“I hope I can be the autumn leaf, who looked at the sky and lived. And when it was time to leave, gracefully it knew life was a gift.”
-Dodinsky
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It's been a highly unusual, and disappointing, year for so many reasons but three things have given me calm and serenity over the past eight months since Covid-19 came into my life and yours: gazing at the ocean, watching my sons play youth baseball and most recently, viewing an array of colors decorating the trees of my yard, and my workplace here in Mount Olivet. 

This past week, I gave extra attention to watching our hard-working grounds crew enact their annual process of clearing 100 acres of “the gifts of autumn," slowly browning as they crumple. That's right, for those of you who dread cleaning up the leaves in your own yard, just think about the five staff members we assign this "arboreal" task.

​This week's "Story in Stone" is no more than an ode to the beautiful foliage that graces our Mid-Atlantic domicile. Thankfully, Covid-19 didn't spoil the leaf-peep show as the vibrancy of different colors on trees is as varied as the face coverings we have been required to don this year. As October turned to November, we find ourselves fast approaching the kickoff of the holiday season with a true weather turning point in December. The brilliant leaves are dissipating, but unfortunately Covid-19 is not following suit. I have to laugh in thinking that unlike us humans, the trees certainly don't look better unmasked.

Below is a time lapse photo documentation of a favorite tree in my personal backyard, here in Frederick. It is an aptly named maple tree called "Autumn Blaze." The three photos below represent different stages over a 40-day duration from October 11th-November 20th.

In case you were wondering, autumn 2020 began on September 22nd and runs through December 21st. It is defined as the season of the year between summer and winter during which temperatures gradually decrease. It has taken on the more common name of “fall” in the United States due to the fact that leaves fall from the trees at this time.

Author Natalie Wolchover wrote an article about the season moniker (autumn) in October, 2012 for a website titled LiveScience. Here is a poignant snippet:
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"Autumn," a Latin word, first appears in English in the late 14th century, and gradually gained on "harvest, the original name for the season." In the 17th century, "fall" came into use, almost certainly as a poetic complement to "spring," and it competed with the other terms.
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Finally, in the 18th century, "harvest" had lost its seasonal meaning altogether, and "fall" and "autumn" emerged as the two accepted names for the third season. But by the 19th century, "fall" had become an "Americanism": a word primarily used in the United States and one that was frowned upon by British lexicographers.
The persistence of two terms for the third season in the United States, while somewhat of a mystery, may have something to do with the spread of English to the American continent at the very epoch when "fall" began jockeying for position with "autumn": the 17th century. At that time, both terms were adopted stateside, and the younger, more poetic "fall" gained the upper hand. Back in Britain, however, "autumn" won out. The continued acceptance of "autumn" in the United States may reflect the influence, or at least the proximity, of English culture and literature.

​I have had a few outside meetings this past year for social distancing purposes, an opportunity to walk and talk in the same vein of outdoor dining and church services. While chatting with a potential college student intern for next spring, I made an amazing discovery just a few yards off a paved lane that aligns Area LL. I spotted a several nearby flaglets (placed for Veterans Day) that had been toppled by strong winds earlier in the week. These gusts were equally troublesome in hurrying the magically colored foliage to ground. As I walked back out to the lane and rejoined my guest, my eye was caught by a gravesite and name I had never noticed before. 

​Talk about irony, as not only had I been focused intently on leaves for the last few weeks, they have made me smile in this most depressing of years. I shared the find with my meeting companion and promptly took a few pictures on my smartphone. Once back at my desk and done with said meeting, I went in search of Leafy F. Smiley.
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I first checked our cemetery database and found that she was appropriately born in spring time, like many others sharing her name. Here’s the computer-generated entry on Leafy F. Smiley: 

 ​Like “a candle in the wind” or, in our case, an autumn leaf on a tree in the same circumstance, Leafy Frances Smiley’s time here on Earth was unfortunately cut short. She grew up with two older brothers Lester Smiley (1904-1986 buried in Indian Gap Cemetery in Annville, Pennsylvania) and Golden C. (1908-1980 died in Bowie, MD). Leafy attended local schools and was the daughter of a noted mason from a long line of men specializing in the trade of bricklaying.

As a matter of fact, Leafy’s father, John William Smiley worked in this profession for over forty years as did three of his brothers. A native of Spring Creek, Virginia, he was a son of a brickmason and was descended from an early pioneer, George Smiley, a bricklayer who came to New York City about 1700 from northern England. Leafy’s mother was the former Alberta Mae Sherfey of Otterbine District, Rockingham County, Virginia. She gave birth to four children before Leafy, however two died in infancy (Mervin in 1905 and John William Jr. in 1907 and both are buried in Otterbine, VA). 

​I would later find that our subject was quite popular and possessed many friends. Leafy attended Frederick High and graduated in 1931. I saw brief newspaper mentions of attendance at area school functions and social events but not much more. I also stumbled over two family trials that luckily didn't end in tragedy for the Smiley family although terrible unto themselves and for others.

Leafy survived the car crash just a few months after graduation. However, she would die four years later,  in the heart of summer. Miss Smiley passed on July 23rd, 1935, apparently after a long illness according to her obituary. ​She would be buried in Area AA/Lot 11 two days later. ​

​In locating Leafy's interment card in our cemetery files, I found that she died of pulmonary tuberculosis. Her father would join his daughter in the family plot just four years later upon his death from a pulmonary hemorrhage at age 67 in 1939. Mrs. Alberta Smiley would die in 1954. 

​Leafy F. Smiley’s grave is shaded by a tree, but it’s no ordinary one. It's a Bradford Pear, and one here in the cemetery that appears to keep its leaves longer than any others around it. With a bit of quick research, I found that this variety of tree regularly has short lifespans and the color often develops very late in autumn resulting in leaves being killed by a hard frost before full color can develop. To me this seems fitting as Miss Leafy Smiley died before having time show her true colors. I wonder if friends and loved ones made the same parallel between your name, vivid life and premature death throughout the autumn of 1935? Rest in peace Miss Smiley, like those leaves as they find their landing places.

It’s been over 32 years since I took Psychology 101 in college, but the lessons learned then still hold true today. Working for a cemetery or funeral home, it’s more than important to be familiar with the famed Kübler-Ross model, also known as the five stages of grief. This theory postulates that those experiencing grief go through a series of five emotions: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

The model was introduced by Swiss-American psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross in her 1969 book On Death and Dying, and was inspired by research work done with terminally ill patients. Kübler-Ross originally developed stages to describe the process patients (with terminal illness) go through as they come to terms with their own deaths; it was later applied to grieving friends and family as well, who seemed to undergo a similar process. The stages, popularly known by the acronym DABDA, include:

Denial – The first reaction is denial. In this stage, individuals believe the diagnosis is somehow mistaken, and cling to a false, preferable reality.

Anger – When the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue, they become frustrated, especially at proximate individuals.

Bargaining – The third stage involves the hope that the individual can avoid a cause of grief. Usually, the negotiation for an extended life is made in exchange for a reformed lifestyle. People facing less serious trauma can bargain or seek compromise.

Depression – During the fourth stage, the individual despairs at the recognition of their mortality. In this state, the individual may become silent, refuse visitors and spend much of the time mournful and sullen.

Acceptance – In this last stage, individuals embrace mortality or inevitable future, or that of a loved one, or other tragic event. People dying may precede the survivors in this state, which typically comes with a calm, retrospective view for the individual, and a stable condition of emotions.

Well, I’ve learned that aspects of this model can be applied to less serious losses than the lives of loved ones, relatives, friends, pets, acquaintances and even celebrity heroes. What about relationship break-ups? Other disappointments can cut deep as well, be them sports playoff defeats of your favorite team, concert ticket sell-outs, and the closing of a beloved restaurant. Timely, as I write this, what about Covid-19 event cancellations or candidate election losses?

Of course none of these situations rival or come close to the loss of a human life, or even that of a pet for that matter--I'm just being facetious. However, they are disappointments that all of us encounter and have to fight through in our own way. Currently, I can add another example of a life experience to apply the grief stage model, and it's one that I've been dealing with for over a week. The case at hand—the pivotal loss of a “one of a kind" eBay auction that would have aided my dream of creating a museum for Mount Olivet Cemetery. The museum is still on the table, but I missed out on a key artifact that would aid us in telling the story of the cemetery's creation and rich heritage, but more importantly, highlighting many of the fascinating people that “rest in peace” here. The auction in question ended on November 7th, but I feel that I am still fighting through the Depression stage (Step 4). Now for the backstory.

On November 1st, I stumbled upon a very unique item on the online auction website eBay. The site has been very good to me over the last 23 years since I made my first bid. Since that time I have won hundreds of auctions and added to my repository of Frederick History memorabilia and artifacts. Over the last four years, since I have been at Mount Olivet and writing this blog, I have bid on items relating to past stories. 

I’ve scored some letters from Francis Scott Key, postcards of the Barbara Fritchie burial ceremony here in 1913, an advertisement for Wizard Soap made by the Hogg brothers buried in Area H, a calling card signed by famed stage actor Robert Downing, an autograph scrapbook belonging to Maryland’s prettiest girl Clara MacAbee and the list goes on. However, the recent item in question was an early daguerreotype of a young man named William A. Ebert. I immediately checked our cemetery database and found William Augustus Ebert (1820-1851) buried on Area H, not far from our recently-downed Confederate monument and Confederate Row. This was definitely the same individual, and I also learned from the description on eBay that he was a “whitesmith.” I will attempt to explain that term in a minute.
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For those not familiar with early photography methods, daguerreotypes always came in protective cases, often made of leather and lined with silk or velvet. The photos, themselves, were made on highly polished silver plates. Depending on the angle at which you view them, they can look like a negative, a positive or a mirror. If exposed to the air, the silver plate will tarnish.

Not only was this a rarity, finding a photo of a Frederick resident taken before 1851, but more so a major discovery for me as cemetery historian, because the subject at hand was the victim of a terrible accident and subsequently buried here in Mount Olivet.
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The auction’s seller was in nearby Westminster and this rare 19th century sixth plate daguerreotype, the most popular of its kind, measuring  3 and a 1/4" X 2 and 3/4", came in its original pocket display case and included a few old newspaper clippings of Mr. Ebert’s death, and an additional bonus— a small lock of hair. I immediately decided to bid and crossed my fingers in hopes to win this auction for the cemetery, and reunite the daguerreotype with the actual decedent so to speak.

So before I tell you of William’s tragic fate, I want to explain the term “whitesmith,” as I was unfamiliar with this profession, or at least the name. I was tipped off in the obituary that our subject was a craftsman who worked with guns and that “whitesmith” was used in conjunction with “gunsmith.”

​This was still a bit confusing and a simple Google search brought me to a glossary of terms on a website for Classic American Gunsmith LLC (classicamericangunsmith.com) located in Charlottesville, VA. In addition to obvious gunsmith services, the site has an extensive archive of blogs and history related to the making and repair of firearms. The fore-mentioned glossary of terms found on the site gave me the following knowledge:
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IN THE WHITE
Being in the white means that a metal part has no coating on it. It has not been anodized, blued, parkerized, Cerakoted, etc. As such it is vulnerable to environmental conditions and prone to oxidation (rust). As an example, if a blued gun barrel has a dovetail machined into it, the exposed silver colored area is said to be in the white.

