Last time, I took you with me to Atlanta’s Crest Lawn Cemetery. Among the names it’s had over the years are North View Cemetery. Atlanta already had a Westview Cemetery and an Eastview Cemetery (Decatur area), not to mention a South-View Cemetery. So I’m not surprised that Crest Lawn was once called North View Cemetery.

Today I’m going to talk about the area behind Crest Lawn that’s better known as Casey’s Hill. It’s not “officially” a part of Crest Lawn Cemetery, so it is not maintained by them in any way. If you go to the office to ask about a grave there, it’s likely they won’t be able to help you. Find a Grave lists about 1,500 memorials for Casey’s Hill but at least half of those are not photographed. If you visit, you’ll see why.

You can see that Casey’s Hill is not a traditional, well-manicured cemetery. Nobody technically owns or manages it, as far as I know. It’s something akin to a barely tamed wilderness. Hard to say. When I first visited in 2013, the folks living in the then fairly new homes just behind it had worked to create paths for people to use for walking. They’d even added a few picnic tables near the furthest edge of the cemetery (not among the graves).

The neighbors did it by themselves with their own time and money. When the pandemic was going strong, there were several people walking around Crest Lawn and Casey’s Hill so they weren’t be cooped up at home. I was one of them.

Some grave markers are easily seen, others not so much. The photo below is of a tree-shaped grave monument made of stone being overtaken by real vines. I couldn’t get to it because the thick vines/thorns were blocking my way. I have no doubt many people who have never seen such a monument before thought it was a real tree.

Who Was John Austin Casey?

The burial ground gets its name from John Austin Casey (1820-1907), a man who was well known in his day and lived on the property. A historical marker explains how this piece of land played a part in the Civil War. Born in 1820, John came from Walton County with his parents to settle in what is now Fulton County.

Casey’s obituary notes that he and his father, Hiram Casey, were contracted to build and grade the first section of the Western and Atlantic railroad in the city. Casey also served for 38 years as justice of the peace for his district. He was regarded as a bit of an Atlanta pioneer and was often consulted when land purchases were being made.

When I visited Casey’s Hill in the past, I didn’t see his grave. But last week, I wanted to see how things were looking on Casey’s Hill now and went over. Thanks to the kind person who provided his grave’s GPS coordinates on Find a Grave, I located John Casey’s grave marker and the one for his wife, Susan. I did have to tiptoe my way through a lot of ivy and hop over several dead branches to do it.

I have no idea when they started burying people here. One of the first markers was for Nellie Rivers Thurman and her husband, Benjamin Franklin Thurman. Nellie died in 1862 while Benjamin died a few years later. The couple had nine children together.

There are a few family plots that somebody (or multiple people) has cleaned up so they can visit their loved ones without tripping over branches or vines. The Gault family plot is an example of this. As far as I can tell, the homemade markers were created in the last 20 years or so.

Preserving A Family Plot

Born in 1845, Jackson “Jack” Gault married Mary Jane Gault (I’m guessing they were cousins) around 1879. At the time of his death, Jack was working as a roller in a mill. Census records indicate they had six children together with four living to adulthood. One of them, Henry, was born in 1876.

From what I can tell, there are at least 14 people buried in the Gault plot. There are also a number of field stones that represent graves of unknown people.

A newspaper article describes how Jack met his demise. I’m guessing he suffered a stroke of some kind as a result of running six miles to get help for his sick daughter. He was around 36 when he died a few weeks later.

Jack Gault’s marker (at least I think it’s his) presents a mystery of sorts because it says he died in 1889, seven years after his actual death. Mary Gault, who died in 1919, is buried beside him.

I think one of the saddest markers I’ve ever seen was this one. I don’t know who these little ones were born to or when.

A Young Invalid

In another plot are the Jones and Allrid families. James Barber “Bob” Alrid (1894-1944) married Pearl Jones (1897-1966) in 1917. The couple had seven children together. At the time of his death in 1944, James was store keeper at the Atlanta Ordnance Depot.

Next to last in the birth order was Richard Frederick “Dickyboy” Allrid, born in Alabama on Feb. 22, 1934. According to his obituary, he was an invalid for most of his life.

Richard died at age 15 on April 13, 1949, five years after his father passed away. He is buried beside his parents.

From a Child Bride to a Cougar

The last marker I’m featuring is unusual in that there are no birth or death dates for the three people for whom it was made. In the middle is the name J.B. Martin Donaldson. I believe this to be Narcissa Emily Casey Martin Donaldson, the daughter of John Austin Casey and his wife, Susan. The “Mrs.” is missing from the marker, so to speak. On the left is her first husband, James Martin, and to her right is her second husband, Robert “Bert” Donaldson.

When I began researching this trio, the story that unfolded could have been a script for a blockbuster movie.

Born on May 9, 1851, Narcissa (or Narcissus) was one of 11 children. Records indicate it was in October 1865 that she married James Martin. She was 14 at the time, James about 23. He worked in the court system in the bailiff’s office for much of his career. He retired before his death on March 30, 1914 at age 72. Narcissa and James never had any children.

Note that below J.B. Martin’s age is the Bible verse John 16:3: They will do such things because they have not known the Father or me.

A few years later, Narcissa met ex-convict Robert “Bert” Donaldson when he was fresh out of the Atlanta Penitentiary and rented a room in her home. Bert was about 20 years younger than Narcissa and had previously spent time in the penitentiary in Cleveland, Ohio. In 1913, along with three other men, Bert attempted to rob a safe containing $300,000 worth of diamonds from the Philip Present jewelry store in New York. He was reportedly in the Atlanta Pen for robbing a post office.

One report noted that Bert had spent an estimated 26 years of his life in prison over the years.

Bert found religion in the Atlanta Pen and became a Methodist. Eventually, he was ordained as a pastor. Narcissa helped him “go straight” after they met and the two married in 1916. Soon after, he was hired as an inspector by Atlanta’s solicitor general, John A. Boykin. Much like Frank Abagnale (whose life is featured in the movie “Catch Me If You Can”) who left his life of crime (after he was caught) to help catch criminals, Bert primarily worked with the bunco squad to catch thieves. Bert was relentless in what he did and put many criminals behind bars.

Reformed Ex-Con Murdered

Sadly, Bert’s reformed life came to an abrupt end in 1926. He received a call summoning him to a room at Atlanta’s Georgian Terrace (a hotel still operating today). Upon entering, Bert was blasted multiple times with a shotgun. He died from his wounds on July 29, 1926 at age 55. It’s believed Bert “knew too much” and had to be eliminated by his enemies

Atlanta newspapers over the next year were full of headlines about the investigation and subsequent arrests. Jack Lance was originally charged and convicted of Bert’s murder, sentenced to death. But he received a new trial later and the indictments against him were tossed out. Lance walked free. As a result, the mystery of Bert’s murder has never been solved.

Below Bert’s age on the marker, it notes that the text of his last sermon was John 17:3: Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.

Narcissa lived on her own until her death on Sept. 17, 1933 at age 82, primarily from chronic kidney issues. She is buried between her two husbands in Casey’s Hill, not far from where her parents rest.

Next time, I’ll be revisiting Atlanta’s Greenwood Cemetery. I wrote about their Holocaust memorial back in 2013 but there’s much more to this burial ground that I think you’d like to know about.

My last post was written about a cemetery visit from February 2020. I am sure that date resonates with everyone. It’s right before the Covid-19 virus changed the world.

It also changed cemetery hopping a bit. Some folks actually sought out cemeteries to walk around because social distancing was so easy and well, let’s state the obvious. Most of the “residents” were deceased and could cause no physical harm.

In those initial months, I began visiting some of Atlanta’s larger cemeteries again like Westview, Greenwood, and Crest Lawn. Why not Oakland? It’s closer to downtown and I just didn’t have it in me to go. Which is why I’m going to share Crest Lawn Cemetery/Casey’s Hill with you. It’s not one that gets a lot of attention.

Crest Lawn Cemetery

Crest Lawn Cemetery is a bit of an odd duck, frankly.

The main part officially opened in 1916 and covers close to 145 acres. There aren’t a lot of old classic monuments like the ones at the other cemeteries that opened earlier. There are an estimated 29,000 burials for it noted on Find a Grave. I’m sure there are more. It also has a large mausoleum but I don’t know how many folks are in there.

Crest Lawn has had several different names over the years. Death certificates have it listed as Casey’s Cemetery, Crest Lawn Cemetery, Highland Cemetery, North View Cemetery, Riverview Cemetery, and Crown Hill Cemetery.

Casey’s Hill, located on the back side of Crest Lawn, is not “officially” part of the cemetery because they don’t do any maintenance or burials back there any longer. John Austin Casey owned much of the property in this area from 1820 to 1907, so many of the markers are older than the ones in Crest Lawn. But I’ll get to that in the next post.

My first visit to Crest Lawn (according to my photo archives) was in February 2013. I was doing a Find a Grave request and wandered around a bit. Two of the pictures I took that day were of this prominently placed statue. I don’t know when it was placed. I have since learned there are a number of cemeteries that have the same statue.

If you are looking for good views of the city of Atlanta, Crest Lawn has some good ones.

Unfortunately, I can’t tell you much about Crest Lawn’s mausoleum. It’s never been open when I’ve been there, and I’ve read that you can only get in if you own a space inside and have a key. Some cemeteries are just like that. Security is tighter and perhaps there’s a good reason for it. (By comparison, Westview Cemetery’s large Abbey Mausoleum is almost always open.) But here’s what the outside looks like.

