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.
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.
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!
It is November so I guess it was time for another colonial cemetery. This time I was intrigued by a photo of a single random stone someone posted on FaceBook and with as little planning as usual off we went!
I did not expect to find what we did – a small but well packed cemetery with the strangest and most beautiful colonial era stones surrounded by the city itself. Adding to their uniqueness most were sandstone, likely imported from New York (or I guess New Amsterdam as it was called back in the day) rather than the Boston and Rhode Island slate that filled most of the rest of New England. It was… intriguing.
My travel companion grabbed a pamphlet at the entrance and went about in an organized manner trying to find each historical figure. Normally I follow along and listen to him read aloud but today… the ADHD gremlin bit me HARD and I was let loose into that cemetery with all the enthusiasm and lack of focus as a rabid Jack Russel terrier in a pit full of meth addled squirrels. I zipped from stone to stone, squealing in excitement, looking at the strange artwork on each just soaking it all in.
I did an exceptionally poor job of listening to my historical lecture and honestly all I remember by heart is that this was the final resting place of 15 (16?) black mayors of Hartford (who would have been mayors of their own segregated part of the city which sadly had little to do with the rest of the white population) and the first Irish immigrant. What follows is my research I have done after getting home…
Although today the cemetery is quite small it used to be far more expansive with perhaps up to 6,000 people buried here. Up to 90% of those would have not had the financial means to erect a stone and were thus interred in unmarked graves. Since the real estate it is situated on became valuable much of it was eventually built on top of. People buried here include many important local officials, even some who were involved with the hanging of witches back in the day. At least five, not 15, my bad, black mayors were buried here. A new marker was created to honor the black inhabitants of this cemetery and as such it’s on the African-American Heritage Tour. As for the first Irish immigrant he was actually the first Irish immigrant to Hartford not the US in general so I’m much less interested, but his name was Phenias Wilson (1628-1692) if you want to find him. His stone is one of the first to have a skull on it!
My three favorite graves were purely based on needless drama which colonial New England was FULL of. The first was an unfortunate man who was struck by lightning and instantly killed while he was standing in his kitchen. His grave marker reads “Here lies interd the remains of Capt Isreal Seymour who was kill’d by lightning Augst. 14th 1784, in the 49th year of his age. With awful rev’rence GOD adore Whose holy hand with sov’reign pow’r Did in an instant stop his breath And closed his eyes in sleep of death.” The little poem on that is good enough for me but the fact local ministers used his death to fear monger people to god was the cherry on top of the cake. Best be kissing up to god or else he might fry your sinning ass too!
The second stone could have been ripped out of a colonial era soap opera. It was that of Richard Edwards and his second wife Mary. Edward was 20 during his first marriage and his new bride was 22 year old Elizabeth Tuttle. In two decades she gave him six children but the first Edwards always claimed was a bastard as he was conceived before the wedding. In 1689 after the honeymoon phase was long dead Edward, who was a man of means being an attorney himself, tried to file for a divorce saying his wife was insane and adulterous. He may have been projecting just a little because after this petition failed he once again tried to get a divorce in 1691 this time claiming his wife was threatening to cut his throat while he slept. He claimed she was genetically predestined to be a murderess because her brother had once murdered their sister. This time the courts granted his request and the freshly divorced Elizabeth disappeared into the mists of history while her ex almost immediately married 27-year-old Mary Talcott who the town believed he was already playing hide the sausage with. She bore him six more children so he could have an even dozen (or 11 if the first one really was a bastard. Hard to say.) Apparently the two were able to regain composure in the church and eventually have a grandson who’d become one of the most prominent religious leaders in the colonial era.
But my favoritest stone was the triple monument of the Beauchamp sisters honoring Susannah McLean (1711-1741) Margaret Chevenard (1708-1783) and Maryane Keith (1696-1784.) The pamphlet says thusly about this stone: “In an unusual departure from custom these three married women were memorialized first as sisters, next as daughters, and last as wives, suggesting they shared a powerful emotional bond.” Yes, I am sure that’s what this means, and not three women’s last fuck you to patriarchy. Beauchamp sisters, I got your message loud and clear. I hope you’re still floating around somewhere kicking butt.
