date: June 21, 2021

On the edge of the world, where risk and danger crash constantly against the shores of civilization, stands a type of ancient guardian that everyone recognizes, but few truly understand. And there’s at least one mystery waiting for those brave enough to explore them. ———————— This episode of Lore was sponsored by: Audible: Audible is offering our listeners a free 30-day trial. Just browse the unmatched selection of audio programs, download a free title, and start listening—it’s that easy. To get started today, just visit Audible.com/lore or text “LORE” to 500-500. Casper: From bedding, bed frames, and even a dog bed, Casper has everything to build the dream bedroom—for every kind of sleeper. Visit Casper.com to get $100 off your mattresses order by using the offer code LORE100. Terms and conditions apply. SimpliSafe: Secure your home with 24/7 professional monitoring for just $15 a month. No contracts, no salespeople, just simple and easy security. Visit SimpliSafe.com/Lore today, and you’ll get a FREE HD Camera. ———————— Lore Resources:  Episode Music: lorepodcast.com/music  Episode Sources: lorepodcast.com/sources  All the shows from Grim & Mild: www.grimandmild.com Learn more about your ad-choices at https://www.iheartpodcastnetwork.com Access premium content!: https://www.lorepodcast.com/support See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

There's something special about a family legacy. I'm sure we've all heard about people who have the same occupation as one of their parents, and I can't help but smile when that happens. The watchmaker who learned the trade from his father, or the artist who inherited the tools and training from hers. In some professions, this family affair keeps old skills alive. It preserves them for one more lifetime, allowing the chain to keep going. But one family takes the prize for the most committed to that mission, and they earned

it by passing down the same occupation from generation to generation for over 170 years. The Knot family kicked off their amazing run in 1730. Bounding father William Knot worked at the job for 50 years, passing away in 1780. But his son had entered the trade 13 years earlier and put in 41 years of his own. On and on they went, making sure the next generation understood the power and responsibility of their simple little job. Along the way, the Knot's intermarried with the two other longest-serving families in their profession, creating one giant network of like-minded people.

But while all of that is fascinating and even a bit delightful, what's most interesting is the career they all devoted their lives to. All of them, you see, were lighthouse keepers. It's a legacy worth celebrating, partly for the devotion and sheer longevity of it all, but also for the risk this family took in the call of duty. Their task might seem simple to us today, to keep the light burning all the time, but it was a job filled with countless dangers. By taking a closer look at the lives of a few lighthouse keepers throughout history,

one lesson seems to shine brighter than all the rest. The closer one stood to the light, the darker the shadows became. I'm Aaron Mankey, and this is Lore. They are some of the most distinctive buildings in the world, and their recognition is almost universal. A tall tower of stone with a light on top. Maybe it's the simplicity of it all that's made them memorable, or perhaps it's the pure logic of their purpose.

Humans have been building these coastal lights for thousands of years, and the rules have always been the same. The brighter the lights and the higher up it was placed, the more visible that light would be to passing ships. Lighthouses just make sense. The most famous one is probably the lighthouse of Alexandria, officially called the pharaohs. It was so magnificent that it was considered one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, but it was destroyed by a series of earthquakes, finally disappearing around the early 15th

century. The oldest standing lighthouse in the world is most likely the Tower of Hercules in Spain, but it's no longer in use. One of the oldest lighthouses in the United States, though, still is. The Boston Light was constructed in the city's harbor back in 1716, the first on colonial soil, in fact, although it was rebuilt about 70 years later. Since then, it's kept Boston Harbor safe. But it's also the place where the first lighthouse keeper in what would one day become the United

States died on the job. George Worthy Lake had been in the position of lighthouse keeper there for just over two years when he took his family to shore for a church service on November 3rd of 1718. On the way back, the canoe they were using capsized, and everyone on board tragically drowned. Clearly, the job of lighthouse keeper was one that came with a lot of risks, bad weather, treacherous conditions, and the remote location of their workplace all increased the dangers of their job, and a powerful example can be found off the coast of southern Georgia on

