The Central Florida Graveyard Rabbit

Who was Wyman R. Brown?

2009-01-17T09:23:00.000-08:00

Today's history mystery has us rabbits hopping out to Ocoee, a small town west of Orlando on SR 50.

Ye local rabbits have no doubt sped along this stretch of highway several times, not realizing there was a graveyard ripe for hopping just north of Lake Blanchard.

The cemetery entrance is actually where Story Road dead ends.

Anyway, the oldest markers in this old graveyard are clustered in the back of the property.

Among them, I found this hard-to-read stone bearing the inscription:

WYMAN R. BROWN
Sept 26, 1820
Jan 12, 1882

Unforutnately, I haven't been able to find out anything further on our mystery man. There was a W.R. Brown included in the 1880 census of Orange County, but he was too young to be this fellow. So, who was Wyman R. Brown?

Osceola County considering a new cemetery

2009-01-16T09:07:00.000-08:00

This just received from a fellow rabbit who lives near the site.

Osceola County is in the process of permitting a new cemetery, per Conditional Use Application #08-00042 submitted by Hickory Tree, LLC.

If approved, the new graveyard will encompass about 36 acres of prime hopping grounds north of Mable Simmons Road, between Hickory Tree Road and Westshore Drive.

The Planning Commission will consider the application on January 22nd, and the Board of County Commissioners will do the same on February 23rd.

So, stay tuned. Our territory may be expanding!

Urban sprawl has a long history in Orlando

2009-01-15T05:22:00.000-08:00

Even back in 1884, local residents felt the encroachment of development.

That's the year my Patrick and Ivey ancestors formed the Lake Hill Cemetery Association, and removed the bodies of loved ones buried in their old family plot to escape all the rampant land speculation that was going on in this little corner of heaven in anticipation of the arrival of the railroad.

The former burial ground was known locally as the Patrick Cemetery, and was located between Lake Lorna Doone and Rock Lake north of the modern Citrus Bowl.

If ye rabbits feel like hopping over the former site of this long-disappeared graveyard, take the Orange Blossom Trail to Washington Street, then head west between the shores of the two lakes.

You may not see any surviving grave markers, but if you time it just right you may be able to enjoy a sunset like this one over Lorna Doone.

Before there was a Mount Peace?

2009-01-14T05:23:00.000-08:00

Today, I want to take ye rabbits south of the Orlando International Airport, across the Osceola County line into the bustling little town of St. Cloud.

The oldest cemetery here is Mount Peace. It has a nice iron gate, stone columns, and a sexton's office on site.

According to the sexton's records, the cemetery was founded back in 1910. But, that date seems a little suspect to yours truly.

For instance, I found this gravemarker for William Jackson Brack (17 January 1837 - 30 April 1901), who served as the first Mayor of Orlando, 1875-7.

How could it be that he died 9 years before the cemetery was founded?

Were his remains brought here after the fact and reinterred?

Or, was this originally a family cemetery that was later deeded to the city?

I'd love to get to the bottom of this mystery.
Any ideas?

Meet my Uncle George

2009-01-13T10:07:00.000-08:00

Today, I'd like to introduce ye rabbits to my great-uncle George Everett Macy (1850-1928).

His grave marker may be found near the back of Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando, in Section A to be more precise.

If you squint at this image, you can barely make out some words beneath his name and vital dates: "Absent from the Body, present with the Lord."

Uncle George came down to this little corner of heaven with his dad, my great-great-great grandfather William H. Macy during the years immediately after the Civil War.

Settling in Orlando in 1875, George established a blacksmith shop at what is now the intersection of South Street and Hughey Avenue.

His two-story home stood nearby at 208 West South Street, but had to be moved over to the grounds of the old Boone homestead on Irvine Street when I-4 was rammed through our old downtown area.

Anyway, Uncle George's blacksmith shop grew from producing horseshoes and branding irons to become a wagon factory--the biggest in the state, as a matter of fact. It covered 12,640 square feet of workspace and produced 16 varieties of wagons, carriages, buggies, and surreys.

I'll bet it was a Macy Wagon that the old funeral homes used to carry caskets and mourners out here to Greenwood Cemetery back in the long ago, maybe even for Uncle George funeral!

I'm baaaaaaaack!

2009-01-12T09:33:00.001-08:00

Well, rabbits, after an extended absence due to holiday-making, trip-taking, computer updating, and illness-recuperating, yours truly is FINALLY back online!

My new year's resolution is to get back into the swing of making daily posts here.

So, watch this space!

Pilgrim's of the Night

2008-12-17T06:57:00.000-08:00

After yesterday's post, yours truly determined to find out more about the hymn sung during Mrs. Welborne's funeral at Winter Park in January 1884.

I quickly found it was written by Dr. Frederick W. Faber of London back in 1854, and entitled "Pilgrims of the Night." It originally had seven stanzas, but the American love of brevity shortened it to just three in hymn books printed on this side of the Atlantic. The surviving stanzas were likely sung by the mourners on Interlachen that winter day described by Harriet Switzer so many years ago:

Darker than night life's shadows fall around us,

And, like benighted men we miss our mark;

God hides himself, and grace hat scarcely found us

Ere death finds out his victims in the dark.

Rest comes at length, though life be long and dreary,

The day must dawn, and darksome night be past;

Faith's journey ends in welcome to the weary,

And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last.

Cheer up my soul! Faith's moonbeams softly glisten

Upon the breast of life's most troubled sea;

And it will cheer thy drooping heart to listen

To those brave songs which angels mean for thee.

References:

*Annotations Upon Popular Hymns, by Charles Seymour Robinson, 1893.

*Thomas Carlyle: A History of His Life in London, 1834-1881, by James Anthony Froude, 1885.

Backyard burials

2008-12-16T06:24:00.000-08:00

Not all the graves in this little corner of heaven are to be found in formal cemeteries.

In pioneer days, folks were often laid to rest in the back yard, close to their survivng loved ones.

Back in January 1884, Harriet F. Switzer described one such burial of a neighbor at the old Welborne house on Interlachen in Winter Park:

Well, this morning, Mrs. Chapman and Mrs. Lyman drove up to tell us of the death of Judge Welborne's wife who had been suffering from consumption for a long time and at last succombed. The funeral is to be this afternoon and, "Would I help with the [illegible]?" There is so little one can do at such a time that I hesitantly, yet gladly too, said I would. I don't see that you could have done anything else.

I wish I had an artist's brush to paint [the] service. Instead of the close room we had expected, we were taken to the end of the garden. On the sloping bank of a beautiful lake was an open grave, but so [illegible] with green there was no earth showing. The sun danced and sparkled on the water and shone through the trees onto the plams, fur branches, and flowers carpeting the last royal resting place of a tired and worn out body.

Bishop Whipple's tall, commanding figure with his silvery hair, which he always has rather long, and the touch of colour [sic] given by his purple skull cap made the picture most impressive. Then the group of mourners and friends, the [illegible] colored men. Oh, their varying expressions! That was the human side.

But, above all was the sun, blue sky, and the stately pines that whispered peace as we sang "Faith's Journey Ends in Welcome to [illegible]." We knew that "life's long shadows" were forgotten, swallowed up in the "cloudless love" and that she who had suffered so long and so patiently was experiencing the "joy that ends the night of weeping."

Non-traditional source reveals citrus pioneer

2008-12-15T11:39:00.000-08:00

This stone at Greenwood Cemetery in dowtown Orlando doesn't reveal too much about the fellow it memorializes.

It's hard to read, so here's a transcript for ye rabbits:

WILLARD DEWEY

Born

Aug 15, 1839

Died

Dec 5, 1899

A precious one

from us has gone.

I tried the usual sources of additional biographical information, but completely struck-out with the federal census.

I did find a Civil War service record showing he served as Quartermaster Sergeant in the 27th Kentucky Infantry Regiment.

But, it was only by checking a recently-discovered source on citrus farming that I found out more about Mr. Dewey:

http://www.fshs.org/

The site belongs to the Florida State Horticultural Society, and if you click on the "Proceedings" tab you will find they have kindly digitized their records dating back to 1888. It was in these records that I found the Committee on History's "paper number 6," about the history of orange plows. It was written by W.W. Yothers, an Orlando entomologist, who remembered Mr. Dewey as the owner of a grove about 3 miles south of Orlando, and quoted a letter from the Avery Plow Company in Louisville, Kentucky, dated 23 November 1918, which stated (in part):

An old and highly esteemed member of our staff

was Mr. Willard Dewey, foreman of our forge shop.

After years of faithful service he moved to Florida,

partly for the purpose of seeking relief from rheu-

matism. He acquired an orange grove, and at that

time the cultivation of groves was either not done or

done in a primitive way. This was about 1885.

He decided that the cultivation of orange groves by

plowing, to keep the groves free of grass and weeds,

was advisable, and he applied intensive cultivation to

his grove along this line . . . This improvement was made

in 1889, as the result of several years study preceding.

Mr. Dewey, like many of our pioneers, came to this neck of the woods only after the rail lines were established and thus missed the 1880 census enumeration. We all know the 1890 census records were lost to fire. So, it is important for we rabbits to broaden the scope of our search when we're trying to find out more about people whose grave markers were erected in this time frame. Don't just check the census and vital records, try contemporary periodicals, too!

Dangerous trees?

2008-12-14T06:25:00.000-08:00

I read in yesterday's Orlando Sentinel that there is some controversy brewing at one of the cemeteries we rabbits visited recently.

Apparently, Progress Energy has removed a stand of old oak trees along a one mile stretch of Rinehart Road--the namesake of adjacent Oaklawn Cemetery.

According to them, the trees were "dangerously close" to one of their 230-kilovolt transmission lines.

Their fear is a hurricane or tropical storm might blow thru and drop limbs on said line, thus disrupting power to area residents.

Hmmmm . . .

These trees somehow managed to survive the horrendous '04 season, among many others. Power outages are just something we have to expect in those situations. Progress Energy's fear doesn't justify, in my humble opinion, destroying the character of the neighborhood they claim as their primary concern.