And so that was my trip to the cemetery! You should totally go see this one if you can. So much charm. So much drama. So much bizarre gravestone art. What’s not to love?
Yesterday we ventured out to see the Cedar Hill Cemetery in Hartford Connecticut because we heard it was the final resting place of Katherine Hepburn and we’d never been to the grave of a modern celebrity before. Why not? We drove a few hours, this time knowing it closes at 4PM. Still, with 270 acres to poke out we knew we’d be out there for a while.
We managed to snag a spot in their weirdly limited parking up at the church and began to ankle it into the cemetery itself, which was down a long, paved driveway of sorts. On the way there was a nice view of the Autumn leaves over a body of water. A couple benches were here too just in case you wanted to linger, though there wasn’t a gravestone in sight for quite a while.
There were however pamphlets on the way in to take self-guided tours or an audio tour. This is where things got interesting because our previous internet search had only said that Katharine Hepburn and Yung Wing – the first Chinese man to graduate an American University (Yale) were buried there. But there were SO MANY other interesting people here!
I am only going to mention the ones that I found interesting because there were literally dozens and I don’t want this blog entry to be a book. But here we go! There were several friends of Mark Twain, an ungodly amount of bankers and founders of insurance agencies including JP Morgan himself (who I guess got filthy wealthy “funneling capital for Europe to the emerging American economies.”) Jacob Weidenmann who was the cemetery’s landscape architect (and what a lovely job he did. The trees here were stunning! All in their Autumn colors!) Several actors including Katharine Hepburn, Robert Ames, and Fern Andra, several artists including William Gedney Bunce, Albert Entress, William Glackens, and George Wright. Samual Colt who founded Colt’s Patent Firearms Company largely recognized for the improvement of the manufacturing of revolvers. If it’s women’s history you’re in need of there was Isabella Beecher Hooker who was a suffragist and who fought for the Married Women’s Property Law which passed in 1877. And Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet was known for being the father of deaf education in the US founding what is known today as The American School for the Deaf. There were several inventors including the guy who figured out how to produce horseshoe nails by machine George Capewell which adorably had horseshoe nails carved into his stone.
But my two favorite monuments went to one for creepy creativity and the other for just being fascinating. Mark Howard was a prominent figure in the insurance agency and for whatever reason after he died he had a pyramid erected as his monument. Now, I’ve seen pyramids before but this was the first one that came with an angel playing peek-a-boo from the door. It was both gorgeous and slightly terrifying. I just don’t think angels should be peeking out from anywhere. That’s some sneaky behavior! But an even more impressive monument went to Horace Wells a dentist who discovered the use of nitrous oxide (laughing gas) as an anesthetic and died at 33. Someone put a lot of effort into showing his achievements on his four-sided stone that showed a woman awake and a woman at sleep through anesthesia. Eerie and striking. This was my favorite piece of art in the whole cemetery.
We’d eventually find what we came for – the modest monument to Katharine Hepburn. People had left a tennis ball, a golf ball, and several lipsticks. I don’t know much about her, haven’t even seen any of her movies, literally only know her from one interview with Dick Cavette which I watched with great amusement for her complete inability to sit like a normal person in a chair.
All and all it took us two hours to find the monuments recognized by letters in the pamphlet. We did not find the bonus list or wander beyond the sections shown in the pamphlet. Cedar Hill is 270 acres which means it just keeps going! I didn’t even mention all the war leaders or politicians but there were a number of them too. In any event this cemetery was one of the prettiest I have been to and was so expansive that there was really something for everyone here.
And so that was our trip. I highly suggest this cemetery to any history buffs, taphophiles, or anyone just looking for a relaxing afternoon stroll.
Twas a grey and gloomy day to take the cat for a walk through a random cemetery, as one does. This cemetery had signs posted at the gate stating dogs were not allowed. It said nothing about cats.
