Life as a Supernumerary Assistant Keeper
Lightkeepers began their service as SAKs based at Baily, where
they were given instruction by the PK. From Baily they were sent as
relieving Keepers to other lighthouses where they gained more
experience of the coast. Richard Foran looks back on life as an
SAK.
The final chapter is being written for Lighthouse Keepers with
the closure of the Baily next April. It is a fitting tribute that
the Baily is the last lighthouse for automation, as so many Keepers
commenced their service at this station.
My introduction to the Baily was on a wet November evening. Like many more, on the day I joined the Service I was greeted by the Principal Keeper, Kevin Murphy, who's first question was 'do you drink?'-a question I fully understood a few days later when, after a late night on the town, a certain Supernumerary Assistant Keeper (SAK) proceeded early in the morning to Bus Áras to catch the Donegal Express. After arriving at the bus depot this SAK telephoned the Baily to ask 'where am I going?' The following day Kevin visited the watch room many times enquiring if the Rathlin O'Birne relief had been carried out, as this confirmed that his charge had arrived safely.
Many of the new recruits' knowledge of manned lighthouses was indeed scarce. One evening a new recruit got a call on the extension phone with the words 'this is Captain Ball . . .' instructing him to proceed to the Muglins the following morning, and make sure he arrived with a garden fork, a shovel and a pickaxe. He was assisted in every way to gather his garden tools by his fellow SAKs and advised to be at the main door at 8 am the next morning for the taxi. This was the hour the fatherly figure of Kevin Murphy always paid his first visit to the watch room every day. After his initial astonishment Kevin sorted the new SAK out and advised him on the manpower requirements of the Muglins and the need for a fork at this lighthouse. That poor chap was from Cork City and his stay was short. Like many more from city life he did not have the call of the running tide.
As young SAKs we spent many hours listening to senior SAKs discussing some of the eccentric PKs (Principal Keepers) on the coast. As a result, many of us left the Baily for a coast station thinking we were on a journey to hell and expecting to meet Satan himself, only to discover Satan was a kindly old soul. Of course, now and again our worst fears were realised as, in my case, when I arrived on a rock station to be greeted by the PK with the words 'For your stay here I never want to see the waste bucket full or the coal bucket empty.' After a few weeks with this chap one would try to lead a good life just to ensure that one would not meet him in the next!
Trips on the coast always had some adventure and, now and again, a little excitement. My friend Sean Faherty and I were dispatched to Castletown for the south-west coast reliefs. The conductor on the Glengarriff bus was most co-operative when we popped into an odd pub on the long journey. In fact he kindly joined us on a number of occasions. I am afraid the driver was not too enamoured with this behaviour and I recall him telling the conductor 'you have my heart broken since you joined this route'. Their uneasy alliance came to a head when we arrived in Glengarriff. I asked the conductor to stop at one taxi driver's house while Sean insisted that we proceed to the next taxi. The order by the conductor to stop the bus seemed to agitate the driver. He stopped in the middle of the street and an argument arose about who was in charge of the vehicle. Sean and I added our opinion as the argument progressed. We were not prepared for the shock when the driver landed a left hook on the conductor's jaw, sprawling him in the aisle of the bus. While I looked on in amazement the PK of the Fastnet made a hasty retreat over the seats, quickly followed by other Irish Lights personnel. Sean immediately said 'I think we better get out of here'. The row continued while the Irish Lights contingent proceeded post-haste through the streets of Glengarriff and accepted the first taxi that would take them to Castletown.
Many readers will recall Palm Beach, Cleary's, and The Television Club, or the question 'has anyone ordered Stanley'. When informed that the taxi would be here at nine there was the mad rush for the bathroom, and how pleased we were when the drip-dry nylon shirt came on the market. Many pages can be written of an SAK's life in the 1960s, the laughs, the mistakes, and sometimes the disappointments.
But most will agree that the days at the Baily were the best times.
My introduction to the Baily was on a wet November evening. Like many more, on the day I joined the Service I was greeted by the Principal Keeper, Kevin Murphy, who's first question was 'do you drink?'-a question I fully understood a few days later when, after a late night on the town, a certain Supernumerary Assistant Keeper (SAK) proceeded early in the morning to Bus Áras to catch the Donegal Express. After arriving at the bus depot this SAK telephoned the Baily to ask 'where am I going?' The following day Kevin visited the watch room many times enquiring if the Rathlin O'Birne relief had been carried out, as this confirmed that his charge had arrived safely.
Many of the new recruits' knowledge of manned lighthouses was indeed scarce. One evening a new recruit got a call on the extension phone with the words 'this is Captain Ball . . .' instructing him to proceed to the Muglins the following morning, and make sure he arrived with a garden fork, a shovel and a pickaxe. He was assisted in every way to gather his garden tools by his fellow SAKs and advised to be at the main door at 8 am the next morning for the taxi. This was the hour the fatherly figure of Kevin Murphy always paid his first visit to the watch room every day. After his initial astonishment Kevin sorted the new SAK out and advised him on the manpower requirements of the Muglins and the need for a fork at this lighthouse. That poor chap was from Cork City and his stay was short. Like many more from city life he did not have the call of the running tide.
As young SAKs we spent many hours listening to senior SAKs discussing some of the eccentric PKs (Principal Keepers) on the coast. As a result, many of us left the Baily for a coast station thinking we were on a journey to hell and expecting to meet Satan himself, only to discover Satan was a kindly old soul. Of course, now and again our worst fears were realised as, in my case, when I arrived on a rock station to be greeted by the PK with the words 'For your stay here I never want to see the waste bucket full or the coal bucket empty.' After a few weeks with this chap one would try to lead a good life just to ensure that one would not meet him in the next!
Trips on the coast always had some adventure and, now and again, a little excitement. My friend Sean Faherty and I were dispatched to Castletown for the south-west coast reliefs. The conductor on the Glengarriff bus was most co-operative when we popped into an odd pub on the long journey. In fact he kindly joined us on a number of occasions. I am afraid the driver was not too enamoured with this behaviour and I recall him telling the conductor 'you have my heart broken since you joined this route'. Their uneasy alliance came to a head when we arrived in Glengarriff. I asked the conductor to stop at one taxi driver's house while Sean insisted that we proceed to the next taxi. The order by the conductor to stop the bus seemed to agitate the driver. He stopped in the middle of the street and an argument arose about who was in charge of the vehicle. Sean and I added our opinion as the argument progressed. We were not prepared for the shock when the driver landed a left hook on the conductor's jaw, sprawling him in the aisle of the bus. While I looked on in amazement the PK of the Fastnet made a hasty retreat over the seats, quickly followed by other Irish Lights personnel. Sean immediately said 'I think we better get out of here'. The row continued while the Irish Lights contingent proceeded post-haste through the streets of Glengarriff and accepted the first taxi that would take them to Castletown.
Many readers will recall Palm Beach, Cleary's, and The Television Club, or the question 'has anyone ordered Stanley'. When informed that the taxi would be here at nine there was the mad rush for the bathroom, and how pleased we were when the drip-dry nylon shirt came on the market. Many pages can be written of an SAK's life in the 1960s, the laughs, the mistakes, and sometimes the disappointments.
But most will agree that the days at the Baily were the best times.