In an unassuming burial plot in a rural cemetery in Pueblo, Colorado, the grave of a Coast Guard hero, Joseph Doyle, remains unadorned — no marker, stone, or flag. Joseph Doyle was born in New York on April 17, 1836. When he was 42 years old, he led two famous rescues during his tenure as the Keeper of the U.S. Life-Saving Station in Charlotte, New York, a post to which he was appointed on July 11, 1878.
On Sept. 11, 1878, around 9:30 p.m., the schooner E.P. Dorr of Chicago stranded about one mile west of Doyle’s station. In a raging rainstorm, with six men and one woman aboard, the survivors were brought to shore “under the steady oar of the keeper.” Within a few months, on October 23rd, when the schooner Star from Mill Point, Ontario, foundered in Doyle’s area of responsibility he again showed “great skill and bravery.” Doyle received the prestigious Gold Lifesaving Medal for his heroism in those two rescues.
Doyle served as the Keeper at Charlotte for 16 years. He is acknowledged as one of the U.S. Life-Saving Service’s most distinguished surfmen. The service was a forerunner agency of the Coast Guard.
On June 8, 2019, the Coast Guard commissioned the Fast Response Cutter Joseph Doyle at Coast Guard Sector San Juan, Puerto Rico. The FRCs are part of the Sentinel-Class, which are named for enlisted heroes.
Despite these accolades, no headstone or appropriate grave marking distinguish Doyle’s final resting site. Why is this? It could be that Doyle had no family to see to this. But whatever the reason, the Coast Guard has been notified and has assigned a project officer to investigate the oversight.
Little is known about Joseph Doyle’s early life. He lived a quiet and unassuming existence near his Canadian homestead until 17 when he went to Oswego, New York, to build boats, trade fruit and fish between U.S. and Canadian ports. Author Christopher Haven noted, “It was while engaged in this business that he was capsized by the carelessness of his mate and swam through heavy surf to Yorkshire Island, where he lived for eighteen days until rescued by a passing schooner.”
One can only imagine Doyle’s solitary experience on the desolate island at the far end of Lake Ontario. His shipwreck experience likely motivated him to remain near the water and pursue equally dangerous adventures as a rescuer on behalf of others in similar circumstances.
After a series of maritime tragedies at sea and on the Great Lakes in 1870 and 1871, and an accompanying public outcry, Congress authorized the U.S. Department of the Treasury to establish lifesaving stations and crews of paid surfmen in 1871. Doyle joined the ranks of the federal ‘storm fighters’ from the U.S. Life-Saving Service, established by President Rutherford Hayes on June 18, 1878.
The Life-Saving Service created 280 lifesaving stations along the Atlantic and Pacific coasts, and the Great Lakes. By 1915, when the service was assimilated into the Coast Guard, “the rescuers of the United States Life-Saving Service — fishermen, lobstermen, crabbers, and others who grew up along America’s shores — had saved more than 186,000 lives, becoming collectively the greatest institution of their kind in the world.”
Doyle was appointed federal Keeper of the Charlotte, New York, Life-Saving Service Station and his first day on the job was on July 24, 1878. Within three months, he would lead his station crews on two significant rescues. Nothing about becoming a lifesaver was easy. Each day was rigorously scripted, and featured a different drill to practice, and housekeeping chores like cooking were rotated.
According to the U.S. Life-Saving Service Heritage Association website:
On clear days, from sunrise to sunset, a surfman on day watch always manned the lookout tower. At night and on foggy days, the men walked beach patrol. They would light Coston signal flares to warn off ships straying too close to the shore. While men with small-boat-handling experience were wanted in the service, it took extensive training and continual practice to be able to successfully launch a lifeboat or surfboat in heavy seas and shoot the Lyle Gun to a ship offshore to set up the breeches buoy.
These daily activities provided consistency throughout the service. Mondays and Thursdays were devoted to drilling with equipment needed for rescues attempted from the beach such as the Lyle Gun and Breeches Buoy. Tuesdays featured lifeboat and surfboat drills with at least a half an hour using the oars. Wednesday was signaling day where crew practiced with flags and flares for communications with stranded ships. Friday’s training was designated for giving first aid to drowned mariners. Saturdays were devoted to the grounds and station upkeep and Sundays were a day of rest. This training would prove essential to what followed.
On Wednesday, Sept. 11, 1878, the 120-foot-long wooden schooner E.P. Dorr left Oswego, New York, loaded with coal, and was later stranded about 1,200 yards offshore and a mile west of Life-Saving Service Station No. 4. Soon thereafter, Keeper Doyle was walking a night beach patrol, and saw a torch off a short distance on Lake Ontario and according to the station log, “I hurried back to the station, and I soon had mustered the crew and put the surf boat on the wagon, and together with assistance from those gathered around, drew the wagon by hand up the beach abreast of the vessel. By this time, she had stranded and was burning torch.”
