If you’ve sailed past Baltimore Light anytime during the past couple of years, you’ve probably asked the same question that many other boaters have: what’s happening in there, anyway?
In an unusual turn, a group of Annapolis sailors bought the 107-year-old lighthouse at a government auction nine years ago. While the structure’s Coast-Guard-maintained beacon has been flashing continuously ever since, the iconic 52-foot-tall, stark-white hexagonal tower has been pretty much out of the public limelight.
Yet curiosity about the lighthouse has intensified. One wag even speculated wryly last winter that we may soon see it equipped with golden arches and a sail-by hamburger-vending window—a development that most Chesapeake Bay stalwarts wouldn’t be “lovin,’” to put it mildly.
Fortunately, no such indignities await the venerable lighthouse. Although the renovations have been proceeding slowly, the new owners say they plan to restore the structure to its historically correct 1908 condition—the year the lighthouse actually went into service—with no plans to turn it into a tourist attraction or even a quirky bed-and-breakfast.
“We look at this as an investment in preserving something that has historical relevance,” says Ronald Katz, a 47-year-old Annapolis attorney who is part of the group of eight local sailors who bought the lighthouse in 2006. “Our dream is to get it back to its original state of commission.”
Armed with the original line drawings and blueprints, group members have put in a new flat roof just below the light itself, begun refurbishing some of the woodwork, and recreated the galley to make the interior a little “more homey.” They also are painting the structure’s exterior, though that, Katz says, is a never-ending job.
There’s a lot more to be done, Katz concedes. The lighthouse needs new windows and doors. The sloped portion of the roof (at the top of the tower) needs renovation. “Then we can start doing the interior,” Katz says, and that won’t be easy, either. The structure has no electricity in its living quarters, no heat, and no water. And the interior still is spartan.
Baltimore Light was one of some 104 lighthouses and range-lights put on the market in the early 2000s after the Coast Guard decided they no longer were worth maintaining now that the global positioning system (GPS) and electronic navigational aids could do the job. Assigning Coast Guard crews to man old lighthouses had become costly and inefficient.
Maryland still has 24 such structures still standing, says Marie Vincent, a historian with the U.S. Lighthouse Society, which tracks the status of lighthouses on the Bay and campaigns to preserve them. “A lot of them are still Coast-Guard-owned because nobody wants them,” she says. Another 21 have been demolished or destroyed by fire or weather.
The new owners of Baltimore Light—including Katz, his wife, Marni, and three other 40-something couples with deep roots in the Annapolis area—all but leaped at the chance to buy the lighthouse. “All of us grew up on the Bay and sailed by it,” he says. “None of us was ‘rich’ per se, but we all had some savings.”
After pooling their funds, group members came up with $260,000, which turned out to be the highest bid. Amazingly, they took the property as-is and sight-unseen, without even getting it inspected. Katz jokes that by Annapolis real estate standards, the purchase price was a bargain. “It’s like having waterfront property and a treehouse all rolled into one,” he says.
Katz says group members were pleasantly surprised when they finally got a look inside. Yes, the roof leaked badly. The wood on the north side had deteriorated, the interior was a mess, and almost everything in sight needed replacing. But for a century-old lighthouse that hadn’t had much attention in several decades, “it was generally in amazing condition,” he says.
The work schedule is informal. Group members put in time whenever they can, whether it’s for a full workday or a couple of hours. They also take advantage of their outside occupational talents: the group includes two skilled carpenters, an electrician, a mechanic, an archeologist, an artist, and Katz, who’s an attorney. Three are professional captains. And there’s no shortage of elbow-grease.
In October 2012, the group suffered a setback when Hurricane Sandy wreaked significant damage on the lighthouse by breaking windows, knocking solar panels off the roof, and soaking portions of the interior. The owners won a federal grant to help recover from the storm, but it took time and effort to put things back in shape. It’s delayed new work until now.
So far, the repair work aside, the lighthouse has been unoccupied, except for two occasions: one couple used it for a wedding, and another spent part of their honeymoon on it—both substantial logistical challenges, given the lack of basic amenities and the difficulty of getting into the structure. To enter, you have to climb a long vertical ladder from your boat.
Katz says both those occasions were one-time favors. The group isn’t planning to make the structure generally available for such functions. Providing docent-led tours—as Thomas Point Shoal Light (TPSL) currently does—isn’t viable either, Katz says, because climbing onto Baltimore Light is difficult. It also doesn’t have a boat landing, as TPSL does.
At its start, the lighthouse was known as Baltimore Harbor Light or BHL because it marks the beginning of Craighill Channel, the major shipping lane leading from the Bay to the Patapsco River and the port of Baltimore. It’s listed as “Baltimore Light” on nautical charts to avoid giving mariners the impression that it’s actually in the city’s harbor.
Erected on a cylindrical caisson embedded in the Bay bottom, Baltimore Light was the last lighthouse built on the Bay and became the first to use nuclear energy for power, albeit briefly. In 1964 it was fitted with a radioisotope generator, which was removed two years later. Today, solar panels power the beacon. There’s no electricity for the living quarters.
Katz says the group is still committed to restoring the structure and to preserving it. “The main thing is for people to realize that it’s a part of Chesapeake Bay history,” he says. “We’re trying to share our passion for the lighthouse by keeping it as beautiful as possible.”
About the Author: Art Pine is a Coast-Guard-licensed captain and a longtime sailor on the Chesapeake Bay.
