The Dark Side of Michigan’s Historic Lighthouses

By Dianna Higgs Stampfler
With more miles of freshwater coastline than any other state, it’s no wonder that Michigan also boasts the highest number of lighthouses in America (at about 129). Predating Michigan’s statehood, the first light was constructed in 1825 at Fort Gratiot in Port Huron. It, along with nearly three dozen others, also have the distinction of being “haunted.”
Lighthouse keepers were a unique breed—they were a dedicated and hard-working group of men and women (yes, believe it or not, nearly 50 women worked at lights around Michigan over the years). The job was often brutal, with long hours in often remote and desolate locales, stretching for months on end.
From April through December (in a typical year) these guardians tended to their lights by climbing 20 to 120 steps to the top of the tower carrying heavy pails of oil—whale oil, lard and later kerosine—before the structures were electrified in the 1930s and 1940s. They trimmed wicks, polished glass—both inside and outside the lantern room—and kept watch on stormy nights for ships in distress, providing lifesaving assistance when needed. They also were required to keep a tidy house, yard and garden since they were living on government-owned property. They also welcome tourists, drawn to these beautiful and unique architectural buildings.
While lighthouses today are no longer staffed by keepers, many are home to the spirits of those who kept the beacons burning over the course of history.
Several ghosts are believed to reside at the Old Presque Isle Lighthouse, which operated from 1840 to 1871, along the Lake Huron shoreline north of Alpena. Lorraine Parrish, who served as a civilian keeper with her husband, George, from the 1960s until the 1990s, shared countless stories about the antics of his spirit. Children would often report seeing a man resembling this elderly gentleman in the tower of the light. When questioned, they would point at a photograph of George and declare that was the man who had been telling them jokes and riddles during their visit. Lorraine died on June 1 of this year at the age of 97—maybe her spirit will join George’s at their beloved lighthouse?
Descendants of the Garrity family, who were the last keepers at the Old Presque Isle Light and the first at the New Presque Isle Light (built in 1870), believe it is the patriarch Patrick who still walks the old grounds. He was first hired in 1861 and served at all Presque Isle Lights (there are also a pair of range lights here) until his retirement in 1903. Over the years, his wife along with three sons (John, Thomas and Patrick Jr.) and two daughters (Kate and Anna) also worked the family business.
The Waugoshance Shoal Light, along the southwestern shore of the Straits of Mackinac, sits in ruins today and is one of the few Great Lakes lights on the “doomsday” list. Constructed in the 1850s to replace a lightship, it served until the White Shoal Light (recognizable by the candy cane striping) was illuminated in 1910.
John Herman served his entire lighthouse career at Waugoshance, hired as a second assistant in 1887 and working his way up the ranks until he was named head keeper in 1890. Herman, a bachelor, was said to love two things: a good stiff drink and a good practical joke. On the night of October 14, 1900—as the legend goes—he had been in Mackinaw City throwing back shots before making his way back to the light late at night where he proceeded to lock his assistant keeper in the tower. The last time Herman was seen, he was stumbling around the crib apparently pleased with himself over his latest prank. His assistant was less than enthused.
Hours later, after sending a distress call to a keeper at nearby McGulpin Point Lighthouse, the assistant descended the tower and was ready to wring Herman’s neck. One problem, the keeper couldn’t be found. In fact, he was never seen again. It is believed that in his drunken stupor, he fell off the crib into the waters below and drowned. Yet, over the next 10 years or so, strange things happened at the light—all attributed to the ghost of the former keeper. Everything from silverware rattling in drawers to locked steel doors flying open and chairs being knocked out from underneath people were enough to chase even the most hardened men away.
By 1910, the light was rumored to be so haunted that men refuse to be transferred there and the light was ultimately decommissioned. Even today, those who have ventured out to the remains of this once towering light say they feel Herman’s presence. The real story behind his death is quite different than the legend, but the local lore and the spirited stories remain as active today as ever before.
Michigan is full of countless ghost stories tied to its historic beacons. To learn more, pick up a copy of Michigan’s Haunted Lighthouses, published in 2019 by The History Press and available online at www.PromoteMichigan.com/books.
A self-professed armchair historian and genealogist, Dianna Stampfler is the author of Michigan’s Haunted Lighthouses and Death & Lighthouses on the Great Lakes.