On this particular outing we weren’t expecting to find much worthy of photography as this cemetery seems to have a rule about only using flat headstones and nothing else making it look more or less like a mowed field.
However there was a lichen covered bridge that made for a delightful photographer’s distraction as well as some sort of witchy resource? Something about water that goes under a cemetery… I’m not a witch so I just blinked at this information.
Another even better distraction was across the parking lot where a church hid all the interesting headstones! The churchyard was small but unique. On this day it was being set up for what I’m guessing was a wedding. An overworked groundskeeper jokingly asked if I was in need of a few buckets of grass. Not today!
We resumed checking out the stones. The first one I saw that stood out was a full bronze woman lying down with a small horse at her feet. Nearby were slate stones with family crests, dragons, and castles. It was very weird! Like we just stumbled into a European cemetery. And then there wad a creepy snarled tree that also distracted me for a few minutes before we made our way back to the car.
It was another gorgeous spring day so we decided to spend it outside. In a cemetery. Because that’s what normal people do. I left the choice of which cemetery to my travel companion who chose the Holyhood Cemetery because it was said to be haunted. Aren’t all cemeteries haunted? Probably, but this one seems to be mostly ghost children running between the stones and in the 1920’s people claimed to hear Gaelic lullabies in the wind.
But the cemetery’s real claim to fame was the fact it was the burial grounds that contained the Kennedys. Specifically, the mom and pop of the never forgotten former president John F Kennedy. And his sister… the one who at 23 had too salacious a lifestyle for her parents to handle so they had her lobotomized, then institutionalized, and no one ever spoke about her again. Shame, I think she seemed like the sort of live wire I would have loved to have read about if she weren’t turned into a human vegetable for the convenience of her rich family. I pondered for a moment what they must think of their legacy now being carried by RFK Jr, their nephew, who is currently succeeding at killing dozens of children through his campaign against measles vaccinations. He also thinks germs aren’t’ real and was recently stopped from starting a non-voluntary register for autistic people for… reasons. Oh Rosemary, you were the only sane one in this whole family weren’t you? I am so sorry you were robbed of becoming way better than any of your male family members. Also, at the risk of making a political statement on a blog which is not… Fuck you RFK Jr, go back to the rock you crawled under and die. We do not need or want you.
BUT BACK TO THE CEMETERY! It was well spaced out and pretty large making for a nice little amble. The majority of the stones were very typical but there was enough more individualistic ones to make it worthwhile. My favorite ended up being a woman angel made in bronze who was just… dramatic.
We spent maybe an hour or so walking around here. I can’t say I saw any ghost children or heard any Gaelic lullabies but it was still enjoyable. Perhaps worth it if you’re in the area.
Why not follow up a ghost hunt at the Lizzie Broden Inn with a stroll through the cemetery she was buried in a few days later? That’s absolutely what we, two lovably morbid history buffs, did today.
I had Oak Grove Cemetery on my big list of cemeteries to check out but I had long forgotten why until I was reminded this morning. Ooooh yeeeah, it’s where the Bordens are buried!
I was expecting another sprawling garden cemetery oozing personality in the form of varied monuments and when I drove up to the gate of this place I really felt this what it must be. Big iron castle-looking gates, an actual parking lot beyond with several cars, and an information center inviting you to check out their cemetery tour QR code. But that wasn’t necessary because there were giant white arrows on the pavement leading to Lizzie’s grave. This place certainly knew who to cater to! This is the first time in all my cemetery jaunts that I have seen a grave so well marked for tourists. And it was only a very short walk which was great because it was cold as a witch’s tit today.
Curiously Lizzie is buried in the same plot as the father and step mother she likely ax murdered. She was found innocent at the time and lived a long life afterwards but there’s proof here she never quite got away from the stigma of the crime in the form of her name – changed from Elizabeth to Lizbeth. I don’t think dropping the E helped much to be honest. She’d eventually move from the family home to her own mansion across town where instead of socializing with an entire town that was giving her the cold shoulder she prefered instead to host theater actrices from afar, more than a few of which she likely courted. In those days she would have been known as a spinster, today we probably would say something more along the lines of lesbian.
