Bewley And The Devils Island Lens

Rep. Janet Bewley's (D-Ashland) strong defense of the Northland environment from the proposed Penokee mine should come as no surprise to residents of the Chequamegon region. More than twenty years ago, as a private citizen, Ms. Bewley played a vital role in protecting another treasure: the Devils Island lighthouse.

Standing above cave-riddled cliffs at the northernmost spot in Wisconsin, the Devils Island light is well-known for its dramatic location. Even though it’s 10 miles from the mainland, the lighthouse is one of the signature attractions of the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore. Boaters set anchor and paddle their dinghies ashore to admire the tower; hardy kayakers paddle through the sea caves below it on calm days; visitors from around the world marvel at the scene as the climax of their tour boat excursion.

However, anyone who accompanies the park’s volunteer guides to the top sees another wonder: the Fresnel lens that once focused the beam of a small lamp into a beacon visible 22 miles away. Made from more than one hundred separate prisms, this magnificent optic exemplifies lighthouse historian Thomas Tag’s description:

"There are few things more impressive or beautiful than a Fresnel lens. This crystal cage of glass sparkles in the sun, splitting the light into tiny rainbows of glorious iridescent color like a precious diamond, and at night sends out its spokes of light to warn the mariner.”

Adding to Devils Island’s mystique, its lighthouse is the only one of the Apostle Island towers that still holds its original lens. Two more still exist as museum displays, but all the others were taken out and lost over the years.

However, in 1988, without consulting anyone about the idea, the U.S. Coast Guard decided it was time to take the historic lens out of the Devils Island lighthouse, replacing it with a modern version made from plastic. Maybe the old lens could go into a museum some day, the agency announced, but for the time being the smartest thing to do was dismantle it, crate the pieces, and keep it all in safe storage at one of their bases: maybe Sault Ste. Marie, maybe Houghton-Hancock. (The Bayfield station? “Not enough room.”)

At the time, the Apostle Islands National Lakeshore was still young as national parks go. Today it’s taken for granted that the National Park Service owns the islands and the lighthouses on them, while the Coast Guard has a duty to maintain navigational aids in the towers, but in 1988, there was still plenty of doubt as to which agency owned just what. Under the circumstances, the National Park Service response to the lens removal plan was limited to polite letters of protest, essentially asking, "Please don't take the lens out," and "If you do, can we keep it here?"

“Saving the Lens” became a cause celebre, but Coast Guard officials didn’t seem to care. Later on, an agency spokesman defended the decision:

“There has been a lot of hate and discontent in Wisconsin, and people saying it was an intentional move to take it away from the state, and we intended that it never return. That is not true. I can understand how somebody can misunderstand because (the lens went) across the state line. Unfortunately we are not as sensitive about this as we should have been in this case.”

At the time, though, the Coast Guard insisted there was no room for debate: the lens had to go.

This is where three local citizens came to the rescue: Betty Ferris, Warren Nelson, and Janet Bewley. In August 1989, taking advantage of a law that requires Federal agencies to consult with individual states in matters historic, the trio filed suit in a Madison court, accompanied by representatives of several preservation groups. Their demand was simple: order the Coast Guard to leave the lens in place.

Just a few days later, a Coast Guard crew removed the lens, damaging its prisms in the process. The citizen activists pressed on. The struggle was long and complex, and as time passed, the NPS played a more confident role, yet the Coast Guard wouldn’t budge.

At the end of May 1991, the court settled the matter: “Put that lens back,” it ruled.

It took only a few days to tear the lens out of the tower, but putting everything back together was harder. A technician from the National Park Service spent several weeks repairing the prisms in a borrowed Bayfield schoolroom, while local personnel arranged the logistics of the reinstallation. On the morning of August 31, 1992, a National Guard helicopter carried several crates filled with prisms and brass fittings back to the island. A waiting crew of National Park Service employees sorted the pieces out, and winched them to the top of the tower, where a lens expert from California donated his skill to put them together. By nightfall, the Devils Island lens was back where it belonged.

Several organizations and government agencies were part of this effort by the end, but the victory would have been impossible without three private citizens who wouldn’t back down: Betty Ferris, Warren Nelson, and Janet Bewley.

Retired park ranger Bob Mackreth was on Devils Island the day the lens went back in the tower, helping on the winch cables.