Mystic has been a wonderful place to visit in the past. I’d appreciated the apple picking, the day shopping, the pizza binging, and someday I shall visit the aquarium. Surely such a cute little city must have a fine and glorious cemetery, no?
We went to find out. The stones seemed to be mostly from the 1800’s to the present, almost all were marble. One monument was a mourning woman who had lost a bunch of babies. Tragic but not unusual. What was unusual was that they had a monument to them.
The cat was over stimulated to say the least, but she seemed to be enjoying it none the less. She even managed to court a ginger gent who spent a good twenty minutes stalking our party. Figures she’d find a boyfriend being unfixed and ready to roll. Later on a car would come by, see the cat, and think this was the funniest thing in the world – a cat on a leash in a cemetery. They told us the ginger tom who’d been following us belonged to a house across the street and he frequented this cemetery on the daily. I was impressed. A cemetery with its own cat. That’s pretty cool.
It was a relatively quick visit. The cat sure had fun but I’m not sure I would suggest this cemetery to anyone who is travelling to see it. There was the usual smattering of grieving women, a cherub or two, and some interesting nautical themed monuments but mostly this was pretty standard faire for a cemetery.
It’s been many many years since I went to Jaffrey’s Old Town Center. I’m not sure I ever went into the cemetery but on this day I did! I had heard that there were two famous people buried here: Amos Fortune and Willa Cather. As a child I had heard about Amos Fortune, a formerly enslaved man who made quite a name for himself, but Willa Cather was news to me. She was a Pulitzer Prize winning novelist.
I’ve been trying to do more Catching Marbles entries this month than usual, but my body has NOT been happy with this new goal, and I was knackered even before I arrived. Still, seeing this place again brought back some fond memories of my childhood. The Old Jaffrey Town Center looks more or less like it did 200 years ago, a small cluster of churches and big farmhouses sitting in a neat little circle, a big grassy common in front of them all. It’s quaint and sweet. They even kept the carriage house intact behind the church as well as the absolutely tiny one room schoolhouse. Plaques and memorials are scattered about making a self-guided tour very easy. The atmosphere was absolutely charming and the Old Burial Grounds behind the church were no different. They were nestled in a quiet spot with a gorgeous view of Mount Monadnock beyond. The perfect place for eternal rest.
Out front of the gates there was a big plaque stating that this was a stop on the Black Heritage Trail because of Amos Fortune. I was told online maps of the cemetery would be at the entrance. There was…. sort of… one big map but it was not laid out in a user-friendly manner. On it several graves were marked out under letters although you pretty much had to read this huge thing about all of them to figure out which was which. I passed because I could see immediately beyond a big number one sitting next to one of the graves. Cool. Surely the two graves I was looking for would be on this numbered tour, right? Right?
I had wandered around and enjoyed all the old slates and got a feel for the place when I realized none of the 13 clearly labelled stops were either Amos Fortune or Willa Cather. What?? I managed to just bump into Willa Cather on accident at the corner of the cemetery not far from the gates. I’d only gone to look at her monument because I saw a ton, and I mean a ton, of rocks on top of her stone. I wanted to know who was so well loved! And I was happy to see it was her. Novelists rarely get that much attention after death. From what I gather she had a claim to fame by writing a series of novels about pioneer life back in the day.
Before I found Will though I found a bizarre monument at the other end of the cemetery in the back that was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It seemed like a vault grave but different somehow? On it the face of a woman was carved as well as a series of religious scenes below. It was chunky and odd, like a folk-art representation of the ostentatious wealthy Catholic memorials I sometimes see. I knew from one of my cemetery books that this monument was carved by a man driven mad by grief from the death of his first wife (whose face it was at the top.) After some drama in creating this… unusual display he eventually lost interest, moved away, and remarried. Doesn’t make for the greatest story but it does make me want to ask a lot of questions!