Lizzie Borden to me stands as a bit of a tragic figure. Forever memorialized by a children’s jump roping rhyme forever naming her as a killer and she probably was but I think if she were tried today she’d be seen in a little more sympathetic light. There’s quite a few historians who give her father more than a little side eye for potentially being not just a miser and all around horrible person but also one who may have been grooming his own daughters. I saw the crime scene photos – there is nothing left of the Borden’s faces, to me that suggest some serious pent up rage, built up from decades of abuse and held back only by the strings of a corset. Lizzie may still see her time as we grow as a society to have a better understanding of criminal psychology. We could recast her as a folk hero of the Me Too Movement for taking charge of her own destiny in a time when that was near impossible for a woman.
But back to the cemetery, would I suggest it to my readers here? Maybe, if you are into the Lizzie Borden story. Otherwise probably not. Although the cemetery was sprawling there were remarkably few monuments that looked unique enough to get my attention – less than a handful of statues, a couple masoliums, a single Celtic cross. I will note however there was a rather large murder of crows watching us from creepy bare trees the whole time which seemed fitting.
One of the surprising things about New England cemeteries is that they are some of the best places in the region to get GORGEOUS autumn photos of blushing trees turning vibrant yellow, orange, and red, especially if you go around noon to 2PM when the sun is behind them and they’re just glowing! This was the case with the Newton Cemetery on our last visit. We’d read it was not just a cemetery but an arboretum, or tree sanctuary of sorts, what better place to go leaf peeping!
I know most of my cemetery visits describe burials of historic figures or go on and on about how powerfully beautiful the monuments were but this cemetery’s character was almost entirely in the trees. Though there were a few interesting monuments of mourning women and mausoleums they were mostly drab and boring, the sort of stones you see in every cemetery, dull and conformist, new and uninspiring. But the landscape was sprawling and hilly with these gorgeous trees and duck ponds smattered all about. It brought my heart so much joy to see all the color! It was just phenomenal. What a wonderful way to wave goodbye to the last gasp of Autumn.
If you happen to be in the area the arboretum aspect of this cemetery would make for a lovely walk (and indeed there was a lot of people here doing just that on this particular day) but if you’re in it for the stones it may not be worth the travel, they just weren’t as brilliant as they could have been. That being said this was a FANTASTIC cemetery for fall foliage photos so if that’s what you’re looking it might be worth a little road trip!
I’m not going to lie – life circumstances right now have sapped me of any mental energies I may be taking to pick locations as of late, so this duty has been left to my usual travel companion and this location turned out to be a real gem!
Right in the gate there was this super sad statue in front of a geese filled duck pond, er geese pond? A fountain and fall foliage brought the whole scene together like some sort of morbid post card from beyond. And this place was huge! We hadn’t gone to find anyone in specific but we did hear this was a garden cemetery with a lot of gorgeous monuments and it did not disappoint!
Near the beginning we immediately came across a bizarre stone reading, “The Man Fortune, died 1798, buried September 13, 2013. Child of God, free at last.” The grammar was particularly confusing. Was this the Man Fortune as in a fortune of the Man family or a man named Fortune?? And what was up with the dates?! It was clearly a new stone.
As it turns out Fortune was this man’s name. He was a slave, born in Africa, who served under a local doctor who decided to take advantage of his death by using his corpse as a cadaver to dissect and teach other medical students since cadavers at the time were very hard to come by, there’s only so many criminals one can hang on a given year. We can be assured this was not agreed upon by Fortune himself prior to his death and insult was added to injury as his cadaver was rendered into a skeleton that then taught anatomy students and then took up residence in a local museum until the 1940’s under the name Larry. Eventually the origins of “Larry” was discovered almost 200 years later and he was taken down from display. It wasn’t until 2013 however that someone decided to give him a proper burial in the churchyard he was baptized in a year before his death. It was apparently a big news story that got national attention although now I didn’t see a single penny on his grave.
Beyond this there were a bunch of statues of mourning women scattered throughout the cemetery, an elk on a hill overlooking everything, and a few unique monuments as well. As expected in a cemetery of this sort of wealth we also came across a number of stone masons. Everything was just electrified by the blushing trees in the background, one was so golden we took a ton of shots of it, none of which showed just how vibrant yellow it really was. We spent a few hours wandering this place. It’s hilly and with every hill there’s a new view, none of them disappointing! This place was perfect for the would-be photographer looking for an afternoon out.
