“He told visitors wonderful anecdotes about growing up at the light station. In more recent years, Unaka Benjamin Jennette’s son Rany, who was born in the principal keeper’s quarters, served as a park ranger at the site. That tower was replaced with the candy-striped tower. In fact, Christian Jennett, widow of Joseph Jennett, sold to the government the original four acres upon which a 95-foot-tall sandstone tower was built in 1802 and lighted in 1803. He is also responsible for keeping of station records and for all property and supplies.”Įight Jennett or Jennette family members were keepers. “The principal keeper is in responsible charge of station to see that lens and lantern are kept properly clean and polished and clock work clean and running on time, and that buildings and grounds are kept clean and orderly, well painted and in repair within capacity of keepers. The official records include this job description by Jennette: The distinctive candy-striped deign of the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse is fodder for many stories - and a few tall tales - passed down in the lightkeepers’ families.

He moved from the main Hatteras post to a skeleton tower in Buxton woods in 1936, serving there until 1939. A native of Buxton, Jennette spent 20 years tending the Hatteras light, starting in 1919 after already having spent 15 years on light vessels. “There is something magical about this place,” Shelton-Roberts adds.įour great-grandchildren of Unaka Jennette, the last Hatteras lightkeeper, have the honor of unveiling the memorial. “All the right timing and energy, talent and goodwill came together,” she says, noting the cooperation of the local planners, including Lynn Jennette, and the engraver, A.C. The group then had to receive park service permission and pay for the engraving. The idea for the stone memorial - marking both a place and a heritage - came during an otherwise mundane planning session, recalls Cheryl Shelton-Roberts, one of the homecoming organizers. “Like that granite foundation, the keepers formed the foundation of American character,” says Francis Pelitier, former superintendent of the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, part of the National Park Service. Courtesy Carlisle Davis Collection, Outer Banks History Center That was our recreation,” says Sharp, acknowledging that the lighthouse had been moved to escape erosion.Ĭaptain Ephraim Meekins was principal keeper at Hatteras from 1900 to 1906. But for a few moments, her strongest memories are of child’s play. “My best days were out here,” adds Sharp, who now lives in Virginia.įamily stories recall the responsibilities Jennie had as the oldest daughter, helping to care for her siblings and teaching them to cook, clean and crochet. “For the last time, I want to go into every room,” she says, even though that means walking up narrow stairs to the bedroom area. “We had outdoor toilets,” she explains in a more serious tone as she glances out the windows. “There’s the kitchen,” she says with excitement as she eagerly pulls from the grasp of relatives stationed at her sides, while others trail behind, recording the event on video and film. She, too, returns each summer to a home in Frisco.įor Sharp, the reunion provides her first venture inside the keepers’ quarters in eight decades. “I was the only one not born in the keepers’ quarters,” she says, differentiating herself from her sisters.

She now lives in Winston-Salem, but her island cottage is still a family haven, especially in the summer months.Ī third sister, Nevada Fulcher Palmer, better known as Day, 79, came from her home in Arlington, Va., for the event. “This should have happened before,” says Sharp’s younger sister, Annie Fulcher Pellegrini, 81, who was about three months old in 1920 when the family moved from the keepers’ quarters to nearby Frisco. Many folks arrive from around the country to find a link to a national treasure. The event, organized by the Outer Banks Lighthouse Society, gives new perspective to family stories. They are in the company of other well-known island families - Midgett, Jennette and Austin to name a few.Īll together, nearly 2,000 people come to honor fathers and grandfathers, great-uncles and beyond. “Family is the most important thing,” explains Sharp, now 95 years old.įamily is still a hallmark for the Fulcher clan, as they gather 60-strong for a homecoming of descendants of the Hatteras lightkeepers. He found that balance as an assistant lightkeeper for the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, where he served from shortly before Sharp’s birth in 1906 to 1920. Jennie Fulcher Sharp recalls her father, Charles Fulcher, wanting a good job that could allow him to spend time with his family - a family that would eventually include a dozen children.

Life of a lighthouse keeper