Last week, I shared some of Grand Island’s history and reviewed some unique markers/features at Grand Island City Cemetery. Today, I’m starting with a stunning story. One unlike any I’ve ever read concerning a family I researched. There’s only one that comes close.

I photographed the grave of Heinrich “Henry” Egge as an example of the many German markers at Grand Island, a town founded by German immigrants. His marker indicates he was “geb” (short for “geborener” meaning born) in 1830 and “gest” (short for “gestorben” meaning died) in 1879. He was only 49 when he died.

A native of Holstein, Germany, Henry Egge was among its earliest settlers. He wrote a diary about his experience of leaving Hamburg, Germany for New York City with his wife, Augusta, out to Iowa, then his journey to Grand Island with one of the groups that visited. Peter Stuhr, another Grand Island pioneer, was a close friend. Henry became a prosperous farmer and was active in town life.

At some point in the 1890s, the Egge family’s financial situation took a blow. Funds tied up in a bank that had recently failed sent Henry’s widow and children into a tailspin.  Eldest Egge daughter, Adele, who was 25, was most deeply affected.

On the morning of Dec. 28, 1893, Adele rose and made breakfast, baking cakes. Younger sister Margaret joined her sister, who was eating the cakes she’d made. After taking a few bites, Margaret commented about their bitter taste. Adele smiled and revealed she’d put strychnine in the cake batter and (as a news article noted) that “it was better thus for all of them.”

Horrified, Margaret ran for a doctor who quickly dosed her with an emetic to induce vomiting. But by the time he arrived at the Egge house, Adele was taking her last breaths when she managed to tell him “she was glad she and her sister were out of misery but was sorry her mother and brother had not partaken of the deadly food.”

Fortunately, Augusta and her son, Otto, didn’t eat the cakes and Margaret survived her ordeal. But it devastated the family. Adele is buried somewhere in Grand Island City Cemetery without a marker. I suspect she is next to her father, Henry.

Was the Egge family’s financial situation so dire that Adele thought suicide was the only solution? Most of the articles I found were the same but one written for the Lincoln Daily News hinted that Adele had become “mentally deranged” as a result and caused her to commit the unthinkable act.

Augusta and Margaret moved to Lincoln by 1900. But by the 1920s, Augusta and all of her children (Margaret, Herman and Otto) had moved west to Orange County, Calif. The family (including wives and children) are buried in Fairhaven Memorial Park in Santa Ana, Calif.

German graves (not just at Grand Island City Cemetery) are often marked with the stones “Mutter” and “Vater” for “Mother” and “Father.”

Two metal markers got my attention, one for the Peterson family and the other for a Fanny Bouquett.

I found little about either family (they seem connected by marriage) so I don’t know who made the markers. Perhaps someone in the families was an iron worker. They look to be in fairly good shape considering P.O. Peterson died in 1898, Marie died in 1920 and Fanny Bouquett in 1910.

Another marker I admired was for John and Wiebke Neubert. I’ve seen a number of things carved on markers, from angels to crosses to pointing fingers. And there’s a Bible on top of this one, a common motif. But this is the first one I’ve seen with a water wheel and a mill.

John and Wiebke Neubert were also German immigrants from Holstein, becoming American citizens in 1872. Did they have a mill in Grand Island? Or perhaps in Holstein? Perhaps one of their children commissioned it. Either way, it’s beautifully carved.

The monument for Minerva Merrick has the same base and similar script as the Neubert monument , so the same carver probably did this one as well. The motif of the woman clinging to a cross is not unusual but I think whomever did this particular marker executed it with better skill than many I have seen.

There were a few oddly shaped ones as well that I don’t often see, especially the one that looks like an egg.

The last items I’m going to talk about aren’t monuments or markers at all. These are urns/planters and you can find them in a lot of older cemeteries. Sometimes they are in poor condition, but others stand the test of time pretty well. I could devote an entire blog post to this sub-genre of cemetery architecture by itself.

On the northern half of Grand Island City Cemetery, I found two green urns with some cool carvings on the sides.

