Common Burial Grounds – Newport Rhode Island

Before I start this I want to warn my readers it is a VERY information and photo heavy entry so if you’re here for the pretty gravestone photos feel free to scroll down to the gallery at the bottom of the text and if you’re here for a good chunk of New England history just read on as I take you down this deep deep rabbit hole with me!

It’s funny, I have been loitering around the Newport area for a few years now and although I had always wanted to check out the local cemetery it took me this long to actually get there. But let me tell you it was WELL WORTH the wait! This was one of the most interesting cemeteries I have ever had the joy of wandering through and part of that is because it’s actually seven separate cemeteries that have bled into each other to make one massive burial ground that dates back to our earliest settlements. The oldest parts of the cemetery were founded in 1640 and the newest are from the present day. All together there are thousands of memorials here.

During the colonial era Newport RI was also our largest port, even bigger than Boston at the time, and as such it was always a thriving multicultural area. The cemetery very much reflects this with various sections dedicated to different cultures, religions, and ethnicities. Here you’ll find the country’s oldest Jewish cemetery which dates back to the colonial era and contains mostly a thriving multi-nationl seafaring community as well as God’s Little Acre which is the the largest (and possibly only) cemetery dedicated to both enslaved and free blacks, also of the colonial era. It was these 250 or so slate stones I had especially wanted to see because they are soooo rare, and such a precious historical archive of an otherwise silenced community whose contributions have been largely looked over.

And it’s not only me who recognizes the need to preserve this historic landmark. Intense efforts to restore and preserve what is left here have been underway since the early 1990’s and continue to this day. There were even three stones which were returned to the cemetery after being found in various residences around RI and Pennsylvania. What they were doing in Pennsylvania is a bit of a mystery but one of these stones belonged to a famous woman at the time – Duchess Quamino. Duchess was a woman of remarkable standing. She came to Newport aboard a slave ship as a child, having been born somewhere in Africa. She was then bought by the Channing family who utilized her as a maid and cook. While enslaved she somehow managed to get in the good grace’s of the white church the Channings attended and was able to start her own bakery and catering business becoming the US’s first successful female black business owner.

During this time she married a slave from a different household and eventually had at least four children. Her husband was able to win a lottery and obtain his own freedom but it seems Duchess may have already been a free woman by then. No records exist to show how this happened – if she bought her freedom with the money she made baking or if she was simply granted her freedom. Either way she continued her business and eventually became so famous she earned the moniker “Pastry Queen of Rhode Island” and her delicious baked goods were served to a visiting George Washington at least twice.

Also worth noting was possibly the country’s first professional black artist – Pompe Stevens – who was a stone carver and possibly the one responsible for the distinct black features on the cherub’s heads carved into the stones in God’s Little Acre. He was enslaved by the biggest stone carving family in town and we probably wouldn’t even have known he existed except he carved a beautiful stone for his brother, which he identified as such before signing. He signed two stones in all but likely did a lot more – especially considering how intricate and well-practiced his carvings on those two stones seem to be.

It was a deeply humbling experience to wander God’s Little Acre and come face to face with the bleak reality of slavery in the colonies. The stones were hard to read – “Beloved and trusted by his master” was probably the most cringe worthy phrase I found. And the stories were heartbreaking – stories of black children whose parents were tricked into sending them to America “for and education” and “a better life” but instead ended up here. Buried in a slave cemetery. It’s an ugly mark on our history but we do each of these people a grave injustice by looking away and forgetting their great contributions.

We moved on from here and just wandered about until we found ourselves at a different entrance. And it was there we realized there was a sign up offering a free cell phone guided tour if you could scan the code on the sign. We went for it. But I was getting low on battery and it took a ridiculous amount of steps to set up. The next part of our day was spent fast walking through the stones trying to identify which ones were important according to the tour map which was…. grossly inaccurate. It started off being a few stones away from what they were talking about but by the end it was A LONG WAY AWAY. But we’ll get to that.