St. Simon's Island. The first lighthouse built on the island went up in 1810 and stood 75 feet tall. But during the Civil War, the Confederate forces were worried that the Union Navy might use the light for navigation, so they destroyed it. The structure that replaced it, and the one still standing today, was built in 1872. It was taller and brighter than its predecessor, but apparently no less susceptible to the darkness of life. In March of 1880, lighthouse keeper Frederick Osborne and his assistant John Stevens squared

off for a duel. The reason for their argument is lost to time, although some speculate it was over an insult pointed at one of their wives. Regardless, Stevens won, thanks to the fact that he brought a shotgun to the duel when Osborne only had a pistol. Stevens was arrested for murder, then acquitted, and then returned to the lighthouse to keep working. In the years that followed, Stevens reported hearing footsteps climbing the long spiral

staircase that led to the top of the tower. He was known to blame the sounds on Osborne, but whether or not it was actually a ghost, it's clear that Stevens was haunted by something, most likely guilt. Years later, in the early 1900s, the Spenson family moved in and worked there for decades. They too reported hearing the mysterious footsteps, and even claimed to have received mechanical assistance from an invisible presence, someone who knew the lighthouse and its inner workings better than them. Across the Atlantic, there is another lighthouse that has put its keepers at risk.

Off the far west coast of Wales, and even farther west off the coast of a large island, is a tiny island, and standing there, overlooking the angry waters of the ocean, is the South Stack lighthouse. Built in 1809, it stands nearly 100 feet tall, and its light can be seen nearly 30 miles away. Which is a good thing, because the coastline there is incredibly treacherous, thanks to the combination of the sharp rocks invisible beneath the surface, and the violent storms that blow in to toss ships around like toys.

But that's not the only dangerous feature of the lighthouse, because to get there, you have to cross the suspension bridge. It was constructed in 1829 to allow lighthouse keepers and their supplies to travel on foot from the big island to the small one. To reach it, one had to descend 400 steps down a winding path cut into the rock to where the bridge began. And on the night of October 25th of 1859, that metal walkway became the most dangerous place to be.

A storm had blown in unexpectedly, one that was so powerful that it earned its own name, the Royal Charter Gale. The Royal Charter was a massive steamer that went down in the storm, claiming 500 lives, but it wasn't the only one. Over 130 ships were sunk by the hurricane-like wind and waves. And it was in the middle of all that chaos that the assistant lighthouse keeper, a man named Jack Jones, was returning to work. As he crossed the suspension footbridge, a stone was blown loose from one of the cliff

faces and it collided with his head, knocking him down and fracturing his skull. Somehow, despite the pain and the blood and the wind, Jones managed to crawl the rest of the way across the bridge and up the long, grassy hill to the lighthouse, where he pounded on the door for help. No matter how many times he knocked, though, the headkeeper inside, Henry Bowen, didn't hear him. It wasn't until the next morning that Bowen stepped outside to inspect the damage from the storm that he found Jones still alive but unconscious.

But although he held on for three long weeks, his injuries eventually proved too extensive to mend, and he tragically passed away. The vocation of a lighthouse keeper is clearly a dangerous one. Between the extreme conditions and remote locations, many keepers throughout history put their lives on the line just by showing up for work, but few can hold the candle to one of the darkest mysteries in the history of the job. Because in a profession known for always being there, the most frightening stories happen when the people responsible for the work are gone.

Every mystery story has a powerful setting. Whether it's Agatha Christie's Orient Express or the mansion from Clue, the location of a story can be as important as the characters themselves, and this tale is no exception. First let's get our geography settled. Scotland is the northernmost country on the island of Great Britain, but it has its own islands scattered around as well. Off the northwestern coast of Scotland is a collection of islands called the Hebrides. Some hug the mainland pretty tightly, but the rest are farther out in the Atlantic.

And roughly 20 miles beyond them, deeper still into the ocean, is a tiny collection of islands that together add up to less than 150 acres of land. They are cold and harsh and unforgiving, and for a very long time they've been referred to as the Seven Hunters. Today though, most people know them as the Flannan Isles. The largest of these tiny islands, traditionally called Alynmore, is barely more than 43 acres, but it's incredibly inaccessible. That's because the island, like the others around it, is the very tip of an underwater

mountain, and because of this, the surface of the island is close to 200 feet above the ocean waves, with sheer cliffs on all sides and only a small handful of grassy landings below. Now, I can understand wondering why anyone would want to live there, but apparently humans have been in that area for a long time. And thanks to a 17th century document, we know that people have had some pretty strange beliefs about the place. Residents of the closest major island used to sail there once a year to collect bird