These urns are a total mystery to me. Age, material, symbolism…all of them are a blank. What does the image of a bearded man with wings and a sunburst mean? Is it God? Your guess is as good as mine. But I like them very much.

Across the road on the southern half of the cemetery, I found this cast iron planter. I’ve seen a few of these before but had not seen markings on them. This one, while quite rusted, has the maker’s mark on it: C.E. Walbridge, Buffalo, N.Y.

As it turns out, Walbridge & Co. was who you turned to for garden planters and urns in the second half of the 1800s. Charles E. Walbridge, son of a prominent Buffalo, N.Y. businessman, was a Civil War hero who served in the the 100th Regiment New York Volunteers, Co. H. By the war’s end, he was a Lieutenant Colonel. Walbridge returned to working for his former employer at a hardware store in Buffalo before opening one of his own in 1869. His brother, Harry, joined him in the business later.

By 1884, Walbridge & Co. was doing well, selling a wide variety of items. I found a picture of a kitchen scale they sold. But what pops up today are garden urns and planters of a wide variety of style and size. They often appear on auction sites or gardening antique specialty stores. I found a lot of pictures of reconditioned and original urns/planters.

The cost of such items today is hard to put a figure on. But I found a pair of planters similar to the one at Grand Island City Cemetery (minus the tall stands and in better condition) on a website for $1,495. I found a much more ornate one that sold for $3,000. Someone with more gardening wisdom than myself would have a better idea on today’s pricing. But in the right condition, I imagine they can fetch quite a high price.

I left Grand Island City Cemetery feeling very pleased, as I often do after visiting a cemetery that features styles and items (such as the pergolas) that I’ve not seen before. Such unique finds always make me eager for my next cemetery hopping adventure.

 

With a population of around 50,000, Grand Island is the fourth largest city in Nebraska. Located about 90 miles west of Lincoln, it’s home to the Nebraska State Fair.

Grand Island got its name from the French La Grande Ile, referring to a large island in the Platte River. Inhabited by the Pawnee, fur traders (many of them French) probably discovered the island in the late 1700s. Travelers heading west noted it in their journals. Hall County’s first settlers came in 1857 when three Iowa-based businessmen saw the economic potential of a town near Grand Island, speculating that the Union Pacific Railroad would soon follow. And they were right.

While that initial venture went bankrupt, the 37 German settlers hired to start Grand Island (as a city) stayed. Most of them came from the area of the German-Danish border, Schleswig-Holstein. It explains why some of the grave markers we saw were inscribed in German.

Oddly enough, La Grande Ile ceased to exist not long after Grand Island was incorporated in 1872. It happened when the north channel of the Platte River was dammed to prevent the yearly flooding of crops. So if you’re visiting Grand Island with the hope of seeing a real island, you’re going to be disappointed.

Grand Island’s downtown area was pretty busy when we were there. If you’re looking for some tasty pizza, give the Wave Pizza Company a shot.

Grand Island is home to the Stuhr Museum of the Prairie Pioneer. Christi and I spent a number of hours visiting. It even has a replica 1890 railroad village you can walk around. It includes the home of actor Henry Fonda, who spent the first six months of his life (1905) in Grand Island. Fonda himself paid for the house to be moved to the grounds of the Stuhr Museum so it would always be taken care of properly.

Grand Island City Cemetery was established in the 1860s with George Thummel and William Platt as owners of about 20 acres. In May 1897, the Grand Island City Council approved a “New Cemetery” north of Stolley Park Road. It was then that the city took control of the Thummel-Platt Cemetery.

Record keeping prior to 1897 was poor, showing only the purchaser of the lot, and no burial information. The oldest marker found is for Sarah Shoemaker, who died on July 6, 1863.

Covering 90 acres, the current cemetery is split by busy Stolley Park Road. The northern half is the older part and was well planned.

I noticed at least two pergolas built on family plots, something I haven’t seen in a cemetery before. They provide a shady place to sit and visit. I wonder if it’s a local tradition of some sort.

The pergola for the Ross plot is covered in vines, unlike the Mayer one.