I believe that this phrasing comes from gunsmiths (and the blacksmiths who came before them) association with whitesmiths. A whitesmith is either a craftsman who makes, repairs, or modifies things made from pewter or tin, or a craftsman associated with finishing or polishing iron before it was browned, blued, etc. Thus, metal just before it is ready to finish (browning, bluing, etc.) is said to be in the white.

I find the relationship between the “exposed silver” of a gun part rusting to the potential for tarnishing of the silver plate of a daguerreotype if exposed to air. Maybe our subject (and his family) had a hand in making or finishing daguerreotypes in addition to guns? Maybe these daguerreotypes were the work of William and the Eberts?

​Whatever the case, William A. Ebert’s profession would sadly cost him his life.  I will include the auction picture of the clippings that give provenance to the item, but I found a like article about the tragedy in a Baltimore newspaper and also within the diary of Frederick resident, Jacob Engelbrecht.

Well, our Mount Olivet database had a bit of the story and showed that William Augustus was born on October 7th, 1830 and was the son of Benjamin Ebert (1802-1868) as Engelbrecht stated and wife Caroline Maria (Birely) Ebert (1810-1875). He was 14 days from his 21st birthday, not that the number is all that important as he apparently did not drink, being a member of the local chapter of the “Sons of Temperance.” (Of course that’s a joke, as I know that official drinking ages were arbitrary in those days.)
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With the help of some primary sources, I was lucky to find a little more info regarding the background of the Ebert family, including some connections to the fore-mentioned Frederick Civil War heroine Barbara Fritchie and the local legend’s birthplace of Lancaster, Pennsylvania. 

William Augustus’ maternal grandmother was Maria Rebecca (Fritchie) Ebert, sister of John Caspar Fritchie—husband of Barbara (Hauer) Fritchie. William’s paternal grandfather (John Ebert) was a skindresser and glovemaker, which was the family trade of the famed Fritchies. Benjamin Ebert appears to have been engaged in his father’s business but diarist and neighbor Jacob Engelbrecht mentioned in his diary that Benjamin and a friend/business partner, named John Cook, went to Lancaster, Pennsylvania on May 25th, 1829.

Jacob’s thought was that this move was in relation to Ebert taking his knowledge and skill of skin dressing and glovemaking there. However, another source would reveal that Benjamin really removed to Lancaster in order to learn the trade of gunsmithing. 

Benjamin’s father and brothers, John M. and Valerius (a future mayor of Frederick), were practicing the skindressing trade next door and to the immediate west of Mr. Engelbrecht. The Fritchies were involved in the same. The Eberts and Engelbrechts operated their businesses just east of Carroll Creek on the north side of Patrick street and directly across from the modern-day Barbara Fritchie House/Air B&B. 

A second mention (in Engelbrecht’s diary) from late December of that year talked of a double wedding featuring both Benjamin and Caroline Birely, and Ebert’s friend/associate John Cook and his bride. This occurred back in Frederick on Christmas Eve (1829) and the ceremony was officiated by Rev. David Schaefer of the Lutheran Church and War of 1812 local hero. The couples were said to have headed back to Lancaster afterwards. Interestingly, our subject, William Augustus was born exactly nine months and 14 days later.

I asked one of my research assistants, Marilyn Veek, to search for info on the Ebert business and the location of the gun repair/whitesmith shop. After a few hours of digging, she said that an 1843 directory of Lancaster, as quoted in the 1922 Historical Papers and Addresses of the Lancaster County Historical Society, shows Benjamin Ebert, tailor, on the n. side of the 3rd square on King Street, and Benjamin Ebert, gentleman, on the s. side of that square. Were these different men or one in the same? I’m guessing the latter and a separation between business workshop and home residence.

According to the 1850 census, five children were born to the Eberts while residing in Pennsylvania, at least sometime between 1833-1846:. These included: John, Samuel Birely, Caroline, Emma and Augustus. Another child, Rebecca Maria was born in Frederick in 1850.

​Marilyn shared with me the fact that Benjamin had bought what was 67 W. Patrick (now 131-133 W. Patrick on the north side at the bend) back in 1850. This is part of West Patrick Street Square and sits across the street from the County Courthouse Parking Deck. I strongly think this was the scene of William’s unfortunate shooting accident in September, 1851.

Another interesting online source provided additional provenance and this was the website of the Kentucky Rifle Foundation. The website told me that:

“Benjamin and his son John were general gunsmiths prior to the Civil War and were located on the south side of Patrick Street west of Bentz Street in Frederick. By the 1880s they were advertising as Benjamin Ebert & Son at 67 West Patrick Street. In 1895 they were advertising hardware and carriages.”

The Portrait and Biographical Record of the Sixth Congressional District (Chapman Publishing, 1898) which features a bio of William Augustus Ebert’s younger brother, Augustus, discusses father Benjamin going to Lancaster and learning gunsmithing there. It says that Benjamin's shop, the one in question, was just across the street from Augustus' "present place of business" in Frederick, likely a property later known as "the repository", which Benjamin had bought in 1864 as the result of an equity case involving the will of John Casper Fritchie. An abstract says that this property had a gunsmith shop on it.
 
Benjamin Ebert died in 1868. In 1883, his sons Samuel B., John and Augustus (who had been trading under the name B. Ebert & Sons) dissolved the partnership. Samuel sold all of his interest in the property, stock in trade, money, property and assets to John and Augustus. Ebert & Sons, hardware merchants and carriage builders, went bankrupt in 1907. The bankruptcy and end of the family business occurred just a few months after a devastating fire swept their location on West Patrick Street (at the Bend), said to have been one of the worst in Frederick's history.

So let’s get back to William Augustus Ebert. He was originally buried at the Lutheran Church graveyard on E. Church Street as Mount Olivet was not in existence until 1854, three years after his death. 

Our records show he was moved here on July 10th, 1856. He would be joined on the family plot (Area G/Lot 202) by his father in 1868, and his mother seven years later. ​

​Other family members in this lot include William Augustus’ brother Samuel B. (d. 1880), Sisters Emma C. Ebert (d. 1904) and Rebecca Maria Ebert (d. 1914). Sister Caroline (Ebert) Winebrenner is in the lot immediately to the right, and brothers John M. and Augustus who are roughly 75 yards away in Area Q/Lot 139.

I painfully researched, and shared the family tree because of the fact that there were other Ebert daguerreotypes that were up for auction from that same seller a few weeks back. They all came from the same original source, some current day descendant of Benjamin Ebert. I’m thinking that these were William Augustus’ siblings.....but who is who?

​One additional daguerreotype in this collection went for several hundred dollars. I initially thought this to be a brother, but now I think it could be a second image of William Augustus, as he looks similar to my elusive daguerreotype and is wearing what appears to be a military uniform. Those regular readers of this blog have been told on more than one occasion that our early Frederick fire companies doubled as militia units. Since William Augustus Ebert was a member of the Junior Fire Company, I’d bet that he is pictured here in his Junior Defenders uniform.

Well, researching and writing this week’s “Story in Stone” has been somewhat therapeutic. I will always be upset with myself over “the one that got away,” but I will soon enter the Acceptance stage of the Kübler-Ross model. I'm just so glad that I saw the auction in the first place and was able to add to our documentation of this early family of not only our town, but also our cemetery.

A few months back, I wrote a “Story in Stone” to help commemorate the 75th anniversary of “V-J Day” (victory over Japan Day). It featured the gravesites and associated stories of just a handful of our 4,000+ veterans buried within Mount Olivet. This was a great early prelude to the annual events we acknowledge here at the cemetery this late time of the year—Veterans Day and Wreaths Across America Day. Veterans Day, as always, is November 11th and originated with Armistice Day, the official surrender of the enemy during World War I on November 11th, 1918. 

We take the opportunity to plant flaglets on the graves of veterans throughout the cemetery, a task which has also been performed by the local American Legion on Memorial Day. Wreaths Across America is a national program that grew out of Arlington National Cemetery and began in 1992 when the Worcester Wreath of Maine found themselves with a surplus of wreaths nearing the end of the holiday season. Today, over 2,100 cemeteries in all 50 states participate in this amazing endeavor.

​Veterans Day is distinct from Memorial Day in that it celebrates the service of all U.S. military veterans, while Memorial Day honors those who had died while in military service. In either case, you can never thank these people and fellow Americans enough because they are incredibly special, and most are equally humble about their service. They leave their families and put their health, safety and lives on the line for one reason—to fight for our country, and for our freedom. In a world of selfishness, these have already, or are currently putting our needs before their own. Without Veterans Day, many Americans would forget them and the sacrifices they made. Sadly, many don’t care or are too stupid to even understand that freedom isn’t free.

​With the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II, I wanted to put the spotlight on the several hundreds of local men and women buried in Mount Olivet who served in this conflict. Although not here in our cemetery, my grandfather was career Army and served in World War II. He saw action in France and Germany as part of the Battle of the Bulge, unfortunately getting captured near a town named Kesternich in December, 1944. He would spend months in German POW camps. However, he was fortunate enough to return to the states and tell his tale. His wife's brother (my great uncle) was not so lucky, killed as part of a tank division in eastern France and resting in peace at Lorraine National Cemetery in St. Avold, France.

This week, I commend all the Mount Olivet  vets, but especially those who participated in World War II. As representative of those amazing patriots, I'd like to feature a few more of those buried beneath our World War II Memorial in Area EE. This was dedicated on Memorial Day, 1948 and also serves as the site of our Wreaths Across America kickoff ceremony each year.

​We have 30 soldiers buried here, and I have chronicled 14 of them over the past four years in which I have been writing this weekly blog. Thanks to the tireless efforts of my assistant Sylvia Sears, I will share with you brief biographies on six more of these men—all having made the ultimate sacrifice. And instead of me writing biographies here, I will let old newspaper clippings and photographs tell their stories.

Franklin E. Baker was in his mid-thirties when he lost his life in Paris, France during the summer of 1945. The former Frederick businessman resided on the east side of town and owned a taxicab business and a tobacco shop. He took up the fight, enlisting at Fort Meade on April 11th, 1944. Baker soon found himself in Europe after training in South Carolina.

The infantry soldier apparently received a wound in battle which hampered him afterwards. He joined the Visitors Bureau of the US Armed Forces. In August of 1945, PFC Baker died in a military hospital while recuperating from a previous wound. Four years later, his body would be returned to Frederick, and a solemn funeral service took place at Mount Olivet Cemetery on August 4th, 1949.

From one "Baker" to another, Norman M. Wachter left his job at the G & L Bakery in Frederick for the European Theater. While serving as a private in the 135th Infantry of the 34th Division, he survived fighting in North Africa. In May, 1944, he would be killed in battle on the beach at Anzio, Italy.