This Good Shepherd-themed monument caught my eye. I think it’s from the 1950s but I can’t be sure. It could use a little TLC.

A Deadly Fire

As I said, there aren’t many classic monuments at Crest Lawn but there’s one with a heartbreaking story behind it.

On Saturday, Oct. 16, 1915, a fire broke out in the Mion Building at 40 and 42 Luckie Street. This was the Atlanta location of the Mutual Film Company. No movies (all silent at that time) were filmed there, but many copies were stored there and distributed to theaters across the country, along with movie posters/ads. That area of the city was quite busy then and is now.

As fire trucks rushed to the scene and onlookers tried to get a better look, two young ladies fought to survive.

One of them was Charlotte “Lottie” Lee Ham, a 16-year-old stenographer who attended Atlanta’s Central High School. She was working alongside another young woman, Clara Westbrook. The fire trapped them in a back room and there were no fire escapes to climb down.

Lottie was one of the five children of Dean Ham and Martha Sadler Ham. Dean worked as a knitter at a cotton mill. Lottie was liked by her classmates and she taught Sunday School at North Atlanta Baptist Church. Lottie earned $14 a week at Mutual.

According to newspaper reports, Lottie’s friend Sam Berry fought his way through the crowd and was halfway up the ladder before firemen pushed him down. He would later say, “She was one of the best friends I had on earth and I would have gladly died to save her.”

It was determine that the fire started on the ground floor when scraps of film on a cutting table were ignited by sparks produced by an electric fan. Later, the Hams sued the Mutual Film Company. This article from the Feb. 27, 1916 gives the details. I don’t know if anything ever came of it.

Her coworker, Clara Westbrook, was 29. She was carried out of the burning building alive but died soon after from smoke inhalation. She is buried at Union Hill Methodist Church Cemetery in Canton, Ga. She left behind several siblings.

This is the monument for Lottie at Crest Lawn. While the young women are buried in two different cemeteries, I have to wonder if the two figures represent both Lottie and Clara. Both were cut down in their prime.

Atlanta Artist

You can find a number of Jewish graves at Crest Lawn. Some are grouped by congregation (like the Shearith Israel graves) but others are not.

One that I found in the Mount Carmel section got my attention. The marker for Judith Alexander is not what you might expect. Several tidbits of information about her are written on the slab, such as her birth/death dates. It’s also an abbreviated obituary of sorts.

But it’s the block with a hole lined full of little “faces” that is what grabbed me. I’m not sure if it’s a hole meant for people to place flowers in. However, it’s certainly unusual and I’ve never seen anything quite like it before.

Born in 1931, Judith studied art, first at the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia, then with the painter Hans Hofman in New York City. Judith advocated for art and artists, opening the New Arts Gallery on North Peachtree Road in Atlanta.

As a showcase and platform for such world-renowned artists as Franz Kline, Jackson Pollack, and Jim Dine, Alexander’s gallery grew into a center for Atlanta’s young arts community. In 1978, she became a pioneer in the promotion of self-taught artists when she opened the Alexander Gallery on East Paces Ferry Road. Among those she brought to the world’s attention were Nellie Mae Rowe, Ned Cartledge, Carlton Garrett, and Linda Anderson—Georgians all.

Though she lived most of the year in New York City from 1989 through 2004 (she moved to be near her sister), Judith remained a revered presence in the Atlanta family of artists, art lovers, and art dealers. She died suddenly at age 73 on Dec. 15, 2004.

According to artist Mario Petriena, “Judith had a way of building you up, One time, after some disappointment, she said to me ‘People can be curators or dealers or critics, but never forget that you have the biggest gift of all—the ability to make art.’ She was always there. I can’t count the number of artists she helped.”

Kohanim Hands

This marker for Simon Kagan is etched with the Jewish symbol of the Kohanim hands. I did not know about these until I began visiting Jewish cemeteries. Do they remind you of something?

The image of two hands with thumbs touching fingers paired and split is known as the Kohanim hands. Kohanim are members of the Jewish priest tribe descended from Aaron, the brother of Moses. The Kohanim raise their hands in this gesture over their heads to bless the congregation. It is believed that the radiance of God (Shekhinah) will stream through their fingers.

This may call to mind the greeting from the Vulcans in Star Trek. The late Leonard Nimoy, who played Spock, was Jewish and took inspiration from his heritage to create the famous gesture.

Shearith Israel Section

The Shearith Isreal section of Crest Lawn features a number of more modern Jewish graves, many of which have been laser etched on dark stones.

I know very little about Abram and Sarah Borukhov but I was taken with the complexity of their markers and how very life-like their images appear on them. I only know that Abram emigrated to America from Uzbekistan.

Atlanta Rhythm Section Drummer

This is not the first time I’ve photographed a grave of someone that I later discovered was a notable person. But I admit I did not know who R.J. Vealey was when I saw his marker.

Born in 1962, Robert Jason “R.J.” Vealey was a much respected studio musician who recorded with artists including Section Eight, Zaccaria, Tone Poets, Stonefish, and was the drummer of Roy Orbison’s backing band. In 1995, he became the drummer for the Southern rock band “The Atlanta Rhythm Section”. On November 13, 1999, after the band had finished a set at a concert in Orlando, Fla., he complained of indigestion and then collapsed.Vealey was only 37 when he died.

Vealey is also a member of the Georgia Music Hall of Fame.

There’s more of Crest Lawn Cemetery to discover. Next time, I’ll take you into the woods where the Casey’s Hill section is located.

Note: This one is really long but I felt like these folks deserved it.

If you’re a true cemetery hopper, you don’t miss an opportunity to stop at a cemetery if you’re on a road trip.

This is something I don’t usually do with my family unless it’s a longer excursion. I sometimes do it with friends who indulge my mania. But it’s best if I’m on my own when I choose to do it on the spur of the moment.

I was alone on my drive home from Florida in February 2020 when I stopped in Dothan, Ala. to grab lunch. On impulse, I looked on Find a Grave to see if there were any cemeteries worth stopping for nearby.

The closest one was a place listed as the Houston County Poorhouse Cemetery (HCPC). That got my attention.

Usually, cemeteries for “poor farms” and “poorhouses” are full of unmarked graves. It’s often a bare plot of land where the dead are buried but no markers were placed. Sometimes, there’s one large marker memorializing the lives of those there. Maybe some names. Maybe not. As a result, I don’t usually stop at them because so little is known. And frankly there’s not much to see.

The HCPC is located next to a chicken processing plant. It is small but it does have a few marked graves. The fact that it’s still there says something.

Poorhouses/Poor Farms/Almshouses

So what is a poorhouse? Back in the day, poorhouses (or “poor farms” in some cases) were places where the destitute (often elderly) might end up if they had no family to help them. Some of these institutions were big, others small. Such facilities were also called almshouses (more commonly in England). By the end of the 1920s, they were starting to fade out in Alabama.

By 1937, 63 percent of the residents of Alabama poorhouses were above age 65 and qualified for pensions. FDR’s Social Security checks began hitting mailboxes the same year.

I don’t know when the HCP opened or when it closed. From the newspaper articles I could find, it was in operation in the 1910s and 20s. There was a flurry of articles in the Dothan Eagle in 1928 and 1929 about deteriorating conditions.

As the number of HCP residents shrank and the Great Depression dragged on, I think it was closed by the early 1930s. Again, I don’t know for sure.

More Questions Than Answers

There are only 10 graves inscribed with names at the HCPC. Six bear the last name Gilbert. Some graves just have a blank slab with a wooden cross. The photo below is one example of what I mean.

Of the Gilbert family, there are graves for: two different George Gilberts, L. Gilbert, Lucille Gilbert, Luella Gilbert, and Tommie Gilbert. They were all African-Americans. For those who do much genealogy research, finding records for people of color can be challenging.

The remaining graves are for Hattie Koonce Hayes, Nancy Ann Jeffords, Pvt. Cleveland Merrell, and William “Willie” Smith.

The only conclusion I feel I can safely draw is that only one of these individuals is known to have actually lived at the HCP during their lifetime. The rest? Well, here’s what I came up with.

The Gilberts

Let’s start with Georgia native George Pearce Gilbert, Sr. Born in 1869, he married Luella “Ella” Powell. They eventually made it to Dothan, Ala, by 1900. He and Ella had several children together. Below is a photo I found of him on Ancestry. His Find a Grave memorial says he was born in 1879 but he appears in the 1870 U.S. Census.

By 1920, George Sr. and two of his sons (Lonnie and George Jr.) were working for the railroad. It appears he continued to work for the next two decades. He died at age 77 on June 10, 1947. By this time, the HCP would have been closed.

Ella passed away before he did on March 29, 1942. She was 63. Pictured below is what I believe is her grave. Only her name is on it with no dates.

George Sr. and Ella had a daughter who was also named Ella in 1924, but she didn’t die until 2025. This would not be her grave.

Then there was George Sr. and Ella’s son Tommie Gilbert, born in 1917. Unlike the others, I was able to locate a brief article about him.

He died a tragic death on May 3, 1936. Tommie was enjoying some time with his friends and went swimming in Golf Creek. According to a Dothan Eagle article, he drowned that day and his body was not recovered until the next morning. Tommie was only 21.