Keeper Doyle and his crew maneuvered the heavy rescue boat down a 200-foot embankment to the best point to launch the boat to get to the wreck. The weather was horrific with dark skies, steady rain, and tumultuous seas. The Keeper and his crew were quickly away and encountering “fearful seas.” By 11:15 p.m., the surfboat reached the wreck and found it “lying head to the seas” with water rushing along her sides and “tumbling in around the stern.”
Doyle constantly maneuvered the boat to keep it close to the vessel. Their efforts were extremely tiring and were prolonged as they struggled to convince the wreck’s crew and a woman to get onboard the tossing lifeboat. The sea “rose upon the great swell and the woman, dropped over the side by the sailors, was caught by the surfmen’s strong arms. The boat then fell away. On another run up alongside, the mate jumped for the boat, fell partly overboard, and then was hauled in. Just then a terrible sea swept the boat 50-feet astern.”
The life-saving crew had stayed close to the schooner with a line that parted after the mate fell on the boat “and threw her up on the stern in an almost perpendicular position. This nearly pitched her end over end. To add to the terror, the same blow that flung the boat up on her stern broke out the starboard scull-hole in which the steering oar lay.” Doyle improvised and lashed down a new oar near midships and again took control of the rescue.
Despite the late hour, the storm and the darkness, a large crowd of men and women had gathered on the beach. They saw the boat, with the six men and the woman aboard, drive swiftly toward the beach under the steady oar of the keeper. At length her bows grated on the sand, and it was safely over.
Within six weeks, Capt. Doyle again demonstrated great skill and bravery involving the wreck of the schooner Star from Mill Point, Ontario, on Oct. 23, 1878. Fortune would find the crew of Station No. 4 drilling and practicing signaling. The Star, laden with 12,000 bushels of wheat and valued at $7,500 (roughly $202,000 today), tried to enter Charlotte harbor during a fierce northwest gale, but missed the entrance and dropped her anchors to ride out the storm. At 6 p.m., when the decks were awash, the seven-man crew climbed into her rigging for safety. The night was very dark, and the rain fell in torrents. The sea ran so high that it dashed in the windows of the lower lighthouse and leaped over the tower. This prevented the lighting of the lamp.
Capt. Doyle and his men were assembled on the beach and could only watch due to the conditions. It was equally impossible to reach the wreck with a shot-line. All Doyle could do was to wait until the wind direction changed. The station lit their large beach lantern. Signals were continuously exchanged with the schooner to encourage the stranded crew.
About 11 p.m., Keeper Doyle decided to risk a launch. The boat, “dizzily lifting and falling cleaved its way with a strong roll of oars. It was some time, but the skeleton masts and rigging were seen dimly looming above the sunken hull in the darkness. The seven exhausted men, still in the crosstrees of the foremast eventually got into the boat and at ten minutes after midnight were landed on the beach. The schooner was demolished by the waves.”
The Gold and Silver Lifesaving medals were established in 1874 by an Act of Congress, which authorized the Secretary of the Treasury to bestow the medals upon individuals who endanger their own lives in saving or endeavoring to save lives from the perils of the sea, within the United States, or upon any American vessel. On August 2, 1879, Keeper Doyle would be awarded the prestigious Gold Lifesaving Medal for the two rescues.
After 16 years of service, Captain Doyle was medically retired on Oct. 23, 1893, from “injuries received in service.” Approximately 11 percent of Keepers from 1871 to 1913 left service due to reasons of health. At the time Doyle retired, the USLSS had no formal “retirement benefits and very little compensation in case of duty related injury,” likely contributing to an average service time for Keepers of eight years.
A newspaper report detailing his injuries noted that “during the year 1891, he was disabled by hernia and as all men in the lifesaving service over the age of 55 years of age must pass a physical every year.” The account went on to indicate that, “he will be retained on the payroll for two years as is customary in cases where captains and surfmen are disabled in the service.”
Little is known about Doyle beyond the rescue station’s logs and abbreviated newspaper accounts regarding the rescues in which he participated. According to Coast Guard Atlantic Area Historian, Dr. William Thiesen, “Doyle is the only hero without background information because his service predates the advent of personnel records.” Doyle “found a large boat building establishment at Charlotte.” Here, he would continue building a “non-sinkable, non-capsizable lifeboat, the model of which he has been working on for several years.”
Doyle would eventually head West and purchase and manage several gold mines in Colorado. He died in Pueblo, Colorado, on Aug. 20, 1905, at the age of 69 and is buried in Mountain View Cemetery in Pueblo.
The U.S. Coast Guard, the successor rescue organization to the Life-Saving Service, would go on to commission a new fast response cutter (FRC) in his honor in 2019 in San Juan, Puerto Rico. FRCs have been named for enlisted heroes. Ironically, no headstone marks Doyle’s remains in the Colorado cemetery where he is buried. An image from Findagrave.com indicates “Joseph Doyle is buried with Gar Olin. Joseph has no marker."
This article appears courtesy of The Long Blue Line and may be found in its original form here.