After all this I was having a hard time standing. I sat on a huge tree trunk near the crypt and rested. Where was Amos Fortune?? I had consulted the map earlier on in the day. He was labelled as “J” but seeing as I have no sense of direction I read the map all wrong and didn’t find him. Asking my phone also resulted no results so I went back to the map and realized it wasn’t oriented in the way I thought it should be and tried again but only after looking up what the memorial looked actually like. It was distinctive in that all the slates in this cemetery seemed to be in perfect condition except for his. His looked as if at some point it has cracked diagonally and snapped in half. A repair effort had fused the pieces back together but not in the most delicate of ways – a large white cement crease could be seen as well as some rusted bolts. Not to be bitchy but this was the worst attempt at stone repair I’d ever seen.
And so I tried again. From the gate I walked forward until I came to the stone wall on the opposing side and then I took a small left and it wasn’t long before I recognized this unique stone. I’d been looking for something drenched in pennies but it didn’t look like anyone had been here. Not a single penny, rock, or trinket, lay testament to a man whose name is burned so heavily into this town’s history. I apologized for this and amended the situation leaving a penny on both his and his wife’s stone.
So who is Amos Fortune? Well, he was an African man who was sold into slavery in the 1700’s and brought to Boston where he labored until he was able to purchase his own freedom at the age of 60. After this he moved to Jaffrey, founded a successful tannery, bought the freedom of his wife and adopted daughter, and lived what looks on the outside to be a good life until his death at 91 where upon he bequeathed a substantial amount of money to the church and community. In 1950 he was once again remembered with Amos Fortune, Free Man a Newbury Metal winning biography by Elizabeth Yates.
Back at the North Burial Ground it was my companion’s turn to pick a tour and he decided upon the HP Lovecraft tour. HP Lovecraft did indeed live in Providence RI but he is buried elsewhere, in the Swan Point Cemetery, so what this tour had to offer was a bit of a mystery. Still, we parked in our usual spot and ambled in – this time finding ourselves behind the visitor’s center where there was a HUGE memorial to the Armenian Genocide. How we had missed this before… is just testament to how much we weren’t paying attention because I mean this thing is MASSIVE and definitely worth a look if you are already here.
After that distraction was put aside we finally got to business. First up was finding the stone of Clara L Hess who was a classmate of HP Lovecraft although she apparently had quite the illustrious life all on her own as a reporter and editor of the Providence Journal and Evening Bulletin.
Next up was Chester Pierce Munroe – who likely bonded with HP Lovecraft when they were both pups, daring each other to eat paste. OK, so you can’t prove the latter part of that but that’s how I’d like to imagine it. Truth be told they met when they were very young at school and remained chums throughout the rest of their days. Munroe was a working class man and although there’s rumors of him writing a book or several he was unable to get anything published. Not really surprising considering the politics of the day.
Addison P Munroe was another childhood friend although information on him seems a little scarce. Good news is if I remember right his stone was really close to the last one and also had his wife’s name on it who I guess also garnered a small acquaintance with Lovecraft.
James Tobey Pyke was apparently a big influence on his neighbor, a 14-year-old Lovecraft, whom he encouraged to write poetry. Pyke was a poet himself as well as a minister at one point. He apparently had pretty frail health but still insisted on working for his income despite being from a fairly well to do family. Eleanor Francis Pyke was James’ wife who also adored poetry and managed to raise a poet son, growing up alongside the neighbor’s boy Lovecraft.
Samuel Brenton Mumford was a successful local businessman that was one of the first investors to own a part of the Providence Athenaeum which would later become a favorite haunt of Lovecraft’s. In addition to this it was his former home which HP Lovecraft would later spend the last few years of his life.
Cyrus Butler was the Providence’s own Scrouge McDuck kinda character. In life he was obscenely wealthy and really not terribly keen on sharing that but even so he was one of the original investors helping to build the Providence Athenaeum – an institution that he also gave a large donation to after his death. He also bequeathed 30K to build The Rhode Island Hospital for the Insane post humorously. It still exists although it’s called the Butler Hospital and has nothing to do with Lovecraft as far as I can see. Also isn’t it wonderful millionaires can get redemption even after death?! Must be nice!
So ended the Lovecraft Tour. Below are photos of the stones mentioned and a bunch of others that distracted me with thier uniqueness or beauty. It’s a lovely cemetery to explore!
