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About Omaha daily bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 187?-1922 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 21, 1902)
Only Woman Light House Keeper in the World n iwii r n J? J Z3 MRS. KATY WALKER AND HER FAVORITE GRANDCHILD. EMMA. ONE OF THE CHILDREN HORN AT THE LIGHTHOUSE JAKE WALKER, ASSISTANT KEEPER ROIU1INS' REEF LIGIIIIOI'SE. (Copyright, 1902, by Henry Allston.) mihe u.nl.1 woman in me worm in I I charge of a lighthouse entirely surrounaea oy me wavee uvea in New York bay. She is In the very center of a population of 6,000,000 people, yet she ia not a part of it and has not its ways, for when she leaves her sea-swept homo once or twice a year to shop In New York the rush and eon fusion of the great crowds all about so fill her with loneliness that before eho has scarcely begun her purchases she turns her back on the things dear to the feminine khi'art and flees precipitously to Robblns' 'iteef lighthouse. There, she says, she has not known a lonely minute In the seven teen years that she has watched the end less procession of countless craft up and down the bay on their way to and from the docks of the new world metropolis. This woman Is Mrs. Katv Walker, and the sailors' beacon which she has In charge rises sheer out of the water five miles south of the Battery. It stands on the eastern, end of the reef, where. In the days of the Dutch governors, the boys of New Amsterdam went out In rowboats to shoot with their blunderbusses the seals that sunned themselves on the rock-strewn sandy stretch that reaches back to the Jersey flats to the westward and Is ex posed In a long, thin line when the tide la out. And Just a half mile to the east runs the channel that the majestic liners and other seagoing craft follow on their way to the Atlantic. From the lighthouse Mrs. Walker has a marvelous panorama of nature's oiks and man's moBt ambitious efforts. The onlv thing that she has to do In order to drink In a view that tens of thousands of people have traveled across continents and oceans to behold Is to walk around the little stone balcony surrounding the light. She can see the Narrows and the frowning fort on either side; Brooklyn, with Its two or three tall buildings and its wooded suburbs to the southeast; and Governor's Island and queer, old, rounded Fort Castle William. She rnn see the East river with Hie Brook lyn bridge hanging above It; New York's skyscrapers, hiding the rest of Manhattan Inland and looking like mammoth sticks, pierced with maay holes, rising sheer oui of the water; and the North river with its myriad of ferry boats and ragged line of docks and railroad terminals on either shore. She can see Bedloe's and Ellis Islands, supporting the Statue of Liberty and the moeque-like buildings of the new Castle Garden. She can see the score or more of smoky, bustling, manufacturing towns along tho Jerney promontories. She -in see the hills and beach towns of Staten Island, with picturesque St. George two miles away, and the low, long, rakish build ings of Sailors' Snug harbor Just visible up the Kill Van Kull. And in a sweep of the harbor Itself the can see chugging tugs, churning ferry boats, every manner of sail ing craft, tankers and tramp steamers, ex cursion brats, long strings of barges, puf fing launches, gilded yachts of millionaires, warships, ocean liners and rowboats of the flay fishermen, dotting the water on til eidiv and displaying the flags of many na tions. Mrs. Walker is content to see all this and to live isolated from It all. The very noises of the great marts about her that sometimes come faintly out to the reef make her tremble, for these almost silent echoes of trade recall the lonely moments of her city trips. And Just as she thinks the metropolis Is the most God-forsaken spot on earth, so she believes that Rotibins' Reef lighthouse is the most blessed. It Is her home, and there her son Jake, who is the assistant keeper, his wife and three little daughters, and h-r own daughter, live with her. Mrs. Walker cares for the companionship of no other human beings. To her the mil lions of people within rowboat reach are as nothing except when they can be kept from ehlpwreck by her light, or saved from drowning or crushing Ice floes by Jake In his small boat, or when she can warm with coffee the hnlf-frozcn "clammers" who In winter work within calling distance of the reef. It is her ever-constant vigil to warn and to succor the men who go down to the deep that has led them to speak of Robblns' Reef lighthouse for years as "Katy's Light." So conscientious Is Mrs. Walker In taking .are of the lighthouso that every night since her husband died, fourteen years ago, she has not failed once to look after tho lamps. Sometimes, when he can persuade that the ships are lost to view, she looks after the fog whistle, or, If that Is out of order, sets in motion the clock-like mech anism that rings the fog bell. After that she stays up until the fog lifts entirely or the worst of It Is over. With the exception of one year, Mrs. Walker has spent all her time In America in a lighthouse. It has been twenty-two years since she landed on Sandy Hook with her son, whose father had died In Germany shortly before she set sail for this country. She had been working on the Hook only a few months when Jccob Walker, the as sistant keeper of the Sandy Hook light house, met her and fell In love with her, and in less than a year after her arrival she was taken to the lighthouse as Jacob Walker's bride, her boy going along as Walker's adopted son and taking his name. There she helped her husband for four who was then a captain and Inspector of the Third lighthouse district, found out that Mrs. Walker wanted to bo appointed keeper of tho lighthouse. Although It was and still Is against government regulations to put a woman in charge of a lighthouse out at sea, ho Interested himself in Mrs. Walker's behalf. For three years the gov ernment refused to break a rulo that It hnd made, but In tho meantime, while It hunted for a man willing to go to tho lonely post, Mrs. Walker was left on Robblns' reef. Twice the lighthouse board thought It had a man to take charge of the light, but each one, after he had gone down tho bay and viewed Its Isolated position, re fused the Job. So finally the board, de spairing of ever securing a man as keeper, adopted Captain Rogers' suggestion and appointed Mrs. Walker. Her son Jake hns been assistant keeper Spirit of the Christmas Greens Down In the Southland far away. Where summer days forever stay; By sluggish pools where lizards sun And ghostly moss swings tendrils dun; High up where gnnrled branches grow, Gleam waxen berries, mistletoe. On sullen reach of sandy shore. And, stretching backward evermore. In waste of stunted shrub and tree, Swept by the chill breath of the sea, One touch of color burns and glows 'Tis where the scarlet holly grows. I'pon New England's rock-ribbed crest, With Nature's frosted fretwork dressed, Its roots by massive bowlders stayed, Its top by bleak winds rudely swayed, The Tree of Trees, with arms outspread To greet the Storm King, rears Its head. And so from solitudes apart, I'nto the city's throbbing heart, To children's outstretched hands they com To deck the feast In every home. And show that Christmas and Its cheer I'nitts all places far and near. . . - .' -c . f-. ,-r ; - ; . T"."