(Note: There were two Lucille Gilberts living in Alabama around the same age at this time so there may be mistakes here.) Lucille Gilbert was born in 1912. She either married or was the common law wife of Willie Wright. According to the 1930 U.S. Census, she was working as a cook and her sister Ora was living with her and Willie (who was working in a cotton mill). They lived next door to her parents, Ella and George Sr,

Records indicate Lucille died on Oct. 24, 1946. I don’t know her cause of death. But I do believe this Lucille Gilbert buried here was the child of George Sr. and Ella Gilbert.

The next Gilbert with a marked grave is who I believe to be George Gilbert Jr., son of George Sr. and Ella. His grave only bears the name “George Gilbert” without a date.

Born in Alabama in 1903, George was fourth in the birth order. He had worked on the railroad but according to the 1930 U.S. Census, he was a fireman. I don’t believe he ever married. He died on May 13, 1932, his cause of death is unknown.

The last Gilbert, whose grave I somehow missed (I don’t know how) was an L. Gilbert who died in 1925. That could only be Lonnie Glibert. He was about 25 and worked as a section hand on the railroad. According to the 1920 U.S. Census, he was married to a woman named Clarisy.

I did find his memorial on Find a Grave with this photo of his grave. It is hard to read and appears to have a date of March 22, 1924. But the Alabama Death Index has his death as being March 25, 1925.

So how did the Gilberts end up here? As far as I know, none of them ever lived at the HCP. Did any of them possibly work there? Maybe but I don’t think so.

The only clue I do have is that when George Gilbert Sr. died in 1947, he was living at 1002 E. Troy Street. He and Ella lived there with their children for many years. The HCPC is located only two miles from that address, so they were certainly near the property.

A Veteran’s Final Rest

As I noted earlier, the remaining graves belong to Hattie Koonce Hayes, Nancy Ann Jeffords, Pvt. Cleveland Merrell, and William “Willie” Smith.

Born on Feb. 10, 1894 in Eufala, Ala., Cleveland Merrell was the son of Frances Merrell. Some records list them as Morrell. His WW I draft card indicates when he entered the U.S. Army in August 1918, he lived in Dothan and was 22 years old. He served as a private in the 437th Reserve Labor Battalion, Co. C. until his discharge on March 14, 1919. The 437th was stationed at Fort McClellan in Anniston, Ala. I don’t believe he served overseas.

Cleveland doesn’t make an appearance again until 1930 on the U.S. Census. He was working as a pool room manager in Dothan. He showed up in the Oct. 4, 1934 edition of the Dothan Eagle because he was convicted and fined for operating slot machines.

But Cleveland was living on borrowed time. Suffering from tuberculosis, he went to a veterans hospital in Asheville, NC for treatment. He died there on July 10, 1937 at age 43.

His mother, Frances, had already passed away in 1932. She is buried in Dothan’s Beulah Baptist Church Cemetery, about four miles north of the HCPC. According to records, the veteran grave marker produced for Cleveland was supposed to be sent there. Yet he is buried here instead. What happened?

Motorcycle Crash

Born in 1901 in Camilla, Ga., William “Willie” Thomas’ life was cut short at the age of 25. He was living in Dothan near the time of his death. According to the Savannah Tribune, on July 19, 1926, Willie was riding his motorcycle on a bridge in Savannah with a group of others when he was hit by a car. He died the next day from his injuries. The article noted that Willie’s mother, Chester, escorted his body home to Dothan for burial.

Why was Willie buried here? Did his mother have a connection to the HCP? Again, I don’t know.

A New Marker for Hattie

Hattie Koonce Hayes had one marker when I visited in 2020. I could tell a good deal of thought had gone into it. When I checked Find a Grave recently, I found she had a new one added to it!

Born on either July 1 or July 9, 1901 (the markers have differing birth dates), Hattie was the oldest child of Malachi (or Malichi) Koonce and Lizzy Dawsey Koonce.

Life was not easy for the Koonce family. Malachi was convicted of second degree murder in May 1913 for the November 1912 death of Nina Brown. He escaped on June 25, 1913, captured on July 15, 1913, and died in the state prison in Wetumpka on Dec. 20, 1913. Lizzy was left to take care of their eight children on her own.

I have little information on Hattie. At some point, she married Walter Stephen Hayes. The two had four daughters together. The only mention of Hattie I could ever find in a newspaper was when she was teaching baking to young girls in a school for black children.

Hattie died on July 21, 1928 at age 27. I have no details about her cause of death. Walter remarried to a woman named Eva the following year and they had a daughter together.

I don’t know when the new marker for Hattie was placed, it must have been sometime before March 2025 when the photo was posted to Find a Grave.

I suspect that one or more of Hattie’s grandchildren may have had this placed. Hattie and Walter’s daughter Katie lived to 97 and died in November 2019, just a few months before I visited the HCPC.

The Confederate Widow

The last person I’m going to talk about is Nancy Ann Jeffords, the only person with a marked grave at the HCPC that I have proof of having lived in the HCP. There is very little known about her beyond what her marker says and a few newspaper articles.

Nancy was born on March 17, 1854. Where that was and who her parents were is unknown. So I don’t know her maiden name. She was married at some point to a man named Henry Green Jeffords, who served in the Confederate Army during the Civil War for South Carolina. I don’t know when he married Nancy but by 1885, he was living in Florida. In 1903, Henry applied for and was granted a pension at age 75. His health was very poor and I’m sure the funds were a Godsend.

So what do we know about Nancy? It all comes from a few articles in the 1926 Dothan Eagle. Apparently, Nancy arrived at the HCP in June 1926 at age 72 without a penny to her name. She had been married five times at that point. In September, probate judge H.K. Martin did some research and learned that because of her marriage to Jeffords, she was entitled to a quarterly pension worth $22.50.

It’s doubtful she ever got the funds because Nancy died on Oct. 12, 1926. This article claims that she was laid to rest in a “potter’s field” and that she had longed to buy a black silk dress in which to be buried.

I suspect that the article above may have caused someone (perhaps Judge Martin or the ladies of the local Daughters of the Confederacy) to purchase a marker for Nancy. It’s all that is left to commemorate her life.

I did some digging into Henry Greene Jeffords. From what I could find, he was married three times and had several children. Interestingly, none of them appeared to be named Nancy. Two were sisters, Martha and Henrietta Huggins, and a Martha Woods. Henry died in 1906 in Alachua County and is buried in High Springs, Fla with Henrietta, who died in 1904.

Was Nancy ever married to Henry G. Jeffords? I can only hazard a guess that maybe, just maybe, she married him in that brief period between Henrietta’s death and his own. While there seems to be no proof of it, perhaps it no longer exists. We may never know.

I believe Nancy’s death did bring attention to the plight of those living at the HCP and that because conditions had grown so poor, it was closed by the early 1930s. Articles from 1928 and 1929 describe the sad decline the facility had undergone.

Final Thoughts

Having researched every marked grave in this cemetery, still lacking many answers, I’ve come to a conclusion.

I believe this cemetery is, as the last article above states, a “potter’s field” of sorts. It’s where those who had no place to be buried were taken. Their names rarely, if ever, made the newspaper. They didn’t have money. They were often overlooked or ignored. This was a cemetery for, as some might say, the “least of these.”

It wasn’t only for the residents of the Houston County Poorhouse, although there may be more of them buried here under the nameless markers. We’ll probably never know.

While this all sounds rather sad, this little place is hanging on. Perhaps its proximity to the neighboring plant is what keeps it from being totally abandoned.

The descendants of Hattie Koonce Hayes are still coming to visit her. Her new marker is a testament to that.

May the souls of this humble place never be forgotten.

As we head toward the end of 2025, I’m going to wrap up my series on Saint John’s Cemetery in Pensacola, Fla.

A Tale of Two Gargoyles

Two markers at SJC are topped by gargoyles. Yes, you read that right. Gargoyles.

While I’ve encountered a few cemetery gargoyles before, (the chapel at Evergreen Cemetery in Southgate, Ky. and the Busch mausoleum in St. Louis, Mo.’s Bellefontaine Cemetery come to mind), I haven’t encountered any attached to a specific gravestone until now.

First, let’s take a look at the grave of little George Wills.

George Gadsden Wills, born on July 29, 1904, was the son of George William Wills and his second wife, Sarah Frances Kelly Wills. She was 40 years his junior when they wed and the couple had seven children together.

Little George died only four months after his birth on Nov. 30, 1904. His cause of death is unknown. Another Wills baby would die in 1911. But their four other children would live long lives. George Wills, the father, died in 1923 at age 77. Sarah remarried to John Witherden and had a child, Lorna, with him in 1927. She died in 1953.

So why does little George’s grave have a gargoyle on top of it? I don’t know. I couldn’t find anything about it. My only guess is that perhaps whatever was on top originally broke off and someone replaced it with the gargoyle? That’s all I’ve got.

Let’s move on to Lizzie Henry White Kirkpatrick. Born in Alabama in 1857, Lizzie married John Alexander Kirkpatrick in Birmingham, Ala. in 1873. The couple had seven children together, with two dying in infancy.

Lizzie gave birth to a son, John, on April 27, 1890. She died less than a month later on May 30, 1890 at age 32. Her death may have been related to the birth, but I don’t know for sure. John (her husband) remarried the following year to Lena Brownlee. They had one son, Claude, together. John died in 1928 at age 75. John, Lizzie, and Lena are all buried at SJC.