eggs and feathers, but if the wind changed abruptly or their rituals were broken in some way, they would leave as quickly as they could. Shepherds were also reported to take their flocks to graze there on the small grassy landings, but again, superstition ruled their activities. They believed something otherworldly lived there, and that same 17th century document, written by a Scottish writer named Martin Martin, described that small skeletons had once been dug out of the ground there. It's easy to see how some people could have believed that the remains were of fairy folk

or some other creature. And it's in this place, isolated from the rest of the world, constantly thrashed by brutal weather and possibly haunted by otherworldly creatures that the people of Scotland decided to build a lighthouse. As you can imagine, those tall cliffs proved a challenge, but after four years of construction, it was completed in 1899, and it was a welcome addition. Thanks to its high elevation, with the bright light being some 275 feet above sea level, it could easily be seen from 30 miles away.

Even the weather was good, that is, and it rarely was. But still, having a light out there among the dangerous rocks was necessary, so staff were sent there to operate it. They had an elaborate system, too. There were four lighthouse keepers scheduled on a rotation that always had three on site with a fourth away on leave. Every couple of weeks, a supply ship would sail up to one of the grassy landings, one on the west side and one on the east, and unload supplies and the returning keeper.

Their keeper would then rotate out, get on the ship, and leave until the next trip. James Ducott was the primary lighthouse keeper there. He was 43 with a wife and four children back on the mainland, and had over two decades of experience under his belt. And working with him was Donald MacArthur, a former soldier with a hot temper and brand new to the occupation. Thomas Marshall was the younger unmarried assistant lighthouse keeper, and Joseph Moore was the fourth.

It was a good system in a challenging place. The weather was sometimes violent, and the working conditions were stressful. But this was the job they signed up for, and they knew it was important work. Ships passing near the Hebrides needed their guiding light to stay out of danger, and these men kept the light burning. For the first year, this is how the lighthouse operated. In December of 1900, though, all of that changed. On the 15th, a passing ship called the Arctaur noticed that the lighthouse was dark, and made

a note to inform the authorities when they reached Porte, all the way on the other side of Scotland, near Edinburgh. But along the way, they struck a rock and took on water, which slowed their trip considerably. By the time word was received and a rescue ship sent out, it had been 11 days since the Arctaur had passed the Dark Island. So when supplies and relief finally arrived, they were hopeful to discover that it had just been a glitch, or a momentary lapse in the operations there. Instead, they found something far more serious than a simple mistake, and more frightening

than even the worst they could imagine. It was a scene of chaos, an utter destruction. They should have known something was wrong when their signal went unanswered. The Hesperus arrived at Eiland Moor on December 26th, with fresh supplies and the relief lighthouse keeper Joseph Moor. But things didn't go according to plan when they approached the island. Typically, the ship would send up a flare to catch the attention of the people working up top, who would reply with a signal of their own.

Then the keepers would head down to the landing at the base of the island to welcome them. But on this day, their flare didn't seem to do the trick. So Moor decided that he would go see what the problem was. He left the Hesperus and climbed into a smaller boat, rowing over to the landing. He would later record that the moment he stepped foot on the island, a sensation of foreboding seemed to descend upon him, like a dark, cold blanket. And other than the sounds of the wind and waves, the island seemed to be completely silent.

But once he reached the top of the island, he entered the lighthouse. There he found the living quarters completely empty. In the kitchen, everything was clean and put away, just as it would have been between meals. And the beds had all been made as well. And there's a rumor that after climbing the stairs to the top of the tower, Moor found three enormous black birds waiting there, and they flew off when he approached. Unsettled and confused, he returned to the Hesperus and reported his findings. Together with the captain of the ship, Moor planned a deeper search.

He and two crewmen returned to the lighthouse, while the Hesperus sailed back to the mainland to get in touch with officials about what seemed to have happened. And it was while the ship was gone that the search began to uncover darker clues. Now up to this point, they had been using the east landing because the wind direction made it safer to approach from that side. But from the lighthouse, Moor and the others were finally able to climb down and inspect the west landing. But what they found left them confused and nervous.

A box of mooring ropes lay on the landing, smashed to pieces from falling nearly 200 feet from the ledge above. Rope lay scattered about, but a good amount of it was missing. The iron railing that protected the west landing was also mangled, as if something large had struck it. And the life preserver that had been secured nearby was gone as well. Back up top, Moor and the others noticed that a massive patch of soil had been ripped out of the top of the island.

