It was Memorial Day, 2016 at Eureka’s pioneer Myrtle Grove Cemetery. Two Coast Guard members had placed a small symbolic lantern at the grave of Sarah E. Johnson to honor her service. They told our small group of volunteers that she had been the lighthouse keeper at Humboldt Bay’s first lighthouse on the north spit. Fifty years a resident and I had not known of a lighthouse on the north spit, not to mention that there had been a woman lighthouse keeper! Always intrigued by strong women stories, I had to learn more. The stone’s inscription gave only a few clues:

In memory of Mrs. Sarah E. Johnson
Native of Belfast, Ireland
Died Oct. 19, 1869
Aged 43 years

Seriously Seeking Sarah

That week, on duty as docent at the Humboldt Room at the County Library, I took advantage of what had become my “go to” directory for information on early Humboldt families: The Early Members of Humboldt County Pioneer Society. Turning to the index — there she was: Johnson, Sarah E., pg. 381. However, page 381 turned out to be the bio page for a James McKenna. Confused that it wasn’t Johnson, I scanned the page to the very end where a footnote read:

In August 1852, Sarah filed for divorce from William McKenna. She said he was a drinker and beat her. Sarah moved up to Eureka, Humboldt County, California…She ended up working as a lighthouse keeper to support her and the children. She married W. John Johnson 31 August 1856…

Apparently Sarah once had the married name of McKenna. More surprisingly, the adjacent bio page was for Sarah’s first child, William McKenna Jr., who had been born in 1843 in Australia, a fact that quite got my attention — traveling from Ireland, to Australia, to California in that era was highly unusual and utterly daring. This was fast becoming a compelling need to know more.

Why Australia? Recalling school history classes I wondered if a push factor for leaving Ireland could have been the infamous potato famine. A quick fact check ruled that out because the years of the famine were 1845-1855, and Sarah’s first child was born in New South Wales, Australia in 1843, two years before the famine that devastated Ireland.

The next possibility was the notorious convict ships. Was Sarah a convict? Was her husband William a convict and was she among the wives who were transported as a kind of family reunification program? Repeated searches on relevant listings failed to reveal any evidence of such a theory.

Absent any documentation other than the birth of their first child in 1843 and her marriage date of May 1839, and having run out of obvious push and/or pull factors, it was time to try some basic internet searches, starting with “Irish immigration to Australia 1840.”

It turns out there was a concerted effort by the New South Wales government to attract young skilled British and Irish men and women to populate and domesticate the colony. The notice pictured to the left was one of the advertisements that inspired relocation to Australia with free ‘government assisted’ emigration passage paid using colonial funds. In 1841, more than 13,700 Irish emigrated to New South Wales. Various records indicate that Sarah’s husband, William, identified as a carpenter — a suitably useful skill for the growing colony.

And populate they did. Their first child was born in July 1843 — a son, William John McKenna Jr., named after his father. He was followed in August of 1845 by daughter Eliza, and a third child, Alexander, was born in September of 1847. The baptism records of the two brothers indicate that the family was Catholic and also revealed their mother’s maiden name as Homes (alternately Holmes) and that the family lived in Balmain, near Sydney, New South Wales.

Another Ocean Voyage — Another Emigration — Another Continent 1849

Word of gold in California reached Sydney in late 1848.

It was impossible to know with certainty what determined their decision to join the gold rush, but one wonders whether Sarah had much choice. William sold the two lots on which he had built a weatherboard cottage at 20 Datchett St. in Balmain (a rather posh address today) in May of 1849 and by May 26, the family was aboard a ship bound for San Francisco.

There comes a time in a research project, if you’re very fortunate, you get a lucky strike of your own! Gold Fleet for California Forty-niners from Australia and New Zealand was just such a book. Thank you, Charles Bateson! Not only did this book have great details of the period, it also included an appendix of charts detailing departure and arrival dates, facts about the vessels, length of journey, number of passengers, and even the name of the captain.

Recalling William McKenna Jr.’s page in the Pioneer Society Directory notes, he arrived in California in August 1849. Bateson’s chart indicated only four ships arriving in San Francisco in August: the Fanny, the Spencer, the Louisa and the Regia. It was not difficult to find a website with passenger lists. At TheShipList. com, there was another lucky strike. For the barque Louisa, in the very center of her passenger list, was the listing “Mr. and Mrs. William McKenna & three children.”

