Texana
Dead Beat
Texas’ peaceful old cemeteries are the final resting place of everyone from Buddy Holly to Howard Hughes. What’s their attraction? Remains to be seen.
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Alas, too many graves aren’t being kept clean but picked clean. Cemetery theft has reached monumental proportions because of the increasing popularity of antique statuary as yard art. Last year thieves (R.I.P.-off artists?) apparently used a forklift to dislodge various adornments from the sprawling Old San Antonio City Cemeteries Historic District. This brings us to the first rule of graving, which is, of course, don’t mess anything up, much less take anything away. Cemetery etiquette also requires you to respectfully skirt graves and to right tumped-over vases. If you want to make a rubbing, ask the caretaker for permission; some places forbid it. Barring prohibitions, use butcher paper and an artist’s charcoal pencil. Never use a crayon or a felt-tip marker, which can permanently mar the porous, almost sugary surface of old stone. Half the fun of graving is trying to decipher the flowery script through the lichen and discolorations splotching the old marble, but if you’re really stumped, Gerron Hite of the Texas Historical Commission suggests squirting on plain old water to help highlight engravings. (I used to use shaving cream and a squeegee, but I now know that was a grave error.)
After a few cemetery visits, you’ll begin to notice certain traditions and standard appurtenances. In the South, graves nearly always face east, the direction of Jerusalem—presumably so the inhabitants can meet Jesus face to face when He returns. Older graveyards may have wide arched entryways called lych-gates, which sounds fetchingly Victorian until you learn that “lych” means “corpse.” Occasionally you’ll spot a grave house, a sort of porte cochere permanently sheltering the one at rest. Another old-timey touch is the brick-size footstone, usually initialed and frequently overgrown; I once stubbed a toe on a nearly hidden one that subsequently proved to read “O.W.” Most good-sized historical cemeteries are home to military veterans, and one of my favorite bits of grave lore is the reason Confederates’ tombstones are pointed: so Yankees can’t sit on them. In the country, cemeteries often include a picnic area, but urban cemeteries are less friendly—I have seen beer cans, syringes, and worse littering the grounds—so keep your guard up; you want to visit the dead, not join them.
Below is a list of visit-worthy burial grounds. Pick one near you, and ceme-tarry awhile.
Austin: The Texas State Cemetery (909 Navasota) is full of luminaries such as Stephen F. Austin, Bigfoot Wallace, Ma and Pa Ferguson, and Barbara Jordan. The most riveting grave is that of Confederate general Albert Sidney Johnston; it’s topped with a life-size marble statue of his recumbent corpse (by sculptor Elisabet Ney), surrounded by a spiked fence, and covered with an ornate Gothic metal roof. Another worthy Austin destination—final or temporary—is moss-draped Oakwood (1601 Navasota), where the residents include murderous marshal Ben Thompson and Alamo heroine Susanna Dickinson.
Dallas: Greenwood Cemetery (3020 Oak Grove) has such a classic combination of obelisks and oaks, headstones and hedges that the producers of Walker, Texas Ranger film funeral scenes there. At Hillcrest Memorial Park (7405 Northwest Highway, between Hillcrest and Boedeker), you can visit Mickey Mantle, Greer Garson, and H. L. Hunt and let your kids feed the koi in the front pond. More tattily charming is Oakland (3900 block of Malcolm X Avenue), where tilting markers and cracked statues nestle in thick foliage. El Paso: Concordia Cemetery (near Yandell and Stevens, north of I-10; take the Copia exit), a huge, untended desert graveyard, is most famous as the resting place of John Wesley Hardin. Descendants once tried to relocate the gunslinger’s remains; to foil another such attempt and prevent random vandalism, the city covered the grave with concrete. The many Hispanic plots feature homey touches like plastic Virgins of Guadalupe. There are also sections devoted to Jewish settlers and Chinese railroad workers.
Fredericksburg: Der Stadt Friedhof (North Lee and Travis) offers wonderful old German graves, such as that of pioneer Heinrich Grobe, whose stone is marked “ermordet von den Indianern” (murdered by the Indians).
Houston: Ritzy Glenwood (2525 Washington) is famous for lush landscaping and celebrity residents such as Howard Hughes. Also check out folk-arty Hollywood Cemetery in the Heights (3506 North Main), a funky old repository of charming Hispanic graves, and adjacent Holy Cross (3502 North Main), with its awesome mausoleum. Adath Yeshurun (3500 Allen Parkway) is a Jewish cemetery full of stunning memorials. The biggest, however, is Forest Park Lawndale (6900 Lawndale), where more than 125,000 Texans, including bluesman Lightnin’ Hopkins, are at rest. Look for the Tiffany windows on the crypts of the Proctor and Raford families.
Paris: Among the 45,000 graves at Evergreen Cemetery (560 Evergreen, near Church and Jefferson) is that of Willet Babcock, eye-catchingly adorned with a twelve-foot statue of Jesus; a cowboy boot peeks out from underneath His robes.
Scottsville: This bitsy little burg seven miles east of Marshall (on FM 1998) has some big ol’ statues in its 158-year-old burial ground, including a 25-foot-tall Johnny Reb and a giant grief-stricken angel atop a child’s tomb that bears the inscription “If tears could have saved you, thou would not have died.”
Tascosa: This once-riotous settlement is now practically a ghost town, and its Boot Hill (just off U.S. 385, northwest of Amarillo) is full of showdown losers and other incautious cowpokes. A notable headstone is that of Frenchy McCormick, a longtime dance-hall queen.
For more information about Texas grave sites, contact the Texas Historical Commission at www.thc.state.tx.us; Save Texas Cemeteries, Inc., at www.members.aol.com/savegrave (2005-07-21 update: www.members.aol.com/savegrave is no longer active); or www.findagrave.com.
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