Although it does not have terribly many famous names here it was still worth a good walk through and the two hours it took to get there. We had an awesome time and I would highly recommend this place!
*Credit given to my BFF for taking the cover photo. His photographic skills often surpass my own and DAMN was that a brilliant photo!
After taking a walk down the old Jailhouse Trail we came back out to the parking lot and noticed there was a little cemetery just across the way. It looked very small but hey, we’re here, why not?
The cemetery was attached to a lovely unitarian church and at first we thought it was only a few stones however we soon realized that it wound around the church and very quickly became the TARDIS of cemeteries going very far back and even across the road! I guess Barnstable must have had quite a booming population at one point! Having done no research at all I do not know if there is anyone noteworthy buried here, though I would kind of doubt it. It did however have stones going all the way back to old slate and sandstone with the usual weird carvings I adore so much. We got quite a hike out of it! And a spooky photo of myself and one of my companions silhouetted in a way that make us look like ghosts! How cool is that? Definitely a fin little detour.
After going to the Grove Street Cemetery and doing their cradle grave and Civil War tour we had to return to check out all their Amistad related graves and find the monument they left for Glen Miller which we missed the first time. There’s even a tree tour but we didn’t get to that one.
Right at the front where the kiosk is there is also a monument to the captives of the Amistad, many of whom were buried in this cemetery near the lawyers, judges, and other people involved in this historic trial. Most of these individuals were nearby. It was interesting to see what happened to many of these individuals after the trials, it seems a number of the captives became active and successful members of the community which just astounds me considering the trauma they must have all carried with them.
We learned the oldest stones that were leaned against the perimeter of the cemetery were actually from a different cemetery that used to be where the park is now. Though they may have moved the stones they don’t appear to have removed the bodies and as late as 2020 human remains were found entangled in the roots of a downed tree. This is not a unique story as many cemeteries were eventually taken over and transformed into parks over the years.
We were also surprised to find Webster of dictionary fame, Goodyear the guy that pioneered vulcanized rubber, Josiah Willard Gibbs – inventor of calculus and significant contributor to thermodynamics, Eli Whitney inventor of the cotton gin, Walter Camp “father of American Football,” and Othniel Charles Marsh a tireless Yale professor and paleontologist that worked mostly on the evolution of birds publishing an astounding 1,400 scientific papers in his life.
And of course towards the very end of our exploration of this cemetery we found the monument to Glenn Miller – composer of In the Mood and a ton of other songs that are still played today. I say monument because this isn’t his actual grave – he died in a plane crash fighting in World War II and his body was never recovered. I wonder if he was the first of the popular musicians to die in a plane crash, either way what a bad ass way to go – killing Nazis.
Anyway, that was our tour. We learned a lot of history and saw a lot of cool things. This is definitely a cemetery worth checking out and if you’re looking for someone specific the fact the roads have names and the stones have addresses makes it pretty easy to find them.
It’s been a funny experience going to all these cemeteries around New England. You never know what you are going to get. This cemetery boasted the grave of Eli Whitney the inventor of the cotton gin which is initially what caught my companion’s eye because who would have thought the inventor of the cotton gin would be buried somewhere that is too frickin’ cold to grow cotton. But this was only scratching the surface. The other claim to fame was this was the US’s first cemetery to claim “city of the dead” in its description. All this means is that the streets and paths throughout were given official names making the gravestones almost have little addresses with which to find them. And of course, there was the imposing Egyptian style gates reading, “The dead shall rise” which wasn’t creepy at all. Apparently, it’s a Bible quotation but that’s not nearly as fun as envisioning it having something to do with the secret society rituals performed here by Yale students or one of my favorite urban legends about tunnels being dug under the cemetery connecting the Yale medical school allowing “resurrectionists” to more easily steal and sell corpses to science. That part did happen back in the day but the tunnels, sadly to say, do not go under the cemetery.
The cemetery is surrounded on all sides by whimsically bizarre buildings, including a church directly across the entrance which has gargoyles on it. You have no idea how much this delighted me. I LOVE gargoyles and they are such a rare sight here in the US! These ones looked weirdly political – an eagle in a suit and a donkey in a suit. No elephant though, so there’s that I suppose. After this initial distraction we wandered in only to find this place is another one of those cemeteries that close at 4PM. This has been an ongoing issue for us as we generally have to drive from pretty far away and by the time we get there sometimes the gates are closed. Today we had two hours and counting to amble around.