Additionally, we learn that the Louisa was 307 tons, the basis on which maritime law determined the number of passengers allowed, which was one passenger per three tons. Seventy-eight passengers were well within the limit, so she was not overly crowded. Departure from Sydney was May 26, 1849 and arrival at San Francisco August 29, 1849 — ninety- five days at sea — 45 days longer than planned! Did they have enough provisions? One imagines a scenario of wild storms or having been becalmed for countless days…There are no records of what kind of quarters were available, nor if passengers were expected to provide their own provisions. On such a voyage, over three months with three children under six might be something short of traumatic, but not by much.

California 1849, Here They Are

The next documentation that helps us know what happened to the McKenna family after arriving in California was the 1852 census in which they were residing in Benicia. William was enumerated as a carpenter and the family had a fourth child — James. Consulting the trusty Pioneer Society directory, the birth date given for James’ birth was October 1849. That was a mere two months after their San Francisco arrival — clearly, Sarah had been very pregnant throughout the entire voyage! One stands in awe at the strength and endurance of such pioneer women.

Despite the fact that Sarah was shown on the 1852 Benicia California Census of October 1 as living with William and their children, there exists a legal record filed two months previously on August 11, 1852, a petition asking the Solano County court to grant Sarah a divorce from William. This seems to indicate things had not gone well for the family.

For that the said plaintiff on or about the month of May AD 1839 was united to the said defendant, William McKinny [sic.] in the holy bonds of Matrimony.

This is our only source of a date for their marriage. Additionally, since the baptism records were in the Catholic church, we can assume Sarah and William were Catholic, which categorically forbade divorce. Consequently, we can further assume that this was something of an extreme situation. A few of the charges are transcribed here in rather sordid details:

Plaintiff charges that the said Defendant is now and has been for the last three years an habitual drunkard or guilty of intemperance, and that during said period he has beaten the said plaintiff with extreme cruelty by beating, striking, and choking plaintiff in a cruel and inhuman manner that his treatment has been such often times to drive her and her children from the house to seek a shelter at the mercy of friends…

The court petition continues:

…that for the last three years or more she has supported and maintained said children by her own industry and exertions…She also requests the property and dwelling which was purchased with money earned by said plaintiff, be and remain the property of said plaintiff.

Arriving in Humboldt — the Fort and the Family — 1853

You will be forgiven if you assumed, as did I, that Sarah and William parted ways after the court proceedings and, moreover, that Sarah went to Eureka on her own. I had imagined the intrepid Sarah, boldly selling the house, arranging for passage, and with four children in tow, boarding a ship bound for Humboldt to start a new life in a new land.

There is a possibility that the court did not rule in her favor. But, regardless, let us not underestimate the complexity of human relationships, the charm of the Irish (sober or not), religious obligations, a change of heart, or any combination of circumstances that determine one’s decisions. Six months after the date of the complaint, it appears the entire family, including the abusive husband, moved to Eureka together.

This important fact would have escaped me had it not been for COVID-19 sheltering. With no Humboldt Room available, I was forced to consult my humble personal library in which was found a rather tattered edition of Chad Hoopes’ Lure of Humboldt Bay Region. I was surprised to learn that the 4th Infantry which eventually was dispatched to establish Fort Humboldt, had been based in Benicia and departed from there to Humboldt on the ship Goliah in January of 1853, the very same month on the arrival of the McKenna family in Humboldt. It turned out that William Sr. had “entered federal service in Benicia, as a master mechanic.” The family most likely arrived in Humboldt County with the 4th Infantry.

Additionally, there was a seemingly unconnected and obscure but defining detail that could not be ignored, as it placed William McKenna Sr. in Eureka in early 1853. Mr. Hoopes for some unknown reason included this detail from a military report in his treatise on early Fort Humboldt:

The buildings and furnishings of the fort were crude, rough, and handmade. William McKenna, a carpenter from Eureka, built desks for the adjutants and the commanding officers for $30 each.

William, a year and a half later, is named in yet another Humboldt County public record, a birth record for Thomas E. McKenna.

