A Flying Santa Memory at Hendricks Head Lighthouse

By Bob Trapani, Jr. December 1, 2021

When Maine’s light stations were staffed by keepers and their families, Christmastime was more than a heartwarming holiday. Anticipation of Christmas was something that buoyed the lonely spirits of those who tended the lights, for the winter season was long and bitter, and the isolation profound. This was especially important for the children of remote or offshore lighthouses where contact with the outside world was minimal – if not nonexistent, for extended stretches of winter. Marking time amidst frigid wind and wave-swept surroundings, lighthouse families no doubt navigated through such loneliness by holding onto the dreams of modest Christmas celebrations where family, fun, food, gifts and the reason for the season were warmly aglow on that special day.

For the month of December, Maine Lights Today is sharing random accounts and memories from Christmastime at the lights. Some will be heartwarming, others tinged by a touch of melancholy, and still others will bring a smile to your face. Of course Flying Santa – from the 1930s forward, played a starring role for lighthouse families during the Christmas season, so memories of his joyous flights will also be included. We hope you enjoy each account we are able to share!

A Flying Santa Memory at Hendricks Head Lighthouse

An excerpted letter by Keeper Charles L. Knight, which appeared in the Rockland Courier-Gazette on December 31, 1932…

“Monday forenoon we here at Hendricks Head came pretty close to getting ‘the thrill that comes once in a lifetime.’ Along with Edgar Webber, the keeper was engaged in a small clearing to increase his wood supply – distant about a half-mile from the station, when he heard the hum of an approaching flying machine.

“As fate would have it, it flew almost directly over our little clearing so that both Mr. Webber and the keeper got a good look at it. It seemed flying towards the light. But it was so low – barely, we judged, a hundred feet above the tree tops, and with an occasional cough or something from its throttled-down engine so that we feared a forced landing had become necessitated.

“However, the real thrill came to those here at the station – for, piloted by a master hand, the machine actually passed, or seemed to pass, not only just above the small dooryard but between the fuel house and the dwelling – well below the ridge pole of the latter, but somehow managing to zoom the radio antenna stretched between the fog signal and fuel house roofs.

“Here Capt. Wincapaw, for it was he, dropped a bundle of well selected magazines, etc., and so deftly that they barely rolled over upon hitting the ground. Recovered, they were in perfect shape, and included the very latest editions of two as fine news sheets in their respective classes as are published in New England – The Courier-Gazette and the Boston Globe.

“But spectacular as was this delivery, executed with a daring that somehow brings to the writer’s mind tales heard from old Grand Army veterans of the achievement of their two favorite ‘braw sabre’ leaders, Kearney and Custer, a yet greater thrill comes in a realization of that spirit which brought these dauntless aviators out on so truly a philanthropic errand, not without peril, that something more even than Christmas cheer might be scattered amongst their fellows whose lots have been placed in the most isolated localities of the Maine coast.

“A significance and appreciation not only sinks deeply into the hearts of all visited, but must likewise appeal to all who hear the story.

“We lightkeepers are not naturally good writers, and from long existence amongst the isolated and wild surroundings – even the present inshore keepers have been so placed for long spells in times past; and have not fully recovered from the effects, our supply of words is apt to be especially limited – but our memories may be as good as those of others, and such visits establish themselves in the history of our lives; also they would seem of such a nature as not to escape the notice of Him ‘who marketh the fall of every sparrow.’”