What's done is done, though. I guess we will just have to wait and see what sort of "appropriate low-growing trees" they plant in the oak stand's stead.

Maybe, the folks in Lake Mary should rename their old burial ground "Appropriate Low Growing Tree Lawn Cemetery" when they get done . . .

Graveyard wildlife

2008-12-13T08:47:00.000-08:00

We graveyard rabbits are well aware of the fact that cemeteries are (or can be) places full of life.

That irony seems to be lost on most folks.

But, all they have to do is open their eyes to both flora and fauna, especially down in this little corner of heaven where the winters are so mild.

A recent visit to Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando confirmed this.

Rising from the tombstone littered grounds and jutting above the treeline is an active bald eagle nest that could have inspired Dr. Seuss.

And scampering around the gravestones--not to mention along the paths that divide up the various sections--is a veritable menagerie.

I didn't spot any other rabbits, just yours truly. But, there were tons of birds.

Most of them fled, either on foot or on wing, when my indelicate clodhoppers approached with a camera . . . like I was a gaggle of paparazzi trying to capture their images for the front page of the National Enquirer.

I did manage to snap one good pic of a little white crane, though.

Enjoy!

An accusation carved in stone

2008-12-12T08:44:00.001-08:00

One of the most eye-catching sites within the bounds of Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando is the Weeks mausoleum, mostly because just about everybody around this little corner of heaven was buried in the ground.

Anyway, if ye rabbits are brave enough to closely inspect the mausoleum, you will find a curious Bible verse (Luke 10:30):

"A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho and fell among thieves."

There's a fairly humorous story behind that inscription.

It seems Fred S. Weeks came to these parts from Quincy, Illinois, in the late 1800s, and began searching for a good piece of land to start an orange grove.

He traveled the countryside and came upon a promising parcel of land that some locals were already clearing for that purpose. They were piling up the scrub brush in a pile and burning it to make way for rows of new citrus trees.

Seeing this, Mr. Weeks eagerly made an offer on the property, figuring the current owner had already done the hard work of clearing it. He should have been slightly suspicious when his offer was accepted just as quickly . . .

When he and his wife went out to the property to build their new home, they discovered all the smoke from the scrub fires had masked the view of the entire tract of land. As it turned out, clear skies revealed a boggy marsh unsuitable for citrus. They had been swindled!

Exhausting all normal means of recovery from the swindlers, Mr. Weeks erected his mausoleum in Greenwood Cemetery. At the time, as pointed out in previous posts, the cemetery did double duty as a public park and had quite a lot of pedestrian traffic. So, you can imagine how embarassed the swindlers were when they found their names had been chiseled below the aforementioned Bible verse for all their neighbors to read!

Long story longer, they settled-up with Mr. Weeks and he allowed them to pay someone to remove their names. (You can still see the "blank" space beneath the verse where the swindler's names used to be listed!)

References:
* 1870 Census, Adams County, Illinois, page 427b.
* 1880 Census, Adams County, Illinois, page 589a.
* 1900 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 45b.
* 1910 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 206b.
* 1920 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 130b.

Old newspapers add stories to the stones

2008-12-11T05:24:00.001-08:00

Have you ever hopped upon a grave marker and wondered what it WASN'T telling you?

You know, most of them will give you a name and a couple of vital dates. But, there is so much more to a person's life than the beginning and the end.

Now, we local rabbits have a great online resource for finding out more by perusing old newspapers posted at this website:

http://www.wppl.org/

For example, yours truly wanted to know more about this Civil War veteran Nathan H. Fogg (20 June 1838 - 26 March 1916) who was buried in the GAR section of Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando.

I found his obituary printed in the 30 March 1916 edition of the Winter Park Post:

DEATH OF NATHAN H. FOGG

Nathan H. Fogg died at his home in Altamonte Springs Sunday evening. Mr. Fott has resided in Altamonte Springs for the past 32 years and was dearly beloved by all who knew him. In the words of one who knew him well, "He was a self-made man, a devoted husband, and a loving father--ever willing to lend to the poor and afflicted. He will be sadly missed by those whom he assisted in times of distress."

The funeral services took place Tuesday morning. The cortege left at 10 o'clock for Greenwood Cemetery, where after the Masonic ritualistic burial service, the interment was made in the G.A.R. burial ground. Undertaker Carey Hand was in charge of the arrangements.

The deceased was in his seventy-seventh year. He moved her to what was then Orange County from Saco, Maine. He is survived by his wife and two daughters, Mrs. J.W. Osteen of Altamonte, and Mrs. J.M. Tracy of Colville, Wash.

Who is this blogger?!

2008-12-10T10:07:00.001-08:00

All the details that are fit to print may be found in this introduction:

http://www.thegraveyardrabbit.com/2008/12/meet-central-florida-graveyard-rabbit.html

Why did she get the nicer stone?!

2008-12-09T09:16:00.000-08:00

Today, we rabbits hop north of Orlando to visit Longwood Memorial Gardens, just east of Ronald Reagan Boulevard.

Longwood was one of the communities in this little corner of heaven that was founded by Northerners after the railroad came in the 1880s and opened the region for settlement. In fact, it was named for a suburb of Boston. But, I digress . . .

The oldest gravemarker yours truly could find here was this finely-cast stone belonging to a Civil War widow.

Here's the transcript, in case your eyes fail you:

DRUSILLA

MARGARET

SCOTT

Wife of

JOHN O. MOORE

Born

Jun 22, 1847

Died

Oct 15, 1903

Not too far away this much simpler, government-issued stone marks her husband's final resting place. It gives the unit he served in during the Civil War, but no vital dates whatsoever.

I did a little sleuthing and found Mr. Moore was born in September 1834. He and Drusilla lived at Centre in Perry County, Pennsylvania, before moving to this little corner of heaven in the late 1800s. As a young man, he worked as an egraver, but eventually turned to farming. They had 7 children, though only 4 survived to adulthood.

We rabbits get so used to seeing matching stones for married couples, or even one stone bearing the names of both husband and wife. Isn't it a little odd that the Moores should have such very different markers?

References:

* 1870 Census, Perry County, Pennsylvania, page 30a.

* 1880 Census, Perry County, Pennsylvania, page 181b.

* 1900 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 36b.

Bone Mizell's odd sense of post-mortem justice

2008-12-08T11:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday's post about the practice of disinterring folks who were already at rest and shipping them up north reminded yours truly of a story told about local legend Morgan Bonaparte "Bone" Mizell. (Yes, he was kin to the Mizells mentioned in previous posts!)

Anyway, Bone had two buddies die on him at about the same time, back when Central Florida was a rough and tumble frontier. One of them was an old "cracker" named John Underhill. The other was a sickly young man from a wealthy New Orleans family who ironically came down here seeking to improve his health, whose name has been lost to history.

Both of Bone's buddies were laid to rest next to one another, but neither grave site enjoyed the benefit of a fancy marker. So, when the sickly fellow's family came down here to dig up the young man and take him back north, they had to ask Bone where his remains were buried.

Well, as Bone saw it, the young man had left New Orleans for a reason and wouldn't want to go back there if he could speak for himself. And, old John Underhill had never seen much of this world beyond Florida, much less enjoyed a train ride.

So, you can guess what happened next . . .

If you'd like to read more about the exploits of Bone Mizell, check out Jim Bob Tinsley's book "Florida Cow Hunter." (ISBN 0-8130-0985-5)

Not-so-final resting place

2008-12-07T11:09:00.000-08:00

If nasty weather prevents ye rabbits from visiting a graveyard today, allow yours truly to encourage you to hop online and visit this site:

http://www.cfmemory.org/

There you may find a wonderful collection of records pertaining to the history of this little corner of heaven.

Given the scope of this blog, I would particularly point out the digitized records of Carey Hand Funeral Home.

In browsing that collection, I was surprised to find the number of folks who were laid to rest in area cemeteries "in the long, long ago," only to be disinterred later and shipped to points north.

Case in point, do a search at this site for a Spanish American War veteran named ARTHUR WHIPPLE who had brought his wife and 2 small children to these parts to work as a telegraph operator with the railroad . You will find the poor fellow died of TB at his parents' truck farm out in Oakland on 14 May 1912, and was apparently buried there. Flash forward just over 15 years, and somebody up in Malden, Massachusetts, paid good money to have his remains dug up and put on a northbound train.!

It makes one wonder how many open spaces in cemeteries around here were not always empty, doesn't it?

Reference:
1910 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 171b.

An early account of a haunting at Greenwood Cemetery

2008-12-06T10:18:00.000-08:00

A century ago, many of Orlando's black residents lived in a settlement dubbed "Jonestown." It lay east of the city limits, between Colonial Drive and Gore Street, and as far east at Bumby Avenue.

But, soon after the 1900 census enumeration, most of Jonestown's residents moved west of the aptly-named Division Street.

Now, as I continue reading Kena Fries' old local history, I believe the following first-hand account (slightly edited) indicates that a supposed "haunting" at Greenwood Cemetery scared the people away . . . conveniently vacating a lot of valuable acreage for real estate development:

"We'd all been living there in brotherly accord and love for a powerfully long time and the ghosts never gave any trouble til they put up a fine tombstone over the man who gave the land for the burying ground. Since then, every night when the town clock goes "bong, bong" twelve times, he creeps out of his grave and sits atop the stone pointing his gun at the gate, and he sits there til our roosters crow three times in the morning, then he creeps back in the ground til the clock goes "bong, bong" twelve times the next night. I saw him, and my father-in-law saw him, and all the rest of us have seen him sitting there."

In the long, long ago . . .

2008-12-05T10:02:00.000-08:00

Back in 1938, Kena Fries (whose stone pictured here may be seen at Greenwood Cemetery downtown) published a book on the history of Orlando.