Now remember, he had worked there for months, so he knew those 40 acres like the back of his hand. And he also noted that a large rock, which experts estimate to have weighed nearly a ton, had been moved. The most mysterious thing of all though was perhaps the fact that all of this damage was not mentioned in the lighthouse logbook. Had the missing keepers known about the damage, they would have recorded their findings there. And yet not a single mention of it could be found.

And no one could ask the men, because they were gone. Now there have been a lot of theories tossed around over the years. Some people have proposed that one of the lighthouse keepers had become violent, killed the other two and then thrown himself into the ocean, sort of a seaside murder suicide. And it's true that Donald MacArthur, one of the assistant keepers, was a volatile man prone to angry outbursts. But it's a theory that doesn't explain why two raincoats were missing while the third still hung on a hook indoors.

Some folks have latched on to the supernatural reputation of the island. Clearly, they say, something otherworldly visited the place, and all three men were lost in whatever chaos followed. I've even read that some people suspect alien abduction. But while the legends about the place do provide a dark foundation, it's more likely that their disappearance was due to something much more natural. Let me also add this. The internet is filled with reports about food left on the table, chairs overturned,

and entries in the logbook that show the crew going mad. Except the first time those pieces of information appeared in print was 1965. And it turns out the author made all of it up. But of course, people on the internet have always been good at taking information they like and confusing it with the truth. In the end, though, we just don't know what happened to the three men of the Flannan lighthouse. The most likely story is that a major storm blew in and two of them stepped out into the rain and wind to secure anything that might blow away.

And in the process, put themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. The bad weather and angry sea did the rest. Sadly, we will never know for sure. 120 years later, experts are still making guesses, feeling their way through uncharted waters in hopes of reaching the right destination, and for the light of truth to lead them there. For the Flannan lighthouse mystery, though, the beacon has gone out. It's clear that lighthouses were a dangerous place to work. From their unbearable isolation to the harsh environment found at the boundary between

land and sea, those towers of stone are a poor protection from the risk they invite. And while most of them have been automated over the past few decades, even that speaks to just how challenging the work really was. This could be so bad there that it was better to just remove humans from the equation altogether. But it can't be overlooked that generations of people put their lives on the line to keep the light burning so that ships could navigate safely through dangerous waters. Selfless sacrifice is noble, but exceedingly rare. For the three men who went missing from the Flannan lighthouse in December of 1900, that

sacrifice took everything. All theories aside, from aliens or curses to hurricane winds or massive waves, it's clear that life there on that tiny island was one of constant risk, and eventually, the danger caught up with them. And if the stories are true, it didn't go away. One of the lighthouse keepers to follow in their footsteps was a man named John McLaughlin. In 1904, while working up near the light at the top of the tower, he somehow slipped and fell to his death.

Other lighthouse keepers there reported hearing voices in the night, voices that sometimes spoke the names of the missing men. And do you remember how I told you that there were four men assigned to the lighthouse, three of which were always on and one was off? There was actually a fifth man named William Ross, who was away on medical leave. Donald MacArthur, the hot-headed soldier, was actually just his replacement. Well, after recovering, William Ross was assigned elsewhere, probably unwilling to return to where his friends and co-workers mysteriously vanished from.

But just a year and a half after their disappearance, Ross dropped dead while working in the lightroom. His cause of death was unknown. Over the years, the officials who oversaw the Flannan lighthouse had to fight an uphill battle against the rumors. They were so bad that for a while it was nearly impossible to find anyone else willing to be stationed there. And even the Arktur, the first ship to notice a problem there at the lighthouse, eventually disappeared as well, vanishing in the North Atlantic in 1912.

One more thing, in the early 1950s, a man named Walter Adelbert was assigned to the Flannan lighthouse and he arrived with a keen interest in the decades-old mystery. So when he wasn't fulfilling his duties there, he spent his time documenting the weather conditions that assaulted the island. And what he discovered was frightening. In one of his photographs, Walter captured a wave so tall that the spray coming off it actually pelted the lightroom at the top of the tower, nearly 300 feet above sea level. And on another occasion, he reported stepping outside the lighthouse only to watch another

wave roll across the open land at the top of the island. And as it receded, it nearly pulled him with it. Yes, the events of that cold December night in 1900 will forever remain a mystery. Without solid proof, we will never be able to button it up and close the case. But it seems as if the most likely answer has been crashing against the island all along, even though most people don't think it was possible. It's a lesson we can all take to heart and just one of the elements that makes folklore so powerful and timeless.