There was a bulletin board at the entrance that had not one, not two, but four separate maps of interesting graves. One was generalized, one was of Civil War notables, one was of the people involved in the Amistad, and one was of just cradle graves. Obviously, this was too much for one day so we went with the Civil War notables and the cradle graves, promising to be back for the others when we had more time (as those maps had more on them.)
I had no idea what a cradle grave was but apparently this is what they call the memorials that were popular in the late 1800’s that were shaped vaguely like a cradle. The intention of this design was to make it an easy flower bed connected directly to the headstone. I’ve seen these before but being so old none of them still had flowers in them, but this cemetery decided to restore them to their former glory by planting historically accurate native flowers in them, to bloom at different points during the year. As far as I can remember none of these graves were also on the notables list but they did add quite a bit of charm to the place. We found all of them.
We also found the aforementioned Eli Whitney who was hard to miss and a bunch of Civil War dead. They included people who’d died in some of the first battles as well as the more recognized ones like Gettysburg and Fredericksburg and one man who served in New Haven’s first “colored” regimen. Sadly, although this was super old cemetery I wasn’t seeing the oldest colonial sandstone markers. As it turns out all those were moved to the perimeter of the cemetery from an even older cemetery location. The bodies that went with them are still under the common. But their stones still provide witness, and it was eerie and beautiful to see them all lined up against the walls. So many Death’s Heads and other bizarre colonial era carvings. LOVE IT.
We were also surprised to find two sphinxes! Each looking into the distance to the same spot. I realize that the wealthy had an Egyptian fetish from the mid 1800’s into the 1900’s but that doesn’t make it any less awkward to find. They always seem so out of place and these ones didn’t have any name on them and I have not been able to find any information on them which makes them that much creepier. They probably eat souls or some such.
We left when the clock ran out before finding the “random jazz musician” my companion mentioned which turned out to be GLENN MILLER. I didn’t realize that’s who he was talking about until I got home and now we very much have to go back!! Which is all well and good because I still want to see all the Amistad graves too. And maybe take a few more photos since half the ones I took on this day refused to upload.
If you happen to be in New Haven or love cemeteries I absolutely recommend this one. It’s really lovely. And it’s flat. Which is more than I can say of most cemeteries in New England!
It was another day and another cemetery, this time in the distant land of Stamford Connecticut which was quite the misadventure to get to as for no reason whatsoever the traffic was BONKERS and I ended up in the car something like 40 minutes more than I anticipated due to traffic jams, none of which had any clear cause, especially on a sun shiny Tuesday! But I digress.
At first glance this cemetery did not look worth the trip. It was smaller than the garden cemetery I sort of expected and the monuments were mostly modern and boring. However, things heated up real fast. Upon driving in I came across the biggest hawk I have ever seen just sitting on the ground, looking up at my car with huge saucer eyes as I’d sneaked up on it. Initially I thought something was wrong with it but as it turns out it was just a little strung out after having butchered a pretty fat squirrel. It flew off with its bloody treasure as I found a place to park.
This cemetery was old enough that it did not have any designated places to park and I more or less went to the back and found myself a tree to let the car snuggle under. Luckily no one else was visiting so I wasn’t blocking anyone. We’d come here today because my companion found out that comedian Gilda Radner was buried here. He’d had fond memories of her comedy growing up. I, on the other hand, knew her more or less through a documentary I’d recently watched on the dark side of comedy (which in her case was not…? I mean unless you consider cancer dark but I mean all the other people mentioned were into hardcore drugs, gambling, and whores, so I failed to see the comparison.) ANYWAY, we started our little amble and began to explore.
This cemetery must be in a rich area because WOW was it in a gorgeous, landscaped area, across the street from something called Windemere that looked like if a poor walked up there they might be shot by private police. And the addition of a hawk that was eating only the fattest of squirrels sort of proved my theory. Even the animals here are posh enough for wild obesity. I got immediately distracted taking photos of pretty trees including a cherry tree in full bloom. But as I got too close to a tree near the center something screamed at me and I looked up to see the hawk, it’s half eaten lunch dangling from his talons. He was none too happy to see me again and angrily flew away to the back of the cemetery where he continued bitching until the crows found him and presumably beat the crap out of him and robbed him of his lunch. In fact this cemetery was somehow both amazingly peaceful for people living and dead, and a sight of bloody bird turf warfare. Two cardinals even got into this and divebombed the ground as they were engaging in their midair boxing match – red feathers were flying everywhere like daytime fireworks. Birds. You always think they’re so sweet and innocent until you realize they’re probably all murderers.