In my earlier post about Aurora Cemetery, I talked about the Blizard family monument’s unusual style. I’d seen a few at Atlanta’s Westview Cemetery as well. At Grand Island, there are two monuments that while not as tall or dramatic as the Blizard monument, share this motif.

The first one is for the Dahlstrom family. A native of Sweden, Charles August Dahlstrom came to America as a young man in the 1870s, spending a few years in Boston then Omaha. But he found true success in Grand Island as a farmer. He died in 1910.

An identical monument marks the Dudey family plot. A native of New York, Alonzo Dudey spent several years farming in Kansas until his first wife, Janet, died. He moved to Grand Island not much later and married again, to Irene Elizabeth “Lizzie” Hoes. Alonzo died in 1937.

Because I couldn’t remember what this motif meant, I consulted Tui Snyder’s blog as she is a great resource for all things cemetery. According to her, half-carved stones signify that while we may do many great things while on Earth, there’s more to learn and do in the afterlife. So we shouldn’t pat ourselves on the back about how much we did when we were alive. O the soul level we have a lot more “polishing” of our rough edges to do.

There’s a 27-year gap between the deaths of Charles Dahlstrom and Alonzo Dudey. But I don’t know when either monument was purchased and placed. Regardless, both families clearly liked the style and chose it for their families.

I mentioned Lizzie Hoes Dudey earlier, and near the Dudey plot is the Hoes family vault. I admit it, I giggled at the name! But the vault itself is worth pointing out because of its tile work. The intricate nature of the green and white tiles must have been placed by hand.

While some of the tiled sections are being encroached upon by weeds and there’s a large crack, I think it’s held up amazingly well. Sadly, the inscription on the top is almost impossible to read because it’s so faded.

The vault was made for Irene’s Uncle Albert Hoes and his wife, Margaret. Lizzie’s father, John Hamilton Hoes, must have been very close with his brother Albert. Census records indicate that younger brother Albert headed to California during the 1880s gold rush. John, his wife Melvina, and their children joined him there. Albert married Margaret McBride in California during this time.

The brothers’ fortunes must not have improved much because by 1883, both were in Grand Island, Neb. While John and Melvina had 12 children (including Lizzie), Albert and Margaret adopted at least one daughter (Mary) and possibly a son. The brothers became farmers and did quite well.

Albert died in 1926 from injuries he received in a fall off of a ladder. He is the only one buried in the Hoes vault because Margaret moved to California. The 1930 Census lists her as living in a lumber camp and working as a nurse. She died in 1942. Although her name and birthdate were inscribed on the Hoes vault, her death date is empty. Margaret is buried in Placerville Cemetery in Eldorado, Calif.

I  don’t know why the date 1914 is on this vault since Albert didn’t die until 1926. My guess is that he purchased the plot at that time and ordered the vault to be built then.

Our final unique find is the Clinger family vault. It got my attention because there’s none like it in the cemetery. I can’t tell what material it’s made out of, but I’m thinking perhaps concrete or plaster. But it does not look like stone to me.

Elmer and Edith Clinger are the only two people buried in the vault. I couldn’t find much information about them. Elmer (a machinist) served on the Grand Island City Council in 1907 and 1908. The Clingers had one daughter, Helen, who married and is buried at Grand Island City Cemetery as well. Elmer died in 1951.

The marble plates on the floor of the monument are marble, with metal plates inscribed with the names. The middle plate tells us it was built in 1920, 12 years before Edith died. Like Albert, Elmer was thinking ahead.

Next week, we’ll explore Grand Island City Cemetery a bit more and I’ll share some more of my unique finds.

Having left Plainfield Cemetery, I looked on the Find a Grave app (very handy indeed!) to see what else might be on the way to Grand Island. I saw that nearby Aurora boasted a sizable cemetery worth seeing. So after driving into town, we headed north and about a mile away was Aurora Cemetery.

There’s one thing I’d like to address right off the bat. I wasn’t aware of it until recently that Aurora Cemetery is popular among the paranormal crowd because of the legend of the witch supposedly buried at its far corner. I didn’t know about it so I didn’t visit the grave.

