There are ghosts in our house. But that’s not unusual for Fort Ward, which began life as a U.S. Army Coast Artillery fort at the turn of the 20th century, then served as a top secret listening post for the Navy during World War II.
Our house was the gym and post exchange when the fort’s guns and mines guarded Rich Passage. It must have been boring duty, standing in the rain at the cliff’s edge, watching for an enemy who never came.
The gym and PX, with lunch counter and two-lane bowling alley, provided a welcome diversion. I don’t know if they had a basketball team, but I do have pictures of Fort Ward’s baseball team playing in the Parade Ground across the street.
The guns were removed to serve more active battlefronts in World War I, and the fort was mostly abandoned by the mid ‘20s. In the late ‘30s, Fort Ward became a U.S. Navy base, and our house was transformed into top secret Station S, where radio operators listened in on Japanese transmissions, code named “Magic.” U.S. cryptologists had broken the Japanese codes by 1938, so Station S was able to determine which messages were important, and send them via teletype to Washington, D.C.
Early on Dec. 7, 1941, radio operators here intercepted the famous message that the Japanese ambassador was to submit to the U.S. government at precisely 1 p.m., East Coast time. The message wasn’t anything as obvious as a declaration of war, it just told the ambassador to break off negotiations.
So it wasn’t until late morning that a cryptologist realized this could mean an attack somewhere in Asia. At about 11 a.m., he ran through the empty streets of Washington, D.C., to the State Department with the Station S intercept. Although the intercept couldn’t prevent the Pearl Harbor attack, work here did make a big difference in many battles.
When we bought this house, I had no idea what had transpired here. Sometimes veterans would stop by to take pictures, but they were careful what they said about the top-secret work here. My dad was fascinated by this mystery, and he spent hours researching for his book.
Meanwhile, we started renovating the building, pulling up battleship linoleum and taking down crumbling plaster. We did find a few treasures, including a scrap of paper with a Magic intercept and a post exchange coin. Which brings me back to the ghosts.
I don’t mean chain-rattling ghosts. If ghosts are the stories and the history each person leaves behind, then I have hundreds of them. And you probably do too. If your house or building is at least 50 years old, you should talk with the city’s Historic Preservation Commission, and learn more about your ghosts.
Like us, you may put your house on the city’s historic register, which has a certain cachet and tangible benefits, too, from special tax incentives to discounts from local businesses. (Thanks to Winslow Paint’s discount, we painted the inside of this huge house!)
As part of the historic registry process, experts shared renovation tips and insights, lots of good ideas and positive reinforcement. It was worth it to us, and – as far as we know – to our ghosts, too. The City’s website has information about how to nominate your home on the registry at http://www.ci.bainbridge-isl.wa.us/historic_preservation_commission.aspx.
Are there ghosts in your house?
Sarah Lee is a former member of the Bainbridge Island Historic Preservation Commission.
