RONDOUT LIGHT AND ITS KEEPERS

Editor's note: The following article was originally published on November 30, 1907 in the Kingston Daily Freeman newspaper. The language, spelling and grammar of the article reflects the time period when it was written. 

Studio portrait of Catherine Murdock (center, front) and her family. HRMM Collection.

An Institution That Is a Model — Mrs. Murdock's Record In Government Service — The Life Saver Who Wears No "Hero" Medals and Refuses to Talk of Himself.
           
A short time ago a brief item in The Freeman announced the resignation of Mrs. Murdock as keeper of the Rondout light house and the appointment of her son to position. At the time of her resignation Mrs. Murdock enjoyed the distinction of being, with one exception, the oldest light house keeper in the service of the government, and in terms of continuous service, the oldest employee of the light house board. One other keeper is older than Mrs. Murdock, but none has served the government so long. In accepting her resignation the light house board wrote to Mrs. Murdock a letter congratulating her on her continuous service of more than 50 years and expressing its satisfaction with her faithfulness during that long period.  By reason of her long and excellent service Mrs. Murdock had before attracted the attention of the light house board and received letters of commendation which are highly prized.  In 1906 she was commended for the excellent order in which the light house was found and verbal commendations from inspectors have been frequent and warm.  Mrs. Murdock resigned August 28, 1907, and her resignation was accepted September 12.

Mrs. Murdock was appointed keeper of the Rondout light in 1856, when Franklin Pierce was president, and has, therefore held office continuously for more than 51 years, under the administrations of twelve of the 21 presidents that the country has had in its entire history.  Changes of administration have sometimes brought temporary anxiety and trouble, as some worthy patriot who yearned to serve his country as a lighthouse keeper would apply for the position, but in every case the government has declined to make a change.  To be in one spot for 51 years -- the "one spot" being so literally exact as in the case of the keeper of the Rondout light whose entire domain is an artificial island so small that one need not be much of an athlete to jump across it -- would seem to most persons a cheerless way of spending half a century, but it has left no indication of despondency or loneliness with Mrs. Murdock and her family.  A Freeman reporter who called at the light house a few days ago found it one of the neatest and most cheerful homes he had ever entered.
           
Mrs. Murdock, who is always described by reporters who visit the light house as "motherly," probably because that word so exactly describes her appearance and manner, bears her 79 years lightly, keeps up with the world's progress by reading The Freeman every evening and is perfectly content and happy in her home.
           
"Lonely? No, indeed." was her reply to a question.  "With all the boats going by and the view over the water why should anyone be lonely here?  But when I am away for a few days I am always ready to come back, for no other place seems like home."
           
Mrs. Murdock, who before her marriage was Miss Catherine A. Parcell, is a native of the town of Esopus and has spent nearly all of her life in that town, the Rondout light house being within the boundaries of Esopus and not in the city of Kingston as is generally supposed. Mrs. Murdock spent her early days at Ulster Park, residing in the house adjoining the school house.  She was married to George W. Murdock, a native of Stone Ridge, who was for a time keeper of the lower light house.  Later he was for a year and a half a guard at Sing Sing prison before being appointed keeper of the Rondout light house.  Within a year of his appointment he was drowned at Ponckhockie while on his way to the light house.  Mrs. Murdock was appointed to succeed him.  For a time, until her children grew up, she was obliged to employ a boy to row the boat, but for many years none outside of the family have shared in the duties of the position.
           
Until 1867 the light house was an old frame building. There were no dykes and boats could land directly at the light house pier. The present stone building was erected in 1867.  It is a comfortable eight-room residence, surmounted by the lantern.  With the building of the dyke came the necessity of lighting the dyke lights, three in number. Many times, Mrs. Murdock says, it has taken her son nearly the whole forenoon to get to the dyke lights to extinguish them when the creek was full of floating ice and he would have to alternately walk on the ice, dragging his boat, and row across the places where the ice was not strong enough to hold him. Often he would return with icicles hanging to his clothing and completely exhausted by the struggle. For a fortnight at a time it has been impossible to reach the shore.
           
With the growth of systematic ways of doing government business has come added work in the way of bookkeeping.  Records are now kept of the weather, the amount of oil burned each night, and the amount of wick burned.  Reports have been sent back because of a discrepancy of a gill in the account of the oil burned.  "It isn't such an easy job as folks think," says Mrs. Murdock, "and everything has to be in order all the time, for you never know when an inspector is coming.  He inspects not only the light, but the whole house, and everything must be in order."
           