This Mountaindale native worked for Frederick Iron & Steel before joining the Army in April, 1943. He would serve in the 397th Infantry. Ten days before the launch of the Germans "Battle of the Bulge," Pvt. "Tom" Hossler would lose his life in France on December 5th, 1944.

A last name that appears in several places within Downtown Frederick, this decedent had nothing to do with nearby locales such as Fleming Avenue, once part of a farmstead owned by the family of the same name. I soon realized that I pass his former home regularly as I drive through Baker Park. Richard Fleming, a native of Illinois,  enlisted in the service before he was 18, and was accepted to various  officer training programs but settled on the University of Florida. He made his way to Europe by sea in late November, 1944. Fleming was captured by the Germans on the second day of the Battle of the Bulge (Dec. 16th, 1944). He spent the remaining months of his life in a series of German POW camps, where he developed pneumonia and was released to a hospital in Germany, and then sent to England.

Sharing the Fleming name, this gentleman was no known relation and hailed from Carroll County. As a member of the 357th infantry, he saw heavy fighting in early 1945 as the Allies pushed across the Siegfried Line into Germany. He would lose his life at age 24 as a result of flying shrapnel from an enemy artillery shell. This occurred at a place called Winterspelt (Germany), near the Belgian-Germany border, not far from the famed St. Vith.

I found this passage in George von Roeder's Regimental History of the 357th, and it sheds a little light on the scene PFC Fleming found himself at the time of his death:

​"On the 29th (January), the 2nd battalion crossed the Our River in the face of heavy machine gun and mortar fire and took up positions on the high ground to the west. The Regiment was now deployed in three countries: Luxembourg, Belgium, and Germany (the Our River marked the western German boundary). The remainder of the Division was attacking to the northeast and the mission of the 357th was to protect the Division’s right flank and block from that direction.

On the 6th of February, the 357th was relieved by elements of the 6th Armored Division and moved northeast into Germany to an assembly area in the vicinity of Winterspelt. This was where the Siegfried line began, as well as some more hard fighting. The Division now had the job of driving through these fortifications. The initial attack during the night of the 7th gained some ground due to surprise and the advantage of darkness, but the dawn brought a deluge of fire from all types of weapons, firing from pillboxes seemingly located everywhere. The ensuing days brought a series of actions, fierce in nature and difficult to record.

German artillery and Nebelwerfer fire was heavy and accurate, causing many casualties. The pillboxes were well constructed and expertly placed. Whole platoons of the infantrymen disappeared as a result of a German tactic of giving up a pillbox easily, then subjecting it to artillery and mortar fire, forcing the attackers inside for shelter. It was then simply a matter of covering the doorway with fire, surrounding the pill box after dark, and blowing it in. This tactic that was short lived, however, and the men soon learned that it was safer outside of the fortifications than inside. The Germans learned this to as well-placed satchel charges blew their shelters to bits."

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Early in the war, Garland Z. Hightman served as the Chief Clerk of the local Frederick Draft Board. He held this post until, he, himself was inducted into the military. After attending various training camps, he was sent to Europe. Not more than six months there, while serving with the Coast Artillery Corps, Hightman was seriously injured when the vehicle he was traveling in hit a roadside land mine in Holland. He would die ten days later.

Garland went to Baltimore to enlist his services in the military on July 19th, 1943.

On this Veterans Day, 2020, thanks and praise once again should go to all of these men, and the 4,000 other men and women resting in peace in Frederick's Mount Olivet Cemetery. 

Halloween (a contraction of "All Hallows' evening") aka Allhalloween, is a celebration observed in many countries on October 31st, the eve of the Western Christian feast of All Hallows' Day. It begins the observance of Allhallowtide, the time in the liturgical year dedicated to remembering the dead, including saints (hallows), martyrs, and all the faithful departed.

Well then, that completely explains the iconic symbols associated with the day (Halloween), at least in terms to pop culture. Fittingly, graveyards have played an important role in the real commemoration of the dead, obviously. But this also holds true in the commercially-based, candy and costume-riddled version because one could hypothetically find many iconic Halloween-oriented objects within a burial ground, or cemetery. Take ours for example. We have a few jack-o-lanterns, and I’m sure a random bat or two, but I am pleased to report that I have not encountered a ghost, witch, warlock, vampire or werewolf in my five years of working at Mount Olivet. However, I must confess that we are not short on tombstones, coffins, skeletons and skulls. Well, we are short on one of the latter, but I will get to that later.

A friend, and former work colleague of mine, Ron Angleberger, and myself, have been conducting candlelight walking tours of Mount Olivet since 2013. The majority of these nocturnal sojourns have occurred in advance of Halloween, and for good reason. Ron certainly has more experience in the “macabre” tour game as he is the brains behind the popular Downtown Frederick Ghost Tours. I’m no slouch either, as I can certainly ”carry my water” as the historian and preservation manager of this historic garden cemetery and love conducting these tours as well. That said, we continue to both try our best to reverently “wow” visitors with the amazing history and stories of those buried here in Mount Olivet’s past. Over the years, the cavalcade of tour patrons has ranged from kids to teens, young couples to middle-agers up to seniors.

This fall, I decided to step back from conducting the general public tour, allowing Ron to take the lead. I, instead, have concentrated on developing/delivering tours to our Friends of Mount Olivet membership group, not to mention students associated with Frederick Community College’s Institute for Learning in Retirement (ILR) program.

​One common stopping place, on all of these sojourns, has been a particular hillside gravesite in Area F. Lot 25 to be exact. It belongs to one of the cemetery’s founding members, while the site itself, represents only one of two built-in, ornamental crypt tombs in our cemetery. His story and final “resting” place has Halloween written all over it.

​The gravesite of James and Ann Whitehill is one to behold, even though it took on a more prominent air in olden days. Today, it just seems a bit more subdued in contrast to its former reputation as representing the prominent, strong-willed resident that it would hold for eternity. This has been the case for the past 15 years, dating back to some unfortunate events which occurred here in early 2005. More about that later, as I think I should start by telling you a bit about the “souls” encrypted here, but they were anything from poor!

The Whitehills
Instead of re-inventing the wheel, I have gladly turned to an old friend of mine, Joyce Cooper,  for expertise on our prime subject this week as she wrote a comprehensive biography on this gentleman and his family for the Fall 2002 edition of the Journal of the Historical Society of Frederick County, Maryland. Joyce relocated to Walton, Kentucky years ago with her family. Thanks to FaceBook, I have her secured as a friend, only a simple “Messenger” message away these days.

I fondly recall the assistance, support and expertise received in my early research and documentary endeavors from the article’s author, Joyce Cooper, a former teacher and longtime staff member of the Historical Society. In respect to James Whitehill, she performed exhaustive research in an effort to glean more about this man because of his connection to many of the items residing in the Society’s archival and artifact collection. Whitehill was a prominent businessman in town and had his hand in all kinds of endeavors, the greatest of which was furniture making, primarily from a location that is very much known today by locals and visitors alike—the National Museum of Civil War Medicine.
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Joyce did an amazing job in capturing the vivid events of a difficult childhood for Mr. Whitehill caused by an abusive father. However haunted his early life seems, James seemed to keep his head on straight and would rise to become one of Frederick’s leading citizens in his adult life—a true testament to human resiliency. Sadly, he did not have much opportunity to reverse the cycle of fathering to his own son, as a lone child would die as an infant at six months of age.

James C. Whitehill by Joyce C. Cooper
James Whitehill’s ancestral roots were firmly anchored in the British Isles.  While his maternal great-great-great grandparents emigrated from England, his paternal great-grandparents, James and Rachel Cresswell Whitehill, arrived in America from Renfrewshire, Scotland.  They married in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where they spent the rest of their lives.  Their son David Whitehill, born May 24, 1743, married Rachel Clemson in Salisbury Township, Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.  The children born to David and Rachel exhibited the wanderlust typical of the period, most of them spreading into central and western Pennsylvania.  Their son John, however, moved to Maryland where he married his fifteen year old first cousin, Mary Clemson, a daughter of John and Elizabeth Haines Clemson.
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Following their marriage in August of 1795, John and Mary set up housekeeping on a farm near Libertytown, Maryland, owned by Mary’s father.  Mr. Clemson allowed them to live rent-free for two years, and provided them with “two horses, some other valuable stock, and household and kitchen furniture.”  The young couple may have had a difficult time financially, for Mr. Clemson rented  the farm to them for several more years at a “moderate rent much below the real value.”

Three children were born to John and Mary Whitehill during their first five years of marriage, with three more surviving children being born by 1815. James Clemson Whitehill, their second child and first son, was born August 12th, 1798.  Unfortunately, young James and his siblings must have known times of great unhappiness during their childhood years, based on evidence found in court records.  A “Bill of Complaint of Mary Whitehill” addressed to “the Honorable Judges of Frederick County sitting as a court of Chancery,” dated April 20, 1815 and presented by John Clemson, Mary’s father and “next friend,” details a life of spousal abuse.
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Mary’s complaint paints a graphic picture of a hard-working woman struggling with a husband who “day after day...was rioting in taverns or wasting their mutual gains in the most criminal debauchery.”  Somewhat balancing the aggrieved wife’s statement was the testimony of Leonard Six, taken October 16, 1818 by the court.  The abstract of his testimony says that “Whitehill, when in a state of intoxication was a high tempered man, but not apt to get out of humor unless he is brought to it.  That when sober, he was as good a tempered man and sociable neighbor as he would wish to live beside.”

Good neighbor that he might have appeared to be to outsiders, John’s wife alleged that she had suffered John Whitehill’s abuse in silence for most of her nearly twenty years of marriage, hoping to “at least ward off his unkindness” by being a loving and good wife.  Rather than showing her respect, if not love, he beat her severely and repeatedly.  Finally, one April evening he threatened to kill her if she did not leave their home in one minute.  Their oldest daughter, Rebecca, described to the court the horrible scene played out before the children:

I was present at the time of the separation of John Whitehill and Mary Whitehill.  He said if she did not go he would murder her.  She begged for God’s sake that he would spare her life.  That she wanted to live with her children.  The more she begged, the more he swore.  He said he had sworn the hardest oath that a man could swear.  That she would go and would give her but one minute to clear herself or he would murder her.  These threats were made in the house.  Mary Whitehill was suddenly driven off without any clothing more than those she was wearing.  A horse was brought for her to ride away on by order of John Whitehill who helped her on.  ‘Twas near sunset.  She went alone except having her infant child with her.

Certain court records indicate that Mary returned to her father’s home. 

On March 9, 1826, over ten years after Mary’s initial bill of complaint, the court annulled John Whitehill’s parental control and gave Mary custody of her minor children.  Hopefully, the court also ruled in Mary’s favor on her request that John Whitehill make “adequate and valuable provisions” for her financially.  Her case was pressing, for her husband had “lately given out that he will speedily leave this state and go into some one of the Western states to reside,” a move that would endanger Mary’s claim and make it “difficult for the complainant to recover the same.”

John Whitehill died in 1829, but Mary lived until March of 1862.  At the time of the 1850 Federal Census, she lived in her own home near Libertytown a few doors from the homes of her brother John Clemson and her nephew Dennis Clemson.