As it turns out, the legend is totally false. The woman some claim was a witch, Susan Gavan, was not. She was simply a wife and mother who died at the age of 40, leaving a husband and several children. But because her marker is chained off (like some graves I’ve seen over the years) and at the far edge of the cemetery, the legend grew. Kids still apparently visit the grave on Halloween and dare each other to step on it.

How the town of Aurora came to be is interesting in itself. A group of seven men from Lucas County, Iowa were keen to form a company and move to Hamilton County with the purpose of founding a town. I don’t know why they wanted to move 230 miles west from their current homes. But one of the group, Stillman P. Lewis, had visited Hamilton County and gave it his stamp of approval. He’s buried at Aurora Cemetery.

The rest were not so sure but Robert Miller (buried at Aurora Cemetery) and Nathaniel Thorpe went west to visit the site David Stone had chosen on Lincoln Creek months before and were pleased.  It was laid out as a town in 1871 by David Stone who named it after his former hometown of Aurora, Ill.

Aurora’s fortunes improved significantly in 1879 when the Burlington and Missouri Railroad began service there.

Civil War veteran Brevet Brigadier General Delavan Bates was the man behind Aurora Cemetery. A native of New York, General Bates was awarded the country’s highest award for bravery during combat, the Medal of Honor, for his action (ironically) in Cemetery Hill, Va. during the Battle of the Crater on July 30, 1864. While leading his troops in battle, Bates was seriously wounded about his chest and arms, in addition to receiving a bullet in the face (ouch!).

You might remember in my visit to Augusta’s Magnolia Cemetery that a soldier (Lieut. Nathan Elcan Levy) buried there fought and died at the Battle of the Crater.

After the war, General Bates married and eventually moved with his wife to Hamilton County after purchasing a homestead. He was active in helping establish Aurora as a town, holding many public offices over the years, including mayor.

But making sure Aurora had a cemetery was especially close to his heart, and the General was instrumental in securing a site. Arrangements were made to purchase the land from the Union Pacific Railroad Company (UPRC), but subscriptions were not forthcoming and the contract for the land was cancelled.

When his son, Loraine, died in 1874 General Bates began investigating the condition of the cemetery, renewed the contract with UCRC, making all payments until the town was incorporated. At that time the contract was turned over to Aurora. He served as superintendent of the cemetery for the first 16 years at a nominal salary.

On June 11, 1877 in an article in the Aurora Republican, Bates stated:

“While yet alive and well, it becomes us as intelligent beings to make some provision for our final resting place. A spot of earth that we can call our own, around which we can plant the cypress and the willow and to which our friends can bring kind tokens of remembered when we have gone the way that all must go”.

The 40-acre cemetery is home to approximately 22,000 burial sites. So it’s fairly large but not overwhelming. There is still plenty of room for future burials.

Aurora has a few mausoleums, and the one for the Woodard family looks fairly recent. Although he is not interred within it, Dr. Daniel S. Woodard is buried nearby. The patriarch of the family, Dr. Woodard was born in Virginia and completed his medical degree at St. Joseph Medical College in Missouri around 1882. He and his wife, Sarah, arrived in Hamilton County soon after and he set up shop.

In 1886, Dr. Woodard ran as Representative to the Legislature on the Democratic ticket, but was defeated. Like many other prominent businessmen, he was a member of a number of fraternal organizations such as the Masons and the IOOF (International Order of Odd Fellows). But there was one in his bio that I didn’t recognize: the AOUW, or the Ancient Order of United Workmen.

This got my attention because I saw the AOUW symbol on some of the graves I saw as we walked around.

The AOUW was established by John Jordan Upchurch in 1868 in Meadsville, Pa. He was dissatisfied with the League of Friendship of the Mechanical Order of the Sun. He wanted an organization that would be more responsive to the needs of its members and unite the conflicting interests of labor and management. The goal, in the following year, changed to providing benevolent insurance protection for its members’ widows and orphans.

