Today I’m going to wrap up this two-part series on York, Nebraska’s Greenwood Cemetery. We ended up spending quite a bit of time there because not only is it well cared for, there’s a surprising variety of things to see.

Like many cemeteries, Greenwood has 911 memorial, a sadly common addition in recent years.

Wyuka Cemetery (in Lincoln) also has a 911 memorial. Greenwood’s is different in one way. It features an actual piece of a metal girder that came from the World Trade Center wreckage. While Wyuka’s is much larger, the girders they used did not come from there.

One monument I saw features a style I’ve seen in other cemeteries in other states. But it’s not one I see often. Cube-shaped monuments always puzzle me because they seem almost out of place in a cemetery due to their almost geometric coldness. The Tucker cube is fairly large and was carved from a colorful piece of stone. I can’t imagine how much it cost to purchase in 1924.

One web site I consulted said the cube represents the earth and earthly existence.  Some monuments have a cube or square inverted to point the corners downward and upward. This illustrates earthly existence and the directions of earth and heaven.

A native of Illinois, James Tucker spent most of his life in that state. He served in the 11th Illinois Cavalry Volunteers, Company K, during the Civil War. This unit was organized in 1861 and was part of the action until the end of the war in 1865. The 11th took part in the Battles of Shiloh and Corinth, along with the Atlanta Campaign.

James returned to his father’s farm after the war. He didn’t marry Eva Nelson until he was 43 years old in 1887. Eva was 15 years his junior. By 1900, the Tuckers were living in York. They only had one child, Glenn. Eva died in 1909, only 11 years after he was born.

In 1910, James was stock farming while Glenn worked as a chauffeur for a local family. Glenn became a veterinary surgeon, serving in the U.S. Army during World War I in the Philippines and China. By 1920, James, Glenn and Glenn’s wife Lydia were living together in San Diego, Calif. James died in 1924. Glenn is buried in Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego, Calif.

The type of cube-shaped monument you’ve probably seen that is much more common are ones like this. They don’t stand on their own but rest on a base or are part of the monument as a whole. It’s possible the same person who made the Tucker cube made this one as well.

One monument got my attention by the simple decoration of a small arrow. I thought it might just be an artistic flourish but I later found that it was much more than that.

Vinnie Harrison Cowell lived in York probably all of her life. She was the daughter of Kate Harrison. According to the 1885 Nebraska Census, Vinnie was living with her mother (a widow), a brother and a sister (who was listed as attending college). The Harrison name appears often in York’s history and I’m not sure how they’re all related.

Sometime between 1885 and 1890, Vinnie married William Cowell. I could find nothing about him except that he contributed $250 toward the Methodist Episcopal College (also called Nebraska Methodist College in some texts) in York during the 1880s. Vinnie’s mother, Kate, contributed $500. From what I can tell, this seminary eventually became York College.

I believe Vinnie’s sister Anna may have attended the seminary but I’m not sure Vinnie herself did. The two were part of a group of women who unsuccessfully tried to start York’s first public library.

Vinnie, however, did have a small place in York history. She was among a group of ladies who were charter members of the Chi chapter of I.C. Sorosis, later known as Pi Beta Phi, founded at Nebraska Methodist College on July 5, 1884.

Pi Beta Phi was founded as a secret organization under the name of I.C. Sorosis in 1867 at Monmouth College in Illinois. It began to use Greek letters as its name in 1888. Pi Beta Phi is regarded as the first national women’s fraternity, starting when 12 female college students wanted to enjoy the benefits of a secret society similar to those formed by their male counterparts. Today, there are 208 chapters of Pi Beta Phi on college/university campuses across the country, with a membership of more than 300,000 women.

The arrow on Vinnie’s monument is the symbol of I.C. Sorosis. According to the Pi Beta Phi web page, the badge of I.C. Sorosis (chosen by founders in 1867) consisted of a golden arrow with the letters “IC” on its wings. Being a member must have been very important to her for it to be inscribed on her monument.

