Short Story - Paseos Point

Paseos Point

Charles J. Bohatka Jr.

On the shores of the great lake Erie sits a lighthouse. It peers over the trees and greenery of Paseos Point, a peninsula shooting out into Erie. The peninsula creates a two mile long harbor for a fishing industry gone desiccated. Mystery and excitement enshroud this temple of hope. To me that tower represents how I spent my summers growing up in the blooming northeast. That lighthouse watched over me and was coveted at summers conclusion. There is a plaque on the wall at the entrance that has all the names of the guys who built it. Raymond Allen Legenhelper is somewhere in the middle, that's grandpa to me.

Whenever we'd drive past, a tear would form in his eye. Memories swell in his head, and he'd always tell another great story. A story that I always had to write home about. All my friends think my grandpa is some type of lighthouse God. I didn't realize until I was older how much that lighthouse had meant to him. Nor did I realize how much pain he retained for the way it had been treated.

"It was a day like today in 1912. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the sounds of concrete mixers and hammers on wood filled the air. Naturally, I had to sign up. I had just turned eighteen and I was anxious to see the world. To see the world you need money and they paid pretty well. I was making thirty-five cents an hour, basically as a gopher. Whatever they asked for, I had to get it. I ran all day long. It's an awe-inspiring thing, seeing something everyday for the past fifty-seven years, and knowing you helped put it there. I still remember putting in the floor of the light room. I had graduated from gopher, and they actually let me work with them, up in that room." Grandpa points up to the top of the lighthouse.

The clouds began to bulge with the next rain storm. Premature darkness overcomes the sky. Signs are bending at ninety degree angles and we decide to take this particular story indoors. My grandparents bought a house overlooking the lake, and with a quick glance to the right you can see the great structure that defines the community.

"Every season six or more boats would smash into those rocks. We got the funding and naturally we built the largest lighthouse we could, this side of Cleveland. We were one of the first cities in Ohio to display a true need for it. That was a huge achievement. We made the news everywhere. Just look at her majesty, plenty of man hours went into that, and it was well worth it. Splintered wood never again hit those rocks." A huge smile crossed his face as we stared across the way at his accomplishment.

"I studied a lot in my free time about lighthouses, and I became an aficionado. I traveled the world looking at lighthouses. The lighthouse served a huge enigma to me. I wanted to solve it. I read every story about haunted towers and ill-figured keepers. I have every encyclopedia entry memorized. I read the biography of Augustin Fresnel, and I even studied theories on light refraction. I took photos of every house I saw and studied them all. I even earned a good amount of money serving as a keeper myself during my travels. To me the lighthouse was more than a beacon in the night. It portrayed an analogy for life. The lighthouse was a huge, powerful thing. Its main use was to provide a passage for ships in the dark waters. It saved lives, it helped navigators. It held so many functions.

“In South Carolina a small community, much like our own, constructed their firehouse around a lighthouse. Killed two birds with one stone, so to speak. Although it was destroyed by a hurricane soon after being completed, I was able to snap a photo. Since, it is like that lighthouse never existed. It was completely forgotten. The irony is no matter how much the lighthouse did, or how many people it guided to safety, it has been tossed aside with the onslaught of electronic do-hickeys, and satellites. It has been thrown away, disregarded, called useless. Once in awhile it gets a new admirer, someone who can appreciate the workmanship, the splendor, but that's not enough to keep them standing. It's a shame, there is so much history behind them and they are just beautiful. This community tossed me away, too. The similarities, the parallels are so apparent. I maintain a great admiration and respect for the lighthouse. To me, the lighthouse has become more than a building of concrete, brick and wood. It's like my best friend. It has become mortal. The way they have been mistreated and abused sickens me."

As soon as "sicken" left grandpa's mouth the sky was ripped open with a loud bang. Today's cataclysm had begun. The wall of water was so thick you couldn't see the lighthouse anymore.

"Someday when you stand here on this porch, hopefully after I've passed on to the lighthouse in the sky, that's what you'll see."

"What's that grandpa?" I asked.

"Nothing. You'll see nothing. I want you to always remember that lighthouse and what it meant to this city. Maybe you won't see nothing, maybe you'll see one of those Rocket Burger places there. Just another example of what matters more in society." He exclaimed in disgust.

I sat there for hours watching the rain that day. I had never paid much attention to the rain, but it is a beautiful thing. Cleansing, fresh, godly. The idea of the lighthouse had consumed my thoughts. The fear of it not being there weighed heavy on my mind. I couldn't imagine this place with no lighthouse on the point. It wouldn't be the same, it would no longer be my summer home. I thought about the stories we would make up about old man Kennings, the keeper. He had only one arm. Those fictitious stories meant nothing anymore, that mysterious tower held new meaning.

A few years later, grandpa took me up into that lighthouse. Opting not to take the elevator, we treaded up probably seven hundred stairs, but it was more than worth it. Even though I didn't really appreciate it then, it was truly aesthetic. Looking out over the great lake, the blues and greens of the water blending into one huge body. The sun bouncing off the water, and small crests dipping and falling, turning into brilliant waves of white. Those same waves travel hundred of miles just to crash into the rocks below, turn around and start over again. The harbor looked like an ant farm. Large ships pass each other out in the water, probably miles away from each other, to me they look like they’re scraping hulls. On the opposite side - town. City hall, main street, grandpa's house all in one view. I was too excited to hang around, seeing all my friends outside, I had to join them. Grandpa; however, was up there for hours.

He fell ill with cancer shortly there after and passed away. I remember the day well. Grandpa wanted to be cremated and his ashes were to be dumped from the top of the lighthouse into the lake and anywhere else he drifted from there. That day is one of the most vivid memories I have of childhood.

I still can't see the lighthouse through the rain. If I could, I wouldn't like it. Since the electronic age struck the lighthouse has been out of commission, and has become haggard. Rust stains it's once bright white. Piles of rumble lay at its base. Glass shards and rotten wood litter the floor of the light room. A huge fence was put up outside to prevent anyone from hurting themselves inside. I made several attempts toward getting it restored as a historical site but, city council wouldn't buy it. They're going to let it stand out there and wither away, undignified.

Everyday, I sit and think of grandpa and how hard he worked on it, and how childlike he felt while around it. Every once in awhile I could stare at the light room and see him standing in there smiling and waving to me.

Knowing it wouldn't survive another spring thunderstorm, I broke into the unsecured building and removed a floor board from that light room. That was a year ago. Today, in front of Rocket Burger stands a bronze statue and that piece of floorboard stating:

The Legenhelper Lighthouse of Paseos Point, erected in 1912. A watchdog over our community, this finely crafted tower of savior stood for 84 years. The hard work and determination of many created its ominous beauty, and time did away with the extraneous. Providing the light of hope in dark skies we venerate this statue in the memory of Raymond Allen Legenhelper, a pillar in our community, and a true authority on the brilliance and history of this nation's towers of light.