So who placed the gargoyle atop Lizzie’s grave marker? Again, I don’t know. I’m not aware of any connection between the Wills family and the Kirkpatrick family. If anyone does know, please send me an email to let me know. I’d love to know the story behind the gargoyles.

Pensacola’s Madame Mollie

The original grave marker for Mary C. “Mollie” McCoy was stolen at some point after her death on February 4 1920. It remained unmarked until 2012 when her grave was discovered in a new survey of the cemetery and a new one was placed there.

You might wonder why that happened but her profession (explained by a helpful sign) might have been a reason. I’ve posted it below so you can read her colorful history for yourself.

In short, Mollie went from being a washerwoman to a prostitute in Selma, Ala. sometime during the Civil War. She gave birth to two children, who were sent to live with relatives.

In 1878, Mollie moved to Pensacola and eventually operated her own establishments. Later, when Pensacola had a legal red light district, Mollie shrewdly catered to wealthy customers. In addition to being described as very attractive, Mollie had a head for business. The prostitutes at McCoy’s establishments were widely considered “the prettiest girls you ever saw.”

Mollie died at 76 of natural causes on Feb. 7, 1920 and the news of it was in the local newspapers. Her grave marker at SJC received many male visitors in the coming years, to the consternation of some local women. So her marker was removed until a new one was placed decades later.

It’s believed (as it was back when her first one was placed) that if you touch it, you’ll have a better love life.

Her son, Augustus, is buried to her right. He died in 1915.

Death of a Railroad Man

SJC has a few white bronze (zinc) markers but the largest one is for Wilbern Fallaw. I didn’t know his story until this week because when I would do newspaper searches for him in the past, his name was misspelled in the articles so nothing would come up. Some kind person who was more diligent than I was posted his obituary on Fallaw’s Find a Grave memorial last year.

A native of Alabama, Wilbern was born on April 13, 1868. While visiting a carnival Pensacola, he met and fell in love with local girl Pearl Hendrix. The two were married soon after and returned to Alabama. He soon had to leave her behind to resume his job as a flagman for the Illinois Central Railroad.

Disaster struck when he was injured in a train wreck between New Orleans, La. and McComb, Miss. He survived and was taken to a hospital in New Orleans, but died there on May 16, 1903.

By this time, Pearl likely knew she was pregnant. She gave birth to a daughter, Wilbern Pearl Fallaw, in 1904. Pearl never remarried but raised her daughter with the help of her parents. Pearl died in 1934 at age 57. She is buried beside her husband.

It’s my belief that Wilbern’s monument may have been provided by the Brotherhood of Railroad Trainmen (BRT). The BRT was a labor organization for railroad employees founded in 1883. Originally called the Brotherhood of Railroad Brakemen, its purpose was to negotiate contracts with railroad management and to provide insurance for members. The BRT insignia is on one of the monument’s plates.

Down With His Ship

No Pensacola cemetery series would be complete without the telling of a tale about a sea captain whose ship sank.

Born in 1855, W.H. Allen didn’t leave much of a paper trail about his past. He married Hattie Lonsbury in 1885 in Santa Rosa Beach, Fla.

By 1898, he was a sea captain in charge of the 97-ton tugboat William J. Keyser. In the early hours of Aug. 3, 1898, the tugboat was headed for the Dry Tortugas. It foundered 15 to 20 nautical miles off Point St. Joseph, Fla. Four of the 13 crew were lost, including Capt. Allen. He was 42.

Initially, I thought that Capt. Allen’s body was lost at sea and his marker was a cenotaph. But an Aug. 9, 1898 article in the Pensacola News leads me to believe that’s not the case. It states that Capt. Lyons of the tugboat Nellie went to St. Joseph to bring back the bodies of Capt. Allen and Henry Brown (the cook), in addition to searching for the bodies of the two other victims.

This poem is inscribed on Capt. Allen’s monument:

Steady! O pilot, stand firm at the wheel. Steady! you’ll soon outweather the gale.

O how he flies ‘neath the loud creaking sail, he is homeward bound.

Into the harbor of Heaven, he now glides. Softly he drifts on its bright silver tide.

He is home at last. Glory to God! he will shout at last.

Capt. Allen’s wife, Hattie, outlived him by more than 40 years. She died on Dec. 27, 1946 at age 81.

That’s all from Pensacola, Fla. Next time, I’ll be writing about the Houston County Poor House Cemetery in Dothan, Ala.

I don’t think I’ve ever let two months elapse between blog posts before. But it happened.

My son started college, I did a good bit of traveling, and life…was busy. So I humbly apologize for keeping you all waiting for the next installment.

Last time, I introduced you to Saint John’s Cemetery in Pensacola, Fla. In this post, we’ll visit some more of SJC’s residents.

Babyland

If you’ve ever visited a cemetery that’s on the larger side like SJC, you may notice a section often referred to as “Babyland”. Many modern cemeteries actually label it as such. What it means is that a particular area is dedicated to the burial of infants and young children, always a heartbreaking thing.

SJC has a fenced off area for such graves. They even have a sign explaining it. Some of the graves have detailed markers but those without them (often unknown) are represented by numbers.

One of Babyland’s residents is Kenneth Anthony “Kenny” Hodgson. The son of Kenneth and Mary Hodgson, little Kenny was born on Jan. 20, 1960. He died on April 9, 1961 in a Boston, Mass. hospital. He was only 15 months old.

Florida State University’s Tomahawk Chop

While doing preliminary research before visiting this cemetery, I was surprised to learn that the inventor of Florida State University’s “tomahawk chop” was buried there. I had no idea it was attributed to one person since the chop’s been adopted by a number of sports teams (including the NFL’s Kansas City Chiefs, MLB’s Atlanta Braves, and the English rugby team, the Exeter Chiefs).

The tomahawk chop is a hot button for many. Controversy has been following it for years as many Native Americans have stated that they feel it mocks their culture. Some teams have stopped “officially” using it. FSU officials have said the university’s board does not endorse the action stating, “Some traditions we cannot control…It’s a term we did not choose and officially do not use”.”

In other words, Seminoles fans are still doing it. I can attest to the fact Braves fans are still doing it at baseball games. Since I don’t watch the Kansas City Chiefs or the Exeter Chiefs play, I can’t attest to their current use of the chop.

Which brings me to Wallace S. “Wally” Odom, an FSU alumnus who is said to have invented the tomahawk chop while attending games in the 1980s. I’ve also read that members of the FSU marching band supposedly invented it during the 1980s as well. Which is true? I don’t know. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

What I do know is that Wally was apparently a lively fellow with a great love for his alma mater who enjoyed having a good time with his friends and family. Oddly enough, his obituary doesn’t mention the tomahawk chop at all. He died at age 75 on Jan. 28, 2014.

Gabriel’s Horn

One of the most beautiful monuments in SJC is the one for German-born Johan “John” Michael Pfeiffer and his wife, Kate Biersdorfer Pfeiffer. There are more than 60 Pfeiffers buried at SJC. The monument, made of Westerly granite, features the angel Gabriel holding his horn.

Born in Ermershausen, Germany in 1845, John came to America in 1867 and joined his brother, George, in Pensacola to help operate his grocery business. In 1870, he wed Eva Margaret Hepp and they had one son, Ernest, in 1871. Eva died of yellow fever in 1873 at age 30. John remarried in 1874 to Kunigunda “Kate” Biersdorfer and they had a daughter, Eva, in 1875.

John started his own grocery business and did well. The family was active in the local Lutheran church. John served as acting mayor of Pensacola at one point, and was director of a bank. Son Ernest married Pauline Ibach in 1894 and worked with John in the family business. He and Pauline had several children together, five of whom survived to adulthood.

Sadly, John would die at age 71 only nine days after his grandchild, Maynard, died on Dec. 20, 1906 at seven months old. Ernest, who took over his father’s business, died at age 37 on Aug. 5, 1909. All three are buried at SJC. Ernest’s mother, Eva, is buried to the left of John.

Kate and Eva (who never married) lived with Ernest’s oldest daughter, Ernestine, for a time. Kate died on March 4, 1928 and was buried beside John. Eva died in 1953 at age 78.

The Johnson Family Tragedies

There are times when I see a family plot in which the dates cause me to wonder what happened. Such is the case for the Johnson family.

A native of Sweden, Peter A. Johnson was born in 1859 and emigrated to America in 1879. He married New Yorker Isabella Gates in 1887. They would have four children together: Ruby, Victor, Alice, and Alfred. The family lived in Wisconsin and Minnesota before settling in Pensacola, where Peter worked as a carpenter and later, a wheelwright at a buggy works.

In 1907, Victor was 18. He and his friend, John Delmar, decided to move to Mobile, Ala. and get jobs. They moved into a boarding house. It was there that tragedy struck.

On Dec. 15, 1908, the two friends were in John’s room when he opened his trunk to get some money. His pistol lay in the top tray and he picked it up to unload it. Thinking he had removed all the bullets, he pulled the trigger and to his horror, fired a bullet into Victor’s head. He did not flee and was arrested by police. When informed five hours later that Victor had died, he was devastated.

A coroner’s jury cleared John of any wrongdoing and released him from jail. That was little comfort to his family, who had lost Victor forever.

Isabella died only three years later at age 50 on Sept. 16, 1910. Victor’s younger brother, Alfred, was only nine at the time.

When Alfred was 20, he became sick with what newspapers would call “a lingering illness” and died on June 5, 1922. Peter had now lost two sons and a wife. He clung to his daughters, who had both married. Alice, who married Arthur May, died on Oct 13, 1930 at age 35. She is buried at SJC.