By the time Mary won her custody case, her two older daughters had married, and her son James had embarked on his career as a furniture maker.  He announced his business in the December 14, 1822 issue of the Frederick Herald.
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James Whitehill
Cabinet-Maker
 
Respectfully informs his friends and the public generally, that he has commenced business in
Liberty-Town, and is now prepared to execute any kind of work in his line, in the most fashionable
and substantial manner, and on very accommodating terms. He also intends to keep on hand a
Supply of furniture neatly finished, and by his diligence and industry hopes to be liberally patronised [sic] by the public

Seven years later he announced the opening of his business on East Patrick Street in Frederick in the April 25, 1829 issue of the Frederick’s newspaper, The Examiner.
Furniture
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The subscriber would notify the citizens of Frederick-town and county that he has removed to Frederick, and purposes carrying on the Cabinet and Chair Making Business extensively.  His shop is in Patrick-street, nearly opposite the store of Mr. Stuart Gaither, where he can supply all kinds of furniture either of mahogany, walnut or cherry; also plain and elegant chairs.  All orders promptly attended to, and the Work executed in the best manner. Two Journeymen Cabinet-makers who are sober, industrious, good workmen, will find immediate employment.

James Whitehill

​His move to Frederick was not the only major change in James Whitehill’s life that transpired in 1829.  On February 9, 1829 he married nineteen-year-old Ann Campbell, daughter of Bennett and Catherine Devilbiss Campbell.  In addition to the Devilbiss family, Ann’s ancestral lines included such early Frederick families as the Barricks (Bergs), Herzogs, and Stulls.  Just where the newlyweds lived is unknown, but the 1850 Census lists them on East Patrick Street, probably living over his shop.

​According to the 1850 census information, James owned some $10,000 in real estate.  He had $3000 invested in the business, with an inventory of wood valued at $1200, hardware valued at $500, and finished furniture worth $500.  The manufactory, employing seven men whose salaries totaled $175 monthly, relied on hand power.  His household included James himself, his wife Ann, John Flanagan (age 17) and Margaret Hanes (age 11).  John Flanagan may have been an employee, and Margaret Hanes was likely a relative of Ann Whitehill.  No children are listed, for the only known child of the Whitehills, a son named James Campbell Whitehill, would not be born until 1852 and lived only six months. 

​James Whitehill and his employees conducted several branches of business at the East Patrick Street location for nearly four decades.  Foremost was the manufacture and sale of furniture and an associated activity—coffin making.  In addition to coffins, Whitehill offered for sale the “Fisk Metallic Burial Case” with a rosewood finish in his January 9, 1856 advertisement in the Frederick Examiner.  

​Whitehill’s third branch of business was selling lumber and other building materials.  The Examiner of January 4, 1854 contains his advertisement for shingles, lathe and lumber.  In March of 1856, a Maryland Union advertisement announced to the public that he had “just received 150,000 Cypress Shingles, of very superior quality” as well as lumber, lathe, sash, blinds, doors, windows, and frames.  A detailed advertisement found in the Maryland Union newspaper ran for several weeks in the spring of 1856:

Engelbrecht identified another construction project when he wrote, “Nearly the whole winter and at this time Mr. James Whitehill is putting up three small brick buildings at the depot.  Remarkable mild season this.  Friday January 22, 1858.”  In his will, Whitehill seemed to refer to this completed project, describing it as “six brick houses known as ‘Whitehill’s Row’ near the lower depot of the B & O Railroad.” 

Jacob ​Engelbrecht provided further information on Whitehill’s changing business activities in his Wednesday, November 7, 1866 entry: “’Lumber yard’ –John C. Hardt and Hiram M. Keefer bought from James Whitehill his lumberyard in East Patrick Street.  They took possession on Monday morning last.” 
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This sale involved only a portion of Whitehill’s complete property.  In 1870 Whitehill retired from the furniture business, which was purchased and carried on by Clarence C. Carty and his descendants for many years.

Though retired, Whitehill launched another business venture, purchasing the “brick yard, lime kiln and dwelling out Church Street below and South of the Gas House for $7000 from John A. Steiner,”  according to Engelbrecht’s diary entry for April 13, 1870.  He operated this business until his death.

Perhaps his involvement in the construction business stimulated his inventiveness.  The United States Patent Office holds Whitehill’s application for Patent No. 26,061, dated November 8, 1859.  The letter that accompanies his detailed drawings begins:

To all whom it may concern:

Be it known that I, James Whitehill, of Frederick, in the county of Frederick and State of Maryland, have invented a new and usefull (sic) improvement in Hot Air Furnaces; and I do hereby declare that the following is a full, clear, and exact description of the same, reference being had to in the accompanying drawings, forming a part of this specification…”

Whitehill’s design involved a double firebox, allowing for the use of one or both parts to heat the air in the chamber between them.  Thus, the temperature of the air in the chamber could be somewhat regulated to accommodate the needs of the homeowner as the weather fluctuated.
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But James Whitehill was not solely a man of business; he took an active part in community affairs—religious, civic, and political.  He was an active member of the Methodist Episcopal Church, being one of the trustees named when an act of the General Assembly of Maryland incorporated the Frederick Methodist Episcopal Church in 1840.

​In 1841 the church purchased a property fronting on East Church Street and extending northward to Market Space, roughly the area now occupied by the Church Street parking deck.  The congregation quickly began work on a new 45’ x 75’ building, complete with a basement and galleries.  James Whitehill served on the building committee for this structure, shown in the 1854 lithograph View of Frederick, Maryland as a two-story structure fronted by a wide stairway leading to the three front doors.  Unlike most of Frederick’s other church buildings, the Methodist Episcopal Church boasted no spire.

Another area of Whitehill’s sphere of community involvement was the establishment of Mt. Olivet Cemetery.  Churches and cemeteries were closely related in Frederick during the first hundred years of its history, when several congregations maintained their own graveyards, often behind their buildings.  By the middle of the nineteenth century, however, these cemeteries were nearly full.  The community urgently needed a new burial ground.  Therefore, the Judges of the Circuit Court incorporated a sizeable group of men—including James Whitehill, William J. Ross, Richard Potts and John Loats—as the Mt. Olivet Cemetery Company in October of 1852.  The next year lots and driveways were laid out on the thirty-two acre cemetery property.  In May of 1854 the cemetery received its first burial.  Jacob Engelbrecht reported:
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The first corpse buried on the New Cemetery—Mrs. Ann Crawford, who died at the house of Mr. James Whitehill on Sunday evening, May 28, 1854 was buried on “Mount Olivet Cemetery.”  This was the first burial on the cemetery since they dedicated it—there had been several bones removed the week or two before.  Old Mr. Baltzell and wife (father and mother of Doctor Baltzell & several others.  Reverend Alexander E. Gibson officiating Minister (of Methodist Episcopal Church).  Tuesday May 30, 1854.  7 o’clock A.M.

Yet another of Whitehill’s avocations made its way into Engelbrecht’s detailed diary entries.  The diarist often recorded details of political affairs at all levels of government.  As early as the 1830s, James Whitehill appears as a frequent candidate and sometimes winner in Frederick’s elections for Board of Alderman and Common Council.  Perhaps politics ran in the Whitehill blood, for several of his Pennsylvania relatives were politicians; at least three served terms in Congress during the first quarter of the nineteenth century. 

Jacob Engelbrecht chronicled Whitehill’s political career, starting with his unsuccessful run for a seat on Frederick’s Common Council in 1835.  He met with success in the 1836 election, and was chosen to fill the seat of a deceased Council member in 1850.  In each of the next five years, Whitehill was re-elected to the Council.  In the 1862 election for Aldermen, he—and all the other Union Party candidates—won easily, for they ran unopposed, there being no “Rebel” party candidates.

Talk of disunion disturbed Frederick citizens, inspiring a group of them to form a Union Club on February 11, 1860.  They chose James Whitehill as their president.  Soon every district within the county had its Union Club.  Members of these clubs raised Union flags, sang patriotic songs, and pledged their loyalty to the Union. 

​The war years made normal civilian life difficult, if not impossible.  Frederick endured the movements of and occupations by thousands of Federal and Confederate troops, especially during September of 1862, July of 1863, and July of 1864.  Following the 1862 battles of South Mountain and Antietam, Frederick played a major role in caring for sick and wounded soldiers of both armies.  Research shows that nearly all public buildings, including most churches, were converted into hospital wards, and James Whitehill’s Methodist Episcopal Church was not exempted.  It, with the nearby Lutheran Church and Winchester Seminary (Frederick Female Seminary, now Winchester Hall), formed General Hospital #4.  Between September 17, 1862 and January 17, 1863 over 900 men were treated in this hospital complex.
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In addition to seeing his church used for war purposes, Whitehill saw his primary business change from the furniture manufacture and sale to the undertaking trade, with the establishment of an embalming station in his store.  A broadside advertised an embalming station operated by Dr. Richard Burr, embalming surgeon for the United States Army, with its office located at “Jas. Whitehill and Co.’s, Undertakers, E. Patrick Street.”  In addition to undertaking, James Whitehill provided coffins, wooden headboards, and hospital furnishings to General Hospital #1 located in and around the Hessian Barracks on the south side of town.

​Again, thanks to the Historical Society of Frederick County and in particular, Joyce Cooper and her incredible research, allowing me to tell you the rest of the Whitehill story and how it pertains to Mount Olivet Cemetery, and Halloween.

​In 1867, the Whitehills moved from their East Patrick Street home to a large house on the west side of North Market Street at Eighth Street. The home is located at 731 N. Market Street and was originally built by Hiram Winchester, female seminary principal and namesake of Winchester Hall (Frederick County's seat of government). Winchester sold this to Whitehill for $4,550, a hefty price for the time.  The house became the Frederick City police station and jail in the mid-fifties and remained so until 1982. In December, 2016, this building was opened as the Frederick Rescue Mission’s “Faith House,” a temporary shelter for homeless women and children.

​James Whitehill experienced poor health in his final years. An article from February, 1874 gives us a glimpse of the condition he found himself in.

His health further declined in the ensuing months. James Clemson Whitehill died on July 13th, 1874.  He was buried in a fine funerary crypt In Mount Olivet built into the southeast side of Cemetery Hill (also once referred to as Pumphouse Hill).  His funeral occurred on July 15th and it can be assumed that it was well-attended.

​Ann Whitehill would pass on April 8th, 1887. The cause of death was the same given as her late husband-—heart disease.

So that was that, the Whitehill family was resting in peace—but even this age-old cemetery-centric cliché could be deemed “debatable.” There is a strong suspicion that the crypt was a victim of “grave-robbing” in the late 1890s or early 1900s. Although we have no official records of this occurring in Mount Olivet, these criminals were stealth-like in their attempt to steal jewelry off corpses in cemeteries around the country and world. Crypts (like the Whitehills) were appealing because there was no digging to be done, and you didn’t have to go “subterranean” for the heist.