These distractions were entertaining but not really cemetery related. I was however happy to find out that the stones weren’t as bland as they appeared upon driving in. Some had quite some charm! Whether it was the most perfect last name ever: Goodenough, or the weird cement stones you used to be able to buy out of a Sears catalogue, or a memorial to what appeared to be a demonic gaggle of children, it was all here. There was even one which read, “We took the road less travelled by and that made all the difference” with an engraving of Valley of the Gods above it. Just the sentiment and graphic on that was so perfect. It was like I was meant to find it. What a beautiful monument!
I was also surprised to see a number of different ethnicities represented here. Some of the stones had Asian characters, some what I think was Farsi, still others were maybe Greek or possibly Russian characters? And there was a very decent smattering of markers with rocks and stones left behind on them denoting Jewish burials (or mourners) as well. I like that. A real melting pot. Maybe if we can’t get along in life we can in death.
We still hadn’t found Gilda Radner though. Turns out this is because her stone was flush with the ground, real humble, although clearly still well visited as she had by far the most flowers and tokens on hers. She wasn’t far from the cherry tree and had her own bench. I sat on it a bit. It was 80 degrees and I struggle with the heat something fierce. Still, it was a nice little break and I felt very relaxed here. I lamented it was sad this one died so young, at the prime of her career, to ovarian cancer.
When we moved on I decided we should go look for Benny Goodman too as he was also buried somewhere in this cemetery. He was near the back, another stone flush to the ground, much harder to find as the only token on it was a single rock. Sad. But I understand jazz musicians, even the most notable ones, weren’t exactly treated well by our society back in the day. Though I have come across several in my wanderings they’re always like this – simple. Not a single one dared to be as outrageous and noticeable as the music of their owners. Thinking back on it I probably should have left a penny.
And that was it, we ambled back to the car and I went back to fighting traffic for three and a half hours. Would I recommend this cemetery? If you happen to really love Gilda Radner or Benny Goodman it’s worth it, otherwise I think I’d mostly recommend it to people who already happen to be in the area. Although it was nice it wasn’t big enough to fill a whole afternoon and be worth a very long drive for most people. But that’s OK, it was still gorgeous and perfect for myself and my companion.
We had initially planned to go to Stockbridge to find Norman Rockwell’s grave – beyond that we were playing it fast and loose. After the 3 hour drive I was ready to burst and was actively looking for a bathroom. Imagine my relief to see a sign reading, “Restrooms out back” as soon as I got into town!! It was the city hall and I was beelining to their back parking lot. After taking care of business I came back out and found this huge display of pamphlets on places to go. This would provide us with inspiration for our next trip when all the touristy things are actually open. SO MANY OPTIONS! Just because I had to piss like a racehorse, we got the best intel ever. It was fate.
But after that we did actually go just up the street a little bit and parked at the church across the cemetery as the cemetery didn’t seem to have any parking (even though you could drive into it.) I was uncomfortable parking there as the lanes were narrow and there was nowhere to really pull off. The church did not seem to mind we were there so that’s what we did. And we checked out the Children’s Tower as we were right there anyway. Beautiful!
In fact this whole area was so beautiful we were getting badly distracted the whole day. But we were here on a mission so off we went! The first thing we found in the cemetery was this weird circular burial plot. In the middle was a modest pillar monument but all around in, as if in a summoning circle, were all the other stones just looking at it. I couldn’t get a good picture of it but it felt odd… usually stones are in rows not in a circle!
Beyond this we started the self-guided tour and started to acquaint ourselves with a whole assortment of local personalities beyond just that of Normal Rockwell. Normal Rockwell was buried at the back in a very quiet plot surrounded by hedges. On his stone people had left coins and trinkets, a can of paint, and a ten dollar bill! Whhhhy give the dead a ten dollar bill?! Guess this area really is rich if instead of pennies they are leaving a tenner!