Peter died at age 79 on Nov. 21, 1939. His marker and Isabella’s markers both feature a wheat sheaf and a sickle. This can symbolize the cycle of life, going from resurrection or rebirth (when the seeds are planted) to death, when they are harvested.

I’ve got more to share with you from Saint John’s Cemetery. I promise it won’t be two months before I return.

I’m still in Pensacola, Fla. and it’s still February 2000. But I’m in a different cemetery now!

Saint Michael’s Cemetery(SMC) is about two miles away from Saint John’s Cemetery (SJC), so not far. But the neighborhood in which Saint John’s is located in has a decidedly different feel. I did like the fact that it’s not right beside a busy interstate freeway ramp!

While the neighborhood is more working class, I didn’t feel unsafe when I visited. A mother was walking with her giggling baby in a stroller down the paths for exercise. A boy rode his bike through on his way somewhere, talking on a cellphone. Life going on amid the dead, as it were.

With about 13,000 recorded memorials (SJC’s web site says there are closer to 20,000 people actually buried there) on Find a Grave on 26 acres, SJC is larger than SMC and has about four times the number of burials. SMC consists of eight acres.

SJC is also “younger” in its existence than SMC. So if you were someone of note in Pesacola that wasn’t buried at SMC, it’s highly likely you’re at SJC.

Established by Masons

When SJC was established in 1876 by the Masons of Escambia Lodge, No. 15, F. & A.M., it was because SMC was getting a bit too crowded. Another cemetery was needed. The web page for SJC describes it like this:

Located on a gradually sloping hill, filled with native magnolia, oak, sycamore, and pine trees, the cemetery eventually was plotted to cover some 26 acres within 10 city blocks. Proceeds from plots sold initially went to pay off the mortgage acquired to purchase the land, to cover improvements, and to establish a perpetual endowment. While the trustees were drawn from the Lodge, neither the organization or any member would receive any financial benefit from this endeavor.

Later, in 1908, at its entrance on “G” Street, a gate house [see above photo] was constructed, which consisted of a chapel on one side and offices and storage rooms on the other. A fish fountain was also installed near the gate house. It was the largest cemetery yet constructed for a city that many Masons speculated would grow into needing such place.

After you enter through the archway of the gate house, you’ll find this handsome sign to assist you in locating graves. Funded by a grant, it features prominent graves and their locations, a cemetery map, and the history of SJC. You can also look up grave locations on their web site.

I especially appreciated the “symbol decoder” on SJC’s sign. It describes what many carvings you can find on a grave marker mean, such as the anchor and the clasped hands. This is something I wish more cemeteries provided so visitors can understand what they are seeing better.

Like SMC, there are also several signs indicating various historic/important burials in SJC along with some facts about the place. These little things are always appreciated by this cemetery hopper!

First Burial at SJC

There’s a sign for SJC’s first known burial, which is something always handy to know.

In researching the Frierson family, I came across another case of a man marrying sisters. It truly was common back then, despite the number of raised eyebrows it causes today.

Born in Charleston, S.C. in 1808, George Frierson graduated from South Carolina College (later the University of South Carolina) as a physician. He married Mary Ann Susanna Screven in 1830 and the couple had five children. Three of their sons served in the Confederate Army, one dying at the Battle of Chancellorsville in 1863. Mary Ann died at age 40 in 1844.

In 1846, Dr. Frierson married Mary Ann’s younger sister Martha Eleanor Screven. Two years later, they moved to Louisiana and helped found the town of Frierson. He and Martha had several children together. After living in Honduras for a period, they moved to Pensacola, Fla. where Martha died on Aug. 10, 1876.

Dr. Frierson lived out his final days back in Frierson, La. until he died in 1883 at age 74. He and Martha’s oldest son, William, became a doctor and served as an assistant surgeon in the Confederate Army during the Civil War. Dr. Frierson and his first wife, Mary Ann, are buried together in Evergreen Cemetery in Frierson.

Kursheedt & Bienvenu

Forgive me but I’m going to chase a rabbit now. Come along with me!

There’s another thing that’s special about Martha Frierson’s stone. It is marked with the name of the firm who created it, Kursheedt & Bienvenu, and includes their address. I’d never heard of them before. But I love finding out more about the people who made the stones I find in cemeteries.

It didn’t surprise me that Dr. Frierson purchased Martha’s marker from a New Orleans-based firm because Louisiana was his home for most of his life.

Fortunately, thanks to Emily’s Ford web page (she’s the owner of Oak and Laurel Cemetery Preservation, LLC), I was able to learn more about Edwin Kursheedt.

Born in 1838 in Kingston, Jamaica, Edwin came from a prestigious Jewish family and was raised in New Orleans, La. When the Civil War began, he joined the Confederate Army as a member of the Washington Artillery, where he rose to the rank of colonel (although this might have been an honorary title, a common thing in Southern circles).

After the war, Kursheedt went into business with his father, a stonework merchant since at least 1857. The firm was operated jointly with J.G. Bienvenu, who was also a notary public in New Orleans. 

According to Emily Ford, Kursheedt & Bienvenu were successful in providing not only cemetery stonework and tombs but also hardware, commercial stonework, mantels, grates, and other items. By the 1880s, they owned a large showroom on Camp Street (the street mentioned on Martha’s marker) with marble yard next door at which at least 30 men were employed.  

J.G. Bienvenu left the business after 1888 and Kursheedt operated Kursheedt’s Marble Works until 1901. He died in 1906 and is buried in Dispersed of Judah Cemetery (its congregation was established by his brother, Gershon) in New Orleans, which I visited in April 2025.

Okay, got that rabbit chased down. Back to SJC..

Grand Niece of Pres. George Washington

Another SJC resident who merits a sign is Mary Lewis Willis (1782-1834), the grand niece of U.S. President George Washington. How did she end up in Pensacola?

George Washington had only one sister who lived to adulthood, Elizabeth “Betty” Washington Lewis. Born in 1733, she married Col. Fielding Lewis in 1750. Betty gave birth to Capt. George Lewis in 1857. Capt. Lewis wed Catherine Daingerfield and she gave birth to a daughter, Mary, in 1782 in Millwood, Va.

According to SJC’s web site, Mary Willis Lewis was a socialite who rubbed elbows with the likes of Andrew Jackson at the famous Virginia Jockey Club race track owned by her husband, Col. Byrd Charles Lewis. Lewis was a brickmaker and the couple eventually moved to Pensacola. They would have at least seven children together.

One of their daughters, Catherine Daingerfield Willis (1803-1867), married Frenchman Charles Lewis Archille Murat in 1836 after her first husband died a year after they wed. Because Murat was the nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte, this made her a princess. They settled in Tallahassee, Fla. Murat died in 1847, leaving Catherine a wealthy widow. She died in 1867. The couple is buried in Saint John’s Episcopal Church Cemetery in Tallahassee.

Mary Willis Lewis died of yellow fever on Oct. 7, 1834 at age 52 in Pensacola. She was originally buried in Cantonment Clench Cemetery. The burial ground eventually fell into disrepair after Mary’s husband, Col. Byrd Willis, returned to Virginia in 1836. Mary’s remains were moved to SJC in March 1899 and the stone that marks her grave was placed in 2005 by the Sons and Daughters of the American Revolution, Pensacola Bay Area chapter.

One of Mary’s children is also buried at SJC, Dr. Louis Byrd Willis, who was born in 1801 in Virginia. Dr. Willis received his medical education and after his graduation in 1825, went with his parents to Florida. He practiced medicine in Tallahassee for 10 years, but in 1835 he moved to Pensacola. In the autumn of that same year, he died in a fall from a horse into a swollen stream while crossing. He is buried behind his mother.

I’m guessing his remains were moved when hers were, but his original marker was brought with him. According to his Find a Grave memorial, records indicate that his first name was actually spelled “Lewis”, not “Louis”. The dates of birth and death are also incorrect on the stone. He was born in 1801 and died in 1835.

Next week, I’ll cover more than two graves in my post. I apologize for that. But sometimes setting the scene of a cemetery takes time and when I have the information to do so, I like to share it with you all.

I hope you’ll return for Part II.

Today I’m wrapping up my visit to Pensacola’s St. Michael’s Cemetery (SMC) and if you’ve read this blog for long, you know I call this the “bits and pieces” part of the series. It has no rhyme or reason, it’s just what I found interesting enough to mention that’s left to share.

On a Distant Shore

Finding a grave marker that details the life of the deceased is always a jackpot to me. That’s the case for Pennsylvania-born Midshipman James Biddle Lardner of the U.S. Navy, who died at age 21 on March 8, 1829. His marker, at first glance, is nothing out of the ordinary. The front inscription sticks to the facts.

But if you read the epitaph on the back, you learn about the short life he led. I didn’t see it until some months later while looking at my pictures. This is why I take pictures of just about everything!

At the age of fourteen years he left the shelter of his father’s house and the delights of home for the toilsome and adventurous service of the Navy, participating in the dangers and sharing largely the ills of a sickly climate, he became the victim of disease just at the dawn of honorable usefulness.

This stone is placed as a mark where rests his remains on a distant shore and the last tribute of affection to a much loved brother.

James’ epitaph is far more informative than the brief newspaper item I found in Philadelphia’s U.S. Gazette on April 7, 1829.

