The Calcasieu River, whose name is derived from an Atakapa phrase often translated as “crying eagle,” cuts through the marsh country of southwestern Louisiana roughly thirty-five miles from the Texas border. For most of the nineteenth century, mariners entering the Gulf from this sparsely settled coast relied on little more than local knowledge, small stakes, and the silhouettes of nearby buildings to negotiate the shifting shoals at the river’s mouth. Yet as settlement expanded, commerce increased, and shipping needs evolved, the remote Calcasieu Pass gradually took on commercial significance. The long, halting, and often frustrating effort to establish a lighthouse there reveals not only the navigational conditions of the region but also the bureaucratic challenges of lighthouse construction in the bayous and marshlands of the Gulf Coast.

August 1872 plans for Calcasieu River Lighthouse Photograph courtesy National Archives

The idea of marking the Calcasieu entrance emerged during the Lighthouse Board’s intensive review of the nation’s navigational needs in the early 1850s. In 1854, Congress appropriated $6,000 to build a lighthouse at the river’s mouth, but when the Coast Survey examined the site, its conclusions dampened the Board’s enthusiasm. Surveyors noted that the few small vessels capable of crossing the shallow bar—barely six feet deep—were already guided adequately by the cluster of houses along the pass. From a commercial standpoint, they argued, a federal lighthouse offered little justification. With no immediate plans implemented, the funds reverted to the Treasury in 1857.

The matter resurfaced in 1860 when southwest Louisiana’s lumber trade began to grow. Local petitions and shifting regional expectations persuaded Congress to appropriate $7,500 for a small lighthouse, and the Board began preparing plans and seeking title to a suitable site. At the same time, observers noted that the bay had acquired “considerable importance” as lumber shipments increased. Yet before a structure could be raised, the Civil War intervened. Work ceased entirely, the site was never purchased, and Union gunboats—rather than merchant vessels—became the chief navigators of the Calcasieu, making foraging trips upriver to supply the blockading fleet with pork, beef, and mutton.

With peace restored, the commercial landscape changed rapidly. By 1868, both the lumber business and coastal trade had revived, and petitions again urged federal authorities to light the bar. Small private range lights were built to assist local schooners. The Lighthouse Board recognized that the Calcasieu’s importance was likely to expand, especially as reports circulated of coal and sulfur deposits near the river. In 1870, the Board stressed that the entrance was “the key to the vast lumber region divided by the Calcasieu” as well as newly developing resources.

Despite the low marshy terrain bordering the pass, the proposed lighthouse site lay on “fast land.” However, the Gulf’s equinoctial storms had a long history of sweeping away entire settlements along this coast, sometimes resulting in catastrophic loss of life. Because of this, the Board determined that only a screw-pile foundation—which allowed a structure to stand above storm surge—could ensure adequate safety. Congress responded on March 3, 1871 by appropriating $20,000 specifically for an iron screw-pile lighthouse, significantly increasing the scale and ambition of the project.

Light built to range with Calcasieu River Lighthouse Photograph courtesy National Archives

The years that followed underscore just how challenging land acquisition could be in a sparsely surveyed marsh. Beginning in 1871, the Board attempted to obtain possession of the proposed site, but the land was entangled in competing claims. Although Louisiana had recently passed legislation enabling federal condemnation of property for lighthouse purposes, negotiations dragged on. In 1872, the Board contracted for a prefabricated iron tower from Portland Iron Company—modeled on the 1859 Southwest Reef design—with its lantern nearly fifty feet above mean sea level. The cast-iron screw-piles were manufactured, bracing arranged, and the entire structure shipped south. By early 1873, the ironwork had arrived at the depot at the Head of the Passes.

Unfortunately, the appropriation expired before the land could be secured. On July 1, 1873, with title still unsettled, the funds reverted to the Treasury. The completed tower stood in crates, useless. A fresh appropriation of $14,000 was requested, and granted in June 1874, yet further delays followed as the district attorney initiated condemnation proceedings. Meanwhile, the river itself shifted. Reports indicated that the bar channel had moved in such a way that a lighthouse on the east side—long assumed to be the logical location—would offer little help.

By 1876, these frustrations at last produced a solution. A careful resurvey revealed that the west side of the pass, on land already owned by the United States, would provide an excellent—and legally uncomplicated—site. The Board quickly surveyed and reserved the property, marked the boundaries, and began erecting the long-delayed tower. More than two decades after the first appropriation, Calcasieu finally had a lighthouse under construction.

Calcasieu River Lighthouse was finished in November 1876. Keeper Charles F. Crossman lit the lamps in the fixed white fourth-order lens for the first time on December 9. Crossman, who was roughly fifty years old when appointed, would serve at the station for more than thirty-five years, a tenure matched by few keepers in the Gulf region.

