Couple’s island story more than anecdotes> Isle au Haut innkeepers fight many battles

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ISLAND LIGHTHOUSE INN, by Jeffrey Burke, illustrated by Siri Beckman, The Pilgrim Press, Cleveland, Ohio 44115, cloth, $21.95. When I first picked up “Island Lighthouse Inn,” I expected it to be a series of charming anecdotes about crusty islanders and inadvertently funny city slickers who…
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ISLAND LIGHTHOUSE INN, by Jeffrey Burke, illustrated by Siri Beckman, The Pilgrim Press, Cleveland, Ohio 44115, cloth, $21.95.

When I first picked up “Island Lighthouse Inn,” I expected it to be a series of charming anecdotes about crusty islanders and inadvertently funny city slickers who stay at The Keeper’s House, the six-bedroom inn at the Isle au Haut lighthouse. Although the book touches on that, it ultimately offers the reader much more.

“Island Lighthouse Inn” follows the convoluted path taken by 1960s and ’70s political and community activists Jeffrey and Judi Burke to ownership of the isolated, telephoneless Isle au Haut lighthouse, and how island living has enriched their lives.

After a stint in the Peace Corps, the Burkes moved to California, where they engaged in demonstrations, union organizing and commune living. Increasingly, jobs and life pulled, so they packed their belongings in a Ryder truck, their three children and Great Dane in their Toyota camper, and drove to Maine to run a bed and breakfast. Unlikely as it sounds, these idealists did have some practical skills: Judi, a New Englander, was a good home cook, and Jeff, a Midwesterner, a cabinetmaker.

After successfully running their B&B in Pemaquid for a few years, the Burkes became involved in trying to save the derelict lighthouse on Isle au Haut, a beautiful, rocky island seven miles off Deer Isle. Despite its lack of electricity and plumbing, the furnishings, even the gas lamps, were intact. Nothing had changed in 50 years. Burke fell in love with the place. He convinced his wife, who was not enchanted with the idea of cooking three meals a day for guests, and, thanks to some unexpected financial help, they purchased the lighthouse in 1986. A few months later, with rooms painted, well drilled and electric generator, toilets and septic system installed, Jeff and Judi Burke opened for business.

Part of their new life involved solving problems associated with power, nature and water. The book’s most interesting chapters describe the boat landings Burke built and lost and his efforts to preserve the inn’s gas-lit, nonelectric ambiance while accommodating his wife’s kitchen needs and state hygiene and sanitation laws.

The answer to the electrical problem was a generator to power Judi’s hidden Cuisinart and yogurt maker, and to run Chloressa, Burke’s mechanical sewage treatment plant. In order to maintain the illusion of an old-fashioned way of life, Burke runs Chloressa only during the dinner hour when the guests are safely in the dining room and can’t hear the sound. His description of timing Chloressa down to the last minute makes for delightful reading.

The answer to ferrying guests and materials from the mainland lay in a boat landing. In all, Burke designed and built, or had built, three such landings, each an improvement on its predecessor, each attached to nothing but stone ledge — the island is the result of volcanic upheaval. Although summer makes for pleasant boating, the other three seasons bring incredible winds and pounding storms that rip and destroy man’s finest effort to outwit nature.

The book’s dramatic peak comes with Burke’s description of his successful, though utterly foolhardy, effort (in his bare feet, wielding a chain saw) to save his landing during an off-season storm.

Although slightly contrived within the text, the addition of a number of Judi Burke’s recipes helps the reader visualize some of the foods that guests and the Burkes dine on while Chloressa destroys the evidence. Plain Maine fare, such as Ida’s Sea Clam Pie and Down East Blueberry Muffins, share space with such epicurean dishes as Lobster with Rum, and Homemade Pasta and Eggplant Parmesan Soup. Though her coffees seem a trifle fancy — Sumatran, Ethiopian, Colombian — the understated simplicity of Judi’s Perfect Apple Pie and Really Good Bagels seems as much to describe her as does the image of her riding her horse, red hair flying.

Artist Siri Beckman’s woodcuts further evoke life at The Keeper’s House. On the cover she pictures Burke on a ladder painting a window sash. (He has counted every pane of glass and how many strokes it takes to paint the entire lot.) Other prints illustrate the lighthouse and the boat landing. I just wish she could have included a woodcut of Burke and Chloressa.

Except for a couple of lapses into political rhetoric and some slight ranting, Burke tells his story well. Oh, I have no doubt the Burkes continue their political and community activism in the off-season, but this book is not about that; it is about the island, people and work they love.


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