I did learn a little about the USS Erie, the three-masted, wooden-hulled sloop-of-war launched in 1813 on which James served. I don’t know if he served on it from the start of his career, which would have been around 1822. The Erie sailed from New York in November 1823 to serve in the Mediterranean until 1826.

From 1827 to 1832, the ship was based at Pensacola, returning north for repairs. The Erie patrolled in the West Indies and off the coast of Mexico, protecting American citizens and property, suppressing the slave trade, and convoying merchantmen.

The author of James’ epitaph attributes the illness that led to his demise as due to the “sickly climate”. It’s hard to know what did him in, as it could have been anything from typhoid to tuberculosis. But his death clearly left a hole in the hearts of his family members, as this marker attests to.

Murder or Suicide?

Then you see a marker like the one for the Fudge sisters that leaves you with more questions than answers. Researching their deaths was quite a journey.

A native of Nashville, Tenn., Elijah Joseph (E.J.) Fudge married Josie Woods in 1904. They had three children together: Tennie, Bascom, and Ethel. At age 36, Josie died on Jan. 23, 1916 in a Nashville hospital. E.J. was now a widower with three little ones to raise.

E.J. and the children moved to Pensacola sometime in April 1916 to live near an aunt. From what I’ve read, life was hard for the Fudge family. E.J. rented a home for them and supposedly sought work with little success. Neighbors later said he was too busy drinking and chasing women to do much work. There was also talk that he was considering taking the children to an orphanage.

The exact facts are cloudy. But on June 27, 1916, E.J. went out that morning with Bascom (now 8) while Tennie (12) and Ethel (7), were left at home. Bascom supposedly went out earlier that morning to sell a horse bit/brace to a neighbor. E.J. was thus alone with his daughters.

Later that day, when father and son returned home, they found the two girls dead. Both had been shot in the chest with a rifle E.J. owned. Three suicide notes, supposedly written by the girls, were found. He believed Tennie had shot Ethel, then turned the gun on herself. The deaths shocked Pensacola residents and made headlines across the state.

E.J. wound up in jail while Bascom was in the care of local officials.

On June 30, the funeral of Tennie and Ethel was held at a local funeral parlor. Hundreds attended to pay their respects and leave flowers, which were later taken to SMC to be placed by the double grave. Several children, some of them former playmates of the children, attended the funeral.

On the same day, E.J. Fudge was charged with murder and eventually faced trial. It was discovered that he had two separate insurance policies for the girls that he had purchased shortly before the move to Florida. The death of his wife, Josie, was rumored to have been a suicide. Her death had netted him insurance money then.

Little Bascom testified that he never believed that the rifle was loaded and he also never saw his sisters handle the weapon. Only their father. He also testified that E.J. had often beaten them and provided little in the way of food.

It was also stated that there was no way Tennie or Ethel could have used the gun to shoot themselves in the chest. Their arms were too short.

E.J. Fudge was convicted of murder in late June 1916. But in March 1918, the conviction was overturned by the Florida Supreme Court for lack of evidence and all charges were dropped. E.J. returned to Nashville with Bascom and remarried. E.J. died of tuberculosis on March 14, 1930 at age 52. Because he was a veteran of the Spanish American War, he was buried at Nashville National Cemetery.

Bascom grew up and married a woman named Hettie. They had four children but later divorced. Bascom died after a heart attack on April 9, 1960. He is buried in Nashville’s Spring Hill Cemetery.

It saddens me that these two little girls met such a violent end and their father was never punished for what I believe was their murder.

Iron and Wood

You’ve seen me post about cast iron grave covers in the past but this is different. These markers for two Swedish sailors are made of cast iron and definitely stand out.

Gunner Andresen and Christian Pharo were both sailors from Sweden who worked aboard the ship Gertrude. Their ages are unknown. However, a yellow fever epidemic (there were many back then) gripped Pensacola in 1867. The two men were brought to a local hospital for treatment and died there sometime in September 1867.

Perhaps their shipmates paid for the markers, we don’t know. They are all that remain of two sailors who died a long way from their native land.

Then you have one of the rarest finds I’ve ever run across in a cemetery. A wood marker that survived almost 100 years! It had to be too good to be true. As I later learned, in a way it was.

Born in Griefswald, Germany in 1883, Wilhelm Voss emigrated to the United States around 1910 to work as a boiler maker. He became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 1916. He registered for the draft during World War I but he did not serve. This is his 1922 passport photo. Records indicate he applied for the passport in order to visit his father, Carl, in Germany. I don’t know if he ever made the trip.

Wilhelm died on March 6, 1926 at age 42. I don’t know his cause of death. I don’t know who provided his wooden marker, which was possibly made of cypress.

After Googling my heart out, I stumbled upon a web site for the University of West Florida Trust, which had a photo of Wilhelm’s original marker. Apparently, it was restored and returned to its original place in SMC at some point. As you can see, it was in danger of falling apart. I have no idea when it happened or how.

After asking some of my taphophile friends, I think it is pretty rare for such markers to remain intact due to the vagaries of Florida’s coastal climate. But thankfully, Wilhelm’s marker shows that efforts can be made to successfully bring them back to life, so to speak.

Last But Not Least

Finally, I’d like to share the grave marker of Tomas Posse De Rioboo. He has one of the oldest graves at SMC and I think it’s lovely.

Born in Galicia, Spain, Tomas married Marianna and Joseph Bonifay’s third child, Josephine Bonifay. In 1815, he was given 400 arpents of land near the headwaters of Carpenter’s Creek/Bayou Texar. That’s the equivalent of about 337 acres. By this point, Tomas and Josephine already had six children ranging in age from 17 to two.

Tomas died on Nov. 27, 1832. We don’t know his age. His marker, originally upright, is signed by Pensacola stone carver Elihu Purvis. It features a weeping willow and a cross. The inscription is in Spanish.

Saying Goodbye

St. Michael’s Cemetery was a hard cemetery to leave. There are many more stones I could have written about. But it was time to head to Pensacola’s other large historical cemetery, Saint John’s Cemetery. Many of the people there are related to folks buried at SMC

I hope you’ll join me there.

Not every cemetery I visit merits a minimum of four posts, but in the case of Saint Michael’s Cemetery in Pensacola, Fla., it’s more than justified. Today I’m featuring three women. They likely never knew each other, I don’t know. But all of them died young in the 1880s.

There are times I come across something written on a grave marker that just makes me come to a complete halt. This happened to me when I wandered into the D’Alemberte/Humphrey family plot at SMC. My photo of it isn’t the best, for which I apologize.

Haunting Words

It’s not to say that the marker for Anne Drysdale “Nannie” Humphreys D’Alemberte isn’t amazing in itself. I stopped because it was so beautifully carved. Her footstone is attached at the bottom, too.

Born in 1854 to Major Frederick C. Humphreys Sr. and Sarah Gates Drysdale Humphreys in Saint Augustine, Fla., Anne Drysdale “Nannie” Humphreys had several siblings. One was her younger sister, Maidee. Although a native of Massachusetts, Major Humphreys was a decorated Confederate veteran.

Nannie married Willoughby Augustus D’Alemberte on June 6, 1878. The bride and groom were both 23. The son of railroad builder William D. D’Alemberte and Emma Louise Walker D’Alemberte, Willoughby had lived in Pensacola since he was 12. He eventually became partner in a drugstore with Dr. H.C. Cushman after learning the trade of druggist from him.

Willoughby and Nannie had two children together, Clinton and Harry. But their happiness was not to last. Nannie died at age 27 on Jan. 4, 1882. I don’t know what her cause of death was, perhaps it was childbirth.

The last line of her marker’s inscription is haunting:

“Would You Miss Me.”

What does it mean? Did Nannie worry that her sons would forget her? Or her husband? It puzzles me to think of why those words are there.

Married Her Sister

Willoughby remarried on May 31, 1883 to Nannie’s younger sister, Maidee Louisa Humphreys. She was 26. Maidee and Willoughby would have several children together: Eddie, James, Sadie, and Willoughby Jr. Sadly, Sadie and Willoughby Jr. died in infancy. They are buried in front of Nannie and her mother-in-law, Emma.

It appears that Nannie and Maidee’s parents were living in the D’Alemberte household up until their deaths. Major Humphreys died of malarial fever in the D’Alemberte home on Oct. 5, 1899 at 76. Sarah Humphyreys died on July 13, 1902. They are both buried in the D’Alemberte/Humphreys plot.

Maidee passed away at age 56 on June 30, 1913. She had been in poor health for a year prior.

Willoughby D’Alemberte did not remarry, dying at age 65 on Jan. 30, 1920. His death notice in the Pensacola News Journal noted that he “died at 3 o’clock Saturday morning at the Pensacola Hospital after several weeks painful illness resulting from the amputation of his right leg.”

He is buried in between Maidee and Nannie.

This brings me back to the words on Nannie’s grave marker: “Would you miss me.” Did she somehow sense that Willoughby might marry Maidee if she died? Such things were fairly common in those days. You might recall I even wrote about a pastor who wed THREE sisters over the course of his life.

Or was it more of a plea from a father to his young sons to remember their mother?

I don’t doubt Willoughby loved Nannie. She’s on his right in the plot and to the left of his own mother, Emma, who died in 1884.

But it does make me wonder.

“The King of Shadows“

The death of the next young wife haunts me, but for different reasons.

Annie Washington Blount, born in Alabama in April 1854, was born to Alexander Clement Blount and Julia Elizabeth Washington Blount. Two brothers, Frederick and James, were doctors, and two others, William and Alexander Jr., were judges.