Sadly, Vinnie only lived to the age of 30. According to “The Arrow of Pi Beta Phi, Volumes 7-8”, she died of at her home of consumption (now known as tuberculosis). She is buried among other Harrisons at Greenwood, but I could not find a marker for her husband, William Cowell. Kate Harrison is listed as the plot’s owner but she is not buried there either.

The last monument I’d like to mention is not a traditional monument at all. It is more a tribute of a father’s love for his wife and two of his daughters. For years, its history was unknown until two students in the University of Nebraska School of Journalism became interested in the mystery in 1976.

Inside a tin and wood monument is a painting on tin of three women bearing a banner that says “We are waiting for Papa.” Beneath it, a small card reads: “This monument was made and placed here in 1898 by James Bauer, tinsmith, in memory of his wife, Theresa, and two daughters, Frances (Rice) and Rose (Marsden). Picture was painted by artist Mitchell Landusky, brother of Theresa Bauer.” Beneath that explanation, it reads “James Bauer—born Jan. 1, 1827, died—July 13, 1920.”

A native of the Alsace region in France, James Bauer was born in 1827. Although Theresa was born in Alsace in 1832, the couple didn’t meet until they came to the U.S. James arrived in America in the 1850s. He worked as a tinsmith in Kentucky and fought in the Civil War as a second lieutenant with the Fourth Kentucky Cavalry.

According to relatives, Theresa was known in the York area as “Grandmother Bauer,” and was one of the few nurses in the area. She often traveled many miles to treat her patients.

Including Frances and Rose, James and Theresa had nine children. Birthplaces of the children, according to census records, indicate the family moved from Kentucky to Indiana, and back to Kentucky, before arriving in Nebraska around 1871. Homestead records show he signed for a claim on June 13, 1878.

After Theresa died, James lived in Benedict with the family of his daughter, Lulu. His granddaughters remembered him as a “rather crotchety man,” who still had a French accent although he had lived in the U.S. for more than 50 years.

Having spent several hours at Greenwood Cemetery (and at times being buffeted by very strong winds), Christi and I decided to head to our next destination of Grand Island. We did stop at one more cemetery along the road before we got there, but I’ll save that for next time.

Last April, I returned to Nebraska to visit my best friend, Christi, and we went on another road trip. You’ll remember we went on one the year before that resulted in some great posts for the blog. I’m just now digging into this more recent adventure.

Christi had a concert in Lincoln the night I was flying in, so I arranged to fly there instead of Omaha like I usually do. She picked me up around 10 p.m. and we drove west to York to stay overnight before hitting Greenwood Cemetery the next morning. FYI, this is different than the other Greenwood Cemetery I wrote about last year.

York is about 55 miles west of Lincoln (Nebraska’s capital). Greenwood Cemetery has over 10,000 burials. That’s about 3,000 more than York’s actual population. It is a very well maintained cemetery and even has a small covered area with a directory of names with grave locations, along with maps and brochures.

A non-profit run cemetery, Greenwood is solely funded by plot sales and grave openings. It’s still an active cemetery. Currently, they’re raising money so they can replace the existing caretaker’s house, level some of the markers and remove then replace some dead/dying trees. They’ve almost met their $300,000 goal.

Despite the sunshine, it was an incredibly windy day. Here’s a picture of Christi fighting the gusts.

The first grave marker that got my attention was rather unusual. I don’t often see metal ones like this. It’s certainly different.

As far as I know, Gary is still among the living. There are no dates on the marker. I did Google his name and learned he works at an auto repair place in York. There are other Klundts buried at Greenwood. So it’s my guess Gary made this marker himself for his future burial.

Among the many things I noticed about Greenwood was the prevalence of organizational symbols, ranging from Korean War military service to the Woman’s Relief Corps. These symbols can tell you a little bit about the person buried next to it.

