CCJC Audio Podcast Episode 000113, Season 2
Announcer: Welcome back to the Cajun Chronicles Podcast Corporation! If the last series episode tale of the angry Sabine Pass ghost had you checking under your bed, then for this one, you might want to check your own head! We are thrilled to welcome back our favorite storyteller for his third captivating appearance, the one and only Granmisié Jean-Luc!
Today, he’s taking us from old grudges to total madness at a legendary light that tried to drive its keepers insane. We’re venturing to Timbalier Bay Lighthouse, where the land is literally shrinking, and always has been. It’s a place where the spirits are still doing what the land does, often disappearing, or maybe just losing their minds. Listeners, we will be wanting you to tell us when you hear this story: What can you say about a place so troubled, it makes you question your sanity?”
Dominique: Today, we’re back with our favorite storyteller, Granmisié Jean-Luc. Last time, you left us spooked with that tale of the angry ghost at Sabine Pass. You said our next lighthouse journey would take us to a place that could make a sane man question his own mind. We’re ready, M’sieur. What can you tell us about Timbalier Bay Lighthouse?
Granmisié Jean-Luc: Ah, cher. Timbalier Bay. You must understand something about that place. The land itself is sinking into the Gulf, so you can imagine what the spirits are doing. It’s a place where you’re never quite sure if the light you see is a friend, or a trickster, or a guide to safety, or a foolish fire flambeau leading you right into the water to be swallowed up.
Announcer: Welcome back to the Cajun Chronicles Podcast Corporation! If the last series episode tale of the angry Sabine Pass ghost had you checking under your bed, then for this one, you might want to check your own head! We are thrilled to welcome back our favorite storyteller for his third captivating appearance, the one and only Granmisié Jean-Luc!
Today, he’s taking us from old grudges to total madness at a legendary light that tried to drive its keepers insane. We’re venturing to Timbalier Bay Lighthouse, where the land is literally shrinking, and always has been. It’s a place where the spirits are still doing what the land does, disappearing, or maybe just losing their minds. Listeners, we will be wanting you to tell us when you hear this story: What can you say about a place so troubled, it makes you question your sanity?”
Cabin Fever Keepers: What Lighthouse Keepers Teach Us About Internal Conflict.
Dominique: Granmisié Jean-Luc, last time, you left us spooked with that tale of the angry ghost at Sabine Pass. You said our next lighthouse journey would take us to a place that could make a sane man question his own mind. We’re ready, M’sieur. What can you tell us about Timbalier Bay?
Granmisié Jean-Luc: Ah, cher. Timbalier Bay. You must understand something about that place. The land itself was already disappearing into the Gulf, so you can imagine what the spirits are up to. It’s a place where you’re never quite sure if the light you see is a friend or a trickster, a guide to safety or a foolish fire flambeau leading you right into the water.
This is not a story I got from my Granmonnonk, though. No. This one came from M’sieur Onezime Babin, a very old and very smart Cajun man who used to run a shrimp-packing business. A shrewd man, M’sieur Babin. He told me, “Jean-Luc, in business and in life, the biggest problem is not the hurricane you see coming. It’s the one you don’t.”
He told me about one keeper at Timbalier Bay. That lighthouse, it was a temperamental thing, you know? The storms, they would knock it down and they would build it back up, but each time, it would be a little bit more tired.
Ah, cher, the first time, non? That storm in March of 1867, it was not just a wind or some rain. My M’sieur Babin, he told me he heard it was the very soul of the Gulf, angry and roaring. The keepers then, they knew it was bad, but never expect the water to come and eat your home and lighthouse whole.
That first lighthouse, she was beautiful, but so fragile. When the hurricane rains came, the wind, she was like a living thing, a giant who just pushed and pushed on that little wooden tower. They said the timbers of the lighthouse, they groaned and screamed before they just gave up. The whole thing, gone. Not a piece of it left on the land.
The keepers, cher? They had nothing to hold on to. The Gulf, she took the lighthouse, the house, the boat, everything! All they had was one little iron can buoy, just bobbing in the furious water. They clung to that little piece of metal for two whole days and two whole nights, with the waves crashing over them, the saltwater burning their eyes.
Their whole world was gone, and their whole life was just that little piece of tin, holding on. They survived, but they were never the same. Men learn a different kind of respect for the water when all he has left is a metal buoy and seafarer’s invocation prayers. But that was nothing compared to the loneliness felt at that lighthouse in the years to come..
Chasing Ghosts Instead of Success
Those keepers after them, they were no different. One man, they say, started seeing things. Strange lights. He would look out into the bayou and see these little, flickering lights dancing in the fog. He thought they were spirits, les esprits de la forêt, trying to lure him out into the swamp.
He spent all his time staring out the window, muttering to himself, trying to figure out if the lights were real or not. He got so obsessed with the fake lights, he stopped cleaning the lamp. He stopped checking the oil lanterns. He was so worried about the tricks the Gulf surrounding him was playing on him. He forgot his real job: keeping the true light burning.
M’sieur Babin told me, “That keeper, he didn’t go crazy from the storms, Jean-Luc. He went crazy from his own distractions. He saw ghosts where there was only swamp gas, and he was so busy chasing them, he forgot the real dangers.”
Over the first 89 years, the 60 plus keepers ended up having to be replaced. They say that several keepers were taken away muttering about the trickster lights, and the lighthouse itself almost went out because they was so busy with his own ghosts.
La Tempête Intérieure (The Inner Storm)
But his story wasn’t as scary as the story of the keeper who stayed there the longest. Ah, cher, the Timbalier Bay. We talk about the storms, non? We talk about the madmen and the ghosts of the sea. But sometimes the most terrible thing to happen at a place has nothing to do with the wind, and everything to do with the human heart.