The AOUW, which by 1885 was the largest fraternal benefit society in America, discontinued its supreme lodge structure in 1929. A congress was established in place of the supreme authority. In 1952, the AOUW dissolved or merged with various state societies.

Aurora does have some interesting monument styles that I enjoyed seeing. The one for the Blizard family definitely stood out.

I’ve seen this style of monument before but not often in a rural cemetery. I would see it again at Grand Island City Cemetery.

At the time I photographed the Barton family monument, I knew nothing about them. It was the style of their monument that caught my eye.

Silas Reynolds Barton was the famous member of the family. Born in 1872, he moved with his parents from Iowa to Hamilton County soon after. In addition to farming, he taught school for a time. He was deputy treasurer of Hamilton County, (1898-1901), grand recorder of the AOUW of Nebraska, (1901-1908) and Nebraska State Auditor (1909-1913).

In 1913, he was elected as a Republican to the 63rd Congress, serving until 1915. Running as a candidate for election to the Sixty-fifth Congress, Barton died suddenly on Nov. 7, 1916 from acute pneumonia before election day. He was 44.

Then there was the Michael family monument. Now I know Cinderella’s last name!

When I saw the graves of Delta Merritt and her children, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me.

Raymond Merritt and Delta Lopeman married in Council Bluffs, Iowa on Jan. 24, 1924. While their marriage record states that he was 22 and she was 18, census records indicate both were younger at the time. Both were more likely closer to 17. I suspect they went to Iowa to marry for this reason.

A shared marker for Raymond Jr. and Betty Lou Merritt indicates both died in infancy. Raymond Jr. died on his birthday of June 27, 1926 while Betty died on May 6, 1927.

Nearby is the grave marker of Delta Merritt, who died the same year as Betty Lou. I don’t know if she died giving birth as I don’t have her exact date of death. She was only 20 when she died. Regardless, both her marriage and her life were too short.

Records indicate Raymond moved away and was living in David City, Neb. as a baker in 1930. The Social Security records indicate he died in Kansas in 1947. I don’t know if he ever remarried.

I’m glad we stopped at Aurora Cemetery but it was time to move on. I just hope the Hoefer family doesn’t mind that I took a little breather on their family bench.

 

After finishing up at Greenwood Cemetery, Christi and I headed to downtown York to get lunch. I’d read about the culinary delights of the Chances “R” Restaurant and Lounge. And with a name like that, who can resist?

The Chances R lived up to its hype, happily. There was a piano sitting just outside the restrooms in the hall, so I forced Christi into playing an impromptu quick concert. I can’t remember if I made her play “Chanes Are” or not, but it would have been appropriate. Too bad we forgot to leave a tip jar on the piano lid!

Our next stop was Grand Island but as usual, I kept my eyes peeled for cemeteries along the way. We hadn’t gotten far when I spotted one and made Christi pull over.

Plainfield Cemetery is located in the tiny village of Bradshaw. That’s probably why it’s called Bradshaw Plainfield Cemetery on the directory. But the sign out front says Plainfield Cemetery so that’s how I’ll refer to it.

Bradshaw was platted in 1879 when the Burlington and Missouri River Railroad was extended to that point. With a current population of around 350, if you blink when you drive by, you might miss it entirely.

Sadly, Bradshaw is probably best known for the June 3, 1890 tornado that completely destroyed the town and killed 12 residents. The disaster spurred people from all over Nebraska to help Bradshaw residents to rebuild. Many traveled by train from Omaha to look over the wreckage. All businesses and houses had to be rebuilt.

I didn’t know about the Bradshaw tornado when we stopped by Plainfield Cemetery. None of the markers I photographed have a death date from around that time but it’s possible some of the victims are buried there.

A long, narrow strip of land nestled amid the fields, Plainfield Cemetery is well tended. It has a small shelter at the back with the names of everyone buried there, which is around 750. It’s still an active cemetery with plenty of space available.

None of the grave markers at Plainfield are out of the ordinary and the styles were familiar to me. But they are a good collection of the kinds of markers that were popular, especially during the late 19th century into the early 1900s.