While I’m on the unpleasant subject, another type of graveyard crime in “days of old” was “body snatching.” This was an even more despicable situation as thugs actually took bodies from their intended grave lots. Why, you may ask? Well, for educational purposes of course. Early medical schools were in desperate need of cadavers. They paid quite well, and didn’t ask questions. ​

​I can practically guarantee that we never had a case of “body snatching” in Mount Olivet’s history, but I can’t give the same surety for the other early burying grounds in downtown Frederick or surrounding countryside. I guess we will never know. (NOTE: add here devilish laugh sound effect followed with “ ba ha ha”). Grave robbery on the other hand could have occurred in earlier days, and actually would in 2005. And yes, our friends the Whitehills and their crypt in Area F were the victims of such a dastardly thing, perhaps more than once. 

Our superintendent of 53 years, J. Ronald Pearcey, says that he recalls the iron door on the Whitehill crypt never seemed 100% secure since the time of his own arrival on staff back in the 1960s. The top hinge had been jarred from its setting in marble, and the upper part of the door near this junction seemed to have been somewhat bent, as if having been pried open at some time by use of a crow bar or like instrument. Ron said that he tried to fix the hinge back in 1997.
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The opportunity came about as Ron was performing intensive research in updating cemetery records. Apparently, he had no record of Mrs. Whitehill’s actual burial here in our cemetery record books. He decided to visit the crypt and take a glimpse inside to survey the contents. In our possession at that time was a “skeleton key” (pardon the pun) that opened the Whitehill crypt door lock.

​Ron made multiple discoveries that particular day as he found the lead coffin of infant James Campbell at the foot of the crypt, just behind the entry door. In front of him, he saw two metal coffins on the concrete base floor, placed longways, from left to right, in front of him. He assumed that Mr. Whitehill, who died first, was placed in the back/rear and that the matching coffin in front was that of Mrs. Whitehill. The couple possessed metallic Fisk-brand coffins, which Whitehill had advertised in the newspaper back when he owned his funerary business. These were unique caskets, made of metal and featuring a glass “porthole” in which one could view the decedent’s face. 

Fisk metallic burial cases were patented in 1848 by Almond Dunbar Fisk and manufactured in Providence, Rhode Island. The cast iron coffins or burial cases were popular in the mid–1800s among wealthier families. While pine coffins in the 1850s would have cost around $2, a Fisk coffin could command a price upwards of $100. Nonetheless, the metallic coffins were highly desirable by more affluent individuals and families for their potential to deter grave robbers.

Ron commented that the coffins were in a stage of deterioration, rusting and the lids somewhat collapsed. He said that his brief observation showed that the bones of these bodies had been somewhat disturbed, not truly matching up to how they should be if left alone.

A fourth coffin was also in this crypt, off to the right, and placed lengthwise across the foot of the Whitehill coffins. It was a wooden coffin in a far worse deteriorating condition. Research in our records showed this to be the body of Elizabeth (nee Schade or Schaed) Tice, a former tenant of Mr. Whitehill who died on October 25th, 1863. Mrs. Tice was born on May 27th, 1780, and was the wife of George Tice, a tailor, who had died in December, 1831.  Mrs. Tice’s husband, son Henry (d. 1839) and a four-year-old grandson are buried in the old German Reformed graveyard, currently under the various war monuments of today’s Frederick Memorial Park.

A check of 1850 and 1860 census records shows Elizabeth Tice as a next-door neighbor to the Whitehills when they lived on East Patrick Street and ran their furniture business. This finding was an extra bonus for Ron in his record research. Upon completion, he and staff members did what they could to further secure the door when they closed the crypt back up. Obviously, this would not be enough, however.
Ron told me that, at the time, he sensed there had been a prior disturbance of some kind as the caskets didn’t seem to be neat and orderly as he thought they ought to be. This led staff to believe that the crypt had fallen prey to an earlier break-in, but it had not been thoroughly ransacked, rather carefully combed through.
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I have searched early newspapers and cemetery records, but came up empty in my search for documentation of any early events (19th or 20th century) relating to grave intrusion here at Mount Olivet involving the Whitehill crypt. I could see a situation of this nature downplayed and not reported to authorities in an effort to keep the peace with relatives and lot-holders. As we learn with incidents of vandalism in cemeteries, there is a strong feeling of violation felt by not only staff but all who have a loved one in a particular burying ground, even if just one gravesite has been tampered with or defaced.

Twice Bitten
Early Monday morning of January 31st, 2005, Ellie Summers and Liz Claggett, regular walkers in our cemetery, made a horrible discovery. They found bones strewn about on the small knoll in front of the Whitehill crypt. It had snowed during the overnight, and the ladies also saw the door to the crypt was wide open. They immediately made their way back to the front of the cemetery and notified Superintendent Pearcey.  Pearcey immediately went to the site with another staff member, our current cemetery foreman, Tyrone Hurley, and saw what had been reported to them—the crypt door had been fully pried open, and the display of bones had indeed come from the Whitehill crypt.  Ron then notified the authorities who came out to make a report and investigate.

The group saw nearby car tracks and footprints in the snow outside the cemetery’s only other crypt belonging to the Roelkey family. It appeared that someone had been pulling on the outer gate of this funerary repository, but were frustrated in their vain attempt. The thought prevailed that the culprits hit the Whitehall crypt before the snow had started falling, and then attempted to raid the Roelkey crypt as the precipitation had started accumulating. Because of the snow forecast, Superintendent Pearcey left the gates open so that staff could enter early in an effort for snow removal.

Back at the Whitehill crypt, Tyrone was sent into the structure to assess the damage. He reported that the glass portal on each coffin appeared to have been smashed, and the boxes themselves had been raided of some of their human contents. Tyrone and Ron carefully retrieved the remains and placed them back in the broken deteriorating coffins within the crypt. Unfortunately, they realized that both skulls and a jawbone were missing from the scene. Ron and Tyrone closed the door the best they could, with hopes of doing more the following morning as they had to put their energies toward plowing the 3-4 inches of snow covering the cemetery lanes and roadways.
 
The next day word got out through the initial police report, and a media-circus ensued with news entities from Baltimore and Washington wanting to cover the unfortunate Whitehill crypt break-in. Superintendent Pearcey was interviewed by newspaper and television reporters throughout the day. The crypt entrance way was now blocked by the placement of an extra piece of granite found in one of our storage areas. News Channel 5 (out of Washington) did a live remote report from the cemetery that Tuesday night, and CNN had a team up here as well to do the same.

On Wednesday, February 2nd, the Frederick News-Post would run the following story:

​While the Frederick City Police were conducting their investigation, a unique find occurred near downtown Frederick’s Post Office. The story would make front page news in the February 4th edition of the Frederick News-Post.

​The Whitehill break-in made other newspapers across the area including Baltimore, Annapolis, Hagerstown and Cumberland. The Associated Press picked up the story and it ran in various publications throughout the country. The Washington-Post would also interview Ron about the unfortunate vandalism, now thought to be the work of juveniles.

​The following Sunday, February 7th, brought a new and equally unsettling wrinkle to the story. Late in the afternoon, Superintendent’s Pearcey's son was driving through the cemetery in late afternoon and noticed a lady entering the Whitehill crypt. He immediately notified his father. Here is the newspaper story related to this aspect:

And just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water....this was the front page of the February 10th Frederick News-Post:

​The following day, Ron and his grounds staff worked to fully secure the Whitehill crypt. The Police were still searching for the lone missing skull and jawbone, as the other had been returned to the crypt. Meanwhile, no remains of the Whitehill infant had been removed as erroneously reported in the papers. Fill dirt was utilized to further build up the ground around the crypt’s door, and the granite slab was turned on its side and packed-in tight against the door.
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The 600-pound marble slab was remains intact since that day. The good news, there have been zero instances of vandalism here at the Whitehill crypt, a true positive. On the downside, however, the missing skull has never been located and returned to its rightful burial tomb. Ironic in a way, as many residents of Mr. Whitehill’s day described the prominent businessman and politician as progressive, stubborn and headstrong. Maybe it’s time to remove the last adjective?

I stumbled upon an interesting wife and husband last spring while researching Frederick’s early oyster saloons from the 1800s. It occurred while I was trying to find more on who I imagined to be a spunky, former female business owner at the time of the American Civil War. The woman’s name was Alice Beck, and she is buried in Mount Olivet. Sadly, she isn’t readily remembered today because she has no gravestone, yet her first husband and father-in-law (who predeceased her) do. All three reside in the same grave lot in Mount Olivet’s Area A, a stone’s throw from Francis Scott Key’s final resting place.
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Miss Alice Virginia Keefer was the daughter of John Henry “Harry” Keefer and Elizabeth Titlow. Born on June 27th, 1840, she grew up here in Frederick City and was a member of the town’s German Reformed Church. Alice would be twice married, her first nuptials having taken place in late October, 1857. Her groom was a gentleman named Jefferson O. Boteler. 

​The Botelers were soon the operators of a restaurant-saloon located at 12 N. Court Street, the stretch that goes between W. Patrick and W. Church Streets. At the time, this thoroughfare was known as Public Street because of its proximity to the county courthouse. The Boteler’ saloon location was sandwiched between the largest hotels in the city (the City Hotel and the Dill House, later to be renamed the Carlin Hotel). Actually the Boteler’s tavern was bounded by the livery stables connected to each of the aforementioned hospitality venues. Today, the Pythian Castle building sits on the old site of the old watering hole.

​Although I wasn’t familiar with Jefferson O. Boteler, I soon learned that his father was someone I did know through earlier research going back nearly seven years. This gent’s name was Edward Sims Boteler, one of 110 War of 1812 veterans interred here at Mount Olivet. His story was a bit different from the norm as he served in a Dragoon Troop in Ohio. He was captured at the Battle of Detroit and spent time as a captive in Canada.

​I specifically singled out Private Boteler’s grave (Area A/Lot 126) for a newspaper photo and article back in 2014. I was working for the Tourism Council of Frederick County then, and had partnered with the cemetery in a grant project in which we received money from the state’s War of 1812 Bicentennial Anniversary Commission to place marble and bronze markers on the graves of all our 1812 vets.

​A special ceremony was held in September 2014 to mark the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Fort McHenry and writing of “the Star-Spangled Banner.”  We had an evening ceremony adjacent the FSK monument with the purpose of unveiling these markers. Participants were led on a candlelight history tour of 1812 veteran graves.  

​As the master of ceremonies, I went one step further in recognizing Edward Sims Boteler and read his bio in which I shared with the audience a few scant particulars about Boteler’s military service. I also reveled in presenting a poignant inscription found on his gravestone. It reads as follows:
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“Each soldier’s name
Shall shine untarnished on
the roll of fame.

And stand the example of each
distant age.
And add new luster to the historic age."

