Owls Head Light Station, Owls Head Maine
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The lighthouse at Owl's Head designates the entrance to Rockland Harbor, Maine.
The ships that were guided to safe harbor by the light carried the goods, raw material and people that assisted in the development of coastal villages to modern towns and cities of today.
Ships and boats were the main mode of transportation, and the sea, rivers and streams were the only roads.
The following history of the Owls Head Light consists of extracts from "The Lighthouses of New England" written by Edgar Rowe Snow.
At the entrance to the attractive seaport of Rockland, Maine is a high, wave-swept promontory, visible to all who sail up or down Penobscot Bay. Pine trees and grassy terraces vie with each other for possession of this rocky headland, while at the very peak of the cliff, partly surrounded by spruce trees, is a lighthouse.
Anyone who sails in the vicinity recognizes the location at once as Owl's Head.
The headland has been the scene of many battles, shipwrecks, and other dramatic episodes since the advent of the white man. When the Indians ruled the coast, they called it Medadacut. Many claim Owl's Head is the English translation. The owl's head which gives the promontory its name is easily identified in the rocky cliff by the two cavelike hollows which form the eyes and a ridge which makes the bridge of the owl's nose. Rocks that jut out on either side of the bridge form two eyeballs. The spruce trees are said to be so old that they outrival almost any others along the Maine Coast, with hanging moss creating a picturesque effect.
One of the first white men who landed at Owl's Head was the Indian fighter Colonel Benjamin Church, who at the time of his pursuit in 1696 anchored off Monhegan to deceive the Indian warriors. Then, in the dead of night, Church ordered his entire party into whale boats in which they rowed all the distance to Owl's Head, arriving there at dawn. In spite of his carefully laid plans, Colonel Church found that the Indians had already fled the vicinity.
In the year 1745 young Thomas Sanders, on board a vessel captained by his father, was decoyed ashore by an Indian at Owl's Head. Once away from the ship, Sanders was surrounded by several red men and captured. His father later sent a ransom of fifty pounds, but young Sanders insisted on getting safe conduct back to the coast before paying the money. While walking through the dense woods, he borrowed his guard's gun to shoot ducks, fled into the underbrush and thus escaped. Burying the ransom in the woods, he finally reached the coast, where he was soon aboard a Gloucester vessel bound back home. Fifteen years later he was sailing in the vicinity of Owl's Head and was becalmed. Remembering the cache of money, Captain Sanders went ashore and retrieved it from its hiding place.
On June 7th, 1757, thirty war canoes landed at Owl's Head and in the battle that followed with the white men, two Penobscot Indians were killed and promptly scalped by Captain Joseph Cox, leader of the American forces.
After the Revolution, Thomaston and the entire surrounding vicinity was rapidly building up a substantial lime and shipping business. In 1822 lime sold from 84 cents to $1.08 a barrel, while schooners from Owl's Head made voyages to Europe, returning with cargoes of salt. Sail after sail passed the attractive Maine promontory, but many of them were wrecked in fog and storm before they made port. Agitation started for the erection of a lighthouse, and when in 1823 the steamer Maine made regular stops at Owl's Head, plans were developed to build a light high on the nearby headland.
In September 1825, Keeper Isaac Stearns illuminated Owl's Head Light for the first time. The granite tower had been built at the highest peak of the promontory, eighty-two feet above the sea, with the focal point of the light one hundred feet above the water. For the next thirteen years Keeper Stearns was active at the lighthouse. He retired in the year 1838, at which time he was succeeded by William Masters.
William Masters became keeper of Owl's Head Light in 1845. In the equinoctial gale of March 21st, 1847, the schooner HERO smashed against the rock shore at Owl's Head, while another unfortunate craft, the sloop LOUISA, hit at Crockett's Point.
In August 1849, Masters resigned in favor of Henry Achorn. The next year a terrific storm sent vessels ashore all along the coast. On January 24th, 1850, the schooner DOVE went ashore at Ash Point. The vessel, owned by Captain William H. Crockett of Rockland, was a total loss.
One of the strangest events in the entire history of Maine took place between Owl's Head and Spruce Head in the year 1850. During the terrible December 22nd gale of that year five vessels were thrown ashore between the beach at Owl's Head and Spruce Head, about eight miles away. The weather was far below zero that night, and spray froze on each of the five wrecked ships until they were encased in ice several inches thick.
A coasting schooner, owned by Henry Butters of Haverhill, had been anchored off Jameson's Point when the storm broke. Aboard the schooner were three persons, the mate, his bride-to-be, and a deck hand. The captain had left the ship at Rockland for some mysterious reason. Some said at the time that he had been discharged, others believed that he had merely fled from the vessel because of a strange premonition.