Just because we believe something can happen doesn't mean it never will. I think you'd agree that there's something magical and attractive about lighthouses. Maybe it's the romantic nature of life there on the ocean, or the simplicity of their purpose. Me, I think it's a bit of all of that, but I also think that irony is what pulls us in. That in a place of all that light, there can also be so much darkness. And I've saved one more amazing tale that I want to share with you that seems to capture all of those pieces. Stick around after this brief sponsor break to hear all about it.

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Public mobile, different as calling. There is always more than one side to a story. Some claim that the location earned its name from the French term for only choice, while others say it comes from the local Ojibwe word for straight line. Either way, the tower that stands there today bears the name, the Szechwa Point Lighthouse. It was constructed back in 1892 on a long peninsula of land that sticks out into the very northernmost edge of Lake Michigan, standing like a gleaming white bolt in the midst of so much green and blue.

The light at its peak sits roughly 80 feet above the water. And even though it's a lakeside lighthouse, it's been doing the same job as any other lighthouse in the world, protecting the ships that pass by. It was a needed addition, too. According to some records, there have been dozens of shipwrecks along the coast there over the years, claiming more than 500 lives. And its first keeper was a local Native American man named Joseph Fountain. Two years into his time there, however, he got a bitter taste of just how dangerous the

waters really were. In 1894, a schooner called the William Home was sailing past, carrying a massive load of iron bound for a construction project elsewhere on the coast. But as it passed the safety of the lighthouse, a strong wind blew in, shifting the cargo on the top deck of the ship. That shift in weight caused the wooden structure below it to break, and water began to flood in. All but one of the crew perished that day, and the one who managed to survive only did

so thanks to the efforts of Joseph Fountain. After seeing the wreck, he rushed down to the water's edge to find one man laying unconscious on the rocky shore. Fountain carried him back to the lighthouse, where he worked carefully to care for the wounded sailor, ultimately saving his life. A few years later, a new keeper took over the lighthouse. This man, a former captain named Joseph Townsend, had moved to the United States from England and held his post there for nearly a decade.

Sadly, he became sick in the winter of 1910 and eventually died right there in the lighthouse, because tuberculosis. Now there are a couple of versions of what happened next. Some records claim that Townsend was embalmed and placed in the basement to wait for the spring, when the ground was thaw enough to allow for burial. The other stories say the delay was due to the difficulty his family had in reaching the lighthouse for a funeral. Another way, Captain Townsend spent a lot of time lying in state before his burial.

In the years that followed, people began to report strange experiences inside the Sheshwa Point lighthouse. Some have heard footsteps, slowly climbing the stairs to the top of the tower, while others have glimpsed foggy faces in the bedroom mirror. More disturbing yet, on more than one occasion, people working there have arrived in the morning to find an odd dip in the bed, as if someone had sat there during the night. But few experiences can top one that took place just a few years ago. A woman reported visiting the lighthouse on a beautiful day to take in the sights there.

It's a gorgeous setting, and somehow she managed to have the place all to herself. But finally, as she was about to step inside the gift shop, she spotted another tourist across the yard, an older man, in a dark blue wool jacket. She waved, but the gentleman either didn't see her or chose not to respond. A moment later, he was out of sight. It was only later, after returning home to do some more personal research about the place and its history, that she realized who the man was. She figured it out as she looked through photos of the lighthouse.

Old photos shot long ago in black and white. A photo of Captain Joseph Townsend. This episode of lore was written and produced by me, Aaron Mankey, with research by Taylor Hagridorn and music by Chad Lawson. Lore is much more than just a podcast. There is the book series available in bookstores and online, and two seasons of the television show on Amazon Prime Video. Check them both out if you want more lore in your life.

I also make and executive produce a whole bunch of other podcasts, all of which I think you'd enjoy. My production company, Grim and Mild, specializes in shows that sit at the intersection of the dark and the historical. You can learn more about all of the shows we make and everything else going on over in one central place, grimandmild.com. And you can also follow this show on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Just search for Lore Podcast, all one word, and then click that follow button.

And when you do, say hi. I like it when people say hi. And as always, thanks for listening. Thank you. Bye. Bye. Bye. Bye.

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