Apparently it is a Chinese tradition to visit ones' ancestors' graves at the Winter Solstice festival. But the Shanghai Daily's English language online edition reports today (actually it's tomorrow there already) that the numbers of people gathering in cemeteries this year was down slightly from last year. The Daily said that officials attribute the drop (overall about 2% in the Shanghai area) to bad weather as well as suggestions not to visit during peak periods.
The Daily reported that one cemetery, the Binhaiguyuan Cemetery, received just 91,000 visitors yesterday (today here on the U.S. West Coast), which represented a drop of 20% from last year. The Daily said that some families arrived at cemeteries as early as 3:30 a.m. to avoid crowds and traffic.
Chinese visit their ancestors' graves traditionally at the winter solstice and at the Qingming Festival in early April.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Grace Hill Cemetery, Longview, Texas
My visit to Grace Hill Cemetery in May, 2004, may have been the inspiration to blog about genealogy and related topics.
I had flown into Shreveport, Louisiana, on a business trip and decided to take a couple more days for genealogy research in the region. I drove about an hour west on I-20 to get to Longview, ancestral home of many in my Bowie line.
I got to Grace Hill Cemetery rather late in the day. I knew it was likely that many of my Bowie relatives were buried there, but at that point I had just one death certificate. It was for my great-great-grandmother, Amanda McCray Bowie.
Grace Hill Cemetery is near the intersection of U.S. Highway 80 (West Marshall Avenue), a major thoroughfare, and McCann Road in Longview.
I got to the cemetery at almost 5:00 p.m. due to circumstances beyond my control. It would be about closing time. I went to the caretaker's office (well, shack, really) and told a man there whose grave I was looking for. Like many cemeteries I have visited, the information age had yet to arrive here and the grave locations were kept on index cards in a small box. The man asked me if I knew Clarence Bowie. I said I knew of him, but didn't know him personally. Then the man said, "How do you know him?"
"Well, he's my cousin!" I told him. "Come on, cuz, let's go find Amanda's grave!" he replied.
We walked toward the eastern portion of the graveyard past a line of trees, and soon came to a row of mostly broken monuments. "There it is," he said pointing. Amanda Bowie's headstone is the largest monument in that row and it rested in the late afternoon shade of the trees. Next to it is the nearly as large headstone of Iba Bowie, one of the daughters of Amanda and John Wesley Bowie. Most of the other headstones were too broken or corroded to read, but the caretaker said that they were all likely Bowie family members in that row.
"Time was," he said,"that black people weren't allowed in this cemetery. Then they (the city) put up a fence and created a colored section. But after that the courts made 'em take down the fence so it would be one integrated cemetery."
"Where was the fence?" I asked naively. "You see this row of trees?" the caretaker asked. We were practically standing under them. "That's where the fence was." And indeed, I could tell that the trees formed a barrier of sorts between two sections of the cemetery. You could pass through this barrier, but it was still a barrier.
As I contemplated the two headstones, I was struck by how large they are. It must have cost the family s small fortune to afford them in the early twentieth century. How did they afford it? Why were Amanda and Iba seemingly singled out for special treatment? The caretaker didn't know the answers to those questions. He had not thought of them in any event.
Barrier tree line visible just behind grave of Iba Bowie.
This was not a rich family. Of the male Bowies I could find buried there, almost all were described as "laborers." The women either stayed at home or were cooks or other sorts of domestic servants. So how did they afford such elaborate monuments? The men's headstones were of the flat sort in the ground and were in terrible condition.
Perhaps the women were almost literally "put on a pedestal," explaining why their monuments are larger and generally better than the men's.
I wonder if this disparate treatment between the men and women relating to gravestones was just a Bowie family thing, or was it a Texas thing?
I had flown into Shreveport, Louisiana, on a business trip and decided to take a couple more days for genealogy research in the region. I drove about an hour west on I-20 to get to Longview, ancestral home of many in my Bowie line.
I got to Grace Hill Cemetery rather late in the day. I knew it was likely that many of my Bowie relatives were buried there, but at that point I had just one death certificate. It was for my great-great-grandmother, Amanda McCray Bowie.
Grace Hill Cemetery is near the intersection of U.S. Highway 80 (West Marshall Avenue), a major thoroughfare, and McCann Road in Longview.
I got to the cemetery at almost 5:00 p.m. due to circumstances beyond my control. It would be about closing time. I went to the caretaker's office (well, shack, really) and told a man there whose grave I was looking for. Like many cemeteries I have visited, the information age had yet to arrive here and the grave locations were kept on index cards in a small box. The man asked me if I knew Clarence Bowie. I said I knew of him, but didn't know him personally. Then the man said, "How do you know him?"
"Well, he's my cousin!" I told him. "Come on, cuz, let's go find Amanda's grave!" he replied.
We walked toward the eastern portion of the graveyard past a line of trees, and soon came to a row of mostly broken monuments. "There it is," he said pointing. Amanda Bowie's headstone is the largest monument in that row and it rested in the late afternoon shade of the trees. Next to it is the nearly as large headstone of Iba Bowie, one of the daughters of Amanda and John Wesley Bowie. Most of the other headstones were too broken or corroded to read, but the caretaker said that they were all likely Bowie family members in that row.