Keeper Cornelius Canty, he was the king of that place. Twenty-three years he worked there. He saw hurricanes and tornadoes that flattened that house more times than you can count on two hands. Each time, he helped them build it back up again. He was the most steady man on the most unsteady piece of ground in Louisiana.
You’d think a man like that would be destined to die in the arms of the great storm, swallowed by the waves he fought his whole life. But no. The Gulf, she did not take M’sieur Canty. A man did. His own assistant, William Cooper. Ah, when a man is alone too long, his mind, she can play tricks on him. The big, open Gulf surrounding them can make your world so small.
When you are isolated, the little things that don’t usually matter, a cup dropped, a loud sigh, the wrong tone of voice when being told what to do by a superior. All those little things, they start to feel like a great big insult, non?
Anytime you spend totally alone 24/7 with no others to talk to can make the tiniest annoyance a big deal. The daily grind and that constant solitude? They can make a man’s heart hard and his mind turn a simple disagreement into a fire that burns everything down.
“We get so worried about what everyone else is doing, so busy chasing our own ghosts, that we let the true light of our life grow dim.” — Granmisié Jean-Luc
My Granmonnonk, he used to say, “The greatest demons are not in the bayou, but inside of us.” That assistant, they say he was a jealous man. He wanted his chance to be the keeper, not stay the assistant. He was bitter from lonely life, tired of the waves and the salt. It all came out one time when they went to get supplies in Houma, off duty, away from the lighthouse.
Two men, soaked in all the loneliness and the madness of that lighthouse. She was right there with them while drinking in that little room where Cooper murdered Cornelius. They had a fight, Cornelius drew his knife, a terrible thing. Cooper drew his gun and shot him. Just like that. The bullet went straight through M’sieur Canty’s heart.
The lighthouse was a lonely place before that, but after? The spirit of M’sieur Canty, they say it flew back there and stayed to this day. Not because some storm took him, but because the darkness of a man’s soul took him.
So you see, cher, the main ghost of Timbalier Bay is not just the keepers who went crazy from the wind. It is the keeper whose spirits stayed because of a bullet. He keeps the light burning not for the lost ships, but for the one soul who betrayed him.
The first lesson of his story is this: The storms from the outside, they can break your boat. But the storms that rage in your own heart, if you are not careful, will destroy your soul. But it’s so much more than that.
Laurent: How so? What? Am I missing a bigger lesson?
Granmisié Jean-Luc: Yes, maybe. You see their stories are a powerful lessons. But in the world today, when you think about it, in a business context, is that a storm from the outside is like a bad economy, a new competitor, or a sudden shift in the market. Those things, they too can break your business model, break your budget, or even force you to close your doors. That’s the storm that breaks the boat.
But if you allow the storm that rages in your or another’s own heart, that’s the real danger. Isolation and loneliness in business? We all feel it at times. Just by being in a leadership position, you inherit a certain kind of isolation. They’re like being a lighthouse keeper with no one, but your own thoughts for company.
You start to see things that aren’t there. A small mistake from a colleague becomes a personal insult. A new idea that fails feels like a betrayal from the universe. When a leader or an employee is isolated, they can lose perspective. They start to get bitter, resentful, just like that assistant keeper who let his inner storm resentments consume him.
This internal storm can sink a company from the inside out. It’s the silent killer of team morale, trust, and creativity. A business can survive a hurricane, but it cannot survive a team that is drowning in their own private loneliness. You have to watch out for that storm inside. It’s the one that will capsize everything, leaving you with nothing but your own ghosts.
Dominique: Woah! A hidden business lesson, too? Maybe don’t let the small stuff distract you from your main mission?
Granmisié Jean-Luc: Ah, yes, cher. M’sieur Babin, he would say it like this: “In business, you can spend so much time worrying about the competition and the little fires, that you forget to polish your own product. You see trickster lights everywhere, but you forget to keep your own beacon bright.”
In life, it’s the same, non? We get so worried about what everyone else is doing, so busy chasing our own ghosts and distractions—the social media, the small resentments, that we let the true light of our life, our family and friends, our peace, grow dim.
You have to decide for yourself: Is that light you see a true guide to a better life, or just a foolish fire flambeau leading you right into the swamp? The Timbalier Bay keeper, he forgot to ask himself that question, and he paid the price.
Laurent: Whew! Timbalier Bay was a master class of several lessons from the Gulf coast, M’sieur. I’ll never look at things the same way again. And I will certainly be polishing my own beacon.
Dominique: That’s the wisdom of Granmisié Jean-Luc. Join us next time he visits, as we travel to well, where do we go next, M’sieur?
Granmisié Jean-Luc: Ah, next time I come to this side of town, we go to a place where the spirits are not so much angry, but they are shockingly hungry. Perhaps we will visit the home of a legendary loup-garou or we will see what happens when you let the hangry hunger take over.
A Word of Wisdom:
Our fictional and non-fictional tales are inspired by real Louisiana and New Orleans history, but some details may have been spiced up for a good story. While we’ve respected the truth, a bit of creative license could have been used. Please note that all characters may be based on real people, but their identities in some cases have been Avatar masked for privacy. Others are fictional characters with connections to Louisiana.
As you read, remember history and real life is a complex mix of joy, sorrow, triumph, and tragedy. While we may have (or not) added a bit of fiction, the core message remains, the human spirit’s power to endure, adapt, and overcome. Cajun Chronicles Audio Podcast - Bringing you the heart of Louisiana. All artwork generated with Google Docs Image Maker unless otherwise noted.
© Jerilee Wei 2025 All Rights Reserved.