MCKENNA, William & ______________, born 10 June 1854 Thomas E.

That the mother is not named is rather unusual, but subsequent records including the 1860 census, clearly identified Thomas with Sarah as his mother.

The next record featuring the family in Humboldt does not occur for another two years. It is a notice in the Humboldt Times in September of 1856.

A Bucksport Marriage

The Humboldt Times September 9, 1856 announced that on “Sunday, August 31, 1856 at Bucksport, near Fort Humboldt. Mrs. Sarah McKenna was married to Captain John Johnson at the home of Mr. Wm. Roberts.” This would suggest that Sarah, albeit belatedly, had ultimately acted on the 1852 decision to divorce William.

Captain Johnson, the new bridegroom, like most people in Humboldt in 1854, was from elsewhere. A native of Hollowell, Maine, he had been involved in maritime pursuits. The 1850 Hollowell census showed John Johnson age 36, with his wife Elizabeth age 32, and three children: Frank A. age 9, Isaac age 7, and John age 1. The year after the 1850 census, a daughter, Lizzie, was born. Some time after that, Elizabeth, his wife, presumably died. For what reasons we can only guess, he left his four children with his sister, Betsey Nash, and her family and sailed off to California, arriving at Humboldt Bay in time to accept the lighthouse keeper position and marry Sarah McKenna in 1854.

It is unclear what had drawn him to Humboldt; we only know he had accepted the post of lighthouse keeper five months before the wedding. Technically, he had become the second keeper after another man, a Mr. Pearce, had resigned in frustration after waiting two long years for the lens to arrive.

While the house was completed and functional, the light was not yet in operation. It would be another three months before the French-designed Fresnel lens arrived and was installed. Meanwhile, the Captain, with Sarah and the children, settled into life on the north spit.

Life Amid Shifting Sands at Land’s End — 1856

Lighthouse-keeping fosters images of isolation, harsh weather, primitive living, and loneliness. That the first Humboldt Bay lighthouse keepers faced isolation is a given; it was at the very southern end of the north peninsula. The harsh weather there, with wind, rain and shifting sands, was unrelenting. That living conditions were primitive, is assumed; after all, it was the frontier in 1856. But to suggest that any family of seven people experienced loneliness anywhere would be a stretch.

Access to supplies from Bucksport or Eureka meant boating across the bay, mooring, loading items, and then returning across the bay and packing in supplies across nearly a three-quarter mile stretch of sand. In subsequent years, a boardwalk was constructed, but in those earliest times everything had to be carried. The children were aged 13, 10, 9, 7, and 2. Certainly their abilities were utilized when possible.

Two vendor billings, butcher A.S. Rollins and merchant Alex Gilmore revealed what manner of purchases were made. These apparent everyday necessities give a sense of what items the family needed as well as an insight of how they may have lived on their remote peninsula.

Undoubtedly, with the onset of winter winds and the predictable cold rain, there was a concerted effort to arrange for heating. Old photos show the lighthouse had two chimneys, so it can be assumed they used wood for heating. In addition to beach driftwood, wood for warmth may have been available as a byproduct of several local logging mills. The issue, of course, was getting any source of firewood to the very isolated south tip of the north spit.

As to the essential need for water, both the north and the south spits were favorably situated to have fresh water just below the ground surface, a fact known to the resident Wiyot people. A hydrological phenomenon termed “freshwater lens” exists there in which rainwater is filtered and contained above the heavier salt water.

Despite logistical difficulties, the anxiously awaited Fresnel lens was installed by December 20, 1856. The lighthouse was at last considered fully functional. The location for the lighthouse had been selected so the light could be seen from the ocean, the bar, and the bay. While sensible in concept, the site was but a few feet above sea level which meant the light could be seen from only twelve nautical miles on a fog-free night with calm seas — not conditions for which Humboldt Bay is noted.

With longer winter nights coming on, the routine of chores necessary to maintain the facilities changed markedly. And when the new light was installed, even more chores were added.

The oil lamp required fuel. Much of lighthouse literature comments that vegetable oil such as wild cabbage oil was used in the lamps, but would it not have been more logical in Humboldt Bay for local whale oil to have been used? Just across the bay, Captain Buhne was known to engage in whaling at Humboldt Bay as early as 1854, so whale oil may have been used, at least at first. Other sourcing was needed by 1858 since the whale population was nearing depletion. Whatever the kind of oil, like all supplies, it had to be hauled to the lighthouse over the cursed ¾ mile of sand.