Behind Norman Rockwell’s grave is the prettiest damn sheep farm on a hill patrolled by livestock guardian dogs! A jogger passing by told us we could stroll up the lane and check it out as across from that was a botanical garden. The garden was closed and we got yelled at for trying to see what it was. Sorry? The farm we just enjoyed the sheep and annoyed the dogs with our existence. There was also a ton of ground bees. So many that passing cars were making pancakes of dozens of them at a time. Neither one of my companions like bees so to get them to walk through these patches was a challenge but we did it! Exposure therapy for a win!
After this detour we went back to the cemetery to see who else was buried there. It’s a fairly small cemetery landwise and honestly most of the monuments are unremarkable but the stories behind them started to be intriguing. Here lied the brother-in-law of the guy who shot Alexander Hamilton in a dual – Timothy Edwards. I know, that one was a stretch but they got better.
There was also Agrippa Hull who we had to search the hardest for. He was a free black man who enlisted in the army and served until 1783. When he came back home he purchased a small farm and the freedom of his formerly enslaved wife. Eventually he owned the most land of any black man in the town and more than many of the whites living there as well. Always nice to see a black man succeed in those days particularly! We found his monument in part by looking for a military flag which has to be placed on all veteran’s graves.
At the center of the weird circle (or Sedwick Pie) was Theodore Sedgwick: an attorney who served in the Continental Congress and in both the U.S House and U.S. Senate as well as being House Speaker.
As the only person of color surrounding the Sedwick Pie there was Elizabeth Freeman who with the help of Thomas Sedwick won her freedom in a trial that would later be the precedent needed to ensure Massachusetts banned slavery altogether.
Catharine Maria Sedgwick on the other hand was one of the first female novelists in the colonies who wrote of religious tolerance and giving equality to the indigenous peoples of the area. Her books include A New England Tale and Hope Leslie.
Cyrus West Field was a local businessman who promoted and helped create the transatlantic telegraph cable which allowed for news from England to reach the United States in mere hours. Â
Stephen Dudley Field was the proud inventor of the electric trolley car, the electric elevator, the ticker tape machine, and a dizzying amount of other things.
Racheal Field was the author of twenty-one plays, fifteen children’s books, six adult novels, and several books of poetry that included one about the scandalous French murder her great aunt was involved in.
Charles McBurney was a doctor who created McBurney’s Point, a guide to diagnosing appendicitis, as well as McBurney’s Incision, the least damaging way to pop out said enraged organ.
Austen Fox Riggs was a psychiatrist who was also an author, the first Boy Scout leader, a hobbyist clog dancer, and hopeful drum player among other hobbies, which I can only assume meant he had intense ADHD which he somehow made work for him. Good for him!
Gertrude Robinson Smith was a wealthy New York socialite and patron of the arts who brought the Boston Symphony Orchestra to town on several occasions and in 1937 when the concert was completely flooded by a terrifyingly strong rainstorm she somehow managed to latch onto that opportunity to raise $30,000 in one evening to build a permanent pavilion. Thinking on her feet! Go Gertrude!
Joseph Franz seemed to be another one of those people with his hands in everything – helping to build one of the country’s first hydroelectric plants, figuring out how to transmit electricity through buried ground wires, and even designing the Ted Shawn Theater.
Frederick L. Leuchs – has a very memorable stone with a stoned glass window embedded into it and there’s good reason for that as he was the town’s stained glass window artist. His work can still be seen in the Library of Congress!
Nathan G. Horwitt was the designer of the “dot” watch, an innovative modern design that contained no numbers or lines, just a dot at the top. As someone with dyscalculia I hate it. Couldn’t read it if you paid me. Still, the Museum of Modern Art in NYC seemed impressed and that’s where it is now.
Richard R. Bowker – founded the American Library Association and Publisher’s Weekly.
Nina Duryea – was remembered best for her immense contributions to the charitable relief of French World War I survivors and refugees, serving over 70,000 with food, clothing and medicine.
Reinhold Niebuhr – said by some to be the guy who penned the Serenity Prayer (better known as the AA prayer to some!)
Frederick Wurtzbach’s innovations with wood pulp made paper products such as books cheaper to produce and more accessible.
And that was our trip. What a sweet, picturesque cemetery in a quaint New England town! Well worth a looksie!