There are a lot of notable people buried out here. Among them are a ton of congressmen, mayors, and governors, over 70 Revolutionary war soldiers, a whole section dedicated to Civil War casualties, veterans from every US war, at least 4 famous architects, Charles Bird King (a portrait artist known for painting Native Americans) William Ellery who signed the Declaration of Independence, August Belmont Jr who developed the IRT subway in NYC and the Cape Cod Canal, most of the stone carvers who were responsible for the slate stones, and Ida Lewis “the bravest woman in America” who manned the Lime Rock Light Station for 46 years after the official lighthouse keeper (her father and then mother) died. During this time she rescued at least 36 people from drowning with her first rescue at the age of 12 and her last at 63! Keep in mind lighthouse keepers were NOT obligated to save drowning shipwreck victims for one very good reason – generally shipwrecks were caused by bad weather, bad weather that could easily capsize a tiny rowboat. It was better to guard the light than risk death. But Ida did not feel this way and was known to “row better than any man.” She lived on her own in this badass life until her death of a stroke. Really a remarkable heroine.

And it was Ida Lewis’ stone we couldn’t find at the end of the tour so I will give you some hints. It’s in the same row of stones that face the road near one of the exits. You cannot miss it as it has a HUGE anchor on it.

And I must say that also geeked out hardcore knowing that a number of the stone carvers were buried here as well and a lot of the stones could be attributed to either various members of the Stevens family (which were the first gravestone carvers in Newport and maintained the business for six generations) one of their slaves Pompe Stevens, or John Bull who married a Stevens daughter and then led this INSANE drama filled life that started when his brother pissed away the family inheritance and he had to sell himself into indentured servitude. It gets worse. He was sold to his brother-in-law William Stevens. The two HATED each other because William did not buy his brother-in-law as an act of charity – he expected work from him! And for a while Bull did in fact work as an indentured servant at the stone carving business but this didn’t last terribly long before he got fed up with the situation and basically ran away taking a job at sea where he stayed on ship for years. When he returned William sued him saying he was in breach of contract and still was obligated to work for free for a few years. The courts favored with Bull and in retribution he started his own gravestone carving business right across the street in what seems to be a purely spite based decision. Bull was the most artistic and rebellious of the city’s stone carvers and his work seems glaringly obvious with their side facing facial portraits and he is responsible for a famous stone – that of Charles Bardin – which is known for its intensely blasphemous imagery – that of Moses (or God?) parting the Red Sea. VERY UNUSUAL FOR THE PERIOD. It’s one of a kind and why it was made is still very unclear.

Meanwhile the Stevens family (who began as masons) didn’t escape the colonial era unphased as one of the original brothers, Philip, was noted cryptically in one of the legers as being murdered. Nothing further is stated. A second brother James died at sea.

By this point I was super sunburnt, overheating pretty bad, and tired from the jog so I regret to admit I did not cross the street to check out the colonial Jewish cemetery but I will likely return at some point. Until then I hope this has been an enjoyable read! Happy travels all!

October 4, 2022 2

National Museum of Civil War Medicine – Fredrick Maryland

Initially the only thing we had planned for sure when we were talking about visiting Maryland was a visit to the National Museum of Civil War Medicine. Why? I guess because it was just morbid enough to be perfectly suited for the both of us. And it didn’t take a lot to convince our other travel companion to go along with it. History is always interesting to poke at… medical history… well, sometimes it’s just nice to be grateful we live in a time with such things as antibiotics. You know, luxury.

I remember as a kid I was singled out by the town historian to play the part of wounded Civil War soldier for some activity we were doing in grade school… I’m fuzzy on what my badge read but I think it was something like, “leg in need of amputation.” So really this was just an extension of this bizarre role play. Not to mention I’d already been to the Mutter Museum in Philly and loved it so this was going to be fun. I looked forward to seeing all the horrifying sharp and shiny medical instruments.

When we got there we very pleasantly surprised. I was expected a little back country museum with a few feeble displays but this was off what seemed a bustling street and it was several floors and even had a spacious gift shop filled with delightfully morbid things – pens in the shape of femurs, a whole library of books on the gruesome subject at hand, and a wonderful assortment of skeleton lithographs – one of which came home with me.

We learned right away that this wasn’t just the medical history museum it was also where the office of missing civil war soldiers once operated. I hadn’t really thought about this much but I guess a lot of soldiers, especially confederate ones, remained unidentified after their deaths.

I am going to admit right here and now that I know very little about the Civil War. I remember it being shoved down my throat in grade school when I was way too young to truly comprehend any of it and then it never being mentioned again. And if I want to be brutally honest this is probably the beginning of me hating school. I mean I had no interest in any of it. And this is unfortunate because I think if it was taught when I was a little older I would have been as fascinated by the human interest side of it as I am now.