I thought ye rabbits would appreciate what she wrote about early funerary practices in this neck o' the woods:

"In the long, long ago, when a death occurred friends of the family made a rude coffin or box, and the corpse was lovingly laid to rest on the very best sheet and pillow the family owned. The body was taken to the grave on a wagon drawn by a mule or oxen. A pine board, or light wood marker was placed on the spot. The interment usually took place under some large tree, magnolia, cedar, or oak, on the homestead. The first public grave yard was situated at the corner of Main and Pine. When the street was clayed, notice was printed in the papers requesting all bodies be removed. At the end of six months those remaining with some form of marker were disinterred and buried in a common grave in Greenwood."

Note, she doesn't mention what happened to those remaining *without* a marker!

Mark your calendars, local rabbits!

2008-12-04T08:34:00.000-08:00

Once again, venerable Greenwood Cemetery in Orlando will be hosting a moonlight tour:

Next Friday - December 12th - 9pm - 1603 Greenwood Street

This is the perfect opportunity to see some of the things yours truly has been blogging about here at the CFGYR.

Couple of suggestions from past personal experience:

1. Wear comfortable walking shoes. The tour is about 2 miles long.

2. Bring a flashlight.

For more info and tips, please feel free to call the sexton's office: 407-325-6269.

Victorian Cemetery Design

2008-12-03T12:00:00.000-08:00

A few days ago, yours truly mentioned a fellow named Samuel A. Robinson, whose name should be heralded by all local graveyard rabbits.

It was Mr. Robinson who came up with the original design for Orlando's beautiful municipal graveyard: Greenwood Cemetery.

Here is a basic map of the modern cemetery's layout, but it has been expanded and modified significantly since Mr. Robinson first took pen to paper back in the 1880s. In his day, rabbits entered from Gore Street, on the south (see the red dot between sections J and G). That is why most of the earliest burials here are clustered from that point to sections A and H.

Unlike modern planners who seem more interested in utility and aesthetics, Robinson was a true Victorian. His three purposes were pragmatism, amenity, and morality.

By pragmatism, I mean his primary intent was to provide the city with a sanitary means of handling human remains. Imagine how important a concern that was in his day, especially given Florida's subtropical climate.

By amenity, I mean he also wanted to create a space that would be as inviting as a city park. He intended the grounds to be used for more than just funerals, and expected his design would to welcome both individual citizens seeking a refuge from the bustling urban center as well sizeable civic gatherings on important dates.

By morality, I mean Robinson expected visitors to receive important messages about mercy, virtue, and patriotism . . . and from the other side of the coin: vice and selfishness, too. A section was mercifully set aside for the indigent. The virtue of the family unit was reinforced with multigenerational plots. The patriotic values of the city founders are reflected by the placement of all the veteran sections at the front, where they could be clearly seen by those traveling along Gore Street. (Confederate veterans in section J, Union veterans in section I, and later Spanish American War veterans in section W.) Vices would be decried in the monuments that sprouted up when the grounds were opened. But, there would be none of the selfish old iron fences surrounding individual plots and interrupting what was intended to be a broad, open, and tangible moral lesson.

Robinson's intentions are all but lost on modern visitors to Greenwood, who enter thru the new gate on the west side of the property . . . especially since most turn north after passing the cemetery office and head toward the more active sections that crowd up against Anderson Street and the new "urban wetlands."

But, now, at least ye rabbits know a lot of thought was put into designing this little corner of heaven, and the heavy thinking was done by Sam Robinson!

Was Orlando named for a grave?!

2008-12-02T06:03:00.000-08:00

The simple answer is "maybe."

But, the origins of the name Orlando have been the cause of a lot of contention in this little corner of heaven.

If you believe this downtown marker by Lake Eola, the city was named for a soldier named Orlando Reeves who was killed in action during the Second Seminole War.

Despite extensive research at the National Archives, Tallahassee, and in Gainesville, though, yours truly has never been able to find any record of a soldier from that era who bore any name even somewhat similar to the one on this marker.

And, the only clash with the Seminoles in these parts took place several miles south of downtown Orlando, at Hatcheelustee (now Disney property).

I did find a plantation owner named Orlando REES who lived at Spring Hill in nearby Volusia County in the years leading up to the Second Seminole War. But, he fled back to his native South Carolina when the fighting started.

Still, the earliest American settlers in these parts claimed to have encountered the word "Orlando" carved on a tree near the shores of Lake Lawsona, just east of Lake Eola. They assumed it marked the resting place of some poor soul by that name, and took to referring to the area around it as "Orlando's grave." In time, this moniker was shortened to simply "Orlando."

Of course, that's just legend, too. I haven't seen any surviving photographs of the carving in question, only the second-hand account by local historian Kena Fries who wrote about how distressed her father (surveyor J.O. Fries) was when the tree was felled.

I believe the carving was made by Mr. Rees in the 1820s or 30s. He was a friend of famous naturalist John J. Audubon, who visited him at Spring Hill and explored the Central Florida wilderness with him. Audubon had adopted a habit learned from Daniel Boone, whereby he periodically carved his name or a symbol in a tree trunk to mark his wanderings and thus make retracing his steps a little easier. It seems entirely likely that the ORLANDO the early settlers spotted in that trunk near Lake Lawsona was such a guidepost, not really a grave marker

.

Still, the legends are very entertaining . . . which is probably why they seem to last a lot longer than trees and gravemarkers!

Pioneer undertakers

2008-12-01T12:36:00.000-08:00

Further to yesterday's post about Orlando's earliest graveyard, I would like to introduce ye rabbits to the city's earliest undertakers.

Until the arrival of Edgar A. Richards, a carpetbagger from Massachusetts, most folks in this little corner of heaven oversaw the burial of their own family and friends.

Mr. Richards made things easier on the grieving survivors, though, with his ready supply of coffins at his furniture store . . . not to mention a willing shovel.

But, it wasn't until 1887, when Elijah Hand came to these parts that embalming of bodies was introduced to our funerary customs.

Before Hand's arrival, there was a custom that anyone who died before noon had to be buried by sundown. Anyone who died after noon would be buried the next morning.

But, with Mr. Hand's introduction of embalming fluid, funerals could be postponed a few days . . . a very convenient thing when you consider how difficult travel conditions could otherwise restrict turn-out for a good wake.

After a couple of years in competition with each other, Mr. Richards and Mr. Hand teamed-up to serve the community.

Ironically, while Mr. Richards' fine obelisk may still be seen at Greenwood Cemetery southeast of downtown Orlando, Mr. Hand (father of local embalming) was himself embalmed and sent back to his old hometown of Shelbyville, Indiana, for burial!

That being said, Mr. Hand's son Carey remained in Orlando and it is his name that has become synonymous with the funeral business right up to the present day.

Not a vestige of anything left . . .

2008-11-30T09:53:00.000-08:00

Those were the words Orlando pioneer Samuel A. Robinson used to describe the city's first graveyard when he was interviewed by the local newspaper back in 1915.

According to Mr. Robinson, it was where "Samuel Russ and many others" were originally buried. But, it may not be their finaly resting place. Or, maybe it is . . .

The roots of the vanished cemetery date way back to 23 November 1857, when my ancestor John Patrick deeded one acre to the local Baptist congregation to build a church. I suspect his generous gift followed the death of his father Wright Patrick, Orlando's first postmaster and quite possibly the first person buried within the bounds of the modern city block bounded by Church Street on the South, Rosalind Avenue on the East, Pine Street on the North, and Magnolia Avenue on the West.

It was certainly being used as a graveyard by 1869. But, it wasn't until 1872 that the locals got around to building an L-shaped log church on the site. (Pictured above.) It was used not only by the Baptists, but also by all the other congregations in the city until they were able to build churches of their own. Thus, it was known as the "Union Free Church." It also did double duty as a public school building.

In 1880, when Greenwood Cemetery was established southeast of downtown, the old graveyard fell into disuse. The union church building was absorbed by the nearby Tremont Hotel, but was ultimately condemned by the city in 1891. Two years later, the Baptists wanted to expand their new church complex. So, they disinterred all the grave sites they could identify and moved the remains to Greenwood. But, as ye rabbits are well aware, sometimes it's hard to spot all the graves in a graveyard. And, they apparently missed more than a few!

Who knows who may yet remain buried under this bustling block in the heart of downtown Orlando: Samuel Russ? Wright Patrick? Their names certainly don't appear in the sexton's records at Greenwood . . .

Think about that the next time ye hop down to one of the hot spots at Church Street Station, and a chill might just run down your spine!

Aluminum marker in flood zone

2008-11-29T11:14:00.000-08:00

Hopping along US 192 from Holopaw to the coast will take ye rabbits to the vicinity of Deer Park and the Bull Creek Wildlife Management Area.

Few know there is a small cemetery in the WMA.

Those who do, call it by a variety of names. Some call it the Lanier Cemetery for a pioneer family. Others call it the Bull Creek Cemetery for the WMA. But, I've always known it as the Crabgrass Creek Cemetery.

Anyway, the terrain here is "Old Florida," replete with scrub oak and white sugar sand. You'd really be well advised to take a 4x4 if you're seriously interested in visiting this graveyard in person. But, you will be richly rewarded with some of the greatest natural scenery in these parts.
Unfortunately, the area is prone to some pretty serious flooding. This may be why only the sturdiest grave markers have stood the test of time. Several have evidently been washed away, and one in particular was replaced with one of those little funeral home markers experienced rabbits will recognize from previous excursions.

This marker caught my attention, because it was so small and had so few clues as to the identity of the person who rests beneath it.

It bears aluminum letters that blend into the aluminum background of the sign, making it a little difficult to read in this picture. But, I can tell you they spell out: LAVONIA PLATT.

I wondered who she was, and wondered (based on the flag) whether she might have been a Confederate widow. So, I decided to do a little research.

It didn't take me long to discover information on Lavonia (3 Nov 1876 - 24 July 1935) posted on a website maintained by Christopher G. Tanner of Maitland. According to him, this poor woman was accidentally killed by a train along the Florida East Coast Railway in nearby Melbourne.

A very sad story, made even sadder by her marker . . . still haven't figured out the Stars and Bars connection . . .