"Time was," he said,"that black people weren't allowed in this cemetery. Then they (the city) put up a fence and created a colored section. But after that the courts made 'em take down the fence so it would be one integrated cemetery."
"Where was the fence?" I asked naively. "You see this row of trees?" the caretaker asked. We were practically standing under them. "That's where the fence was." And indeed, I could tell that the trees formed a barrier of sorts between two sections of the cemetery. You could pass through this barrier, but it was still a barrier.
As I contemplated the two headstones, I was struck by how large they are. It must have cost the family s small fortune to afford them in the early twentieth century. How did they afford it? Why were Amanda and Iba seemingly singled out for special treatment? The caretaker didn't know the answers to those questions. He had not thought of them in any event.Barrier tree line visible just behind grave of Iba Bowie.
This was not a rich family. Of the male Bowies I could find buried there, almost all were described as "laborers." The women either stayed at home or were cooks or other sorts of domestic servants. So how did they afford such elaborate monuments? The men's headstones were of the flat sort in the ground and were in terrible condition.
Perhaps the women were almost literally "put on a pedestal," explaining why their monuments are larger and generally better than the men's.
I wonder if this disparate treatment between the men and women relating to gravestones was just a Bowie family thing, or was it a Texas thing?
Friday, December 5, 2008
Graveyard or Landfill?
When a rock and dirt recycling company in Clayton County, Georgia, wanted to expand its operations, the company came across a 311-grave African-American cemetery in the way. What to do?
A situation like this can be grief for all concerned. The families whose loved ones' remains lie in the cemetery are the most obviously affected. But the company, too, acting in good faith is also affected. And the public is affected as well.
In this case, the county commission, acting under Georgia law, has granted a permit to an archeologist to move the graves to a nearby cemetery. The original graveyard had become virtually inaccessible due to development all around it, including Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.
This, however, is not an isolated incident. Every year, more historic graveyards are moved or built over. The diligence to prevent this is in the first instance on families and historians. Each state has laws governing the operation of cemeteries. Genealogists and historians would be well-advised to become generally familiar with such laws.
Here at The PGR, we'll from time to time present some of these laws. And we'll have more this week about the Georgia controversy.
A situation like this can be grief for all concerned. The families whose loved ones' remains lie in the cemetery are the most obviously affected. But the company, too, acting in good faith is also affected. And the public is affected as well.
In this case, the county commission, acting under Georgia law, has granted a permit to an archeologist to move the graves to a nearby cemetery. The original graveyard had become virtually inaccessible due to development all around it, including Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.
This, however, is not an isolated incident. Every year, more historic graveyards are moved or built over. The diligence to prevent this is in the first instance on families and historians. Each state has laws governing the operation of cemeteries. Genealogists and historians would be well-advised to become generally familiar with such laws.
Here at The PGR, we'll from time to time present some of these laws. And we'll have more this week about the Georgia controversy.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
A New Rabbit: Santa Fe's African American Graveyard Rabbit
This new blog by the estimable George Geder can be found at http://africanancestryinsantafecemeteries.blogspot.com/.
George poses this interesting question: "How many African Americans are buried in Santa Fe, New Mexico? Who are they? What are their stories?"
His answers no doubt will fascinate and educate us. Check it out!
George poses this interesting question: "How many African Americans are buried in Santa Fe, New Mexico? Who are they? What are their stories?"
His answers no doubt will fascinate and educate us. Check it out!
Monday, November 10, 2008
The Pyrrhic Monument at Meuse-Argonne
Just east of the village of Romagne-sous-Montfaucon (Meuse), France, more than 14,000 Americans lie in repose. The place is Meuse-Argonne American Cemetery and Memorial, maintained by the American Battle Monuments Commission. It is the largest American cemetery in France, covering more than 130 acres. It is also one of the largest monuments to the uselessness of World War I.
Most of the 14,000 or so souls here were killed in a single 47-day long slaughter known as the Meuse-Argonne offensive or the Battle of the Argonne Forest. Nearly 1.2 million (yes, that's right) U.S. soldiers took part in this now-obscure battle and more than 26,000 of them were killed. The battle, America's bloodiest, took place between September 26 and November 11, 1918. That a battle that took so many lives could be so little recalled is a shame.
As a result of the obscurity of this battle, the last Allied offensive of World War I, Meuse-Argonne Cemetery has few American visitors these days. And, after all, it has been ninety years since.
Perhaps the sheer beauty of the place somehow will compensate for the lack of visitors. (If a cemetery is built up in the middle of a forest, but nobody sees it . . . ?)
The cemetery and memorial were designed by the New York architectural firm of York & Sawyer. This internationally renowned firm also is credited with the Federal Reserve Bank of New York; the headquarters of the Brooklyn Trust Company (now part of JP Morgan Chase); the Law Quadrangle at the University of Michigan; and the Old Royal Bank Building in Montreal. The firm's other cemetery work includes Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn.