The schooner's cables snapped sometime before midnight and the vessel was pushed across the harbor by the terrific winds and waves, finally being thrown with great force against the cruel ledges just off Spruce Head. Although she filled at once, the schooner did not sink as the rocky cradle where she hit held her, her decks just above water.
Down below, the girl had already retired for the evening, but when the schooner crashed, the young woman grabbed a large blanket and hurried up on deck. The three frightened people huddled in the shelter of the taffrail. Every monstrous wave that roared in at them out of the storm left its covering of spray, which soon froze into solid ice. Something had to be done at once, or they would all perish.
The mate then thought of a plan. Making the girl lie down next to the taffrail, he lay down beside her and then covered her with the blanket. The deck hand crawled in beside the mate, and the blanket was pulled over so that all three were under its protection. The bitter night wore on. The tide rose higher and higher, until every single wave broke directly across the schooner. Each successive wave left its thin covering of ice which soon built up to a depth of several inches over the blanket, under which the three helpless people lay. Heavier and heavier grew the weight of the ice, and finally the two lovers, shut off from the air, lost consciousness.
Then the tide started to turn and go out, and as morning came, the deckhand, who had kept hacking with his sheath knife to keep a small air hole open through the thick ice, took heart. Striking and slashing at the heavy icy covering that had entombed him with his two companions, at times using his bleeding hands as clubs, he chopped and punched his way out from under the ice cap that had built itself up over the three shipwrecked victims. Without question, the heavy woolen blanket had saved his life. It was then six o'clock in the morning.
After resting a few moments from the strenuous exertions of escaping from the ice cap, the sailor crawled to the rail nearest shore, clambered over the side, and dropped to the icy rocks below. Working his way on hands and knees, he finally reached the high-tide mark, and then collapsed from exhaustion. It was still below zero, so he forced himself to get up and continue his efforts. Foot by foot, yard by yard, the bruised and bleeding man fought his way through the heavy drifts of snow that lined the shore. Now falling, now upright, the sailor made steady progress inland, until finally he reached a road. In the distance, he saw a pung driven by Keeper Masters of Owl's Head Light coming slowly his way. Knowing that he was to be saved, he fell across the highway in a dead faint.
Brought to the keeper's home, the sailor was quickly revived and asked to tell his story. When the keeper and his family realized that the boy and girl were still aboard ship under the heavy blanket and several inches of ice, they made plans to reach the schooner. Retracing the sailor's steps in the snow, the members of the rescue party were soon able to see the masts of the schooner showing above the snowdrifts.
A short time later several of the rescue party boarded the schooner. Guided by the directions given them, they arrived at the taffrail where the two lovers were encased in the ice. Chopping and cutting around their forms, the men soon were able to lift the frozen pair up from the deck, although it was agreed that they had probably frozen to death. The boy and girl were carried over the side and handed down to others waiting below. The rescuers decided that an effort should be made to revive them. Within a half hour, they were taken to a home where they were treated with application of cold water. At first, the water's temperature was almost freezing, and then it was gradually raised until it reached approximately fifty-five degrees. Next the hands and feet of the two frozen people were slowly raised and lowered, and their bodies ceaselessly massaged.
The girl was the first to awaken from her deathlike sleep, stirring slightly after two hours' attention. Her lover took almost a full hour more to respond to the steady treatment, but he finally showed signs of life, and a few moments later actually opened his eyes.
Both were covered with warm blankets and made to rest. Several weeks elapsed before they were able to get up and walk, but when spring came they had almost completely recovered. The following June their marriage took place. The story of their strange experience was told up and down the Maine coast for many generations. It is not known whether any of their descendants are still living.
The deckhand fared worse, however. Whether it was from his more exposed position, or because of his efforts in reaching help, he never fully recovered from his terrifying experiences that bitter December night in 1850. He did not go to sea again, but became a well-known figure on the local waterfront.
Keeper Joseph G. Maddocks came to Owl's Head Light in 1873. Ten years before, at the Battle of Gettysburg, he had been wounded in the arm. Previous to the war he was a shipbuilder, but because of his wounds he was unable to continue in shipping circles and so became a lighthouse keeper. He married Clara Emery, of Owl's Head, and they had five children.
The fuel consumed in the lantern in 1873 was lard oil. Keeper Maddocks had to keep a constant fire in the wintertime to prevent the lard oil from freezing. Afterward kerosene took the place of lard oil, while electricity from the Maine Central line now supplies the current to illuminate the bay. When Keeper Maddocks first came, the fog bell was on the shed, an ordinary bell, rung by hand-then came the tidewater bell on the rocks below the lighthouse.