Johnson/McKenna family’s comings and goings

It had been nine months since the installation of the Fresnel lens, the family had settled somewhat into the routine of life at a lighthouse and, as in the course of human events, a very happy and very human event occurred on September 28, 1857 as seen in this birth announcement in the Humboldt Times: she was named Sarah Elizabeth after her mother.

Yet, a mere two weeks later another event occurred at the lighthouse — alas, a sad and tragic event, but also an all-too-human event. This notice was posted in the Humboldt Times as well:

Captain Johnson had died on October 11, 1857 at the age of about forty-four. No cause of death was given. However, Doctor Josiah Simpson from Fort Humboldt had recorded earlier, on July 17, that he visited “the lighthouse at midnight and remained till daylight.” Whether or not this visit was related to his ultimate demise two months later is not known. The physician who did attend Johnson’s “final illness” was another doctor, also from the fort, a Dr. L. Guild.

Doing What Had to Be Done

It is impossible to imagine exactly how the Captain’s death affected the bereaved household, but devastation may not be too strong an assumption. However, considering Sarah’s recoveries from other adversities, it is somewhat more than likely that she persevered pragmatically as she always had, and did what had to be done.

We learn a coffin was provided by Robert G. Simonson for $20. Their neighbor on the peninsula, George Fay, made an “enclosure around the grave” for another $20. Consulting a local early cemeteries expert about where his grave might be, Karen Hendricks reported: “Originally the Fay family had a burial ground at Fairhaven. All of the bodies were removed and taken to Ocean View. But in 1857 most burials were at Bucksport or at Fort Humboldt. The bodies at Fort Humboldt were removed to Myrtle Grove.” So we cannot say with certainty where he was buried. While Sarah was buried in 1869 at Myrtle Grove — which had opened in 1861 — there is no record of the Captain having been moved there to join her in the same cemetery.

Yet another formality “had to be done.” Since Johnson died intestate, (i.e.,without a will) there was the requisite and daunting probate court process. Those legalities took the rest of 1857 and the entire following year to resolve. Her designated administrator, Daniel Pickard, had to deal with: two different probate judges (J. C. Wyman and A. J. Huestis), multiple claims from debtors and clerks, recorders, public auctions, and real estate transactions among other complexities. Pickard’s thoroughness is the reason we have the documentation in the public record of the process, which lends further insight into Sarah’s situation.

Sarah Becomes the Keeper of the Lighthouse — Life Goes On

In 1857 there were few women lighthouse keepers unless they had inherited the position from the death of their husband or father. Sarah’s oldest son William was but fourteen, not quite of an age to take over, but his help and that of his siblings would have been essential. Winter was around the corner and there was a two-week-old baby to care for as well.

Official National Archives recording lighthouse keepers of the United States list Captain Johnson as having served until “his demise at 1859.” Given that the Captain’s death notice in the Humboldt Times was dated October 11, 1857, the National Archive was clearly in error, possibly attributable to delayed notification. Somewhat less logical is the possibility that the delay was deliberate so Sarah would not have to take the pay cut which would be her due as a female for that position. However, David J. Clark, author of “The Humboldt Harbour Lighthouse” (Humboldt Historian Winter 2011), suggests it was a clerical error due to communication times and distance; “the Lighthouse Board was notoriously slow.”

The ledger from The Lighthouse Board shows $1,000 [$33,049 in 2021 dollars] Annual Salary for the keeper,  J. Johnson, but when the keeper changed to Sarah Johnson, it was $600. The CPI Inflation Calculator website, shows in 1859, $600 was equivalent to $19,830 in 2021 dollars, hardly enough for a single mother with five children.

According to Humboldt County public records, by January 11, 1858, three months after she was widowed, Sarah paid $90 for a parcel of land in the developing town of Bucksport. In the spring of the following year, 1859, she purchased three more lots for $40 in Bucksport from Joshua Vansant, who would eventually become her son-in-law.