Edward Sims Boteler was born on March 24th, 1783 in the vicinity of New Town, later known as Trappe, and today recognized by the name of Jefferson, Maryland. Edward’s parents were Edward Lingan Boteler and Elizabeth (Delashmutt) Boteler. Both father and son fought for independence from Britain. Edward’s father (Edward Lingan Boteler) was recognized by the Carrollton Manor DAR Chapter as a Revolutionary Patriot with a DAR plaque.
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In 1812, Edward’s apparent first wife was a Sarah Elizabeth Norris (b. 1783). The couple had one known child, Henry E. Boteler (1812-1843). I’ve read that Edward would be married a second time to a woman whose name is only known as Elizabeth. The offspring of this union was the afore-mentioned Jefferson Orestes Boteler (b. 1832 in Pennsylvania). Interestingly, this same year of 1832 was the one in which “Jefferson” was duly incorporated and given its patriotic name after our third US president.

Edward Sims Boteler appears to have been engaged in farming and lived in the area of Jefferson, and Petersville to the southwest. He died on November 25th, 1858 at the age of 75. 

​Around this same time, Jefferson was operating the saloon on Court Street with business partner, John McCafferty. One year later an advertisement would appear in the local paper announcing a dissolution of this business, as McCafferty left to take a job running the restaurant associated with the City Hotel, Frederick’s leading lodging place of the time. This was likely when Mr. Boteler had his new bride serve as his business partner, however she could have assisted with the saloon prior.

​Jefferson O. Boteler’s health continued to decline as the year went on. He would die on June 22nd, 1862 and was buried in Mount Olivet the following day, next to his father.  

​Meanwhile the American Civil War was in full effect. Union soldiers had been plentiful in town for over a year. That number would grow exponentially over the next two. In her husband’s absence, Alice Boteler took over sole operation of the oyster saloon, while also raising a son, Edward, two-and-a-half years old at the time. I can just imagine the often bawdy scenes in the saloon establishment now frequented by imbibing Union soldiers from out of town.

​The following September (after Jefferson’s death) the town would receive a week-long visit from the Confederate Army under Gen. Robert E. Lee. They wouldn’t stay long, but certainly left their mark on town before heading westward where the engagements of South Mountain and Antietam would take place on September 14th and 17th respectively. Again, I can’t help to wonder what Alice’s state of mind could have been like through those troubling times, not to mention losing her husband, raising a child and running a business.

Well, the above story just goes to show that you never know what can happen in life. It also echoes the old sentiment: ”What happens in rowdy oyster saloons, should stay in rowdy oyster saloons.” 

​I found an advertisement in the local paper announcing a private sale of Mrs. Alice V. Beck’s oyster saloon in February 1867. For one reason or another, it doesn’t appear that she sold at that time, or perhaps she did sell, but kept a lease agreement with a new owner in an effort to continue running her popular establishment. The Botelers had rented the building up until Jefferson's death, at which time Alice purchased the property.

The 1870 US census shows the Beck family living above the restaurant as was quite common in that day. I found out that Mrs. Alice V. Beck had $4,000 of real estate in her name in the form of her restaurant building. I also found that husband James Beck was listed as a restaurant keeper, but Alice was simply keeping house. Alice's son, Edward was now ten-years-old and the census mentions that he was attending school at the time.

Advertisements in Frederick’s Maryland Union  in the fall of 1871 announced that a gentleman named J. William Brubaker was now the new owner of the former saloon operated by Alice V. (Keefer) Boteler Beck. Brubaker would eventually sell fourteen years later to Lewis A. Hager in 1885.
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During that run by Mr. Brubaker, Alice busied herself with legitimate matters of home, first and foremost relating to the fact that she had given birth to three additional children between 1871-1874: Nellie Virginia (b. 1872), Mollie Adele (b. 1873), and Willie Justus (b. 1874).

Alice died of pneumonia at her home residence on W. Patrick Street on April 8, 1876.  Only 36 years of  the age, she would be buried alongside her first husband, Jefferson O. Boteler, and father-in-law, 1812 veteran Edward Simms Boteler. As I began the article saying, her gravesite has no monument or marker whatsoever.

​ I found that there are five others in this plot who have suffered the same fate and are blood relatives of Alice from the Keefer family. They include: 
                                                                                    Death Year
​*an infant child of Alice and Jefferson    1859
*Elizabeth Titlow Keefer                                1888          (Alice’s mother)
*Missouri M. (Keefer) Meese                       1860         (Alice’s sister)
*Hiram Bartgis Keefer                                     1878          (4 year-old nephew of Alice/son of L. H. Keefer)
*unnamed Keefer nephew                            1869          (infant son of brother Lewis Henry Keefer)

As was common in those days, the children were unfortunately split up. I learned there whereabouts from the the 1880 census. Here, I found husband James M. Beck living in his native Woodsboro with his sister and working as a painter. He had daughter Nellie living with him. Mollie was sent to live with her Uncle Charles Beck in Hagerstown and Willie was adopted by a paternal aunt living in Woodsboro. The latter would move to Brooklyn, NY as an adult and worked as a telegraph operator. As for Alice's oldest son, Edward O. Boteler, he went to live with his Meese cousins in Wetmore, McKean County, Pennsylvania. He worked for F. W. Meese who operated a hotel there and was married in the 1880 census at the age of 21.

​​James M. Beck died in 1905 and is buried in Woodsboro's Mount Hope Cemetery. ​

As I walk through the cemetery on a crisp, autumn day, I’m suddenly reminded of an idiom found often in British literature—“From the Cradle to the Grave.” It seems so fitting for a stroll through this hallowed place, as I look from gravestone to gravestone and contemplate the lives of the local tenants. Defined, the idiom beckons “From birth to death; the entire period of one’s life; throughout one’s life.” Simply put, this is what the hyphen stands represents on each and every monument, strategically sandwiched between birth and death dates of the decedent.

The “Cradle to Grave” expression is usually used as an adjective, and has been around since the year 1709 when it appeared in author Richard Steele’s British literary and society journal entitled The Tatler. Steele used the idiom as follows:
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“In a word, to speak the characteristical difference between a modest man and a modest fellow; a modest man is in doubt in all his actions; a modest fellow never has a doubt from his cradle to his grave.”

I thought this expression ("Cradle to Grave") would serve as a nice title for this week’s edition of “Stories in Stone” in which we could explore another unique style of cemetery markers referred to as “cradle graves.” These are also known as “bedstead monuments,” and were very popular in the 19th century, around the time of the American Civil War. A cradle or bedstead is composed of a headstone, footstone, and cradling. These elements represent the headboard, footboard, and bed rails on a bedframe. In 2016, preservation specialist Ashley Shales of Oakland Cemetery (Atlanta, Georgia) wrote that cradle grave monuments portrayed a particular style that appealed to Victorian-era sentiments for three reasons:
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“First, heaven was likened to “returning home,” which was comforting to loved ones left behind because they could hope for a future where they were eternally reunited. A bed is a natural symbol of home. Second, the 19th century witnessed a phenomenon referred to by historians as the “feminization of death.” Public displays of mourning became fashionable, as did more beautiful, peaceful, and pleasant monuments and iconography. The bed is not only a symbol of the home, but of femininity and domesticity.  The third — and the most frequently cited — reason for the bedstead’s popularity is that it likens death to sleep, a notion that undoubtedly eased the sorrows of many mourners.”

​Bedsteads come in several forms and are made from a variety of materials, depending usually on the purchaser’s economic means, available stone, and current fashions. Headstones may be quite elaborate, often featuring iconography such as lambs or lilies, symbolizing purity and innocence. Most bedsteads are made of marble. 

​Headboard and Footboard
On some cradle graves, the top is designed to resemble the headboard of a bed and the bottom looks like the footboard. Plain or decorative curbing (or molding) can also be used to outline a single grave in the shape of a bed; hence these graves are also known as bed graves.

​A perfect example of this survives in the final resting place for Thomas Baltzell Tyler in Area B/Lot 113. Hailing from the prominent Tyler family of Frederick City, Thomas died at age 13 after an illness of three weeks. He was the son of Samuel Tyler (1820-1856) and Lucretia Josephine Baltzell Tyler (1823-1901) and was born on August 9th, 1843. The oldest of four children, he was a grandchild of the prominent Dr. William Tyler, a physician who served as the first president of the Farmers & Mechanics Bank, a post he would hold for 55 years from 1817 until his death in 1872. 

​Young Thomas Tyler passed less than a week before  Christmas in the year 1856. His obituary says the 19th, however his stone says December 20th. 

​Child's Cradle Grave
Although they can be found throughout the country, cradle graves were more popular in the South and Midwest regions. William Raymond Brown died of pneumonia at the age of one year and three months. He was born at the advent of the American Civil War on November 26th, 1861. The beautiful example of this grave style can be found near the drive on the east side of Area E, where Lot 126 holds several members of the deceased' immediate family.

​William’s father, Benjamin Franklin Brown, has the most auspicious monument of the group. He was an ardent Southern sympathizer during the war who was arrested on more than one occasion for his sentiments. Mr. Brown ran a successful warehouse business at the lower train depot on Carroll Street. He specialized in providing coal for his patrons, but bought and sold several other commodities. Although little is known about young William, his father’s life story is well-told through his obituary which appeared in the local papers in mid-1898.

​Adult Cradle Grave
Despite the name, cradle graves were not just for children. Adult graves were also marked in this manner. One such is just up the hill from young William Raymond Brown within Area E. In lot 34, one lone soul exists in a space capable of holding several other family members. Ann Savilla (Delauter) Anderson is the only one here as I surmise her husband and two daughters left the Frederick area a few years after Mrs. Anderson’s untimely death at age 44. 

​Ann was born on April 11th, 1813. Little is known about this parishioner of the Evangelical Church. Interestingly, however, she was married in Frederick’s German Reformed congregation on February 5th, 1845 to William S. Anderson of Pennsylvania. The couple would have two little girls, Susan Elizabeth and Anna Mary and a boy, Charles, born in 1855. It is thought that the family lived on E. Church Street near the intersection with Chapel Alley.

​Mr. Anderson was a stone cutter and monument maker who specialized in marble works. It appears he commenced his business in the late 1840s as is mentioned by Frederick diarist Jacob Engelbrecht with an entry dated July 24th, 1851:
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“Mr. William S. Anderson, Stone Cutter of our town has eleven tomb-stones to make for the Catholic Priests of our town. They are all buried in the graveyard just at the north end of the old church.” 

​Sadly, William S. Anderson’s wife Ann, would die on March 16th, 1858 and he was saddled with the responsibility of carving her gravestone.  For one reason or another, he felt compelled to mark her gravesite with a bedstead design. He would include an inset relief carving of a woman with an anchor, symbolizing hope. At this time, his business was located in the first block of N. Market Street.

​Leaves and Grass on Cradle Grave
The empty space between the curbed sides was usually filled with “blanket plantings” – flowers, grasses, or bushes that filled up the inside of the cradle grave, giving it the full and lush appearance of a bedspread, from spring through fall. In the winter, snow would take on the appearance of a blanket drifting over the grave.

A short distance from the Key Memorial chapel towards the front of the cemetery, lies a bedstead dedicated to the memory of a well-traveled couple, neither hailing from Frederick originally—William Winder Polk and wife Almy. Mr. Polk was a native of Coventry parish, Somerset County on the eastern shore. He was the son of Wesley William Polk (1752-1814) and first wife, the widow Esther Polk Handy. The youngest of eight children, he was born on August 3rd, 1787.
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Mrs. Polk was the former Almy U. Townsend of Oyster Bay, Long Island and born on January 1st, 1802. She was married in a double ceremony involving her sister Phoebe on November 27th, 1817. Both girls married Navy officers. 