On this 90th anniversary of the "War to End All Wars," let us take a moment to go through Meuse-Argonne Cemetery and recall those who lie here forever.
Click here for our virtual trip to Meuse-Argonne.
Most of the 14,000 or so souls here were killed in a single 47-day long slaughter known as the Meuse-Argonne offensive or the Battle of the Argonne Forest. Nearly 1.2 million (yes, that's right) U.S. soldiers took part in this now-obscure battle and more than 26,000 of them were killed. The battle, America's bloodiest, took place between September 26 and November 11, 1918. That a battle that took so many lives could be so little recalled is a shame.
As a result of the obscurity of this battle, the last Allied offensive of World War I, Meuse-Argonne Cemetery has few American visitors these days. And, after all, it has been ninety years since.
Perhaps the sheer beauty of the place somehow will compensate for the lack of visitors. (If a cemetery is built up in the middle of a forest, but nobody sees it . . . ?)
The cemetery and memorial were designed by the New York architectural firm of York & Sawyer. This internationally renowned firm also is credited with the Federal Reserve Bank of New York; the headquarters of the Brooklyn Trust Company (now part of JP Morgan Chase); the Law Quadrangle at the University of Michigan; and the Old Royal Bank Building in Montreal. The firm's other cemetery work includes Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn.
On this 90th anniversary of the "War to End All Wars," let us take a moment to go through Meuse-Argonne Cemetery and recall those who lie here forever.
Click here for our virtual trip to Meuse-Argonne.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
What the Other Rabbits Are Up To
If you're interested in a concise digest of the 90 or so articles published last week by members of the Association of Graveyard Rabbits around the world, go to the Association's blog to see This Week With The Graveyard Rabbits. Founder Terry Thornton has done the heavy lifting; thanks, Terry! With so many articles, almost everyone will find something of interest.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Colma, California: Dying to Go There
Colma, a town in San Mateo County, California, just a few miles south of San Francisco, takes pride in the fact that it's mostly dead. And yet, folks are still dying to go there! That's right; it's no insult here to comment that the place seems to have little life about it.
Colma, you see, is a necropolis: almost 75% of the land in the town consists of cemeteries. There are more dead people in Colma than the 1,300 living ones.
Colma became a burial ground when San Francisco began to run out of land for just about anything, let alone cemeteries. By 1900, San Francisco faced potential health hazards from its lack of burial space. The San Francisco Board of Supervisors prohibited any more burials in the city. Within a dozen years, Colma, conveniently located on a rail line from downtown San Francisco, had a dozen cemeteries.
Then San Francisco took a more drastic step: all existing cemeteries were evicted from the city and thousands of bodies had to be removed. Colma was the place to take them.
Colma now has 17 cemeteries for humans and one for pets. Nearly everyone who dies in San Francisco is buried in Colma.
Satellite view of a part of Colma, California, with Holy Cross cemetery as focal point
(click to enlarge image)
From Google Maps
The town does have enterprises other than graveyards. There is an auto mall and two large shopping centers.
Many of Colma's cemeteries have monuments of historical significance and many famous folks are buried there. Among the celebrity dead in Colma are Joe DiMaggio, Wyatt Earp, and William Randolph Hearst.
The oldest and largest cemetery in Colma is Holy Cross Cemetery, owned by the Catholic Archdiocese of San Francisco. It opened in 1887, long before San Francisco forced other cemeteries out of town.
The one pet cemetery, Pet's Rest, opened in 1947. Earl Taylor, a worker at Colma's Cypress Lawn cemetery, started Pet's Rest after hearing numerous people ask to bury pets with their loved ones in the other cemeteries.
Colma, you see, is a necropolis: almost 75% of the land in the town consists of cemeteries. There are more dead people in Colma than the 1,300 living ones.
Colma became a burial ground when San Francisco began to run out of land for just about anything, let alone cemeteries. By 1900, San Francisco faced potential health hazards from its lack of burial space. The San Francisco Board of Supervisors prohibited any more burials in the city. Within a dozen years, Colma, conveniently located on a rail line from downtown San Francisco, had a dozen cemeteries.
Then San Francisco took a more drastic step: all existing cemeteries were evicted from the city and thousands of bodies had to be removed. Colma was the place to take them.
Colma now has 17 cemeteries for humans and one for pets. Nearly everyone who dies in San Francisco is buried in Colma.
Satellite view of a part of Colma, California, with Holy Cross cemetery as focal point
(click to enlarge image)
From Google Maps
The town does have enterprises other than graveyards. There is an auto mall and two large shopping centers.
Many of Colma's cemeteries have monuments of historical significance and many famous folks are buried there. Among the celebrity dead in Colma are Joe DiMaggio, Wyatt Earp, and William Randolph Hearst.
The oldest and largest cemetery in Colma is Holy Cross Cemetery, owned by the Catholic Archdiocese of San Francisco. It opened in 1887, long before San Francisco forced other cemeteries out of town.
The one pet cemetery, Pet's Rest, opened in 1947. Earl Taylor, a worker at Colma's Cypress Lawn cemetery, started Pet's Rest after hearing numerous people ask to bury pets with their loved ones in the other cemeteries.
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