“I’d Rather Wear Out than Rust Out.”
Captain John Persons of Thunder Bay Island

by Stephen Tongue

“My God, Captain, that lifeboat was the most welcome sight that terrible morning I ever saw in my life”
– Rescued schooner cook, October 1888.
            April 18, 1936, a front-page obituary in the Alpena News described the heroic life of Captain John D. Persons – “Hero of the Great Lakes.”  Persons epitomized the valor of the Life-Saving Service and served as captain for thirty-eight years at the station at Thunder Bay Island, Lake Huron, Michigan.  This is his story.
            Born in 1851 in Toledo, Ohio, John D. Persons had arrived in Thunder Bay on a schooner from Bay City with his father Alonzo (A. E.) in 1858.  In 1861, Alonzo was appointed lighthouse keeper at Thunder Bay Island and in 1865 his fourteen year-old son, John, witnessed the tragic collision of the Meteor and Pewabic which resulted in the loss of over one hundred lives.  This would leave a deep impression on him.  Later during his career, after three previous salvagers had failed, John D. Persons helped Worden G. Smith of the American Wrecking and Salvage Company locate the Pewabic. An 1895 newspaper account described “a novel experience” associated with this salvage attempt:

The officers of the wrecker Root, which is working on the Pewabic a few miles from Thunder Bay Island, invited Capt. Persons and his guests to come out and watch operations.  Capt. Persons and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Frank Case, Miss Nina Persons, Miss Clark and Ed Bishop went out and all enjoyed the novel experience of being lowered in the diving bell and viewing the famous wreck in 160 feet of water.

            Years later, after retirement, Persons would recall the descent in Smith’s diving bell as one of the highlights of his career:

I saw her lying on the bottom of the lake, 160 feet down…. The old Pewabic was a green ship lying in a bed of white sand.  Ever see a water-soaked plank covered with green moss?  Well, that was what the Pewabic was like…. We went from bow to stern and all around her in the diving bell.

            By age 26, John was a shipmaster and, with his father, operated the first steam fishing tug in Lake Huron, the Lida.  It was Alpena banker George Maltz who recognized Persons’ talents and character and recommended his appointment as captain of the Thunder Bay Island Life-Saving station.  Persons fit the profile of the ideal candidate as articulated by Superintendent Kimball in 1912:

“In the vicinity of nearly all stations there are a number who have followed their callings from boyhood and become expert in the handling of boats in broken water and among them there is usually someone who, by common consent, is recognized as a leader par excellence.  He is the man it is desirable to obtain for keeper…”

            Perhaps due to his experience as a youth at the island, John Persons seemed intent on making the island their family’s home, not just his work assignment.  Described as “The Flowery Isle” in a newspaper of the time, the Persons family took pride in attending to their gardens:  “Every trip over to the mainland the little steam yacht, Florence C., resembles a floral boat, it being loaded down with flowers for friends in the city.  The variety and quality are not excelled.”
            On many occasions, Captain Person’s wife, Celia, became a vital, though unofficial, part of the team.  She was the “quartermaster” of the Woman’s National Relief Association supplies donated to clothe the victims of disaster.  She cooked many meals and provided hospitality to the victims as well.  Indeed, she was even apparently credited with saving a life.  On September 13, 1907, the assistant lighthouse keeper’s pregnant wife went into premature labor.  It was dark and it was decided not to transport a doctor to the island.  Captain Persons later relates the story in a letter to the Superintendent of the Eleventh Life Saving District in Harbor Beach:

As soon as I got there I saw there was going to be all kinds of trouble in a few moments so I telephoned for Mrs. Persons at once and soon after she arrived this wife gave birth to a child.  She had fallen and hurt herself and Mrs. Persons did every thing that could be done. In side of an hour the little woman was through her trouble and today is up and feeling well.  As Mrs. Persons was the only one on the island that knew what to do under these circumstances….do you not think our service is entitled to a life saved….?