Nice stone for a not-so-nice graveyard

2008-11-28T10:29:00.000-08:00

Whereas yesterday found us in one of the most-manicured graveyards in Central Florida, today we hop along US17-92 in Fern Park to discover one of the more neglected cemeteries in this little corner of heaven.

Only a small white sign with green lettering explains to shoppers at the nearby Winn Dixie why there is such a large open area in the midst of an otherwise busy and crowded mix of residential and commercial buildings.

Even the most casual observer will conclude this graveyard is home to far more burials than there are gravemarkers. You can see numerous depressions in the ground.

Perhaps the best looking marker belongs to a childless married couple who were born into slavery and lived near their final resting place when the entire town was known as "Woodbridge."

Now, only the cemetery carries that name.

In case you can't make out the inscription in this photo, it reads:

TOM GREEN

DIED NOV 16 1919

AGE 65

SALLIE GREEN

DIED JULY 31 1919

AGE 68

AT REST

(Ref: 1900 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 52a.)

Willie's second wife

2008-11-27T09:27:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving, ye rabbits!

Our turkey day plans had us hopping up to Apopka, right past Highland Memory Gardens at 3329 East SR 436.

It's actually in the neck o' the woods most of us natives call Forest City. But, the mailing address says Apopka nowadays.

Ironically, on the grounds of this graveyard, I discovered a perfect follow-up to yesterday's posting about the mysterious missing wife.

This marker was placed to honor the memories of Willie E. Chapman (1887-1978) and his wife Ollie O. Chapman (1893-1971).

Seems pretty cut and dry, doesn't it?

But, when I did a little sleuthing, I discovered Mr. Chapman had been married to a lady named Maggie before leaving Kentucky to settle in this little corner of heaven. This per the 1920 Census. (Also discovered Ollie's maiden name was Pigg . . . no joking!)

So, the question remains, where did Willie bury his first wife?

References:

* 1920 Census, Floyd County, Kentucky, page 238a.

* 1920 Census, Lawrence County, Kentucky, page 147b.

* http://www.timesfreepress.com/news/2008/mar/13/obituaries-march-13-2008/?obituaries

Where is Virginia?!

2008-11-26T08:34:00.000-08:00

If ye rabbits have ever taken Glenridge Way behind fashionable Baldwin Park until it dead-ends at Lakemont Avenue in Winter Park, you have no doubt come face to face with this sign at Pineywood Cemetery.

Traffic in this little corner of heaven is . . . well . . . less than heavenly, which has prevented yours truly from visiting this particular graveyard. This despite the fact that I used to live within walking distance.

At any rate, once inside, I stumbled across a stone that sparked a mystery.

I'm sure experienced rabbits have encountered this situation before.

The stone in question was evidently placed to honor the memory of a couple named Thomas and Virginia Spellman.

Mr. Spellman evidently predeceased Mrs. Spellman, in 1956.

The year of her death was never completely carved on the stone.

So, where is she? If still alive, she would be nearly 130 years old!

More likely, she is buried elsewhere . . . or, could she be buried here after all, just nobody got around to completing that date?

I did a little sleuthing, but couldn't find anything. If any of ye rabbits can figure out where Virginia is, a reply post would be appreciated!

(And, don't tell me Virginia is between North Carolina and Maryland!!)

Where did they come from?!

2008-11-25T12:03:00.000-08:00

Today's post will be a bit of a departure for the CFGYR, because we won't be visiting any particular cemetery.

Rather, the statistician in yours truly thought he'd share a very unscientific study he undertook using the local obit pages.

We've pretty much always had a transient population in this little corner of heaven.

I don't mean we're a region of ramblers, per se. But very few folks buried around these parts were actually born here. I wondered just what portion of the current graveyard populations were natives, and where all the other folks came from. So, over a period of 30 days, I kept a tally sheet.

342 obituaries later, I give to you this map as a graphic representation of the results. (If your eyes are as feeble as my own, you may need to double click and expand its size.)

In a nutshell, only 35 folks were actually born in the Sunshine State . . . just over 10%.

A whopping 125 made no reference to a birthplace at all! (about 39%)

78 came from Midwestern states (23%).

36 came from southern states other than Florida (about 11%)

Pennsylvania accounted for 19, the largest number of any state besides Florida. (about 6%)

The next step of this little project will be to get a hold of some old copies of the Orlando Sentinel to see how these ratios have changed over time . . .

OK, enough of the number crunching for now. We'll get back to cemetery hopping in tomorrow's post!

My grandma's graveyard rabbit

2008-11-24T17:12:00.000-08:00

Today, I take ye rabbits back to Woodlawn Cemetery out in Gotha, because I want to introduce you to my Grandma G . . . otherwise known as Ruth Norton Gleeson (7 Dec 1919 - 13 June 1995).

Her name was brought up several times today as we celebrated my mom's birthday, so it's only appropriate.

You will appreciate this photo of her grave marker at Woodlawn, because it includes a small flower basket with a white rabbit in it.

No, the basket wasn't placed there for Easter. And, you can see from the dates that Grandma G passed away several years before our GYR association was formed. So, why the rabbit?

Well, the Gleesons have a family tradition called "white rabbit." Those are supposed to be the first two words out of your mouth on the first day of the month to ensure good luck.

Grandma G would sometimes call us at 12:01 am on the first to try to trip us up. Sometimes, she'd get us, because we were half asleep and would answer her call with a groggy, "Hello?!" Then, she'd laugh and reply, "White rabbit!" So, she'd have all the luck in the family for the rest of the month.

It's funny how rabbit-centered traditions stand the test of time, isn't it?

Geezer at rest

2008-11-23T07:23:00.000-08:00

On Bruton Boulevard, just a little bit north of L.B. McLeod Road, ye rabbits will find Orlando's historically black cemetery.

Buried within its confines is one Howard E. Porter, Sr. (31 Aug 1948 - 25 May 2007).

But, those who knew him, didn't call him Howard. They called him "Geezer."

No, he wasn't an old fuddy-duddy.

The name was a corruption of the word "geiser," which was the best description his classmates had of his leaping ability on the basketball court.

That ability got Geezer a scholarship to Villanova, where he led the basketball team to the NCAA finals back in 1971.

Then, he went to the NBA and played center and power forward for the Bulls, Knicks, Pistons, and Nets.

Later, he settled in Minneapolis, Minnesota, where he worked as a parole officer, and where he was mysteriously abducted and beaten to death last year.

Sadly, this Geezer died too young.

Iconic tree branches

2008-11-22T06:59:00.000-08:00

Today, we rabbits hop east of Orlando on Highway 50 until we reach Christmas.

I know, we're more than a month ahead of ourselves to be talking about the holiday.

I'm referring to the Town of Christmas, which was named for a fort established in this little corner of heaven during the Second Seminole War.

A replica stands just north of 50 on State Road 420. And, just before you reach the park grounds that are home to the modern incarnation of Fort Christmas, you will see this sign for the town's cemetery.

Inside, the oldest stone I could find was that of Mrs. Sarah Ann E. Rucker (nee Starling).

If you can't make out the inscription, don't feel bad. It's hard to read. Here's a transcript:

S.A.E. Tucker

born

Nov. 16, 1827

died

June 29, 1899

There also appears to have been some inscription on the base of the stone, but my feeble eyes were unable to make heads or rabbit tails of it.

At the top of the stone are some fairly intricate tree branches. They're not the weeping willow types I've seen so often in area cemeteries. Instead, they stretch up . . . almost mimicking the real moss-laden oak trees that abound on the cemetery grounds. I guess, Mrs. Tucker wanted us to think about life everlasting instead of grief when we visited her stone.

Lake Mary's biggest cemetery

2008-11-21T06:57:00.000-08:00

The next time ye rabbits are zipping east along Interstate 4 thru Lake Mary, take a glance to the right and you will see a rather large graveyard ripe for the hopping.

Oaklawn Memorial Park at the corner of State Road 46A and Rinehart Road is very well-maintained, with a green rolling lawn. It's most prominent feature is a trio of white crosses in the back of the property, near the tree-line border.

It is not an old burial ground. In fact, the oldest marker I could find belonged to a fellow named Alanson Lathrop Rowe (2 March 1869 - 23 Sept. 1958).

From what I've uncovered about him so far, Mr. Rowe was a native of Catskill, New York, the son of Ira Rowe and Margaret Lathrop; never married; operated his own wood mill; and lived with his older brother John at 144 Water Street in Milford, Pennsylvania, before retiring in this little corner of heaven.

References:
* 1880 Census, Catskill, Greene County, New York, page 115A.
* 1910 Census, Milford, Pike County, Pennsylvania, page 69B.
* 1920 Census, Milford, Pike County, Pennsylvania, page 266A.

Pets are people, too!

2008-11-20T17:56:00.000-08:00

I thought today we'd take a bit of a departure and visit a PET CEMETERY!

Greenbrier Pet Cemetery is located on West Kelly Park Road, between Plymouth-Sorrento Road and Round Lake Road, northwest of downtown Apopka.

I was a bit curious to see if I could discover any real graveyard rabbits buried here, but only found a bunch of dogs and cats.

However, I was surprised to discover quite a few pet owners had chosen their final resting place with their animal companions.

One of them was Betty J. Williams (1925-1998), whose marker declares her "Our Beloved Sister."

I couldn't tell which pet she "belonged to." But, she must have been pretty devoted!

It means "little bear"

2008-11-19T05:37:00.000-08:00

If ye rabbits hop south along State Road 15 behind the Orlando International Airport, you will eventually cross the line into Osceola County and come across the little town of Narcoossee.

Funny name, isn't it? Well, it's supposedly derived from the Seminole word for the little bears that still inhabit this neck o' the woods.

Anyway, I headed down here for two reasons. The first was to find the old Pine Castle Union Church, which was moved to Narcoossee decades ago to make room for all the "progress" we see on Orange Avenue.