It may have been William and Alexander’s profession that brought Annie into the acquaintance of Judge Walter Tate. Born in 1834, he was widowed with five children when they married in 1883. The judge’s first wife died in 1880. His oldest son, Sterrett, was only nine years older than Annie.

The couple had a child that died on Jan. 9, 1885. Its gender is unknown. But the memorial for the baby is unlike any I have ever seen.

It was only seven months later on July 7, 1884 that Annie, too, would die. Her cause of death was scarlet fever. She was 31 when she died. She was buried beside her baby.

More than one Pensacola newspaper wrote about Annie’s death. A death notice in The Pensacolian on July 4, 1885 noted:

The king of Shadows, seemingly with an unwarranted right, entered that sanctuary of marital happiness and severed at one fell blow the silken chain that bound heart to heart, soul to soul, and created a void that may be filled only where the night of death is changed into the morning of life.

It’s my belief that the two markers were made at the same time.

Judge Tate did not remarry. He continued on in his work until his death at age 70 in 1904. He was crossing the street in front of the Hotel Escambia in Pensacola when he was struck by a wild horse that was running loose. He died of his injuries two days later on April 19, 1904. He is buried in nearby St. John’s Cemetery with his first wife, Sally.

“A Stranger in a Strange Land”

Our final young lady was from Denmark and lived in Pensacola for less than a year. But her life was cut short during her stay.

Born in Aarhus, Denmark in 1866, Petrea Thiesen had four brothers and one sister. Eldest brother Christen emigrated to America in 1882 and married in 1884. He and his bride, Emilie, were living in Pensacola. After losing two children in infancy, Emilie had just given birth to a son, Jack. They invited Petrea to visit them, perhaps to help in tending to the new baby.

Petrea sailed by herself from Copenhagen on a ship called Geiser, arriving in New York City on Oct. 29, 1886. The voyage would have taken about two weeks. I don’t know if Christen met her there, or if she took a train or ship to Pensacola from there.

I can imagine Pensacola was quite a shock to Petrea, used to the cooler climate of Denmark. But she likely enjoyed getting to know her new sister-in-law and baby nephew, and reuniting with her brother.

“Our Sister”

But tragedy was waiting. Petrea contracted typhoid fever and died a few days later on June 11, 1887 (which happens to be my birthday). She was 21. There is draping across the top of the marker along with a flower wreath with the words “Our Sister”.

On the base of Petrea’s grave marker is this epitaph:

Weep not! Oh, weep not kindred dear, for her whose last remains lie here.

For Jesus she on earth did love, and now she wells with Him above.

I cannot imagine the sorrow her brother Christen felt when he had to contact his parents to tell them their beloved daughter had died. In 1890, when Emilie gave birth to a daughter, she and Christen named her Petrea in his sister’s honor.

I’ve got one more post to go in this series to wrap up the loose ends. I hope you’ll hang on for it.

Yes, we’re still in Pensacola, Fla.! Today I’m going to share a bit about vaults/mausoleums.

Saint Michael’s Cemetery (SMC) is reflective of the geography in which it is situated. Being a coastal cemetery, the depth of the soil and height of the water table is something to be considered. So while it’s not like New Orleans where most interments are above ground in vaults, there is some of that going on at SMC.

In New Orleans, after someone dies, the body is often placed inside a temporary “holding” or “receiving” tomb while a space is being prepared in a permanent vault. After placement in the vault, the body remains for exactly a year and a day before the vault is opened again. In most cases, the body has fully decomposed by this time and only the bones are left.

These bones are then placed in a bag, tagged with the decedent’s name and placed at the bottom of the vault. This makes room for the next person who dies. That’s why you can often see 20 names on a vault that seemingly would only have room for say, four people.

Of course, you may be asking yourself the same question I had. What if the body isn’t fully decomposed yet? I encountered a woman in Greenville, Ala. on my way to New Orleans recently who had encountered this very situation in her family. She told me they waited another few months and by that time, they were able to proceed with the entombment.

The Tarvalan/Pons Vault

Here’s an example of what I THINK is a New Orleans-style vault, having pieced together a few clues. Because of some variation in family names, I couldn’t get a complete picture of exactly how these folks were related to each other.

The next to oldest occupant of the vault is an A.F. Tarvalan, born in New Orleans around 1820 and died in Pensacola on Aug. 30, 1895. I believe this may be Adolph Francois Tervalan (note the spelling variation), and that he may have been black or of mixed race parentage. He was married to Louise Mandas Tarvalan (I’ve seen her last name as Mendez, too). She was also born in New Orleans and died in Pensacola on Aug. 22, 1892.

But the first name at the top is Lydia Deffilo, daughter of T.A. and Hortense Pons. Lydia died on April 2, 1910 at the age of 20. I believe Hortense was A.F. Tarvalan’s sister and that Lydia was his niece. The last name at the bottom is Theo Pons, born in 1870 and died on Feb. 2, 1919. This may be the “T.A. Pons” who was Lydia Deffilo’s father.

Could you get five complete bodies in this small vault? I don’t think so. Being that several of this vault’s occupants were born in New Orleans, I believe they followed the method I’ve mentioned of bagging the bones after a year and a day so more occupants can be interred within.

Family Tomb of E.T. Dunn

Then we have the E.T. Dunn family tomb (you can barely make out the words above the door), which is much more like what I’m used to seeing. A bonus is that it is open (with a gate) so you can see who is interred within. Each body is entombed within its own niche in the walls.

Born in Vermont in 1840, Edward “Ned” Thomas Dunn married Mary Frances Connolly in 1863 in Quebec, Canada. By 1870, the couple had moved to Pensacola and started a family. Eventually, they would have several children together.

Known as Capt. Dunn, Ned worked as a stevedore. That’s another term for a dockworker that usually loaded and unloaded cargo from ships.

Mary died on Nov. 9, 1895 at age 49. She may have been the first interment in the family tomb. The facing of her space looks like it was damaged at some point.

Ned remarried on Aug. 17, 1896 to widow Ada Quigly. She was 41, he was 47. Her husband, John, had died of consumption in 1893. Ned died at age 64 on Dec. 22, 1904. No cause of death was listed in his obituary.

Sadly, Ada Quigley Dunn died a horrible death. Living in a Pensacola boarding house, Ada accidentally knocked over an oil stove that exploded and her clothes caught on fire. She died from her burns on Dec. 23, 1915. She is buried with her first husband, John Quigley, at SMC.

Son of a Sailor

Born in 1872, one of Ned and Mary Dunn’s sons was Capt. Frank Mark Dunn. Like his father, he spent his life working on and around ships. Known as a “bar pilot”, he gained a stellar reputation steering ships through difficult waters and was well thought of around Pensacola.

His obituary noted: “The deceased had been commander of the dredge Caucus since that vessel was constructed and placed in commission. Prior to that he was a bar pilot, and during the Spanish-American war commanded the dispatch boat Summers N. Smith, then owned by the pilots.”

Frank married Laura Marsh in 1902 and they had several children together. When Frank died on Jan. 15, 1911, his youngest child (Frank) was only a few weeks old. Frank, only 39, died suddenly of “paralysis of the bowels”. Laura did not remarry and died in 1954 in California.

Little Frank grew up and served in World War II. He eventually moved to Oregon in the 1950s where he spent the rest of his life, owning a steam cleaning business. When he died on June 1, 1995 at age 84, he was cremated and his remains were interred in the Dunn tomb at SMC.

“Our Children”

On the lowest level on the left side, the facing of one of the plates has the words “Our children” written on it with several names inscribed. I’m not exactly sure whose children they are but I have a guess.

I could only trace two of the names via Ancestry. They were Edward T. Dunn, who is listed as a child born to Edward T. and Mary Dunn in Quebec, Canada on May 23, 1868 and died on Nov. 9, 1869 in the same city. Augustine Webb Dunn was born on March 10, 1885 and died sometime in 1886 in Pensacola.

Are the remains of all these children contained within? I don’t think so. I believe it’s more of a memorial to them.

One last little thing I wanted to mention is that the gate on this tomb got my attention.

I looked it up back in 2020 and could find absolutely nothing about the Industrial Architectural Works of Cincinnati. The same thing happened this week. Cincinnati is also home to Stewart Iron Works, which is still going strong today. I’m hopeful I can find out more about this firm eventually.

Love Story of Bartolo and Carmelitta Borras

I’ve got another small vault for you that contains two people, and I think it is traditional in nature. When I saw that the husband was from Spain, I felt compelled to share it because so many residents of Pensacola were Spanish immigrants in the early days.

It’s always great when you find that someone else has done all the research for you. The folks who manage the Facebook page for SMC posted this in 2019.

Bartolome Borras was born in Spain in either 1808 or 1815 (records differ). Nevertheless, he was living in Pensacola by at least 1850. In 1856 he bought what is now called the Julee Cottage (located in the Historic Pensacola Village today), where he lived with his Creole family.

After he bought the cottage he was charged with living with and being in a relationship with a “mulatto” (a person with both African and European ancestry) female named Carmelitta Ann Mingaro. During this time, “free people of color” faced increased racial discrimination from laws passed by the state meant to restrict interracial relationships.

Despite these racist laws, in 1860 he was living with Carmelitta and several of their children. Carmelita died in 1864 at the age of 33 and was buried in St. Michael’s Cemetery. Bartolome continued to live in the cottage with his children for the next several decades where he was listed as a merchant and grocer.