            Described as “a very quiet little lady, a graduate of Oberlin College and an accomplished musician,” Celia E. Persons was also credited as the first woman granted captain’s papers on the Great Lakes. Son, Byron H., and daughter, Nina, were tutored by their mother and later attributed success to the “personal instruction which they received from their parents on the island.”  When Celia passed away in January of 1912, her obituary praised a life of service:

When the remains of Mrs. John D. Persons…were consigned to their last resting place in Evergreen cemetery Sunday afternoon, there was laid at rest one of the greatest life savers on the Great Lakes, and to the women of the service deep tribute is due.  To hundreds of shipwrecked sailors she had administered.  She fed, clothed and gave them succor.  The blackest fireman, the ordinary deckhand and the master of a steamer all looked alike to her – human beings in distress.  And to the thousands of visitors at Thunder Bay Island she was ever the genial hostess to make you welcome.

            During this era, the shipping season generally ran from April to December and staffing of the Life-Saving Station followed this seasonal pattern. 
The Persons family, however, lived there year-round.  Indeed, the solitude was not unwelcome as Persons reminisced later:

There was one winter…a might cold one…when my wife and baby Nina and I were the only persons on that island.  We had plenty to eat, lots of fuel and lots to read.  It was a nice, quiet winter, just like being at the North Pole.  All around, as far as we could see, it was white, desolate.  I was reading about Peary and his North Pole exploration that winter, and it seemed to me we were up in the polar sea, too.  There were ice hummocks around us 30 feet high in places.  We were completely shut in.  I can see it yet…our little home out in that white sea.

            In 1912, an unusual request for assistance came from the distraught family of a young oiler from the steamer Wyandotte, Charles Cobo, who leapt off the ship while it was docked in an apparent suicide.  Dragging and searching for two days, both the Alpena police and Huron Cement employees were unsuccessful in locating his body.  Captain Persons describes getting a call from the father:

He said to me, “Captain, if you will come over I know you will find my boy.”  So there was nothing for me to do but go.  I had steam made on my little steamer “Marcia,” took a skiff and one man… Arriving at 11 a.m. I took charge of the work and by 2:30 p.m. we had recovered the body.  Only those that have to perform these duties know how unpleasant it is, but it is very gratifying to feel that the people have such great confidence in members of the Life Saving Service.

            While Thunder Bay Island had its full complement of surfboats and lifeboats, it was also aided at times by another vessel, the Florence C.  This was Persons’ own four-ton, 28-foot wooden steamboat mentioned in wreck reports beginning in 1891 through 1909.  The Florence C was constructed in 1889 at Thunder Bay Island.  The engine had been donated to Persons by local residents in appreciation of his service assisting five ships during a terrific storm of October 2, 1888:

The vessel owners in the city of Alpena, realizing the need of a more rapid transit between the island and the city, and also as a token of their esteem and appreciation of his labor, presented the captain with a complete steam outfit for his new yacht, the Florence C, a very staunch craft, built of the best material and able to weather a very heavy sea.  She runs from the island to Alpena in about one and one-half hours. 

            Some of the men who served under Persons at Thunder Bay Island went on to have notable careers in the Coast Guard.1  J. D. Plough, who retired as Captain from the Port Huron Life-Saving Station in 1915, had served on one of the first life-saving crews at Thunder Bay Island. 
            H. D. Ferris, who had been selected by Persons in 1878 as surfman and was previously a fisherman in Thunder Bay, went on to become Captain of life-saving stations at Pointe Aux Barques and Harbor (Sand) Beach.
            Another notable was Fred Poirier, whose 30-year Coast Guard career also began at Thunder Bay Island under the leadership of Persons.  He was stationed there from 1899 until 1926 when he was transferred to Sturgeon Point and eventually promoted to Captain in 1928.  During reminiscences at his retirement in 1929, Poirier recalled bringing “supplies to the station from North Point over the ice by sleigh, driving a team.”
Finally, Eugene Motley, who served under Persons as surfman, went on to become Captain at Middle Island.
            The life-saving crew experienced its own tragedy in 1911.  On the morning of October 31, 35-year old surfman Adolph Schroeder and Assistant Lighthouse Keeper Charles Robbins were on a run between Alpena and the island.  They were both returning from shore leave.  A “nor-easter” blew off the lake and caused the rigging to fail just three miles from the island. Schroeder drowned when he was knocked out of the sailboat.  Robbins related the tragedy first hand:

The outhaul on the mainsail at the end of the main boom gave way.  I made the repairs.  At the time we stood well off into the lake, outside of the can buoy.  We then put the boat in stays.  As she was going around, the outhaul gave away again.  Schroeder was steering.  He said “Charley, you take the stick and I will fix that.”  I immediately took the stick, looking to see if the foresail had a good full on, when something startled me.  I looked around and saw Schroeder pitch head-first into the lake. My first thought was a line to throw him.  But nothing being available I got a life belt out of the locker and threw it as near him as I could.  He was by this time some little distance from the boat.  I then turned the boat around as soon as possible.  In going around the mainsail cock billed, putting the boat in a bad condition to handle.  Schroeder was then swimming close to the lifebelt.  I looked up at the sails, then looked again and he had sunk down.  This all occurred, I think, in less than five minutes.  During this time I was frantic to see my friend being slowly dragged under the water with his heavy clothing. 

            Meanwhile, the life-saving crew and Persons family were watching the boat, but aside from concern about the rough weather, they had no indication of the disaster that was taking place.  An hour later, they received a call from the Troden fishery at North Point.  The power lifeboat was manned and a search commenced, but Schroeder was never found. 
            In Persons’ November 1, 1911 report to Superintendent Kimball, he related the mood on the island:

To say that I and every person connected with this station was stunned would be putting it very mildly… The service can ill afford to loose [sic] such surfmen as Adolph Schroeder.  It is another case of a good and faithful man sacrificing himself to the Life Saving Service. 

            In an Alpena News article, Persons was quoted: “He was one of the best men I ever had… we are all prostrated over here.  I have never had anything so upset me since I have been in the service.”
            Superintendent Kimball ordered the Assistant Inspector of the 10th and 11th Districts in Detroit to make an investigation and secure sworn testimony in regards to the casualty.  He wanted an opinion as to “whether the accident occurred within the scope of the Service.”  The following summer a report was forwarded to Kimball by Assistant Inspector Capt. Lewis.  It contained the testimonies of Capt. Persons, surfman Edgar Brown and Assistant Lighthouse Keeper Robbins, and it exonerated the Life-Saving Crew of any blame in regards to the incident:
            As no signal of distress was hoisted and the distance from the life-saving station was too great to discern even with the aid of marine glasses that a man had fallen overboard, the casualty was clearly not within the scope of the lifesaving service, and no blame can be attached to the Thunder Bay Life-Saving Crew.
            Persons remained in active duty until 1915 when he retired.  At the time he was 64 years old and reportedly the oldest keeper on the Great Lakes. Persons was clearly ambivalent about the prospects of retirement:

I’d rather wear out than rust out…There are other men in the service who are not as physically fit as I seem to be and I would rather see them given a rest than myself….I suppose it will be all right after I adjust myself to the new order of things, but I can’t say that I like to give up my snug little home at the island.  I hate to give up my little garden.  My only satisfaction is that I will remain on call for special duty and in an emergency I will have a chance to get back to the island.

            Suffice to say he ended his years with the respect that comes from proven heroism and sacrifice. After Persons retired, he remained a central figure in Alpena until his death in 1936. His obituary lauded him as “Alpena’s Grand Old Man” and “raconteur of rare ability – hunter, fisherman and genial citizen, beloved and respected by all during a residence of more than 7 years.”
            The good old captain seemed to have captured something of the spirit of eternal youth.  Some of the secret may be indicated in the fact that people never heard him speak unkindly to others.  In his eighties, he could laugh like a boy of twenty; in the last year of his life he was still a good hunting and fishing companion for people a third his years.  He had discovered a secret of life that many men the world may call wiser, would like to know.
            Captain Persons’ own scrapbook contained this newspaper clipping titled “All Honor to the Life-Savers,” and which summed-up his own career pretty well:

Remote from the centers of population, these brave men lead lonely and dreary lives, save when some unfortunate vessel is driven upon the neighboring coast...it reminds the country that it has no more valiant and valuable band of servants than the life saving crews.  All honor to these fearless saviors of human life.