The second was to locate the final resting place of a fellow named Owen Simmons (16 Feb 1822 - 5 June 1894) who is buried in the little cemetery just east of SR15 in Narcoossee. (There is a sign on the highway that clearly points out the turn-off.) You will find it nestled amongst a fairly thick woodland. And, it is full of that white sugary sand that we are so famous for in this little corner of heaven.

Established back in 1887, town records show the cemetery wasn't officially platted until 1911. Sadly, as was so typical back then, it was designed as a segregated burial ground. There are 227 souls laid to rest here--64 white and 163 black.

My interest in Simmons stemmed from his name appearing alongside those of my ancestors on a local muster roll from the Third Seminole War. When I finally found his stone, I noticed someone had placed a small Confederate flag next to it. And, when I got back home and ran his name thru the previously mentioned Civil War Soldiers and Sailors Database at the NPS, I found a William Owen Simmons who served in Company F of the 7th Florida Infantry Regiment. Perhaps, he was the same guy, but I'll have to do more digging to be sure . . .

The nineteenth hole

2008-11-18T09:18:00.000-08:00

I know that phrase generally refers to the clubhouse at a golfcourse, but today it refers to the perfect final resting place for any duffer: The Doctor Phillips Cemetery in Orlando.

To find this graveyard, rabbits can hop south on Apopka-Vineland Road and look to your right just before you get to the entrance of the Bay Hill Golf Club.

There are plenty o' Dubs buried on the grounds, but there is at least one famous name: William "Payne" Stewart (30 Jan 1957 - 25 Oct 1999).

He was a two time winner of the U.S. Open, and died tragically when the cabin of his charter jet lost pressure shortly after take off and crashed several hours later.

A hidden treasure

2008-11-17T12:41:00.000-08:00

Experienced graveyard rabbits know appearances can be deceiving.

Case in point: The Partin Settlement Cemetery down in Kissimmee.

From the road, all you see is an old orange grove.

But, if you can muster enough courage to go poking thru the underbrush, you will find a bunch of really great old stones in this sadly neglected graveyard.

The one pictured here is hard to deciper, so here's a transcript:

AOLA

daughter of

S.C. & T.G.

PARTIN

Aug. 31, 1888

Oct. 22, 1888

Another little darling babe

is sheltered in the grave.

Ask Carl Dann!

2008-11-16T12:21:00.000-08:00

That was a piece of oft-heard advice to tourists in this little corner of heaven about a hundred years ago.

Hanford Carl Dann, Sr. (15 Sept. 1884 - 1 Sept. 1940) was practically a one man chamber of commerce back then.

I bring him up today, because I am preparing to open my home in the College Park neighborhood to a couple hundred expected visitors on the annual Historic Homes Tour.

You see, Mr. Dann once owned the property on which my home was evenutally built. He subdivided it, and sold it off to another developer--something he did no fewer than 60 times.

His own home was at the corner of Colonial Drive and Orange Avenue, just north of downtown Orlando.

Today, though, you rabbits may find him at Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando.

Colonel Allen drowned in the Kissimmee River

2008-11-15T05:27:00.000-08:00

Well, rabbits, to thank Steve Rajtar for his moonlit tour of Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando last night, I'd like to introduce you to one of the notable fellows buried there.

This is Colonel Robert T.P. Allen (26 September 1813 - 9 July 1888) who was born to Irish immigrants in Baltimore, Maryland.

After graduating fifth in his class at West Point in 1834, he came to this little corner of heaven with the U.S. Army during the Second Seminole War.

In 1845, he established the Kentucky Military Institute, over which he presided for many years--except from 1849 to 1851 when President Zachary Taylor sent him out west to organize the postal system in California and Oregon.

In 1857, he moved to Texas to establish another school, the Bastrop Military Institute. And, it was there he raised the 4th Texas Infantry Regiment at the outbreak of the Civil War. They took the field as part of Hood's Brigade, but Colonel Allen was not a popular commander. So, he was sent back to Texas to oversee a POW camp near Tyler.

After the war, he returned to the Kentucky Military Institute. But, in 1877, when his son John was elected Orlando's second mayor, he returned to Florida.

Sadly, he drowned while swimming in the Kissimmee River near "Allendale," where his son had established a steamboat line after completing his term as mayor.

His body was retrieved from the rushing waters, and hauled up to Orlando to be laid to rest beneath this sizeable marker in the Allen family plot.

One little girl's grave marker

2008-11-14T11:47:00.000-08:00

Today, we rabbits head south of Orlando to the former town of Taft.

I say "former," because Taft is no longer officially incorporated, though the name persists along with a sense of identity amongst residents.

The town was formerly known both as Newellton and Smithville until 1909, when entrepreneurs from Orlando and Kissimmee got together to buy-up 6,000 acres in this little corner of heaven to establish "Prosper Colony."

They subdivided the land and advertized extensively in the Saturday Evening Post. More than a thousand folks eventually bought farmsteads here, though they chose to rename their "colony" for President William Howard Taft.

One of the remaining vestiges of the defunct municipality is its cemetery, established in 1920 at what is now designated 501 Landstreet Road.

Among the earliest stones here belongs to a little girl named Alice Hayes (19 Dec 1917 - 23 Nov 1922). It caught my attention for two reasons. First, it has a really interesting carving of a dove on the top face. Second, it has a nasty crack obscuring the poor little girl's vital dates.

I checked some of the local census records, so can tell you Little Alice was the daughter of a fellow named Sydney Hayes (1871-1932), who is buried nearby. Mr. Hayes was a black teamster who came to Florida from his native South Carolina in the early 1900s, and evidently worked in the region's thriving turpentine industry.

References:

*1910 Census, Pine Castle, Orange County, Florida, page 191a.

*1920 Census, Taft, Orange County, Florida, page 193a.

What's in a name?

2008-11-13T08:25:00.001-08:00

If ye rabbits ever hop down the Orange Blossom Trail to Home Road in Kissimmee, you will see a neat little cemetery with an even neater angel-topped marker waiting to greet you.

But, yours truly was a little perplexed on a recent visit to discover what I had always known as "The Howard Cemetery" is now apparently known as "Pine Ridge Cemetery."

I guess the latter name is more appropriate since the place is no longer exclusively used by the Howard family.

The Howards established this as their final resting place back in 1903, but the oldest marker I could find was a few years later. Here's the inscription if you can't read it in the picture posted here:

Emma

wife of

Henry Howard

died

Aug. 25, 1907

Age 52 Yrs.

"Gone but not

forgotten."

Back in the late 1920s, when the Orange Blossom Trail was widened in this neck of the woods, the roadway cut straight thru the cemetery grounds.

By the 1980s, it was overgrown with palmettos and weeds, in truly deplorable condition.

Then, local civic activist Buster Lesesne stepped up to the plate to set things straight. He is evidently the fellow responsible for placing the aforementioned angel marker.

But, I wonder if he is also responsible for the name change?

A bit disconcerted now, so will sign off until tomorrow. Til then, happy hopping!

A former slave at Boston Hill

2008-11-12T07:10:00.000-08:00

A rabbit who wishes to remain anonymous pointed out that yours truly had overlooked an unassuming little cemetery near Oviedo's town hall up in Seminole County.

Boston Hill Cemetery is on Alexandria Boulevard, and has only a little wooden sign near the entrance.

According to the cemetery records, the earliest burial here was a 5-month-old infant named Lucille Allen, who died 20 April 1924. Unfortunately, I was unable to find any more information on her.

The second oldest burial here was a Clascow [sic] Robinson (1857-1926), "age 69."

That first name was unusual, so I tried several variant spelling when I began searching federal census records.

I successfully located Mr. Robinson in Oviedo in both 1910 and 1920, though his name was spelled both times as GLASCO. They indicate he was a black man, give his birthplace as South Carolina, and show he worked first as a cooper at a turpentine factory and later as a laborer on a truck farm.

I couldn't find anything beyond 1910, though.

He *may* have been the Glasgow [sic] Robinson, age 20, who was listed as a black farm laborer in Walterboro, South Carolina, in 1870--though, the cemetery record would indicate "our" fellow would have only been 13 years old at the time.

There also *may* be a connection to a Glasgow [sic] Robinson, age 49, who was listed as a black farmer in Grahamville, South Carolina, in 1870--though that man only had two daughters living in his household that year.

The case of the Boston Hill freedman serves as only the latest example of the difficulty in tracing the roots of former slaves we rabbits have encountered in this little corner of heaven.

I welcome any additional information ye readers may be able to uncover!

References:
*1870 Census, Grahamville, Beaufort County, South Carolina, page 84b.
*1870 Census, Walterboro, Colleton County, South Carolina, page 43a.
*1910 Census, Oviedo, Orange County, Florida, page 151a.
*1920 Census, Oviedo, Seminole County, Florida, page 246b.

Armistice Day came too late for poor Ben Brown

2008-11-11T08:32:00.001-08:00

While seeking out Jack Barber's grave at Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando for yesterday's post, I also paused to pay my respects to the many service men and women buried in the American Legion section.

As today is Veteran's Day, I thought it would be a good time to introduce you to one of those servicemen: Private Ben B. Brown (1896-1918), who gave his life for this country in the Aisne-Marne offensive in France during the First World War.

I wanted to learn more about Brown, and quickly found his funeral record in the Carey Hand archives at cfmemory.org.

It tells us that he was a native of Spartanburg, South Carolina. He enlisted 8 August 1917 in Orlando to serve in Company C of the 2nd Infantry, Florida National Guard. That unit was sent for training at Camp Wheeler, then shipped to France on 20 June 1918.

Poor Ben was killed in action just one month, one week, and one day later.

More tragically, he fell less than four months before Armistice Day.

While I hope all ye rabbits take a moment today to honor all veterans of all our nation's wars, please remember the holiday was originally declared to commemorate the end of the First World War--the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918--an important moment that far too many young men like Ben Brown did not live to see.