That everything has been in order is proved by the long term of Mrs. Murdock's service and the complimentary letters she has received. Certainly no inspector could criticize the house as The Freeman reporter found it.  Aside from its interest as a light house, it has been made a museum of curiosities and mementoes by the family. Probably the most complete collection of pictures of Hudson river craft in existence has been gathered by the present keeper, Mrs. Murdock's son.  It covers Hudson river steamers from Fulton's first crude boat to the magnificent Hendrick Hudson. Another feature is Mr. Murdock's collection of table glasses from the various river boats, it has been added to from time to time.  Mr. Murdock's hobby is known to the river men, and as a result whenever a Hudson river man goes abroad or visits any remote place, he brings away with him a souvenir glass for "Jimmie" Murdock.  Each is labeled and placed in the collection. 
           
Life at the light house has not been without excitement. In the great freshet, when the Eddyville guard lock was washed away, it seemed for hours as though the building must be swept from its foundation. Again, a few years ago, when all of the boats in the creek were swept out by the ice and flood, it was feared that some of them would crash into the house, but it was not touched. At another time, when only one barge broke loose, it struck the light house dock. [editor's note: December 10, 1878 flood]
           
When the Charley Ross excitement was at its height, [1874] Mrs. Murdock's son-in-law bought a boat for her of a man who said he was from Albany.  She did not have the money to pay for it, and did not care to pay cash, as she feared it had been stolen.  The man, who was in the boat anchored along the flats, collected all but $5, and then went away.  Later detectives came, questioned and searched.  It developed that the man with the boat was Mosher, one of the captors of Charlie Ross.  Mrs. Murdock still chuckles over the notion the detective had that she wanted anyone else's children.  "I had enough of my own to take care of," she says, "and I told them so, too." Mosher never came back to collect his $5, and Mrs. Murdock says the detectives told her they believed she was the only person in the world who ever got ahead of Mosher in a business deal.
           
Another feature of life at the light house is the number of persons that have been saved from drowning by the keeper's family.  With the introduction of small motor boats, often sailed by people unfamiliar with the river, accidents have multiplied.  As many as three motor boats have run on the dyke in one week, often at night.  Sometimes the people realize their danger.  Often they do not.  Usually they feel humiliated by their experience, and say nothing about it.
           
Of this interesting feature of life at the light house the reporter sought information from James Murdock, the present keeper, but sought it vain.  The most definite statement he could get was, "Yes, I've pulled quite a lot of them out of the water, but let that go.  I'm not the one that ought to talk about it."  Pursuing the search for information further, the reporter asked a few questions of Mr. Murdock's mother and wife, while the keeper was absent, lighting the dock lights.
           
"I've often told Jimmie that he ought to be written up," said his mother, "but he always says 'Let others do the talking,' and there it ends. The reporters that come here always write about me, and never say anything about him. Once in a while there is a little item in the papers about some life he has saved and I have kept a lot of clippings, but half of the stories do not get printed at all because he never says a word to anybody.  No, I can't begin to tell you how many lives that boy has saved — I can't even give you a guess and he never kept track of it.  And then the risks he takes to oblige people. Why, not long ago he rowed four people over the river in an awful gale at night so they could get to Poughkeepsie by automobile."
           
"Why, I remember when the Glenerie sank," said the younger Mrs. Murdock, "he went out and saved a woman and that man they call Uncle Sam.  Often on dark nights we hear calls for help and he will row out and get people off the dyke, where they have run their motor boats.  In the ten years that I have lived here he has saved half a dozen from drowning, not counting those he has saved from spending a night on the dyke.  Has he ever had a medal?  Well I tell him he ought to have one, more than one, too, but he won't listen to it or do a thing — just says 'let the others do the talking.'"
           
"Oh, I don't know, I never kept a record, and anyway nobody would let a poor fellow drown," was the answer the reporter got from Mr. Murdock to a final appeal for some facts about his career as a life saver.  Then he started in to tell how the ferryboat saved a party stranded on the dyke from spending the night there and brought out a picture of the steamer City of Kingston in Seattle and insisted on changing the subject to anything but life saving.
           
The light house family now consists of representatives of three generations — Mrs. Murdock, the former keeper; her son James, the present keeper, who was born in the light house [editor's note: James, Sr. was born in the 1837 wooden lighthouse]; Mrs. James Murdock, who resided in a city before her marriage, but thinks the light house the finest spot on earth to live, and their son James Jr., born in the light house [editor's note: James Jr. was born in the 1867 bluestone lighthouse].

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