While this article isn't about lighthouses, I think you'll enjoy it through its connection to the Coast Guard--the government entity in charge of the lighthouses of the United State.
Remembering a Grand Old Dog
Who doesn't love a mutt? I've had many a mongrel in my lifetime and can vouch for their unconditional love, cheerful acceptance of the rudest accommodations and food, lack of airs, and uncanny ability to exhibit human traits. They easily make their way into any heart and never leave.
So it was with Sinbad. For many years, he was Barnegat Light's biggest celebrity, a crusty canine sailor and war hero with a devoted fan club. Years ago, when I first saw his gravestone next to Barnegat Lighthouse, I knew he had to have been a special dog to earn such a grand memorial. It turns out he was.
Only recently did I learn the true tale of Sinbad on a trip to the Coast Guard Archives in Washington, D.C. While doing research for a new book, I opened the file on Barnegat Lighthouse and discovered a newsclip covering the dedication of a gravestone for Sinbad by his old comrades from the Coast Guard cutter Campbell, homeported in New York City. The heroic hound had never been given a suitable grave marker, and his human pals wanted to rectify the oversight.
A ship's dog? How did he end up in Barnegat Light? I had to find out more. From the Old Barney file, I headed for the animal mascot shelf, guided by the enthusiastic hand of Coast Guard historian, Dr. Bob Browning, a confessed dog-lover with a particular interest in Sinbad. "He's the Coast Guard's most famous mascot and one of our most requested research topics. We've got a fat file on him, plus his service record."
And fat it was! Pictures of the prodigal pooch posing for a variety of publicity stunts slid onto the table, along with a copy of his membership in the Order of the Golden Dragon, an elite group of sailors who've traveled across the International Dateline. Sinbad also held status as a Shellback, having crossed the equator several times, and a Blue Nose from his trips into the Arctic.
His service record included promotions from Seaman Pooch to Chief Dog. A mongrel, his comrades pointed out, could never be an officer. His various awards, citations, and disciplinary actions were included, along with documented training as a bosun's mate. The record drolly noted that Sinbad lacked "mechanical ability" but was a "dogged worker" and had passed his swimming test with flying colors.
Sinbad was adopted from a New York City dog pound came aboard the USS Campbell shortly after its commissioning in 1937. His career was typical of a regular seaman. He advanced through the ranks, stood watches and took his turn on the bridge, and was assigned appropriate doggy duties. He slept in the forecastle and was wary of the officers. At chow time, he has his own place at the mess table.
The crew fashioned a lifejacket for Sinbad and a special collar made from his ribbons and medals with a slot for coins. Whenever the ship pulled into port, he went ashore, had a beer with his human friends, and paid the bartender himself. On occasion, he brought a few ladies to the ship for company, but he was never loyal to any particular one. When he was found asleep in a Boston gutter one morning after being AWOL for two weeks, the captain busted him in rank.
Sinbad participated in numerous wartime skirmishes, including a North Atlantic battle with a German Wolf Pack in which the Campbell rammed a submarine. The damaged ship was towed back to port with only a skeleton crew, which included Sinbad. In Greenland in 1940, he got in trouble with Danish authorities for chasing sheep. But most of his career was honorable. He transferred off the ship in 1948 and went to a less demanding assignment at Barnegat Lifeboat Station.
By this time he had appeared in countless newspapers, was profiled in a biography called Sinbad of the Coast Guard (a little tome I'd recommend to any kid, young or old, who loves dogs), and was the star of his own film. He spent his last years snoozing on a sheepskin blanket at the top of the Barnegat lookout tower, jogging on the beach with the surf patrols, and mooching handouts from locals. He had many visitors during this time of his life, most of them children seeking his pawprint autograph.
Sinbad died peacefully in his sleep at age 15 on December 30, 1951 - fifty years ago this year - and was buried on the grounds of the old Barnegat Lifeboat Station. Though the station is long gone, Sinbad will always be remembered. His legacy is the Coast Guard Mascot Program, now crewed by black labrador retrievers. Like their four-footed founder, each lab has a service record and an important mission as watchdog and companion to the men and women of the U.S. Coast Guard.
But unlike old Sinbad, these modern-day dogs have pedigree. He was merely a loveable mutt - a decorated sea dog with a big heart.