Jack Barber's bloody lip helped spark a feud

2008-11-10T06:14:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I introduced ye rabbits to Violett Roberson Barber, the first wife of Andrew Jackson "Jack" Barber (9 July 1839 - 18 Aug 1916).

Today, I want to introduce you to his second wife Nancy Hull of Orlando, whom he married only four months after burying Violett down in Kissimmee. As you can see from the photo here, their's was a May-December romance.

While married to Nancy, Jack became a respected member of the community, faithfully attending the Baptist church and building-up his cattle herds and citrus groves.

But, it was during his first marriage to Violett that he gained legendary status, at least amongst local history buffs.

As his grave marker at Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando attests, Jack served in the Confederate Army during the Civil War. (Company G of the 5th Florida Cavalry Battalion, to be precise.)

His greatest claim to fame, though, came as a primary catalyst of the bloody Barber-Mizell feud.

His uncle Moses Barber, patriarch of the clan, already had a beef with the scalawag Mizells--pun intended. He resented the way they seized cattle from his herd to pay the ridiculously high property taxes levied during the dark days of Reconstruction, and even went to jail for threatening one of Sheriff Mizell's deputies. (George Bass was his name.)

Anyway, during the following year, Jack Barber was riding the range. To his surprise, he discovered one of his prize heifers in the midst of a herd of Mizell cattle feeding on that very same range. Well, he did the only logical thing and reclaimed his wayward property. The sad result was a prison sentence to equal his uncle's.

Uncle Moses had recently returned from serving his own time behind bars, and insisted upon accompanying Sheriff Mizell as he escorted Jack up to the prison in Palatka. They went by steamboat out of Mellonville, modern-day Sanford. And, it was a long journey.

Jack thought he'd kill time chewing some tobacco, but couldn't reach his pouch because his hands were tied. So, he asked the sheriff to lend a helping hand. Annoyed, the sheriff took a large wad of the weed and shoved it in Jack's mouth so hard that it bloodied his lips.

This was the last straw, as far as Uncle Moses was concerned, and he warned Mizell that he had "started down the road to hell."

Within a year, the sheriff was dead and buried at what is now Leu Gardens in Orlando.

The Barbers' side of the story

2008-11-09T17:30:00.000-08:00

Not too long ago, I posted some details of the Barber-Mizell feud.

My ancestors didn't have a dog in that fight, to borrow an old Cracker alliteration. In fact, we were the law and order types who stepped up to the plate after things got out of hand.

So, I want to perpetuate our history of neutrality. And, since I already gave the details on the Mizells buried in Conway at Leu Gardens, I feel it only fair to tell you rabbits something about the cantankerous Barber clan.

To do so, I take you down to Kissimmee today, to a little cemetery on Hilliard Isle Road, just a few blocks east of Boggy Creek Road. It's a small burial ground, hemmed-in by suburban sprawl. I don't think it contains more than a dozen or so graves . . . at least graves with markers.

The most impressive stone, in my humble opinion, belongs to Violett S. Barber (6 Sept. 1841 - 8 June 1894). It bears the following poetic inscription:

Thou art gone away, our loved one.

Life's toilsome journey is over.

Sweet songs shalt thou sing with the angels,

On the beautiful golden shore.

Violett (nee Roberson) was the first wife of Andrew Jackson "Jack" Barber, whose uncle Moses Barber was the head of the clan at the time of the 1870 feud. The two of them had to flee to Texas when the law clamped down on the violence, leaving their wives and children to fend for themselves.

While Moses never returned to Florida, Jack did come back to live with Violett by 1880. After her death, though, he married a girl from Orlando and is buried with her at Greenwood Cemetery downtown.

More to come, when I get back to Greenwood!

References:

*1870 Census, Orange County, Florida, page 456a.

*1880 Census, Orange County, Florida, pages 456b & 457a.

*"The Way Hit Wuz," by Mary Ida Bass Shearhart.

Share and share alike

2008-11-08T12:22:00.000-08:00

Today's graveyard excursion takes us to fashionable Winter Park.

Ye rabbits have probably already experienced the chic shopping and cultural opportunities up and down Park Avenue, or maybe even attended the renowned annual Sidewalk Art Festival here in the spring.

But, just a hop, skip, and a jump away from those hot-spots is the Palm Cemetery at 301 West Webster Street.

The stone that caught my attention on this visit belonged to the Richmond family. It is somewhat hard to read in this photo, so I'll type out a transcription for you:

Andrew Richmond
Nov. 18, 1819
Aug. 31, 1906
Eliza H. Sullings, wife of
Andrew Richmond
Mar. 19, 1828
Jan. 1, 1914
Edgar Richmond
Feb. 26, 1852
Mar. 2, 1888

Squeezing all this genealogical info onto one stone tells me either this was a very frugal family, or they just liked to share!

Lucky Andrew got his name on the stone twice.

I didn't want to assume that Edgar was the son of Andrew and Eliza, since his relation is not specifically stated. So, I did a little sleuthing, and found that was indeed the case according to the 1860 Census.

Evidently, the Richmonds were one of the many Yankee families who flooded into Winter Park after the arrival of the railroad in 1880. They and their cohorts are the reason Winter Park still has the feel of a New England town.

Mr. Richmond was a dry goods merchant by trade--though he did try selling fire insurance in the Chicago area for a while. He and Eliza retired to Winter Park by 1900, but Edgar was down here as early as 1880 and had a wife and at least two daughters. I wonder where they are buried . . . maybe, they're here with the rest of the Richmonds, but there's just not enough room on this crowded stone to tell us?!

References:
*1860 Census, New Bedford, Bristol County, Massachusetts, page 620.
*1870 Census, Ashford, Windham County, Connecticut, page 299b.
*1880 Census, Evanston, Cook County, Illinois, page 317a; and 3rd Division, Orange County, Florida, page 439a.
*1900 Census, Winter Park, Orange County, Florida, page 40a.
*1910 Census, Winter Park, Orange County, Florida, page 205a.

Another historically-black cemetery

2008-11-07T08:00:00.000-08:00

Today's excursion takes us up to the little Seminole County town of Geneva, where ye rabbits may find the Stewart Memorial Gardens at the corner of West Osceola Road and Little Fawn Road.

I wouldn't say it's been neglected, but it certainly has a less-than-welcoming sign at its entrance. A bit off-putting, no?

Anyway, as the name implies, this burial ground was established by Charley Stewart (not the perennial Congressional candidate) back in 1921. That was the year his father, Charley, Sr., a Jamaican emigrant, died.

I didn't find the Stewart family plot, but did find this moldy old stone belonging to one Eddie Demps (9 March 1885 - 2 Dec 1941).

Mold seems to be as big an issue here as it is in the not-so-distant Drawdy-Rouse Cemetery we visited in a previous post.

I still haven't received a completely-satisfactory solution (pun intended) for cleaning mold off old tombstones.

Anyway, if you can zoom-in on the image of Mr. Demps' stone, you'll see why it caught my eye. It looks like his name and vital dates were hand-carved. What do you think?

A couple of mysteries in Eatonville

2008-11-06T07:02:00.000-08:00

Further to yesterday's post, I ask ye rabbits to jump just across Interstate 4 from Maitland to a little cemetery that you've probably seen many times as you've flown along that highway north of Orlando.

Today's hopping ground will be the Eatonville Memorial Gardens in America's oldest black-incorporated township.

Sadly, this is not a very restful spot due to the proximity to all the interstate traffic.

I was intrigued enough to visit, though, because my research indicated there is a Confederate veteran buried on the site: David C. Shaw (1838-1895), who served in Company A of Holcombe's South Carolina Cavalry Battalion during the Civil War. Unfortunately, I never did find his gravemarker. Perhaps it no longer exists. It would certainly be an oddity to find a Confederate memorial in this little corner of heaven.

As so often happens in graveyard hopping, though, I did stumble across another interesting marker.

It reads simply MARAGRET BREWING (1818-1929).

Note the spelling of the first name MarAgret, NOT MarGaret.

If the dates on her marker are accurate, this lady lived to the advanced age of 111 years!

I have not as yet been able to find any additional information on her. So, would like to issue a challenge to ye loyal followers of this blog!

A lesson in separate but not-so-equal

2008-11-05T05:09:00.000-08:00

In light of the history made at the polls yesterday, I thought today would be an appropriate time to introduce ye rabbits to the Maitland Cemetery.

Way back in 1891, the Packwood family sold 10 acres of their homestead lands on Lake Lucien to the fledgling city for a municipal cemetery.

Today, it is an urban oasis, just a hop, skip, and a jump from the bustling to-and-fro of Interstate 4. And, Maitland has become one of the busiest "satelite cities" in metro-Orlando--home to a pack of mid-rise office buildings and the RDV Sportsplex.

One of the lucky few enjoying his eternal rest in this idyllic setting is Josiah C. Eaton (1827-1892).

His stone notes that he was a native of Calais, Maine.

What it does not note is that he is the namesake of nearby Eatonville--the oldest black-incorporated town in America.

How did this happen? Why did the freemen name their new settlement after this white guy?

Well, another thing his stone doesn't tell us is that he was a Union veteran of the Civil War who came to this little corner of heaven with several of his former comrades-in-arms. They wanted to incorporate Maitland back in 1884, but state law required 30 registered voters within the proposed boundaries. So, they turned to their black neighbors--former slaves--for help.

The unexpected consequence was that the newly-registered black voters outnumbered the white Union veterans. And, when the newly-incorporated town of Maitland held its first municipal election, the black majority elected a black mayor and a black town marshal.

That's when the amicable relations between the black and white residents deteriorated.

To solve the "problem," the aforementioned Mr. Eaton agreed to sell 22 acres of his homestead lands so the black residents of Maitland could establish their own town. And, thus began official segregation in these parts.

My, what a different world we live in today, no?!

A senator in the cemetery!

2008-11-04T04:40:00.000-08:00

Well, rabbits, this fine Election Day had yours truly pondering about all the public officials who found their final resting place in this little corner of heaven. And, I wondered, which of them had attained the highest elective office.