With that all being said I’m sure I will say some dumb things about what I’ve learned so here we go! The museum was very well put together and had all sorts of interactive exhibits, a bunch of life size wax figurines, some dioramas, and of course a whole lotta history. Right from the get-go we were greeted by a big display called Civil War Myths and we got to read through them. One for the most repeated was that Civil War surgeons weren’t butchers or barbers, they were actual surgeons and doctors. I mean they wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny today but at the time they were the top of their field. To become a surgeon one had to attend two semesters of classes which spanned over 6 months and took two years to complete both. Granted there seemed to be little real life “practice” shall we say buuut… it was better than nothing.

Things I learned: the Civil War was the birth of the US’s ambulance system. There were a shocking amount of amputations because the bullets at the time were led and shattered upon impact rather than going straight through like modern artillery. There were women working the battlefields as nurses – some were even people of color. Some soldiers brought their entire families with them – which frequently resulted in their wives being cast in unpaid domestic chores and their children dying of dysentery and other camp plagues. Horses were so important to the war effort that the first ever sanctuary/livestock recovery farm was started to nurse injures horses and mules back to health so they could be sent back to the front lines – in the process of doing this the field of veterinary medicine expanded greatly in knowledge – well past the “Well, it’s injured, guess we have to shoot it now” mentality.

Among all the displays of sharp things there were photos of people before and after they were made prosthetics – an industry that again was founded in this tragedy. Some were profoundly disfigured and aside them there was a photo of a pile of amputated parts – feet, legs, hands. It was… honestly a bit stomach turning. And then we found the arm. An actual human arm. Mummified of course. Whose arm was it? Nobody knows! All we know is that it was plucked off a battlefield where it was lying minding it’s own business and brought home by a doctor before being eventually donated to this museum.

Who brings home an arm?!”

“Well he was a doctor…”

“AND?! Unless his name was Frankenstein that doesn’t make it any less WTF!”

We spent quite a bit of time here. It was even more morbid than I anticipated and it was very educational. Perfect for any history buff or medical student in my opinion. I would highly recommend it if you’re ever in Fredrick.

November 14, 2021 0

Stillwater Antique Mall – Greenville Rhode Island

Yet another summer has rolled around which means it’s time to go antiquing! And I don’t mean the stuffy sort of antiquing one might expect from Rhode Island. I am not in the market for a 15th century chair or some fine china I’m afraid to breathe on. I do have enough spare change for a good haunted doll though…

And so we found not an antique store but an antique mall. Antique malls are usually large buildings (in this case a 17th century mill) which rent out booths on consignment meaning it’s halfway between antiquing at a little shop and halfway between rummaging through the town yard sale. You never know what you’re going to find! Or for what price. I was in.

Better still this place has a reputation for being haunted – and I mean with this many antiques that seemed like a guarantee more than a speculation but it wasn’t the antiques that were supposed to be causing the unrest. Unusual activity here was said by some locals to be the wandering spirits linked to the shocking murder of Mary Eddy who was bludgeoned to death in 1903 on her way home from working at the mill. The killer was Earl Jacques, another worker at the mill, whose mother claimed he was mentally slow and did not fully grasp his actions. The motive was to get Eddy’s paycheck for the week. Jacques was convicted and received the death penalty for his crimes while Mary Eddy’s fiancée was so distraught over her murder he committed suicide in a house nearby. Since then his ghost is seen on that property while Mary Eddy is said to wander up and down Pig Road where she was murdered and Jacques stays put in the antique store. Quite the story!

I loved the ambiance of the place even before we stepped inside. By the outside it looks grumpy and old. You can see how the cement used on the outside is beginning to crumble from advanced age exposing the rocks within. Nearby in the parking lot there is a river and a structure which I am guessing probably once hosted a big water wheel. Historic accounts of the town say there’s an inordinate amount of factory accidents, drownings, and people run over by horses or cars that has led to this section gaining it’s haunted reputation.

I didn’t know about all that when I walked in. Perhaps I was too distracted by the giant sock monkey being hugged by a Kraken-esque tentacle. Yup, we’d stumbled onto another winner. Right behind that was a cache of great vinyl records – most classic rock from the 60’s-80’s. Usually when I come into a place like this and there’s a record collection it’s 90% dollar records that no one has ever heard of (or just blatantly doesn’t want – I’m looking at you Bill Cosby albums.)