-"", 'r&p.j?- ' " V': - " , :'.. "i. . ': '( - : - ' ! V"'' l fe I. - r -Mh. ' m m her to let him, her son relieves her a pai.' of the night, but for the most part she has kept the light bright with no outside help. "It Is my work," she says, "and so I love to do It." For weeks In winter Mrs. Walker never closes her eyes In sleep when night comes. Th'n it i3 that the windows enclosing the light can be kept free from frost only by constant cleansing. At this time Mr. Wp.lker will not let Jake come up into the little room where tho light glows until dawn. Then he brings her a cup of coffee, and, after the haa drunk It, she descends .'he ladder and goes to bed. That Is, she generally does, but if the day Is foggy and a blanket of white bangs over the bay so years. At the end of that period he was transferred to Robblns' Reef light, where he remained until he died. Mrs. Walker believes that her husband would be living still If It had been possible to get a doctor to him while he was ill. But because the bay was choked with filiating, grinding Ice no one could reath the lighthouse, and so a heavy cold de veloped Into a fever and pneumonia; and one night, when a storm raged and while the wife was up with the light cleaning the windows, so that death might not overtake the ships, that dark form stole Into one of the little circular bedrooms below while no one watched. After the funeral Rear Admiral Rogers, tor about ten yeflrs, and although she has teen entitled to ten days' vacation a month Aince that time, she has not taken advan tage of the regulation for a single day. She has never been abfent from the light house for more than six or eight hours at a stretch. In all the years that she has been In charge of the lighthouse Mrs. Walker ha.i not received a reprimand or had a com plaint entered against her, despite the fact that she has charge of a light which stands In one of tho world's busiiwt harbors. Her lighthouse has the nputatlnn of being the cleanest and best kept In the Third dis trict. Mrs. Walker is very modest about her record. In her quaint, broken English she says to Hume who compliment her: "You think It fine? I am glad. But I like to work. It keeps me contented and happy. And why don't I take a vacation onco in a while and let Jake tuko care, of tho light? Ach! I wouldn't know what to do with a whole dny on shore nnd (hen, I lovo tho light." Two things, however, Mrs. Walker does leave to her nslstant going ashore fur supplies and rescuing rowboat fishermen. Not Infrequently young Walker has to lower his boat from tho davits on tho light house's sea wall and pull out to a boat caught and being crushed In the Ice, or capsized by a sudden squall or tho wash of a liner. In effecting several of these rescues he hlmelf has narrowly escaped being crushed by the Ice that often piles up eight and ten feet high about the light house. Ho has also had not a few perilous trips to St. George for supplies. In good weather the distance Is eo.'ered In less than half an hour, but when the autumnal storms and winter set in Jake does well If he can makn shore after two hours of rowing. Fre quently he gets nHhore, but when ho starts to return he Is forced to put back to Staten Island and wait for the storm to dlo down. He spent three hours the day before last New Yenr's day trying to reach the light house with a turkey and fixings, but at Inst, and only when he was half frezen, he gave up the struggle, with the result that the people on the Robblns' Reef had no New Year's dinner. The rowboat communication with the main land, and the only kind that there Is, is much Interrupted at this season of year. Mst winter Jake did not get ashore, more thnn half a dozen times. But there is al ways one day that he makes every effort to get over to St. George. That Is tho day before Christmas, when his wife and their threo children Emma, the eldest, 4 years old; Katherlne and Alberta, tho baby go to New York to 6ee tho Christmas toys and buy gifts for ono another and the faithful woman left alone In the lighthouse. This Is one of tho two or three times a year that these three water babies get on land, and the sights that they see make their little eyes bulge with wonder and fur nish food for childish talk for days to come with their grandmother, who, until her eon married about five years ago, had her two children for her only companions for nearly ten years. Because they get to see people outside the lighthouse so seldom, the little glrla are extremely sby when a stranger once in a great while clambers up the iron ladder reaching down to the water along their home's side. No amount of coaxing can Induce the two younger to come from their hiding place behind their grandmother's skirts, and only after prolonged persuasion will Emma forget her bashfulness enough to smile timidly and lisp sweetly. Mary, tho daughter, Is away a good part of the time now, for she goes to a boarding school on Staten island. But when vaca tion comes she loses no time In getting back to the lighthouse, where her little nieces spend hours on sunny days In tho rope swing In which she passed a large part of her childhood, and which Is sus pi nded from stout iron hooks driven into the stone floor of the second balcony. She has never known any other home than tho lighthouse, ami her affection for It Is deep. She Is. indeed, a child of the sea, and, liko h r simple-iniuili'd, open-hearted ani quaintly old-fashioned mother, she can In terpret its every sign and mood. She loves It in summer caln and In winter storm that hurls gnat waves against the light's base until it trembles and dashes frozen salt upray half way up Its height.