The new station rose above miles of flat, soggy marsh devoid of trees or other landmarks. Such unbroken horizons made nighttime navigation difficult, and although the lighthouse offered a clear coastal light visible nearly fifteen miles, vessels still needed guidance across the bar. A private outer range light remained in use, and by 1877 the Lighthouse Board recommended constructing a government range beacon to supplement the main tower. Congress appropriated $1,500 for this purpose in 1879, but efforts to purchase land for the beacon repeatedly failed because the property owner refused to grant the United States a permanent easement. This impasse continued until at least 1880, delaying establishment of a proper range system.

During the lighthouse’s early years, the Board devoted attention to routine improvements. A boathouse was erected, outbuildings maintained, and long elevated plank walks—essential in a marsh frequently flooded by even minor storms—were repaired in 1882 and again in 1886. These walkways stretched more than 1,600 feet from the riverbank to the lighthouse and onward to the station’s outbuildings, forming a raised causeway that kept the keeper dry in a landscape that rarely was dry.

Although the screw-pile design proved its worth, the lighthouse suffered repeated hurricane damage. The storm of October 12, 1886 washed away all outbuildings, the wooden platform, and the boathouse, and badly damaged the elevated walk. Repairs were swift: a new kitchen floor was laid, lantern components repaired, and new service buildings constructed. Further additions and improvements continued through the 1890s, including a cistern, fence, and an oil house built under contract in 1894.

A major program of improvements began in 1900, when a new boathouse and extensive plank walk—1,540 feet long and eight feet wide—were constructed to provide a more substantial connection between the dwelling and the landing. Ditches were cut to improve drainage, sand was hauled to elevate the grounds, and structural supports were added beneath the kitchen. Additional wharf facilities, landings, and fencing followed in 1901. These projects were necessary not only for the keeper’s daily work but also to ensure that the station remained habitable in a harsh, storm-prone environment.

Despite the difficulties, life at the Calcasieu Lighthouse included calm nights as well as dangerous ones. Keeper William Hill, who succeeded Crossman in 1912, described one unusual nuisance on July 28, 1922 that was plaguing the station: “for the last three nights the station has been so overrun with various species of bugs and insects that it has been impossible, even with constant care, to keep a good light. They settle on the lantern glass so thickly that it is doubtful if the light is visible 3 miles distant. The smaller kind pass through the screens and ventilators and fall in the lamp chimneys, causing smoke ups in the lantern. The lantern, which had recently been nicely painted, had to be scoured with soda and other cleansers yesterday, and will be cleaned to-day. These conditions are liable to continue as long as the westerly winds prevail.”

Storms, however, remained the lighthouse’s greatest threat. The hurricane of August 16-17, 1915 swept away the station’s outbuildings yet again, though the tower stood fast. In later storms, Hill distinguished himself through courage and resourcefulness. On May 5, 1917, after a gale destroyed the front range light, he salvaged the lens-lantern, constructed a temporary tower, and restored the range signal. The storm of August 6, 1918 saw Hill replace the range light amid hurricane-force winds while simultaneously caring for a neighbor family whose home had been unroofed. In the catastrophic storm of September 1919, several local families fled rising waters and took refuge in the lighthouse, where the keeper gave shelter until the danger passed. The 1916 congressional hurricane-repair appropriation allowed the Lighthouse Service to rebuild nearly all of the station’s walks and structures damaged by the storms of the preceding years. By 1920, 1,470 feet of walkways, the boathouse, and numerous minor repairs had been made.

Keeper William Hill remained at Calcasieu until 1929, after which Eli A. Malone took charge. Though the lighthouse continued to serve the modest but steady maritime trade of the region, sweeping changes were about to render it obsolete.

In the late 1930s, just before World War II, a new ship channel was cut through the marsh to provide a more direct, deeper route to Lake Charles. This improved waterway passed directly through the old lighthouse reservation. With modern aids to navigation planned for the new channel, the Calcasieu River Lighthouse—its location now out of line with maritime routes—was doomed.

The iron tower, long exposed to Gulf storms but still structurally sound, was dismantled without much difficulty. The screw-pile foundation, however, proved nearly immovable and ultimately had to be blasted out. Small automated beacons placed along the new channel replaced the services once provided by the lighthouse and its keepers.

Keepers: Charles F. Crossman (1876 – 1912), William Hill (1912 – 1929), Eli A. Malone (1929 – at least 1947).

References

1. Annual Report of the Lighthouse Board, various years.
2. Lighthouses, Lightships, and the Gulf of Mexico, David Cipra, 1997.
3. Lighthouse Service Bulletin, various years.

A modern set of range lights marks the entrance to Calcasieu River today.

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