While we don’t know if he was ever officially married to Carmelitta, there is no doubt about his commitment to her both in life and in death. When Bartolome died in 1894, he was buried in St. Michael’s with her. This was 30 years after Carmelita passed away.

There’s still a great deal to see at Saint Michael’s Cemetery. Part IV is coming soon.

Last week, I introduced you to Saint Michael’s Cemetery (SMC) in Pensacola, Fla. Now let’s delve into more about some of the people buried there.

The Woman Behind the Man

Had there not been a sign next to her grave, I might have walked on by Dorothy Camber Walton’s humble box grave.

Born in 1760 in Georgia, Dorothy Camber had British parents of means. She caught the eye of attorney and Georgia congressman George Walton. On July 2, 1776, he voted in favor of the Declaration of Independence for Georgia, along with Button Gwinnett and Lyman Hall. The couple wed in 1778.

On Jan. 9, 1778, Walton received a commission as colonel of the First Georgia Militia. Despite being wounded and taken prisoner, he was released in late 1779. Soon after, Walton was elected governor of Georgia for the first time, a position he held for only two months.

Dorothy got caught up in the turmoil as well during her husband’s capture. George used his connections to have her sent to sea, arriving at the port of Charles Town. Her ship was captured by a British frigate and sent instead to the West Indies. Dorothy was eventually exchanged for two British colonels and sent back to join her family, according to the book “The Walton House” by Leora M. Sutton.

During the 1780s, Walton devoted himself almost exclusively to Georgia state politics. He served as chief justice and negotiated a treaty with the Cherokee. Walton was elected to a second term as governor in 1789 and served for one year.

During his term, Georgians adopted the new Georgia Constitution, moved the capital to Augusta, and concentrated on settling the western frontier. After his tenure as governor, Walton served as a judge of the superior court from 1790 to his death. He also filled the unexpired term of James Jackson in the U.S. Senate in 1795 to 1796.

During the last years of his life, George suffered from continued attacks of gout. He died on Feb. 2, 1804 in Augusta at age 62. He was initially buried at Rosney, home of his nephew Robert Watkins. He was re-interred in 1848 beneath the Signers Monument in front of the courthouse on Greene Street in Augusta.

George and Dorothy had two sons, Thomas (1782-1803) and George Jr. (1787-1863). George Jr. was a graduate of Princeton and served several terms in the Georgia General Assembly. He was practicing law in Augusta in 1821 when his wife’s uncle, senator Freeman Walker, recommended to Georgia’s secretary of state that George Jr. be appointed secretary of the West Florida Territory.

George Jr. received his commission from President James Monroe on June 27, 1821 and served under Gen. Andrew Jackson, the appointed commissioner to receive the Floridas from Spain, and to serve as acting governor of east and west Florida until a civil government could be established. He and his family moved to Pensacola, Fla. and Dorothy accompanied them.

After a long illness, Dorothy died in Pensacola on Sept. 12, 1832 at age 71. George Jr., who moved to Mobile, Ala. in 1835 with his family, later became mayor of that city. He died on Jan. 3, 1863 and is buried in Blandford Cemetery in Virginia. So Dorothy remains alone at SMC.

The Kelly Family Plot

Unlike Dorothy Walton, the Kelly family has no signs. But their three monuments indicate they had money and I found myself drawn to them.

Let’s start on the far right with Hanson Kelly, who was possibly married more than once. Shortly after arriving in Pensacola, Hanson became the Pensacola port master and got involved in the timber trade. He also served as the city’s mayor in 1847.

Hanson and Susan Kelly’s oldest son, William, was a lawyer, judge, soldier, and statesman. I suspect it may have been his wealth that provided these handsome markers.

Hanson Kelly died at the age of 81 on May 11, 1855. According to the Pensacola Gazette:

We are called upon to chronicle the death of Mr. HANSON KELLY, one of our oldest and most esteemed citizens. He died at 12 past 11 o’clock A. M., after a lingering sickness, during which he manifested great patience and fortitude. Mr. Kelly has been identified with our community for a long time, maning faithfully and creditably posts of honor and usefulness. His amiable spirit–unobtrusive modesty, strict integrity and generosity have won for him an enviable reputation; and his loss is no unimportant one to our city. He was a native of North Carolina–about 80 years of age, and leaves a large family.

Hanson and Susan Kelly share a monument. I believe it had been cleaned shortly before I saw it. That made reading the epitaphs much easier.

There are two epitaphs at the bottom. The first comes from Psalm 90:10. The second one, which is better known, comes from Psalms 23:4.

Susan Kelly died a few weeks later on June 25, 1855 at age 72 (according to the monument).

In the center is the grave for Mary Kelly, Hanson and Susan’s daughter. We don’t know her exact date of birth. Because she died in the 1840s, census records are of little help because women were rarely mentioned by name.

I especially like the two inverted torches with flames on each side. This often symbolizes the eternal flame of the soul.

Mary Jane died on Sept. 1, 1844 in Cincinnati, Ohio of consumption (tuberculosis) and her remains were brought back to Pensacola for burial. Perhaps she was attending a boarding school at the time of her death.

Mary Jane’s epitaph is small but powerful.

I noted a signature on the base of her marker that indicates the firm of John Struthers & Son of Philadelphia, Pa. provided it. I was not familiar with them but the carving is beautiful.

A native of Scotland, Struthers came to America in 1816. He was the marble mason for Strickland’s Second Bank of the United States and the Philadelphia Exchange. He also worked as a mason on St. Stephens Episcopal Church, the steeple of Independence Hall, as well as the U.S. Naval Home and the New Almshouse.

It’s rare that I can share a photo of the person attributed with a firm that carved a specific marker but here he is.

So what does this tell us? I think Mary Jane’s family thought a great deal of her and were more than willing to spend a lot of money to express that.

To the left of Mary Jane’s monument is one for Sarah Eugenia Van Braun. Even less is known about her beyond the fact she died on Dec. 15, 1836.

Her epitaph reads:

Calm on the bosom of thy God/Fair Spirit! rest thee how!

E’en while with us they footsteps trod/His seal was on they brow.

Dust to its narrow home beneath/Soul to its home on high.

They that have seen they look in death/No more may fear to die.

These words come from a hymn called “Calm on the Bosom of Thy God” by British poet Felicia Brown Hamans (1795-1835). Married to a sea captain, Hamans was quite popular in her day for her writings.

But who was Sarah Eugenia Van Braun? I did a little digging and discovered that a Sarah Kelly married Blidon Van Braun on May 11, 1833 in Escambia County, Fla. where Pensacola is located. So she was likely one of the daughters of Hanson and Susan Kelly.

On the 1850 U.S. Census, a Blidon Van Buren is shown to be living in the Hanson Kelly household in Pensacola and working as a clerk. It notes he was born in Pennsylvania. Is it possible he had Philadelphia connections to assist in attaining Mary Kelly’s marker? We don’t know.

“Thou Art Gone to Rest”

The Abercrombie family plot left me with some questions. It’s quite large with a handsome fence but is covered in concrete with only two markers on top. The one you notice from the start is the small one for Evalina “Evie” Abercrombie. It’s a heartbreaker for sure.

Evie was the daughter of Alabama-born lumber manufacturer James Abercrombie, Jr. Born in 1819, James was the son of James Abercrombie, Sr., who had a distinguished political career as an Alabama congressman. James Jr. married a cousin, Sarah “Sallie” Abercrombie, on March 27, 1840. After living in Alabama, they moved to Florida in the 1850s. James managed his family’s brick making business in Pensacola, which supplied the U.S. government with bricks for its forts.

Over the course of their marriage, I believe James and Sallie had eight children. Evie was next to last, born on Jan. 18, 1859.

Evie died on Oct. 18, 1860 in Pensacola. Her father had just been elected a Florida senator 10 days before and served for five years. Sallie gave birth to their last child, Lula, on Aug. 2, 1866.

The epitaph on Evie’s grave reads:

Thou art gone to rest in a lonely bed
Sweet form of my precious child
In the silent grave rest thy little head
And hushed by cries so mild
And at Jesus feet thou dost worship now
with a lovely infant throng
and soft music swells from thy little harp
and sweet is thy lisping song.

James Abercrombie Jr. died on Jan. 3, 1871 at age 51. I don’t know his cause of death.

According to the 1880 U.S. Census, Sallie was living in Pensacola with her three adult sons and Lula, who was 13. Daughters Bella and Lizzie had both married. Sallie died in 1882, the exact date is unknown. I found no funeral notice for her anywhere.

I don’t know why there are no individual markers for James, Sarah, or their sons. William, 33, died on Jan. 19, 1883 of pneumonia. John, 28, died of “hematuria” (which basically means blood in the urine) on Dec. 6, 1884. James “Jessie” Abercrombie, who died in 1924, was Pensacola’s harbormaster for many years and his obituary noted that he was to be buried at SMC.

Perhaps after Sallie, John, and William died (only a year apart), the remaining siblings couldn’t make a decision on how to mark their graves. Or perhaps they did have markers and they were damaged. It leaves me very curious.

Lula, who married Brigadier General William S. Pierce, died at age 63 in 1929. She is buried nearby at St. John’s Cemetery (which I will right about next). Her husband died in 1923 and is buried in Vermont, so she is alone. Her sisters, Bella and Lizzie, are both buried with their husbands in SMC.

I’ll be back soon with Part III.