The crewmen stationed at Middle Island, like those at other life saving stations around the coast, were known as surfmen, in recognition of their specialized skills. While men with small-boat-handling experience were common on any waterway, it took extensive training and almost continual practice to be able to successfully launch a life boat in heavy seas. By the very nature of their assignment, the surfmen at Middle Island knew that real-life rescues were rarely needed in fine weather.

Most life saving stations on the Great Lakes were assigned a keeper and eight surfmen. The surfmen were assigned numbers from 1 to 8, based on seniority and experience (No. 8 being the most junior). Surfman No. 1 at each station was usually a veteran of long service, and stood in for the station keeper in the latter's absence. A surfman's number was important, because all drills and rescue procedures were outlined very precisely, with each man -- or rather, number -- having a very specific assignment. The men took turns each serving as cook.

An unidentified life saving station keeper (center) and crew pose with the station mascot. On their left sleeves, the men wear numbers indicating their position and role during drills. U.S. Coast Guard photo.

During the day, the surfmens' time was taken up with lifeboat launching and recovery drills, practicing with specialized rescue equipment, and a myriad of maintenance tasks around the station. Throughout the Life Saving Service, surfmen followed a rigid schedule.

On Mondays, the surfmen drilled with gear for effecting rescues from the beach, such as setting up the breeches buoy and firing the line-throwing gun. On Mondays they also examined the surf- and lifeboats to make sure they were in good condition, and performed any minor maintenance on them that might be required.

On Tuesdays came boat drill; both the surf- and lifeboats would be launched and recovered, and the men exercised at the oars for at least half an hour. In warm weather, the surfmen would often perform capsizing drill, practicing the procedures for righting an overturned boat. It was said that a well-trained crew could keep a boat rolling in the water like a log-roller might a floating log.

If it's boat drill, it must be Tuesday: surfmen at Middle Island practice righting their boat.  Courtesy of the Michigan Maritime Museum, used with permission.

On Wednesdays, the surfmen would practice signal drills. The men learned several different types of signaling, including how to send the read signals using letter- and numerical flags like those used aboard ship; wig-wag, in which a single flag was waved tot he left or right in various combinations to indicate individual letters; and night signaling using rockets and hand-held flares of different colors.

The station crew at North Manitou Island, Michigan, poses with its beach cart. The cart's wheels are fitted with extra-wide tires to roll easily across soft sand. The cart is loaded with lamps, flares, block-and-tackle, and hundreds of yards of rope. Poised atop the cart for display purposes is a small cannon, used to throw lines out to vessels stranded in the surf. U.S. Coast Guard photo.

Thursday was devoted again to drill with beach apparatus. On Fridays, the surfmen were trained in "restoring the apparently drowned," an elementary form of artificial resuscitation. Though crude, it was surprisingly effective. In 1894, twelve years after it had first been introduced in the Life Saving Service, the technique had been applied to 118 victims of apparent drowning; 60 of these survived. Surfmen also received training in first aid and the use of "restoratives" such as brandy and mustard plasters.

Saturdays were devoted to maintenance of the life saving station, its grounds and regular housekeeping chores.

At night, the surfmen were assigned watches to patrol the shore of the island, keeping a watch for vessels aground on the shore or other signs of distress. At Life Saving Service stations on a long, uninterrupted coast, it was common for surfmen to walk along the shore until they met a surfman from the next station coming in the opposite direction; the men would exchange stamped, metal tokens to prove they'd met, turn and trudge back to their respective stations. On tiny Middle Island, it's more likely that one surfman would make a complete circuit of the island, returning the the station to let another man take his turn on patrol. In addition to patrolling the shore near the station, the surfmen were required to keep a 24-hour watch from the station's lookout post, usually a platform built atop the boathouse. Sleeping on lookout was a serious offense, and often the lookout's platform was built without benches or seats to help keep the men on watch awake. Being caught asleep on lookout often resulted in an immediate dismissal from the Life Saving Service. Standing a lookout watch could be dangerous; at least one surfman on the Great Lakes was killed at his post when lightning struck the tower during a storm.

A surfman in his "storm suit," equipped for a nighttime shore patrol with lantern and walking stick.

During their free time away from drills and patrols, surfmen were allowed to leave the station during daylight hours so long as they remained within earshot of the alarm bell. They were cautioned to keep off private property and observe local game laws, but fishing and hunting were common pastimes. Surfmen could, at the keeper's discretion, be granted a 24-hour leave, running from noon to noon, not more than once per week. Restriction to the station grounds was a common punishment for minor infractions of the regulations.

But while the surfmen were rarely idle, life on a station could be insufferably dull at times. The daily routine varied little. At an isolated station, minor inconveniences or perceived personal slights could easily be magnified into serious disputes. Seeing the same faces day after day, eating the same food, hearing the same tired jokes, all tended to build tension. The personal quirks or arbitrary rule of the station keeper, in particular, could create a poisonous atmosphere where morale suffered, occasionally to the point at which the surfmen themselves walked off the post. At Point Judith, Rhode Island, the surfmen left this note, now in the U.S. Coast Guard archives, behind for the station keeper:

Much of the above information is adapted from Frederick Stonehouse, Wreck Ashore: The United States Life-Saving Service on the Great Lakes (Duluth: Lake Superior Port Cities, Inc, 1994).