Shortly after marriage, the couple could be found in New Haven, Connecticut. Mr. Polk was a member of the US Marines. William and Almy had seven children, but raised five into adulthood. New Haven marked the birthplace of daughter of Mary Townsend Polk, born September 8th, 1822. She married a Victor Monroe of Kentucky, a cousin of former president, James Monroe. Their son, Francis Adair Monroe (1844-1927) became a judge in the court system of Louisiana. Mary would live a majority of her later life in Milledgeville, Georgia where she passed.
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Capt. William Winder Polk’s career in the US Navy and Marine Service, as it was called back then, does not seem to fit the fact and story-line of most sailors. It seems to be a career he began while in high school. Details are slim, but it appears he worked in various positions including Hawaii, the northern central states, and New England and the long Island Sound. Eventually, Capt. Polk would be one of four Maryland officers who actually received petty cash, while working for the revenue service. An article found in a vintage newspaper announced that he was dismissed from duty in February, 1856.

I haven't been able to figure out why this couple came to Frederick, most likely after living for years in Annapolis. I am also searching for a fuller obituary in the local Frederick newspaper archives, but don't have access to microfilm of the specific year which I need.

​Interestingly, both husband and wife are said to have died on the same day. William died on the morning of February 13th, 1856. Wife Almy was said to have died that very evening of the 13th.

The Polks would be buried on February 14th (Valentine's Day), 1856 in a lot located on Mount Olivet's Area H/Lot 26. To this day, they remain the only tenants in this lot which contains several more grave spaces.

Although we can replace the expression "Cradle to the Grave" with synonyms such as lifetime and existence, the bed analogy brought about by Victorian era is surely something to behold, especially as can be evidenced by these unique grave monuments.

For over a decade, the Mount Olivet Board of Directors entertained the idea of establishing a preservation fund. The plan was first pitched, and championed, by the late Colleen Remsberg, longtime Board member and immediate past president. Ms. Remsberg left us in May, 2018, but not before she saw the Mount Olivet Preservation and Enhancement Fund become an IRS accredited 501(c)(3) public charity. The mission reads as follows:

The mission of the Mount Olivet Cemetery Preservation and Enhancement Fund is to assist in the conservation of the natural beauty and historic integrity of Mount Olivet Cemetery and to increase public knowledge and appreciation of its unique, cultural, historic, and natural resources through charitable and educational programs.

Putting this in layman’s terms, we continue taking steps to preserve the history of this great “garden cemetery,” a community institution since the 1850s. In doing so, we are safeguarding the cemetery’s historic records, structures and grave monuments. We began nearly four years ago with the launch of this “Stories in Stone” weekly blog, combined with additional education opportunities through our websites (MountOlivetCemeteryInc.com and MountOlivetVets.com), along with public lectures and commemorative events.

​In February 2020, we officially launched our Friends of Mount Olivet group, allowing us to expand upon special activities and product development which includes cemetery walking tours, visitor assistance with genealogy and family history research, special events and anniversaries, educational partnerships with local schools, and interpretive historic wayside displays and unique commemorative plantings. Best of all, we now have volunteers and patrons to help in documenting, cleaning and helping to raise  financial support to restore, repair and preserve broken and illegible gravestones/monuments in the cemetery’s historic section.

Evidence of this latter task made the front page of our local newspaper last week, and let me tell you how gratifying it was to see positive publicity associated with Mount Olivet. It’s not hard to fathom that we’d rather see  monuments going up, as opposed to three months ago (in July) when we saw some coming down. In particular headlines were made with vandals destroying our 140-year-old Confederate sentinel monument made from Italian Carrera monument. It symbolically kept peaceful watch over 700+ known, and unknown, dead soldiers who sided with the South during the American Civil War.
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Speaking of history, the Friends of Mount Olivet public workshop on stone restoration last week was simply fantastic! We were the very last stop for Jonathan Appell of Atlas Preservation, Inc. (Southington, Connecticut) who had been conducting a unique restoration tour involving 48 cemeteries in 48 states—performed in 48 days. Mr. Appell is one of the country’s leading experts in this field. He, boasts an impressive resume of work projects and experience that have spanned decades.

​The workshop began with an hour-and-a-half walking tour of the grounds in which Jonathan was joined by friend and colleague, Moss Rudley, longtime exhibit specialist and  Superintendent of the National Historic Preservation Training Center based here in Frederick. The seasoned duo explained styles, trends, and even pitfalls of grave ornamentation of the 18th and 19th centuries. 

I first met Jonathan and Moss two years back in October of 2018. At that time, Mount Olivet became an outdoor classroom for a two-day session on gravestone restoration—part of the 22nd annual International Preservation Trades Workshop. We brought Jonathan back to Frederick in October, 2019 to conduct a free, public workshop on our grounds. This would also generate interest in our 2020 launch of our friends group as well.

Last year, Jonathan was given the opportunity to explain to participants various projects that he has worked on around the country over his career. This included 17th century burying grounds in his native New England, jobs with the National Park Service, and a recent collaboration with Preservation Virginia involving the mysterious Knight’s tomb in Jamestown Church, historic Jamestown settlement. This gravestone is thought to be the oldest known grave of a European settler in North America. (Note: For more info on these gentlemen, I have added a link to the Frederick News-Post story at the end of my article along with a few others).

​As for our event on October 7th, 2020, the talented craftsmen chose a random grave monument of interest to conduct an introduction on cleaning gravestones. Jonathan and Moss went on to explain contributing factors to stone discoloration and staining. They followed by demonstrating to participants methods of properly cleaning these stones, using tools and materials that will bring many of these stones back to their original condition, if done correctly.

​With knowledge and know-how at hand, our instructors encouraged participants to take their hand of cleaning stones for themselves. This lively actively, fitting for a cemetery in so many ways, was followed by a lunch break.

​After lunch, Jonathan and Moss picked three stones in Area H to repair, and one more in neighboring Area L. Both sections flank the historic Key Chapel and their eastern halves contain several interments dating from the mid-1850s and 1860s—the time of the cemetery’s opening decades.

A beautiful day afforded attendees a relaxing atmosphere in which to experience this free portal in which to watch these experts at work. Moreso, they were also breathing new life into stones that had experienced toppling by way of old-age, weathering and ground shift over the years.

While engaged in the session first-hand, I suddenly thought beyond the tombstones themselves as I usually do. I asked myself, “Who were the recipients of these “mortuary makeovers?” And just remember, if this ever becomes a program on TLC, you heard the potential program title here first!

I decided to come full circle. I would purposely seek out anything I could about the people (beneath the scenes) who unknowingly volunteered their grave markers for our workshop. By the way, I thought I’d share the fact that although we regularly throw around the term “6 feet under,” our cemetery uses the industry standard of 4.5 feet underground for burial. Not counting ground erosion or build up, the cemetery aims for the lid to be at least 18 inches below the surface. And there’s a social distancing update for you.

​Anyway, four years ago, in November, 2016, I began "cyber-preservation” by publishing weekly features  that can be stored on the Mount Olivet website, while new features (like this) make their premieres on the cemetery's FaceBook page. However, none of this would be possible without a gravestone, and even more, an upright and legible gravestone. Markers, monuments, and tombstones are tributes to, and representations of, past lives. Each provides that tangible connection to the deceased. Repairing a stone is no different than penning a biography, the common thread is remembering a life once lived—a lasting footprint.

​The Kunkel Children
The monument featured on the front page news story last week was within Area H/Lot 57 and was erected by a prominent politician, lawyer and businessman named Jacob Michael Kunkel. On the morning tour, Kunkel’s fine monument was called-out by our lecturers for its grand style, but it was another unique funerary offering that was targeted for the cleaning demonstration. This was a seven-foot Greek-style column which appears broken at the top. This latter issue was not done by vandalism or a tree, but rather by design as a popular style of the mid-nineteenth century. Because of its visual impact, the broken-column has remained one of the most popular symbols in cemetery iconography. It represents “a life cut short,” and that is indeed what we have with this particular gravesite containing two children: Henry and Teresa. 

I want to start by giving context on the Kunkel name and family. To date, we have 22 folks with the name “Kunkel” interred within our gates. This unique surname is derived from the Middle High German word "kunkel," which means "spindle." It is thus supposed that the first bearers of this surname were spindle makers by occupation.

The forementioned Jacob M. Kunkel did more than make spindles as his “Story in Stone,” could weave quite a yarn. I have seen his name in the local papers and history books quite often, and knew he had a connection to the Catoctin Furnace, as an owner in partnership with Peregrine Fitzhugh in the 1850s.

Kunkel’s brother (John Baker Kunkel) would run the north county operation throughout the American Civil War, as it would stay in blast without interruption throughout the conflict as armies marched by going to and from the battlefield at Gettysburg in the summer of 1863.

​The Biographical Directory of the United States Congress 1774 – Present gives the following summary on Mr. Kunkel:
​
KUNKEL, Jacob Michael, a Representative from Maryland; born in Frederick, Frederick County, Md., July 13, 1822; attended the Frederick Academy for Boys and was graduated from the University of Virginia at Charlottesville in 1843; studied law; was admitted to the bar and commenced practice in Frederick in 1846; served in the State senate 1850-1856; elected as a Democrat to the Thirty-fifth and Thirty-sixth Congresses (March 4, 1857-March 3, 1861); resumed the practice of law in his native city; delegate to the Loyalist Convention in Philadelphia in 1866; died in Frederick, Md., April 7, 1870.

You may be interested in the fact that the Kunkel family residence during Jacob M. Kunkel’s life between 1848-1870 was 112 W. Church Street—the famed Tyler-Spite House. This grand mansion would remain in family hands until 1892.
​​
The Kunkels have two of the largest, and beautifully ornate, monuments in all of Mount Olivet. Our hosts talked at length about the craftmanship and construction of each before taking us a few short yards away to focus on the grave of two of Jacob’s children.

There are seven individuals buried within Area H’s Lot 55. They include the forementioned Jacob Michael Kunkel and wife, Anna Mary McElfresh Kunkel (1821-1879). The Kunkel’s three children are buried here, only one reaching adulthood—John Jacob Kunkel (b. 1849). This family would re-locate to New York City, the site of John’s death, in 1888. John Jacob’s wife, Mary Elizabeth McGill (Kunkel) (1852-1909) is buried beside him, as is one of the couple’s sons, John Harold Kunkel (1878-1912), who died at age 33 of Typhoid fever.

The remaining tenants are Jacob Michael Kunkel’s two other children. Henry Kunkel was born August 8th, 1851 and only lived 16 months. He died on April 30th, 1853 and was originally buried in Frederick’s All Saints’ Protestant Episcopal graveyard, once located between E. All Saints Street and Carroll Creek. The family had Henry’s body exhumed and reburied here in Mount Olivet on April 4th, 1859. This was a somber date as it marks the burial of the Kunkel’s only daughter, Teresa. Teresa was born on May 7th, 1853 but would not have the opportunity to celebrate her sixth birthday as she died April 3rd, 1859.

