South Manitou Memories

By Grace Dickinson Johnson
Sun contributor
There’s something about an island that lures the traveler from the mainland and beckons the voyager on a passing vessel. Times on South Manitou Island were spent within a mist of great natural beauty.
My sister, Terry Dickinson, and Sandy Holds were best friends during their school years at the Empire Rural Agricultural School. Terry grew up on the south shore of Little Glen Lake, and Sandy on Niagara Street in Empire. They kept in touch over the years. Nearby South Manitou Island, just eight miles off Sleeping Bear Point, is officially part of Glen Arbor Township but now under the jurisdiction of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore (the local branch of the National Park Service). Terry and Sandy’s connections to South Manitou Island were poignant and connected to the days when South Manitou had a resident population, some of whom were descendants of lighthouse keepers, Coast Guardsmen and farmers. Terry and Sandy recently returned to South Manitou to visit the places on the island that held their memories.

Several years ago Terry and I boated over to South Manitou Island. While passing by the Francisco Morazan, Terry recalled the time when we camped on the beach and watched the early morning sun that gilded the great hull of the foundered ship that had run aground the previous year, in November of 1960. We followed the shoreline nearby and atop a bank spied the old Theodore Beck farmhouse, stark and abandoned. Terry lived there when it was called the Lodge.
Terry and I went ashore and hiked up the sandy bank. The view from the lodge was spectacular. Unattended and open, the stately clapboard house stood silent except for the sounds of gentle waves lapping the shore nearby. Overgrown brush protected the old gray structure. Lilac bushes and flowers abounded and bees buzzed around in the warm afternoon sun. I followed Terry as we entered through the old kitchen. As we walked through each room, Terry recalled her times. Layers of peeling wallpaper reflected the choice of patterns by Mrs. Beck, who farmed there many years ago.
Terry worked for Joe Harrold at the South Manitou Marina during the summers of 1963 and 1964, six years after the South Manitou Lighthouse closed on December 12, 1958. She tended to the customers that sailed aboard George Grosvenor’s Manitou Isle, as well as sailors who stopped by on their sailboats, campers and people conducting island research.
Terry worked alongside George’s mother, the perpetually good-natured Della “Gommer” Grosvenor, who wore an apron and baked large sugar cookies and delicious fruit pies. She fried hamburgers during the noon rush. Shirley Schwartz, George Grosvenor’s sister came to assist Gommer in the marina kitchen. Red Gauthier, Chief Boatswain’s Mate for the North Manitou Shoals Light, often motored over in the U S. Coast Guard launch for an early evening visit to the marina. I remember Terry calling Red from our house during the remainder of the shipping season for weather reports, and perhaps motivated by a teen crush on the handsome, red-bearded Guardsman.
At the end of each day the generator that powered the marina shut down. A heavy silence fell over the superb natural harbor and sand, dune grass, and juniper bushes around the bay area. Gommer made her way down the path to her cozy cottage near the beach in the settlement. Terry rode in a jeep through the logging trail that crossed the island to the Lodge where she lived. Sylvia, who resided at the lodge, saw to the needs of the overnight guests. Sylvia was rather serious, tall and willowy, and brittle with sharp bird-like brown eyes. She had a bad heart and often concerns arose of a possible heart issue. Wearing her apron over her print dress, Sylvia cooked roasts and fish dinners on a wood stove and baked pies for the guests.
With the approaching nightfall at the lodge, kerosene lamps were lit: two for downstairs and two for the bedrooms upstairs. The evenings were spent visiting and playing cards by the warm glow of the lantern. Terry talked about the lantern casting shadows that bounced wildly off the walls. When the door opened, wind would rush in during a pinochle or poker game, scattering the cards. and fears arose that the kerosene lamp would topple over while playing cards.
Terry’s corner bedroom was on the second floor of the farmhouse. The dreamy endless expanse of Lake Michigan was at her windows. The many moods of Lake Michigan, with her aged, but ageless lullaby made sleep welcome. During moonlit nights the moon glowed on a millpond near Lake Michigan on quiet nights, and during blows, waves sparkled as they rushed towards the shore. The Point Betsie Light blinked in the distance, 20 miles south across the passage. In her mind, this light provided the only tie to the mainland during the nighttime hours.
During inclement weather, referred to as three-day blows, the Manitou Isle remained safely moored in the Leland harbor. This time allowed for visits with neighbors at the settlement, which included island resident Marie Smith’s front porch. Visits were enjoyed at Fred and Bea Burdick’s grocery store in a small room also in the settlement.
Dick Halik, a young college student, sat on a stool and minded the store, where there was barely room to stand. He later became superintendent of Lansing Public Schools and is now retired. Terry rode in an old blue and white Ford convertible minus a muffler, which George Grosvenor affectionately called the “Shotrod”. With Shirley at the wheel, well tanned and in her denim shorts, they were off for a day of blackberry picking in the fields around the island. Terry loved her dry wit and sense of humor.
Terry and I recalled the time we rode around with Richard Riker in his jeep. Richard with his parents and brothers farmed and tended to 40 head of cattle. They lived on the old Conrad Hutzler farm. With his brush cut hair and clear blue eyes, and with the warm wind on our faces, Richard took us on the Lake Michigan beach, logging roads and secondary farm roads. One road led to lovely Lake Florence, named after Florence Haas, mail carrier in 1912. Richard was proud of his island life. He delighted in showing us his special less discovered places. Those were carefree days and good times on South Manitou Island.