The dual marker for Josiah and Eliza Lichtenberger is a good example of the “Holy Finger” motif. Notice the buttoned shirt cuff at the wrist. Because of their advanced ages, the finger is pointing up into the clouds above. The Lichtenbergers are notable as being the first interments in Plainfield Cemetery. They are two of the 14 Lichtenbergers buried here.

Josiah and Eliza (Schneider) Lichtenberger were natives of Somerset, Pa. and they spent most of their lives there. Josiah was a tanner, a trade he taught his son Samuel. Having served in the Union Army during the Civil War, Samuel made his way to York County, Neb. in 1872. According to the book “York County, Nebraska and Its People: Together With a Condensed History of the State”, Samuel eventually became proprietor of the Cottonwood Stock Farm.

I discovered that when Josiah died in 1880, he left no will. This situation apparently did not get resolved until 1934 when Josiah’s property was finally divided between his surviving children.

Not far from the Lichtenberger graves are two for Andrew and Almira Rhoads, both with pointing fingers. Unlike the Lichtenberger monument, the Rhoads markers have no clouds. The Rhoads, like the Lichtenbergers, did not arrive in Nebraska until much later in their lives and due to the movement of their children. New Yorkers Almira and Andrew moved to Illinois to farm before heading to Nebraska.

Andrew died first in April 1880. Interestingly, I found a record of his death and that the cause was dropsy. Today, it would be called congestive heart failure. I noticed that Josiah Lichtenberger was listed on the same page (having died in March of the same year). His cause of death was some form of inflammation.

You can see on Andrew’s marker the words “Father, There is Rest With Jesus” carved in a rather plain style. That’s a contrast to the other words on it. Perhaps it was done much later. You can also see on the wrist of the hand pointing up that there’s a buttoned cuff. Such small details are fascinating to me.

Almira died about 10 years after her husband, but her marker is quite similar to his. I don’t now what her cause of death was. She was living with her son, Henry, and his family at the time.

Notice that instead of a buttoned cuff, Almira’s marker has a frilly lace one at the wrist instead. Above the finger are the words: “Mother, There is Rest in Jesus”. This time the script looks much more in tune with the rest of the marker. I have no doubt they were purchased from the same person who made Andrew’s marker.

This next marker is notable for its simplicity. No elegant script or profound epitaphs here. I don’t know what type of stone it is.

A native of Paisley, Scotland, William Bunten Ronald worked as a handloom weaver. He sailed on the Jamestown from Liverpool, England to America in 1850 with a few of his brothers and cousins. They arrived in New York City and moved on to Wisconsin. More of his family emigrated soon after.

In 1870, at the age of 47, William married Margaret Ward. She was a widow with four children. He and Margaret purchased land in Palmyra, Neb. soon after and he operated a hardware store. His brother, Ronald, joined him in his business and they expanded it to sell furniture. They also provided undertaking services, a common practice in those days for the profession. In 1872, William became an American citizen.

William and Margaret had one daughter together, but divorced in 1881. He married Ellen Reynolds in 1882 but she died of tuberculosis in 1883. By this time, he was living in York County. He purchased a small store and opened a savings and loan.

In 1886, William married Mary Cutshall. He was 63 and she was 28 at the time, quite an age gap but not unheard of then. William developed kidney problems that led to his death in July 1988. Their only son, Orville, died in 1889 at the age of two. He is buried next to William in an unmarked grave.

Mary, a young widow, married Frank Frost in 1898. This union ended in divorce or annulment because by 1900 she is listed on the 1900 Census as living with her mother in Bradshaw as a widow. I learned that Frank Frost claimed to have been married seven times before his death in 1944. Mary wed again in 1902 to Frank Krier. She died in 1930 and is buried with him in Norcatur Cemetery in Kansas.

The last marker I’d like to point out is only a few years old, but I thought it was quite sweet. Donald Trim spent most of his life working in construction in Nebraska and Arizona, according to his obituary. The bulldozer in the corner of the marker is a reminder of that.

After an hour or so at Plainfield, we got back on the road to Grand Island. Not surprisingly, we made another impromptu stop on the way, which I’ll share with you next time.