My mom told me the former first couple Ike and Mamie had a home in Winter Park. (Back in the 60s, she helped them select the pillows for their master bedroom there.) Of course, neither of them was actually buried down here. Like so many residents today, they wanted to be buried closer to "home."

So, I turned to my database, and am now pleased to reveal the answer:

U.S. Senator Charles Oscar Andrews (1877-1946)

Andrews was one of the many folks who poured into Central Florida in the heady days of the 1920s real estate boom. In fact, he was general counsel for the Florida Real Estate Commission (1925-1928) and Orlando's City Attorney (1926-1929). He also served as our local state representative in 1927.

His national prominence was achieved several years later, in 1936, when Senator Park Trammell died in office. Andrews was appointed to completed his term, and was re-elected in his own right in 1940. Ironically, Senator Andrews himself died in office, and is buried beneath a humble marker at Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando.

Trust but verify

2008-11-03T10:05:00.001-08:00

That's what Ronald Reagan had to say about our tenuous relationship with the former Soviet Union.

The maxim also applies to obituaries.

In a post a couple of days ago, I mentioned a survey of recent local obituaries in which I found reference to three supposed burial sites in Central Florida that I had never heard of in all my hopping around this neck of the woods.

Well, as it turns out, they don't exist. Whoever prepared the obituaries in question must've gotten a little careless with the facts. The three sites mentioned were evidently the locations of some memorial services:

* Congregation of Reform Judaism - http://www.crjorlando.org/

* San Pedro Catholic Retreat - http://www.sanpedrocenter.org/

* Temple Israel - http://www.tiflorida.org/

The two Jewish burials probably occurred at either Ohev Shalom or in the Beth Israel section at Woodlawn.

The Catholic burial could have taken place just about anywhere, I guess . . .

Bottom line, don't trust everything you read in the obituary column!

A good source for Osceola County rabbits

2008-11-02T09:27:00.000-08:00

This fine Sunday morning has us hopping down to Osceola County Memory Gardens at 1717 Old Boggy Creek Road in Kissimmee.

This is not an old cemetery.

It's one of those boring new ones where they don't let you place upright gravemarkers, because it makes it easier to mow or some such nonsense.

The result is a distinct lack of character, but that's just me editorializing again . . .

I don't know when exactly this place was founded and I didn't do a thorough search of all the grave markers, but I didn't find many that predated 1970. Most, in fact, are quite recent. As noted in yesterday's post, this is one of the most active burial sites in this neck of the woods.
The oldest one that caught my eye belonged to a US Marine named Charles Gail Batton (1924-1964)--and it was not too far from a US Airman named Merle G. Batton (1919-1968).

I wondered if these two servicemen might have been brothers.

So, when I got back to the old rabbit den, I did a little searching on the internet.

I never succeeded in connecting these two Battons, but did stumble across a great website for any of you with roots in Osceola County:

http://archives.aroundosceola.com/

Searching for "BATTON," I came across two obituaries:
- Mrs. Josepine I. "Josie" Battton (1995)
- Annabelle Batton Stinebaugh (2000)

Unfortunately, neither yielded any clues for this particular case . . .

Distribution of graveyards

2008-11-01T05:23:00.000-07:00

Well, rabbits, this week yours truly conducted a very unscientific survey to determine which were the most active graveyards in this little corner of heaven.

I say "unscientific," because all I did was keep a tally while reading the obit page of the Orlando Sentinel for seven straight days--a total of 94 entries.

Here are the results with commentary:

51% of obituaries made no mention of a final resting place at all. I can only assume that this includes the increasingly large number of cremations, as well as families who simply want their privacy.

20% were either out of the area (particularly at the national cemetery in Bushnell) or out of state entirely. This definitely reflects the transient nature of Central Florida's population. Very few of us are actual natives.

That left only 29%, distributed as follows:

8 at Woodlawn in Gotha--hands-down the "winner" in the busiest graveyard category.

4 at Osceola Memory Gardens down in Kissimmee.

2 each at Greenwood-Orlando, Glen Haven Memorial Park, and Winter Garden.

1 each at Chapel Hill, Congregation of Reform Judaism (never heard of this one before!), Edgewood-Apopka, Ocoee, Palm, Pineywood, San Pedro Catholic in Winter Park (also never heard of this one before!), Temple Israel in Gotha (is this new, too?), and Washington Park.

A bird's eye view for ye rabbits

2008-10-31T08:26:00.000-07:00

Yours truly created a Google Map of all the hopping grounds already mentioned in this blog, and will commit to updating it on a weekly basis.

Happy Hallowe'en, everyone!

View Larger Map

Confederate veteran identified

2008-10-30T07:06:00.000-07:00

Today, we once again journey west of Orlando.

This time our hopping ground is the old Beulah Cemetery in Winter Garden. I say "old," because it is has the distinction of being continuously used as a graveyard longer than any other in Central Florida.

To get there, take State Road 50 to the big sign for West Orange High School, then head south on Beulah Road until it dead ends. The cemetery access road will be on your left. You may find the gate closed, as I did when I visited. In which case, you can still enter the grounds through the gap in the fence near the big oak tree pictured here.

Once inside you will see recent graves interspersed with much older ones.

The oldest one I could find on casual inspection belonged to one Andrew Jackson Dunaway (1818-1866). It caught my attention because of its poetic inscription beneath his vital dates:

Kind Father of Love
Thou art gone to thy rest
Forever to dwell
Mid the Joys of the blessed

Another thing that intrigued me was the possibility that Mr. Dunaway was a Civil War veteran, his death occurring just one year after the fighting ended. His stone certainly makes no mention of any such service, so I did a little digging.

No, not in the cemetery itself, but in the library.

In case you rabbits haven't discovered this awesome website yet, let me introduce you to the National Park Service's Civil War Soldiers & Sailors System:

http://www.civilwar.nps.gov/cwss

There, I did a search for Mr. Dunaway, and found a listing that seemed to match for a soldier that served in Company C of the 2nd Florida Cavalry.

I then cross-checked this information with another great source: Fred L. Robertson's "Soldiers of Florida," compiled in Tallahasseee back in 1904.

It confirmed that our Mr. Dunaway at Beulah was indeed a Confederate soldier!

But, it also said that he was discharged from Confederate service DUE TO OLD AGE on 12 December 1862.

According to the birthdate on his stone, he was ONLY 44 YEARS OLD when he was deemed too old to serve?!?

Hmmmm . . .

The Mizell Family - part 2 of 2

2008-10-29T06:20:00.001-07:00

Today we hop from the burial place of the patriarch of the Mizell clan in Conway up to the beautiful grounds of the city-owned Leu Botanical Gardens at 1730 North Forest Avenue in Orlando.

A lot of rabbits may not be aware that, in addition to the awesome collection of horticultural treasures and the historic Leu House, the site is also home to one of the most breathtaking and well-maintained cemeteries in this little corner of heaven. No doubt, the Mizell Cemetery helped gain the gardens entry to the National Register of Historic Properties back in 1994.

Befitting their stature in the community, a bronze marker informs garden visitors of the Mizells contributions and gives a brief genealogical account of the immediate family of Sheriff David William Mizell (1833-1870).

As mentioned in previous postings here, the Mizells became embroiled in a bloody feud with the cattle ranching Barber family. This culminated in the killing of the Sheriff in an ambush near Holopaw.

Here's the poor fellow's stone, "erected by Lula," his daughter, many years after the feud came to an end.

Note the Masonic symbol.

According to local history books, the sheriff's burial here was done under the light of a full moon--the first to be conducted as such a manner in this neck of the woods.

Tip to rabbits wishing to visit: The garden staff can sometimes be persuaded to allow access to the cemetery without paying admission to the general grounds--especially if, like yours truly, you can claim kinship to the Mizells. But, it's still worth buying a ticket to see the rest of the sights if they can't be persuaded in your particular case.

The Mizell Family - part 1 of 2

2008-10-28T12:27:00.000-07:00

You rabbits who are familiar with Orlando's history have no doubt heard the name Mizell. And, even if you're not, the name still graces a fairly-well traveled road up in adjacent Winter Park.

The name originally belonged to the family that held all the reins of power in this neck of the world during the turbulent years of Reconstruction that followed the Civil War.

In this first of two posts, I want to introduce you to the fellow who established the family here in the long, long ago: David Mizell (1808-1884). When the war was over, he was elected by his friends and family to make the arduous trip up to Tallahassee to craft a new state constitution that the occupation forces would find acceptable.

This accomplished, he returned to become the first chairman of the Orange County Commission. Furthermore, two of his sons were elected Sheriff of Orange County and one as the county judge.

Basically, in the 1870s you couldn't sneeze around here unless the Mizells said "bless you" in advance. All of this, of course, led to a lot of resentment and eventually culminated in a bloody feud with the Barber cattle ranching family. But, more on that tomorrow.

Today, I wanted to show you where the founder of the family was buried at the Conway Cemetery, south of Lake Margaret at 3401 South Conway Road in Orlando.

One might think the grave of a patriarch of such a large and powerful clan would be surrounded by those of his progeny.

But, this is not the case with the Mizells.

As you will learn tomorrow, the more "interesting" members of the family are buried at another location across town.

Stay tuned . . .

A World Series connection

2008-10-27T23:03:00.000-07:00

Well, fellow rabbits, it looks like the Tampa Bay Rays' dreams of winning the World Series are on hold tonight due to bad weather.

Their trials and tribulations up in Philadelphia this month brought to mind those of a fellow who found himself in a similar situation nearly 80 years ago.

To introduce you to his story, let's take a virtual journey a couple miles west of Orlando on the dandy toll road otherwise known as the 408 to the town of Gotha.

If you want to make a real world journey, make sure you take the Good Homes Road exit southbound til it dead ends. Then turn right, and make a quick left onto Woodlawn Cemetery Road.

This fashionable burial ground was established back in 1926, and is very well-maintained. There are quite a few notable permanent residents here, but we'll save their introductions for another day. Today belongs to a fellow by the name of James Wren "Zack" Taylor (1898-1974).

