It is hard to imagine White Lake without picturing the scenic stretches of shoreline, the playful splash of fish beneath its surface, and, once upon a time, the iconic “Ark” bobbing in the current. For more than three decades—between 1930 and 1963—this unusual fishing haven drew anglers from all over Michigan (and beyond) to the Montague/Whitehall region. Constructed with an inventive spirit and powered by the local enthusiasm for fishing, the Ark remains a beloved part of White Lake lore.
A Vision on White Lake
The Ark’s story begins in 1930, when local resident Earl Sherman decided to transform salvaged timbers from the White Lake Channel into something unique. He fashioned a substantial raft and built a covered structure on top, leaving an open space in the center for fishing directly through the water. Sherman’s idea was simple yet brilliantly suited for Michigan’s climate: a cozy, all-season fishing spot that floated just off the end of Scenic Drive on White Lake.
Thanks to its sturdy construction and prominent presence, the Ark quickly became a conversation piece. Curious onlookers watched the wooden building drift gently with the waves, cables anchoring it in place so that wind and waves could not carry it off. Within a few short years, the Ark had acquired a reputation as the go-to spot for anyone wanting to fish comfortably, even in the biting cold of a Great Lakes winter.
A New Owner, A New Life
In 1947, after nearly two decades at the helm, Sherman sold the Ark to Robert Benner of Miamisburg, Ohio. Benner’s family had been loyal summer visitors to the area and were familiar faces on White Lake. Upon purchasing the Ark, Benner took on the ambitious project of refurbishing it, incorporating some of the original timbers but also modernizing its base with 110 fifty-five-gallon oil drums. These drums, arranged strategically underneath, kept the structure afloat and lent a welcome sense of stability.
Benner also anchored the Ark more securely with four cables—two stretching to the shore and two tied to special underwater anchors. The renewed floating complex quickly returned to its mission: providing a convenient, well-equipped platform for local fishermen and vacationers alike.
A Fisherman’s Haven
The Ark was more than just a raft. It boasted a lunch counter serving up coffee and hamburgers—a comforting treat whether you’d spent the morning drilling through the ice or fishing off the railings in sunnier months. A pot-bellied stove glowed red on cold days, drawing anglers in from the chill.
In the Ark’s floor, a series of three-foot-by-six-foot wells opened to the lake below. Men would gather around these openings, dropping their lines straight into White Lake’s depths. Meanwhile, others cast from the Ark’s railings, hoping to reel in a hearty catch of perch. The environment proved so hospitable that, for 75 cents a day, you could fish with near-home comforts—including a rudimentary bathroom—no matter the season.
For those who needed gear or bait, the Ark was a one-stop shop: ice fishing poles and minnows were on sale. If you were hungry after hours on the ice or under the summer sun, 15 cents scored both a burger and a cup of coffee. The Ark quickly became a local institution—one part fishing vessel, one part social hub.
Shanties and Winter Fun
White Lake winters are famously cold, but to many dedicated anglers, that was precisely the point. The Ark thrived in the cold season, surrounded by 65 shanties arranged in neat rows—a small floating “village” that Benner rented out. These wooden huts, each heated by small coal stoves, sheltered two to four people as they braved frigid temperatures for a shot at prized perch.
During these bustling winters, White Lake turned into a scene from a vintage postcard: plumes of smoke curling from the shanty chimneys, figures bundled against the chill, and the steady glow of the Ark’s pot-bellied stove inviting everyone inside to thaw out.
The Ark’s Legacy and Demise
The Ark operated seven days a week, year-round, catering to fishermen from far and wide. For 31 years, its silhouette against White Lake’s horizon symbolized the region’s enduring love affair with angling. Yet, by the early 1960s, perch stocks began declining, and with them went much of the business that had kept the Ark afloat.
Around 1963, the Ark’s era came to an end, quietly slipping from White Lake’s everyday life and disappearing forever. Though the structure itself is gone, the stories endure—tales of frigid mornings made warm by the camaraderie inside, fish stories told over endless cups of coffee, and, of course, the thrill of feeling that first tug on the line through a fishing well in the middle of a lake.
Remembering the Ark
Local historians and community members continue to cherish the Ark’s history. Its memory is preserved through the White Lake Area Historical Society and recollections from those who cast their lines in its gentle roll. The Ark might be absent from the water these days, but it remains deeply anchored in the collective heritage of the Montague/Whitehall area.
Many consider the Ark a testament to Yankee ingenuity and the spirit of lakeside living in West Michigan’s early 20th century. With nothing quite like it before or since, it stands out as a unique chapter in White Lake’s maritime past—where fishermen paid pocket change for a seat by the stove and a chance at their personal best catch, floating above the blue depths on a raft of history.
Sources
- White Lake Area Historical Society
- Brow, Barbara Bedau. “Things That Float – The Ark.”
- Pictures courtesy of Donna Branstrom Heeter, Roger Grossenbacher and Barbara Bedau.
- Additional information compiled from local archival references and oral histories within the Montague/Whitehall community.
All credit for foundational research and primary details goes to Barbara Bedau Brow and the White Lake Area Historical Society.