This place was massive and just seemed to go on and on. I was in love with the old architecture and the uniqueness of each booth. There was just everything here – including a bottle of arsenic that gave instructions of what to do in case of accidental poisoning. Somehow I don’t think milk and butter do a hell of a lot but hey, if it worked for grandma…

My travel companion kept entertained finding increasingly scary Santas spread like confetti through the entire store. As fun as that was I had my eyes on the less Christmasy dolls. There was a huge case of trolls… did you know they made PUPPY TROLLS? And they’re just as terrifying as they sound. Even worse was a doll that looked like it might be able to crawl on its own and another in a case with half its head missing – scalped? Lobotomized? One can’t be too sure. Always fun were the usual bassinets full of random doll parts just waiting for some young Frankenstein to come waltzing in. “Ah yes, this’ll do…”

An even more funny image to me was a plastic reindeer situated atop all the cases just looking out over the store. It was missing one foot and seemed… happy about that. And of course there was always a few items here and there to remind us of what racist fucks we’ve been in the past. A mammie doll here, an “Indian Joe” drumming figure there, and can’t forget the odd Chinamen… Still, there was MUCH less of this than in Maine which is what I’m used to.

Did you know that Mr. Potatohead once had a companion, Oscar Orange? I guess he must not have sold as well. Another bizarre find was the entire cast of the Wizard of Oz as cows. At the end of the day neither one of us came home with anything but we both wanted to return at a later date because you just never know…

June 1, 2021 0

Acotes Hill Cemetery – Chepachet Rhode Island

I know I am a little late starting out this year with my adventuring but truth be told I did attempt to go out a few weeks ago – sadly that destination ended up as such a clusterfuck I didn’t write about it (or even have photos to show off as my camera randomly decided the memory card was not readable.) Some days are just hard like that – and you find yourself arriving at a closed sandwich shop after the GPS sends you backtracking for half an hour after already driving for two and a half. And then you find out just how badly out of shape you are as you huff, puff, and puke trying to reach the end of a very short hike, and to top it all off you end up locked in a park after hours because you couldn’t get your ass back to the car in time. I didn’t want to ward people off from this otherwise lovely location so we decided we’d go back at a different time and try again.

Which brings me to my last little adventure which was MUCH more pleasant! We had decided a leisurely stroll through the village of Chepachet Rhode Island was a better option for the beginning of this year’s blog. The drive was reasonable, the destinations were super easy to find, and it was a gorgeous spring day.

We started with Acotes Hill Cemetery (alternately called Chepachet cemetery and/or Rhode Island Historical Cemetery Glocester #23) which is said to be quite haunted. Or at least that’s what the book we found it in claimed. It was named after a mystery man who was buried here in an unmarked grave. He was just travelling through town when he booked a room at the Kimball Hotel. This is ultimately where he died of a mysterious fatal wound and a fall down the stairs. There doesn’t seem to be any indication that his death was ever investigated as a murder though it sounds like it probably was. This may just be because justice for “half-breeds” (people of both white and indigenous descent) was hard to come across in those days – and maybe that’s why his ghost is said to sometimes haunt these hills.

The cemetery is surprisingly vast and so indicative of burial grounds here in New England. At it’s center there is what was likely the groundskeeper’s house in the past just in front of an old dug crypt. The stones are scattered over a series of rolling hills and a few share the shade a handful of creepy gnarled trees. It’s something from a Stephen king novel.

I noticed when I was there the stones were very chronologically mixed up. Usually cemeteries are somewhat organized by broad age categories and I was told this was an old cemetery so I looked for the slate stones that would have been the markers for Revolutionary War era individuals but alas, I found none. This confusing set of circumstances ended up being because this cemetery is actually a gathering place of many other cemeteries in the area which had been disinterred and moved here.

The monuments here were more or less the usual series of boring marble stones although a few did catch my attention. A large angel looks over the grounds from the back and nearby a bronze of the Virgin Mary cradling a dying Jesus is situated in a corner. I didn’t really know what to make of it.

In any event it was a nice place for a little walk and a great way to start when exploring this sweet little corner of New England. To add to its charm it was also the site of a tiny “armed but bloodless” uprising between the People’s Rights faction and the Law and Order party in 1842. The leader of the People’s Rights Thomas Wilson Dorr surrendered peacefully but was still tried and sentenced to life imprisonment for treason. However public sentiments were so strongly in favor of his cause that he only languished there for a few years before being released and he now enjoys a monument here in the cemetery.

April 11, 2021 2