You wouldn't know it from his humble gravemarker, but Mr. Taylor was quite a successful Major League Baseball player.

In 1929, in fact, he was a catcher with the Chicago Cubs team that won the National League pennant.

Unfortunately, he and his teammates went down to defeat at the hands of the old Philadelphia Athletics. And, he didn't have a very successful time on the diamond after that. He ended up his professional career coaching, then evidently retired down here in Florida.

I wonder which team old Zack is rooting for . . .

Haunted only by mold

2008-10-26T11:10:00.000-07:00

Today, we visit a tidy little burial ground tucked into the woods just a few blocks north of the bustling intersection of University Boulevard on Rouse Road.

As the entrance marker says, the Drawdy and Rouse families established the cemetery back in 1871.

There is, however, a local legend that the cemetery is haunted by a not-so-charming fellow named Benjamin Miles, who was buried here in an umarked grave back in the 1840s.

Now, I'm not saying there is no basis for the legend, only that I haven't seen any documentary evidence of anyone by that name in the early records.

What I can tell you rabbits, however, is the older stones in this cemetery are plagued by mold.

This renders them not only unsightly, but also illegible--the latter condition being quite bothersome to those of us of a genealogical bent.

So, I am soliciting advice.

Is the solution (pun intended) a 50/50 blend of water and bleach?

I know you have to be careful with newer granite or bronze memorials. But what about older ones like the one pictured here?

The Potentially-infamous Jane Green and her mysterious gravestone

2008-10-25T08:37:00.000-07:00

If ye rabbits hop south along Boggy Creek Road behind the Orlando International Airport, you will find a quiet little cemetery established in the long ago by the Locke family just past Wetherbee Road.

I discovered the place myself several years ago while attempting to locate the final resting place of my ancestor William H. Macy who lived in this neck of the woods.

I had no luck in that endeavor, but did stumble--quite literally--upon the gravestone of one Jane Green:

A rather plain name, to be sure. An even plainer stone. So you may be asking why it caught my attention beyond the fact that it had already caught the toe of my boot.

Well, at the time, I had just finished reading Mary Ida Shearhart's gripping account of the local feud between the Barber and Mizell families. ("The Way Hit Wuz," ISBN 1-866104-15-8.) Unlike many earlier writers of local history, she didn't sugar-coat things in her work. People were people even back in the 1800s, and she made it clear that some of our Central Florida pioneers did things their descendants might not necessarily consider a source of pride. One of the more notorious individuals mentioned was one Jane Green.

It seems Jane was a widow who engaged in some unsavory business practices to pay the bills. Back in the summer of 1868, she was caught luring two cowboys named Moses Barber and Ed Summerlin into the woods near Holopaw to engage in said business. For reasons I have yet to discover, Jane wasn't prosecuted for this incident. But, both Barber and Summerlin were found guilty of adultery and fined $6,000. (Sin was expensive in those days, no?!)

The genealogist in me had to follow-up on the tidbit from Shearhart, especially after stumbling across Jane's very own grave. And, once again, I uncovered a discrepancy between what was carved into stone and the surviving US census records for Orange County:

1880 found Jane, age 45, a widow with three daughters aged 16, 18, and 20. [Page 457a.]
1900 found her, age 66, living with her daughter and son-in-law Emma and Simeon Tiner. [Page 126b.]
1910 indices didn't include her, though I didn't try to look up the Tiners.
1920 found her again, this time age 95!! She was still living with her daughter and son-in-law, though their names were given as S. & Emily Tyner. [Page 197a.]

Did you spot the discrepancy?

It's not just the obvious fudging of the year of birth. 1819 on the stone. Ca 1835 according to the 1880 record. April 1834 according to the 1900 record. And, ca 1825 according to the 1920 record.

The bigger question is this: How could she be listed in the 1920 census if her gravestone says she died in 1918?!

Hmmmm.

More than just a graveyard

2008-10-24T05:40:00.000-07:00

Something tells me the founder of Glen Haven Memorial Park and Mausoleum up in Winter Park would resent us rabbits referring to the place as a graveyard.

You see, Major Carl W. Hopps of the Army Corps of Engineers designed the place back in 1949 to be more than that.

He succeeded.

Glen Haven is perhaps one of the most serene and contemplative spots in this little corner of heaven.
Even the drive up to its front gate at 2300 Temple Drive has a calming effect on visitors.

If you follow the drive all the way to the back of the property, you will find the old office building and the original mausoleum where Major Hopps was laid to rest just a few days shy of his 92nd birthday in 1981. (Many more have been erected over the decades since the place opened.)

In the office, yours truly found an exceptionally friendly staff on hand, more than happy to answer questions and search thru their archives.

According to the records, the only "famous" burial on site--unless you count Major Hopps--is John M. Fox (1912-2003).

Don't recognize the name?

Well, don't feel too bad. Mr. Fox's "fame" wasn't attached to his name, rather to what he did. He was the founder of The Minute Maid Corporation, and the fellow responsible for popularizing the Chiquita Banana!

Most of the other memorials at Glen Haven, though, belong to less illustrious folk, including a few from my own family:

William Swinney Morgan, Jr. (1900-1960), my great-grandfather.
Erma Barco Morgan (1904-1995), his second wife.
Edith Morgan Sims (1924-1999), my great-aunt.
Richard Barco Morgan, Jr. (1955-1955), my dad's cousin who died in infancy.
Myrtle Macy Burns (1901-1986), my great-aunt.
Joseph Eugene Burns, Sr. (1901-1984), her husband.

Who survived who?!

2008-10-23T05:03:00.000-07:00

Today's graveyard excursion takes us to Oak Ridge Cemetery at 1881 Sand Lake Road in South Orlando.

Ye local rabbits have no doubt hopped right past it on your way to or from The Florida Mall.

Today, yours truly will highlight two grave markers at this location that have been a mystery to my own genealogical pursuits.

The first belongs to my great-great-great grandfather William Wright "Dink" Patrick, who returned from serving in the Confederate Army to become Sheriff of Orange County. You'd think a fellow like that would be pretty easy to document. But, note the date of death recorded on this stone: Sept 14, 1915.

Now, look at the adjacent stone of his wife Sarah Matilda (nee Ivey) Patrick. It gives her date of death as Aug. 8, 1915.

The odd thing is that I was unable to locate Dink's obituary in surviving newspaper records.

Sarah's obituary, however, made the front page on the morning after she passed away. It indicates she was a widow, and certainly does not include her husband in the rather lengthy list of survivors.
Add to this an old family photo (not in my possession, otherwise I'd scan it and post it here) that shows Sarah surrounded by a throng of extended family. They are all dressed in dark colors, seemingly in mourning. And, situated prominently in the foreground is a man's black hat. Could this photo have been taken at Dink's funeral? Could that hat have belonged to him?

These markers at Oak Ridge serve as a good follow-up to yesterday's post. Just because something is carved in stone (dates in this case), discerning graveyard rabbits should know better than to take it for granted . . . or granite, for that matter!

Written in stone?

2008-10-22T05:38:00.001-07:00

Well, rabbits, today's post takes us to a little cemetery south of downtown Orlando.

In fact, it's so little most folks wouldn't even notice it if it weren't for this new green sign the county erected recently.

The Powell Cemetery was established as a family burying ground back in the 1800s.

Yours truly has two family members buried here. The first was my great-aunt Mattie Patrick McCraney (sister of my great-great grandmother Alice Patrick Macy). The second was her young niece, whose grave marker will serve as today's reminder:

Just because it's written in stone doesn't mean you can take it for gospel!

Sometimes there is an incorrect date or year. In this case, however, it is a misspelled name.

The stone clearly gives this poor young victim of the Influenza Epidemic as Eula Mae JONES.

But, her surname was actually JOHNS.

Her parents were Charles and Maggie (Patrick) JOHNS.

Makes you wonder why nobody caught that back in 1918, doesn't it? Maybe, they got a discount from the stonecutter . . .

Memorial vs tombstone

2008-10-21T05:57:00.000-07:00

This dapper fellow is Aaron Jernigan (1813-1891), the first permanent American settler in what is now Orlando.

Disclaimer: He is also my great-great-uncle.

He is mentioned here today to remind all ye rabbits out there of the difference between memorial stones and tombstones.

You see, old Uncle Aaron is buried out at Lake Hill Cemetery in the Orlovista neighborhood just southwest of the city limits.

Sadly, Lake Hill is not as well maintained as other area cemeteries, especially when you consider it is the final resting place of so many of our pioneers. The low cinder block wall barely shields it from the hustle and bustle of adjacent Old Winter Garden Road. Yours truly has encountered vagrants on the premises on more than one occasion. Empty beer bottles and cans dot the grave sites, some of them holding wilted flowers.

Anyway, near the center of the cemetery grounds is a utility building. And, just in front of that building is this fairly recent memorial:

But, do not be confused!

This does not mark Aaron Jernigan's final resting place!

To find that, you have to turn to the right.

Just before the fence that separates Lake Hill from the Jewish interments at neighboring Ohev Shalom Cemetery, you will find the plot containing the much more humble tombstones of Aaron, his wife Mary, and many members of the extended family.

See, I told you there was a difference between memorial stones and tombstones!

(Lake Hill and Ohev Shalom are located at 5950-6000 Old Winter Garden Road, just east of Kirkman Road, west of Orlando.)

Plan now to join moonlight history stroll

2008-10-20T12:47:00.000-07:00

Mark your calendars!

11/14/08 - 9pm to 11pm

Once again, local historian and hiking guide/enthusiast Steve Rajtar will be hosting a moonlight history stroll thru Greenwood Cemetery in downtown Orlando.

The group will be limited to 50, so call the cemetery office at 407-246-2616 to claim one of the spots.

There is no cost to join the stroll, although donations will be accepted for the cemetery's tree replenishment fund. (Several old trees were lost in recent hurricanes.)

The stroll will begin at the cemetery entrance at 1603 Greenwood Street.