There was one particularly curious real estate transaction which came to light in the probate records. It seems, in May of 1856, before he married, the deceased, Captain Johnson, bought a quarter section on Table Bluff from Dr. Jonathan Clark. The probate court ruled that the 160 acres must be sold at public auction to pay Captain Johnson’s note of $280 at 25% interest to Dr. Clark.

The auction was duly advertised and duly held. Sarah, herself, placed the only bid. Her bid was $5, and it was accepted, which is strange enough, but here is the really strange part: within weeks — according to the title records — Jonathan Clark seems to have sold the property back to Sarah Johnson on December 27, 1858 for $475 — hardly the auctioned bid of $5.37 Was the winning $5 auction bid an act of charity for a bereaved widow? Was the subsequent $475 sale taking advantage of her? Or is there some other explanation?

1860 — The First Federal Census Comes to Humboldt

A census can document much, and suggest even more. That which is between the lines invites assumption, implication, and imagination. With that in mind, it would be irresponsible to guess why, according to the census, Sarah’s two oldest children were no longer living at the lighthouse in July 1860. William Jr., at seventeen was enumerated on the 1860 Federal census as a farm laborer among eight other laborers and living with a stock raiser near Hydesville.

Just four residences prior, but on the same precinct page, fifteen-year-old Eliza was listed with a nearby farm family and attending school. Three months later, she would marry Joshua Vansant, twenty-nine.38 Additionally, in due time, Sarah’s first grandson was born at the lighthouse on November 19, 1861.39 In those days, daughters would often give birth at the home of their mother, apparently even if that home was a lighthouse at land’s end.

The decade of 1860 could accurately be considered a particularly difficult and even tragic time for the increasingly settled north coast corner of California. The country had undergone rapid changes since Euro-American colonization began in 1850. Seeking a land route from the sea to the inland gold mines, the fortune hunters entered Humboldt Bay and encountered the indigenous Wiyot villages. Driven by gold-fever greed, the new arrivals found it expedient to disregard any territorial claims by indigenous peoples and proceeded to implement their exploitative goals.

As early as 1852, the culture clash had increased with such severity that Fort Humboldt was created in January 1853 by the federal government, ostensibly to keep peace between the colonizers and the Indians. However, incursions and depredations continued and many lives were lost by peoples protecting their way of life. In the conclusions of many historians, events culminated in nothing short of genocide. Individuals, small bands and entire Indian villages were decimated over the next decade by vigilantes and government- sanctioned militias as well as soldiers from Fort Humboldt.40 Respected historian Jerry Rohde documents numerous incidents of violence upon as many as eleven Indian villages concurrent with the infamous 1860 massacre at Tuluwat, formerly Indian Island. At least three of the incidents were within earshot of the peninsula and its lighthouse.

Summer of 1862: Amid a Prisoner-of-War Camp.

By mid-July 1862, Sarah’s household consisted of herself, her three younger sons: fourteen-year-old Alex, thirteen-year-old James, eight-year-old Thomas, and four-year-old Sarah.

At Fort Humboldt, directly across the bay, the Indians, having been “brought in for their protection” were being literally corralled in crowded, unsanitary conditions to the extent that there was illness, death, and violations upon the women. In August, over 700 Indians were removed across the bay and imprisoned on the southern tip of the north spit where they could be guarded by just a few soldiers picketed along a single line spanning the peninsula from the bay to the ocean. That end of the peninsula was conveniently Federal land and, in the center, was the lighthouse.

The following month, on September 14, over 800 Indians were shipped north about 100 miles on the coastal steamer Panama to the new Smith River Reservation near Crescent City and the Oregon line. Over the next three years, however, the controversial peninsula camp continued as a “reserve,” confining as many as 600 Indians as late as September 1865.

In none of the military reports are Sarah and family mentioned, nor even the lighthouse despite being geographically in the center of the camp. Of course, maintaining lighthouse duty would be required. The absence of such information is a puzzle.

The Humboldt Harbour Light at Work

Winters on the Humboldt coast would have periods of strong winds, high seas, and extreme tides. The winter of 1862-63 was particularly difficult. The treacherous conditions of the Humboldt Bar were legendary, and the little lighthouse did its best but it was never adequate for the site. The shifting sands of the bar were influenced by multiple watersheds feeding into the bay. That the forested drainage was being logged aggressively also contributed to silt and consequently, changes at the bar.

