An essay on Lights and Tall Tales. Long Beach/Oak Island was ‘discovered’ by my parents sometime right after WWII from what I’ve pieced together. Of course the 13 mile-long island had been the site of projects and dreams for centuries. Native Americans, Dawhee, Waccamaw, and Winya fished the area and through the colonial period people came and went. Nearby on Bald Head Island a lighthouse was built in 1817 and at the Eastern end the Oak Island Lighthouse beams its four powerful bursts of sweeping light across Frying Pan Shoals. It was erected in 1958. That light and I were born the same year.
Fort Caswell, built in 1836, stands at the north end of the island near the light. Designed to guard the mouth of the Cape Fear River from marauding pirates, the fort, a twin of sorts to Fort Fisher, was in operation through The Civil War to World War One. For decades (since 1949) the grounds have been home to Southern Baptist summer camps. My aunts Burdine and Leisel Womble went there for weeklong Bible Study as did cousins and friends. I was spared for some reason though growing up I visited those ruined fortifications many times.
I think it was T.L. And Mrs. Smith that cultivated in my parents their love of Long Beach. They seem to have been on the leading edge of folks in the Piedmont investing in the beach. They were from #SilerCity (he started Smith and Buckner Funeral Home there with B.B. Buckner in 1933). He talked my Momma and Deddy into buying a lot there when the only way onto the island was a ‘swinging’ bridge. They built a house which they used far, far too seldom but rented out for decades. Many, many folks from Chatham County spent vacations in that place.
We mostly only went to the beach in the winter when the house wasn’t rented. We’d head out of #Bonlee on Saturday afternoon after closing the hardware store and return late Sunday night. Even as a young boy that trip down and back seemed a bit frustratingly quick but I also could tell that my parents dearly loved the simple act of ‘getting away.’ Growing up that house very mercifully had no telephone. I didn’t get it as a child. I now understand such a welcome sense of ‘disconnecting.’
Heading back home from Long Beach late on a Sunday meant night driving for Deddy. It also meant that as we drove old highway 87 homeward that we passed over the railroad tracks at Maco. I have mentioned before the prominent place that John Harden’s ‘The Devil’s Tramping Ground and Other North Carolina Mystery Stories’ held in my growing up years. Having been raised up so close to the famous Satanic lair mentioned in the title and having been treated to Tall Tale upon Tall Tale by the clientele of #BonleeHardwareStore, I was more than curious about any and all mysterious phenomena.
So we had to slow way down and look look look down the track as we crossed the railroad there at Maco on the way back from the beach to spy the light of Old ‘Joe’ Baldwin’s lantern as he searched for his missing head. I’m sure I saw it at least once. In college once I even trekked down the trail there in pursuit and on another occasion some very peculiar things transpired along that desolate stretch of highway. I won’t go there with that story here though others might. And all this leads to the #OnThisDay..and a most disappointing news report…read on just below and in the clipping image attached for the full story:
#OTD 1856 (January 4) Conductor Charles Baldwin was mortally injured in a train accident near Wilmington. From this tragedy was born the Ghost Tale of The Maco Light and headless ‘Joe’ Baldwin a-searching along the tracks, light in hand. The clipping below is from ‘The Wilmington Daily Journal’ January 11, 1856.
Origins of Maco Light Legend Date to 1856