Here’s one I’ve seen a few other places but hadn’t taken the time to research. Back in 1895 when women couldn’t vote, couldn’t own property, and weren’t allowed to own life insurance, nine women founded Royal Neighbors of America (RNA). They were wives of men who were members of Modern Woodmen of the World (a popular fraternal organization).

The name Royal Neighbors of America was chosen because members adhered to the belief, “For better is a neighbor that is near than a brother that is far.” (Proverbs 27:10). They intended to be that helpful neighbor, combining the Biblical “neighbor” with the word “royal”, supporting their belief in the nobility of the work they would do.

Like Woodman of the World, the RNA was a fraternal benefit society that offered life insurance to both women and children. RNA is still going strong today and in 2013, life insurance in force totaled over $2.7 billion. They also continue to help in times of need, such as during Hurricane Katrina, through its fraternal aid fund.

This double marker for a husband and wife looks pretty ordinary and I thought little of it when I photographed it. But the dates caught my eye months later. They both died in 1918 within a day of each other. It had to be the Spanish Flu pandemic.

A native of York, Charles Fay Tharp was an electrician (according to his World War I draft card). At the age of 27, Charles was among a large contingent of young men drafted to be soldiers in World War I. On Sept. 14, 1917, they left for Camp Funston, which was situated within Fort Riley, Kans.

Camp Funston is considered by many to be Ground Zero for the first wave of the Spanish Flu pandemic of 1918. An Army cook is thought to be the first victim, becoming ill on March 11, 1918. Before the end of the month, 1,100 men had been hospitalized, and 20 percent of those men developed pneumonia. This first wave continued through the spring, sweeping through other Army camps. Many took it with them to Europe as they left to fight the war.

The flu subsided briefly that summer but then roared back full force in Boston in September 1918, sweeping both soldiers and civilians alike.

While I could find no death records for either Charles or Nora, I feel it was likely the cause of their deaths. Did Charles ever make it to Europe? Or did he unknowingly bring it home with him from Camp Funston?

I did learn that according to a report, York County had so many Spanish Flu patients in September 1918 (during the second wave) that it overwhelmed the local hospital’s resources. The Red Cross opened a hospital in the buildings of the York County Agricultural Society, which operated from October 13 to Nov. 20. Charles died on October 13. Was he one of this makeshift hospital’s first patients? Nora died the day before.

Charles and Nora didn’t have Find a Grave memorials so I added them some months later. Only this week did I realize what day it was that I posted them: October 13, 2016. That’s 98 years to the day of Charles’ death.

As usual, there were many markers for children’s graves. This one I have seen before but usually it is for only one or two children. This one represented the three children of J.W. and Francis Walker. Eddie, Lulu and James all died before their 10th birthday. The tree stump represents a life cut short while the dove often means resurrection. Their names are written on the other three sides.

I did encounter a marker I did not expect to see  in a rural Nebraska cemetery. A Confederate grave marker.

The son of a blacksmith, Robert J. McPherson was born in Talladega, Ala. in 1846. By 1860, the McPhersons were living on a farm. Robert enlisted as a private in the 62nd Alabama Infantry, Company C, on Dec. 19, 1863 and mustered out on August 31, 1864. One website claimed he “swam Mobile Bay rather than surrender at Spanish Fort to fight another day.” Since this battle took place in 1865, I’m not sure this is true.

In 1870, Robert was back at his family’s farm. By 1880, Robert had married Anna Bell (a native of Indiana) and lived in York. His occupation is listed as teamster on the census. An obituary posted on his Find a Grave memorial states that a poorly treated foot sore led to sepsis and the amputation of his leg below the knee. He died a few months later.

At the time of the Civil War, Nebraska was still a territory and not yet a state. But it did not favor slavery. About 400 known Confederate graves are scattered across Nebraska. I don’t know how Robert was treated by his York neighbors because of his Southern ties, but his grave is well taken care of today.

Next time, I’ll share more stories from Greenwood Cemetery.