During the summer of 2006 Terry and I, along with friend Sandy Holds McTiver and Pierre Michel, boated over to South Manitou to visit the former home of Sandy’s first cousin, Jeanne Stoerman Kraft. Jeanne’s parents, Francis “Bud” Stoerman and wife Thelma, lived on South Manitou Island where Bud served in the U.S. Coast Guard during the 1930s. Sandy’s mother Mereta Rohr Holds was Thelma’s sister. Rohr is an old Empire name. Bud and Thelma lived in the cottage now known as the Haas/Jenks cottage, a Montgomery Ward kit house.
We secured our boat and walked past the handsome old structure of the U.S. Coast Guard station and located the abandoned green clapboard home across from the former post office in the small settlement. Two bedrooms, kitchen, dining room and living room stood silent. Outside stood some outbuildings including a playhouse and a swing. In an old shed a rusted motorized washing machine stood motionless in the shadows. This was where Thelma did her washing. Not all women had motorized machines on the island but Bud was the Coast Guard machinist and kept the washing machine running. In the same shed a half of beef was kept during the winter. Thelma canned the beef. She baked bread and kept the yeast in a Mason jar.
In the nearby outhouse were Sears and Montgomery Ward catalogs and other magazines. A run-down playhouse partially stood, and the swing moved slightly in the fresh breeze. The root cellar contained a room with a door, then a passageway and another door led to a room. Long ago, apples, onions, potatoes sauerkraut and home canned meat and fruit were kept within even temperatures. The spring of 1936 was very cold and a setting hen was kept protected from the elements in the entryway.
Sandy studied the lovely setting surrounded by Lombardy poplar trees. Her cousin Jeanne talked about her brother making whistles for her from the green limbs of the tall trees. She reflected back on the island life of her ancestors. Life on this island was of work and social events. The Coast Guard practiced drills of their lifesaving procedures by launching their heavy wooden open lifeboats. The lifeboats traveled to the water’s edge on rails. While on the water, the boat was capsized and the men had to get back in and complete the drill as quickly as possible. The island residents gathered to watch these periodic exercises.
A wooden boardwalk within a short distance led from the Coast Guard station to the lovely and graceful South Manitou lighthouse. The lighthouse crew consisted of John Tobin, Ernest Hutzler and Ray Robinet. The three-man crew didn’t live in the yellow keepers residence attached to the light, but lived in private homes nearby.
When the fog rolled in, the steam-powered horn in the foghorn house sounded intermittent blasts which were very loud, but somehow Jeanne got used to it. The first lighthouse tower was built in 1839. A new tower in 1857 replaced the earlier one, and remains today in the most graceful state as it ever was. The tower tapers upward to 100 feet in height.
Glistening white in the sun, the South Manitou lighthouse is one of the most beautiful and tallest on the great lakes. Its large glass lens gleamed in the night, far out onto the Manitou Passage, throwing off a strong light for ships passing through the narrow passage.
The close-knit island community enjoyed social events. Adults and children played a lot of cards, including Pedro and Cribbage. Square dances were held in the post office across the way and some dances were held inland on one of the farms. The children accompanied the adults and slept on piles of coats later in the evening. During the early summer they picked wild strawberries in the pastures. The berries were small and sweet and made tasty shortcake. Jeanne remembers playing in Captain Anderson’s reels of drying fishnets. During the fall, leaves were raked and the kids played in the huge piles. The heavy silence of wintertime was broken by the sounds of sledding and skiing.
Jeanne attended the one-room school located towards the center of the island near the farms. There were a few cars on the island owned by the farmers, one or two model A & T Fords which were rarely used.
Jeanne walked her mile and a half to school. Water came from the outside pump. The children drank from a common dipper. Most of the children had cold sores. The Christmas program was a big social event and attended by everyone on the island. The students sometimes visited a nearby sugar bush on the Haas property. Jeanne got some hot syrup in the snow and it turned into candy. Names of some of the girls: Leota Hutzler, Dorothy Tobin, Betty Tobin, Audrey Anderson, Shirley Ludwig, and the boys: Dale Hutzler, Walter Gordon and Francis Stoerman. The teacher, Mrs. Voice, built the fire in the stove. Sometimes soup was heated on top of the stove. There were two outhouses, one for the girls one for the boys. Island students had to go to the mainland for high school where they boarded out, some went to Glen Arbor.
Dale Hutzler, who lived on an inland farm, couldn’t swim. One day he was at the dock on his bike. It tipped over and Dale rolled into the deep water. Bud Stoerman was in the lifeboat nearby and jumped off the boat, collapsing in a heap. His knee was broken. Francis Caron rescued Dale. Jeanne’s father retired as a result of this accident. Meanwhile on the island Jeanne had an acute appendicitis attack. Dr. Murphy, who had a reputation for saving children whose appendix had burst, diagnosed it on the mainland. The Coast Guard took Jeanne to Glen Haven. Her little brother, a shy two-year-old stayed at the Kelderhouses. Jeanne’s recovery was smooth and she returned to the island but moved to Empire that fall. Her father retired from the Coast Guard when she was 10 years old.
Long time friendships are golden and hold meanings of treasured connections. In the near future the South Manitou Light will be lit once again 50 years after it was closed. Sailors and boaters cruising the Manitou Passage will enjoy its grand beam. And people on the mainland shores gazing across the Manitou Passage will delight in its glow. Its light will show the way for memories to live on … memories of a different time, one of harshness, survival, and togetherness.