That winter, in February 1863, Humboldt suffered two disastrous shipwrecks within a month. The first was the brig Aeolus on her way out to sea. Captain Buhne’s dependable tugboat, the Mary Ann, was beached and stranded on the south peninsula attempting to rescue the Aeolus. Not knowing when or if the Mary Ann could be repaired, a replacement tug was purchased from San Francisco: the steam tug Merrimac. The second disaster was the sinking of the new steam tug, on her maiden voyage to Humboldt and within view of the lighthouse. All aboard were lost.

The Times Weekly article of February 28, 1863 reported:

Quartermaster Swasey was watching her with a glass from the Fort [Humboldt] when she went down and some boys in the tower of the light house had still a better view. They say that when she rose on the sea she stood on her bow for an instant, and when the roller combed her over her port bow she disappeared.

Both incidents were daylight occurrences, yet each speaks to the treacherous nature of the bar.

Sarah Retires

In August, Sarah Johnson officially resigned her post at the lighthouse. G. H. Nye was appointed on December 31, 1863 as her replacement. She had served six years — the longest of any lighthouse keeper at that station. The Indian “reserve” was still in existence until 1865. As mentioned earlier, as a woman, her salary was considerably less than that of her husband for the same job. Of the keepers who followed her over the remaining twenty-seven years of the Humboldt Harbour lighthouse: nineteen resigned, eight transferred, seven were fired, three died, and one deserted. All of them were men.

1863 had been a year of other significant changes for Sarah. By November she had sold her three Bucksport blocks for $600 to her seventeen-year- old son, Alexander. Yet in the same year, his address was recorded as Canyon City, Oregon where he had moved and where he was enumerated in the 1870 Federal Census. Alexander’s obituary, at age eighty, read: “he struck out on his own in 1863 and settled in Oregon.” By the summer of 1864, Sarah sold her quarter section in Table Bluff to one Patrick O’Rourk for $900, just short of doubling her $475 purchase price in six years.

Consequently, her 1864 household consisted of fifteen-year-old James, ten-year-old Thomas, and eight-year-old Sarah. She had the proceeds from her real estate sales. Although not yet forty and relatively young, she had had a hard life. We don’t know where she lived at that time. She may still have had her single lot in Bucksport.

There is little documentation of Sarah’s last four years except for a stark, cold, notice in the press on October 23, 1869 under the simple heading : “DIED.”

And then there was her probate for which her son- in-law, Joshua Vansant was petitioner. Here is an excerpt of a transcription:

…the deceased left no real estate and but little personal estate. The whole of which was exhausted towards the payment of the expenses of her last sickness and funeral.

The notice gives the cause of death as paralysis, suggesting something like a stroke. Consequently, we can’t know how long her “last sickness” lasted. While her age of forty-three seems young to us, in the U.S., the life expectancy in 1860 was a mere forty years. However, it cannot be said her life was anything but full. Her children, with the exception of twelve-year-old Sarah, were probably of an age to manage themselves more or less independently. The two younger sons do not appear in the 1870 census but young Sarah appears living in her older half-sister Eliza Vansant’s home.

The surnames of McKenna and Vansant descendants through the three older children, include such names as Campton, Glatt, Messerle, and Wing. Neither Thomas nor James married and young daughter Sarah’s two children did not survive to adulthood. Still, the stories of Sarah’s descendants through her three older children would fill another article.

Sarah had sufficient reason to be satisfied with her life. We can only hope she had time and peace of mind to reflect on the richness of her life. Somehow I rather imagine she was, as ever, more focused on “doing what had to be done.”

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Author’s comment: When I reflect on my mindset while compiling Sarah’s story, I am concerned that I have over-sentimentalized her life. If that is so, it is because the obstacles she surmounted seem so incredibly difficult to our twenty-first century sensibilities. If she lived today, she would have had more choices in raising her children; more support as a victim of domestic violence; travel would have been less arduous; medical care could have prolonged her years; and her reduced salary for being female could have been mitigated. But taken all in all, the truth is that, for her time, she did no more than what any woman who “does what needs to be done” would do. Still, it is a story of strength, perseverance, and character.

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The story above was originally printed in the Spring 2022 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.