            There are over 250 wreck reports from Captain Persons’ tenure at Thunder Bay Island.  For instance, there was the case of the Julia Larsen, August 26, 1912.  The Julia Larsen was a 56-ton Canadian schooner bound from Spanish River in the Georgian Bay to Sarnia with a load of lumber.  She was 26-years-old and had just been purchased by two brothers-in-law who were making their first trip. Captain Thomas Swanson’s wife and their two sons James (4) and George (7) were also on board.  Early in the day, they encountered a northwest gale and the two men began pumping furiously to keep her afloat.  From Persons’ account:

The two men had to pump and make all the effort they could to keep her from water logging.  Water kept on gaining so that the schooner became un-manageable and, at 9:45 p.m., she stranded on the ledges of rock on the southeast end of this island.

            By this time her sails were also blown away.  The No. 2 surfman discovered the wreck and the Beebe-McLellan surfboat was dispatched, reaching the wreck in about thirty minutes.  According to a newspaper account:

Mrs. Swanson and her children had been sent to the cabin early in the day and the fact that the vessel was close on the island and liable to strike at any time was kept from them.  The woman and the children were lying on a cot in the cabin when the shock came.  A great torrent of water poured in through a hole in the vessel’s side and before she had recovered from the first shock, Mrs. Swanson was separated from her children who were washed about in the little cabin, their cries of terror mingling with those of the mother.  After frantic efforts she was able to reach the children again and with her arms about them, crouched in one corner of the cabin prepared for almost anything.  The water was up almost to the necks of the children who continued to scream in fright. 

            The captain and his brother-in-law, James Lawrence, went below decks and helped Mrs. Swanson and the boys to the deck.  Meanwhile, the life-saving crew attempted to land the surfboat as the sounds of the distressed mother and children mixed with the sounds of the torrential storm.  Captain Persons’ account continues:

…with jagged rock sticking up all around us, night very dark and a heavy surf…..the woman and two children were up on deck where the breakers were sweeping across and they had to cling to the stanchions for their lives.  A woman and children could not last under those conditions a great while.  The night was so dark the men did not see us until we were right along side and they were frantic in their efforts to signal us, as the lumber was washing off the decks and her spars were likely to fall at any time.

            The rocky ledge along the southeast end of Thunder Bay Island created very dangerous conditions for the surfboat.  As the newspaper account describes:

When the sea is up, the water breaks over the rocks in a manner most baffling to any person trying to approach the shore in a small boat… The slightest false move might have meant the destruction of the lifeboat and great danger to the lives of the men…..Under the cool guidance of Captain Persons, the lifesavers managed to reach the Larsen in safety.

            Once the family was evacuated from the stranded schooner, the next challenge was to maneuver the surfboat back to the station.  Captain Persons described the scene:

The woman fell down her whole length on the bottom of the surf boat, so frightened nothing would induce her to get up.  The keeper had to stand straddle of her to handle his boat.  Our great danger was in getting on to the rocks where water would not float the surf boat and which would throw us around broad side and capsize us.  The keeper kept his boat head to the surf while coming out and trusted the current to sweep him past the shoal…

            Captain Persons escorted a weary and pitiful family to the station that night.  The loss of the schooner left them destitute and they were furnished clothing from the Women’s National Relief Association stores and provided transportation home on the D. & C. steamer line.  Reminiscing in a 1929 Detroit News article, Persons recalled:

When we got within hailing distance, we could hear the children crying.  They knew the boat was about to sink and crouched under the bulwarks, drenched with icy water.  Their mother was nearly insane from fear.  It was the most pitiful sound I ever heard in my life, the crying of those children, and my men worked like devils to get up to the boat. It was risky-very risky indeed.  The schooner was so placed among the rocks that it seemed impossible to come along side.  One bump and our boat would have been smashed like an eggshell.  Just as we took off the last of the passengers, a big wave hit us.  It lifted our boat like a feather and swept us between two of the biggest rocks, which we only missed by inches.  Yes sir, it was a miracle.

(Footnotes)
1 From a booklet published by the Ninth District U. S. Coast Guard for its 1932 annual picnic:  “The two island stations of the Ninth District have made history…These two stations, Thunder Bay Island and Middle Island, have been the training school for many of our present officers in charge.”

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