In heavy storms spray went completely over the house itself, located on the cliff. Just before one of the storms Keeper Maddocks saw a small fishing boat out in the bay. Darkness was falling. In the morning he found a cod line washed up on the rocks in front of the house. As he pulled at the line he found it led into deep water, and seemed to be fastened to something cumbersome. Obtaining his skiff, he rowed over by the rocks and discovered a man's body entangled in the line. It was the fisherman who had been out in the storm the night before.
At eleven o'clock one night, when everyone else was in bed, Mrs. Maddocks was rocking the baby. Suddenly she heard footsteps come up on the porch and saw four men peering in at her through the window. Their boat had been smashed on the rocks and they were wet and hungry. Awakening her husband, Mrs. Maddocks prepared a meal for the unfortunate seamen, while the keeper dried them off and arranged to get someone to take them back to Rockland. The men had been on a fishing cruise, but their schooner was smashed to pieces and everything aboard was lost.
The last regular keeper of the old Lighthouse Service at Owl's Head was Augustus B. Hamor. Entering the service in 1913, he was sent to Egg Rock near Bar Harbor. He remained there for seventeen years and was then transferred to Owl's Head Light in June 1930.
One of the best-loved of all the craft that sailed by the light was the Matinicus mail boat, captained by Stuart Ames of Rockland. Quite often Mrs. Ames would call up the light station to ask whether they had seen the mail boat coming from Matinicus, and in this way Mrs. Ames had a little advance notice about the time to put dinner on for her husband.
One terribly stormy night, when the snow-laden wind was cutting in across the island, the telephone rang. It was the wife of Captain Ames, who was terribly worried about her husband, then several hours overdue.
"My husband speaks so often of your dog, Spot. Do you think that he might be able to hear the mail boat's whistle?" asked the frantic wife. Keeper Hamor replied that they would let the dog out and see what might happen. But after a half hour outside in the gale, Spot returned to the house and scratched at the door to be let in. He had a dejected air, which told the others that he had not heard the mail boat. Lying down in his dry corner, Spot was about to go to sleep, when suddenly he raised up on his haunches, his ears alerted and every muscle in his body tense with expectation. Spot had heard the whistle of the mail boat.
Springing up from his corner, he scampered across the hallway and barked to be let out. The others watched him scramble through the great drifts on his way to the lighthouse bell, but he was unable to reach the signal, for the snow had piled up several feet high in the vicinity. Prevented from reaching the bell, the dog made his way along the edge of the cliff, where the wind was sweeping the snow clear, and reached the point nearest to the boat, barking furiously all the time. Keeper Hamor went out into the storm and followed the dog.
Soon he, too, could hear the whistle of the mail boat, and realized that if the dog's bark could be heard by Captain Ames, he in turn would know where he was and be able to get his bearings in spite of the storm. After a period of violent barking, there came an answer out of the storm-three distant blasts of the mail boat's whistle-a signal indicating he had heard the barking dog. The Matinicus boat was even then charting a safe course for Rockland.
Two hours later a grateful wife called up the Hamor residence and expressed her thanks to the spaniel Spot, who had saved the Matinicus mail boat from disaster. Spot was then sleeping soundly in his corner, proudly dreaming of his feat of rescue. The spaniel is now buried near the fog horn he loved so well.
Site Description
Dwelling was built in 1826, 34' x 21', 2 story with attached shed, wood frame construction, painted white with green trim.
Storage Building was built in 1826, 11" x 10 x 9" high, brick with shingle roof.
Light Tower was built in 1826, brick, 14' diameter, 30' high, round, painted white. A bronze plaque was placed on the light by the Mussel Historical Society on July 21st, 1962. The town of Owls Head has a park named "Lighthouse Park" on the land adjacent to the light station.
The light on the tower is a fourth order, fresnel cut glass lens protected by rectangular storm panes projecting a fixed, white beam, candle power 20400, 16 mile range, focal plane at high water, 100 feet.
The fog signal on the light tower is an ELG 300/02 with a range of 4 miles.
Additional information pertaining to light tower:
1. Built by Jeremiah Berry and Green & Foster.
2. Height of focal plane above sea level - 99'
3. Dimension at base - 9' inside diameter
4. Dimension at parapet - 9' inside diameter
5. Materials used in construction are brick, stone and cement.
6. The form of tower is cylindrical.
7. The height of tower from base to ventilator ball of lantern - 23' 6",
8. Thickness of wall at base - 40", at parapet - 24".
Additional information on dwelling:
The Articles of Agreement dated 18th April 1825 between the superintendent of lighthouses in the State of Maine and Jeremiah Berry and Green & Foster states that they built a lighthouse and dwelling house on Owls Head, Thomastown, Maine for the sum of $1888.
The house was 34' x 20', one story with cellar, two rooms with chimney in the middle and a porch. This original house was altered by addition of an ell, a second story and a piazza about 1854.