​Of course, a fair question to ask would be, “Why wasn’t Henry buried here to begin with?” The answer: Because Mount Olivet wasn’t open for burial business until May, 1854. Rest in peace little ones.

​Sarah G. Doyle
Thanks to Jonathan and Moss, this straightforward marble gravestone, white in color, and boasting bold carving, now sits back on its original base in Area H’s Lot 14. Ground shift caused the two base stones to shift, allowing water to rust out the two iron pins holding up the die, or main part of the headstone. Today, it once again stands boldly in memory of Sarah G. Doyle, not far from the grave of her husband, one of 109 veterans in Mount Olivet who served in the War of 1812. 

Lawrence Doyle died in January, 1845 and was laid to rest in the Lutheran Cemetery between E. Church and E. 2nd streets. The couple had 23 years together, and five children came from this union: Mary Magdalene Doyle (b. 1822-1825); Elizabeth Margaret Doyle (Feb. 5th, 1825-Feb 16th, 1825); Mary Jane (Doyle) Reed (1827-1858); and Margaret (Doyle) Crum (1838-1905). A son was also born by 1830, either named Lawrence or Henry, but I had difficulty finding more information. 

​In 1850, Sarah was living with daughter Margaret in a home owned by local lawyer Adolphus Fearhake in Court House Square, likely Court Street. I have a strong hunch that Mrs. Doyle was working for the Fearhake family in some capacity. It’s also possible she came into contact with the Kunkels, neighbors living less than half a block away during this period. In 1870, I found Sarah living with daughter Mary Jane Reed’s family in Mount Pleasant. Mary Jane had died in 1858.

​The native of Ireland passed on December 31st, 1873 and was buried in Mount Olivet on New Years Day, 1874. Lawrence would join her here after a re-interment in 1907, 33 years after Sarah’s death.

Henry F. Smith
After repairing Sarah Doyle’s grave, we only moved ten yards to our next “mortuary makeover.” It would be in Area H/Lot 25, the grave of Henry Frederick Smith (1839-1864). Talk about a life cut short, perhaps Henry should have had his grave marked by a broken column, instead he had a broken gravestone. Smith’s slim-style upright, tombstone was actually severed in two, the fracture having occurred near the base.
​
This was certainly a more difficult repair than the previous re-setting of the Doyle monument. Our professionals were tasked with re-attaching this piece, while making certain that the base was stabilized—something that was located below the ground surface.

The son of Eli and Theresa Smith, Henry Frederick Smith was born on July 8th, 1839 in Frederick. He was baptized in the town’s Lutheran Church and lived in the vicinity, likely on E. Church Street. Henry’s father was a saddler, and according to the 1860 census, Henry worked as a stone cutter. ​​His mother died in 1856, at which time the plot in Mount Olivet was purchased by his father.

With hostilities growing in 1861, the winds of war were blowing. Henry joined the Union Army in late November of that year and became a member of Company I of the 1st Maryland Infantry Regiment, Potomac Home Brigade under Captain Walter Saunders. For a glimpse of what he experienced, we can look at the regimental history:

During the winter of 1861-62 it served with Gen. Banks and in the following spring marched with that commander up the Shenandoah Valley as far as Winchester, when it was assigned to the duty of guarding the line of the Baltimore & Ohio railroad.  When Banks was driven out of the valley the regiment was concentrated at Harper's Ferry, where it remained until the Union troops again the valley, when it resumed the work of guarding the railroad.  After Gen. Pope's defeat at the second battle of Bull Run the regiment opposed the passage of the Potomac river at the several fords and ferries near the mouth of the Monocacy, and was then concentrated at Harper’s Ferry, where it was surrendered with the garrison on Sept. 15, 1862.The men were paroled and after being exchanged the regiment was assigned to duty along the Potomac in the southern part of the state.
 
The surrender in question here was associated with the Battle of Maryland Heights, which happened a day after the Battle of South Mountain, and a few days prior to Antietam. Corporal Smith would not return to regular duty as he had experienced a debility supposedly stemming from a cold caught the previous winter. His illness developed into phthisis, known today as pulmonary tuberculosis. Henry would remain at the US General Hospital located in Parole, Maryland, just outside Annapolis. And yes, this is how the current vicinity gained its name. 

​Corporal Henry F. Smith would never see active duty again as he was honorably discharged from duty in February, 1863 due to his disability. He would die of consumption (tuberculosis) one year later on February 16th, 1864. 

 A scant obituary for Henry appeared in the local paper, along with a memoriam from fellow members of Henry’s fire company.

​Eli Smith, Henry’s father, would die four years after his son in 1868. Since Mr. Smith was the last of his family, this likely explains why he has no grave marker over his final resting place.

​Eleanor “Ella” O. Keller
The final resident renovation of the day in Mount Olivet required some special tools of the trade in the form of a tripod. This tombstone had simply fallen backwards off its base due to its base sinking downward. Thankfully there was no visible damage whatsoever. The solution involved leveling the foundation under the base. An additional challenge was presented with a large, and extremely heavy, gravestone which could not simply be lifted and put back in place by one or likely two workers. Enter a tripod to lift and hold the weight of the die, readying it for placement. In addition, an adhesive compound and lead strips was necessary to help attach the die to the base below.

​The monument in this demo belonged to Miss Eleanor “Ella” O. Keller, born October 11th, 1851 in Frederick. Miss Keller was the daughter of Charles Frederick Keller and his second wife, Caroline E. Hunt. Ella spent all of her life on E. Church Street. She lived here at what was lot #63, which is the townhouse on the southeast corner of Church and Chapel Alley. She attended school at the Frederick Female Seminary (located at Winchester Hall) and graduated in June of 1868. A professional career saw Miss Keller as a teacher, and she worked at the Frederick Girls’ High School. The former school structure still stands at 115 E. Church and was the former headquarters of Frederick County Public Schools. More recently, it was the home of Artomatic, an artists’ showcase brought to Frederick by the Ausherman Family Foundation.

​Ella died at age 52, after what her obituary called a brief illness. She is buried to the right of the Key Chapel in Area L/Lot 5. Her two brothers are buried in this plot, along with her mother, Caroline, who is positioned to the immediate left of Ella. 

It was a great day of information and repairs. Thanks again to Jonathan Appell and Moss Rudley. I know they only made a physical impact on just four monuments in a cemetery containing tens of thousands.  However, these are not just any markers, they are above-ground reminders and extensions of the deceased themselves. As if that isn’t enough, now you know a little bit more about the individuals linked with the stones we repaired last week.

Banksy is an anonymous England-based street artist, political activist, and film director whose been active since the 1990s. He has left his graffiti art all over the world. A much-repeated quote , poignant for any discussion regarding the importance of tombstones, is attributed to this mysterious man:
“I mean, they say you die twice. One time when you stop breathing and a second time, a bit later on, when somebody says your name for the last time.”

In respect to restoration and preservation, we’ve got plenty more work to do at Mount Olivet Cemetery. Doing so may positively resuscitate countless victims of an unfortunate second death, one not explained by science, but by forgetting those who have already passed. 

An obelisk is a tall, four-sided, narrow tapering monument which ends in a pyramid-like shape or pyramidion at the top. Originally, they were called tekhenu by their builders, the Ancient Egyptians. Obelisks are said to have first appeared between 2650-2134 B.C. The Greeks who saw them used their own term, obeliskos, to describe them, and this word passed into Latin and ultimately English. Ancient obelisks are monolithic—that is, they are crafted out of a single stone. In contrast, most modern obelisks are made of several stones.
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Obelisks can be found across the globe, many originally dating from ancient times and civilizations. Way back then, these monuments represented the living deity, the vitality and immortality of the pharaoh, and the concept of duality and balance. No matter who or what else they commemorated, they were raised and carefully positioned so that the first and last light of day would touch their peaks to honor the sun god.
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In ancient times, obelisks were typically erected in pairs in front of selected temples as part of a celebration or Royal Jubilee. The sides of the obelisk were often inscribed, and the pyramidal top was sheathed in gold to radiate the light of the sun. 

I’ve had the opportunity to see some of these miraculous works of stone in person. I laid eyes on my first obelisk in Rome and at neighboring Vatican. Later that same trip, I would see the fine example in France’s Place de la Concorde, a transplant from Egypt. This latter monument is decorated with hieroglyphics exalting the reign of the pharaoh Ramesses II (1304-1214 B.C.). It is one of two which the Egyptian government gave to the French in the 19th century. The other one stayed in Egypt, too difficult and heavy to move to France with the technology at that time. On September 26th, 1981, President François Mitterrand gave the second obelisk back to the Egyptians.

This particular obelisk once marked the entrance to the Luxor Temple. It was a gift from the Khedive of Egypt, or royal constitutional monarch, Muhammad Ali Pasha. Pasha offered the 3,300-year-old Luxor Obelisk as a diplomatic gift to France in 1829. It arrived in Paris on December 21st, 1833. Three years later in 1836, King Louis Philippe had it placed in the center of Place de la Concorde.

The obelisk, a yellow granite column, rises 75 feet high, including the base, and weighs over 250 tons. Given the technical limitations of the day, transporting it was no easy task. On the pedestal are drawn diagrams explaining the machinery that was used for its transportation. The obelisk is flanked on both sides by fountains constructed at the time of its erection on the Place de la Concorde.
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The government of France added a gold-leafed pyramidal cap to the top of the obelisk in 1998, replacing the missing original, believed to have been stolen in the 6th century BC.

​A real, ancient obelisk exists in New York’s Central Park, representing the oldest outdoor monument in New York City. More than 3,000 years old, “the Obelisk” (also known as “Cleopatra’s Needle”) towers 69 feet high and weighs 220 tons. 

​The Central Park Obelisk is one of a pair built around 1443 B.C. in Egypt’s Heliopolis, under orders from the pharaoh Thutmose III. Both monuments were moved around 10 B.C. to front Alexandria’s Caesareum—which was named for Julius Caesar and first conceived by Cleopatra, who consolidated her rule with Caesar’s help—under the reign of Caesar’s son Augustus. The nickname “Cleopatra’s Needle” didn’t take until centuries later, reportedly coined by British traveler Paul Lucas, while Mark Twain also used the term in his 1869 travel book Innocents Abroad. 

I invite you to read further about how it was transported across the Atlantic in a refitted Egyptian mail ship and then carried across Manhattan by a special railway built for the purpose. Finally, a unique scaffolding and crane apparatus was used to finally put the obelisk in place within its new home in Central Park. This was a true engineering marvel which beckons to mind how did they accomplish the initial construction, let alone the move to Alexandria?

​​Of course, living in the DMV (District of Columbia, Maryland and Virginia), none of us have to travel far to see the most famous obelisk on United States soil, and dedicated to our first president. Of course, this was not the first monument dedicated to George Washington, as residents from nearby Boonsboro accomplished that honor in 1827, but their handiwork was far from an obelisk.

A side note about the Washington monument is that I learned that it would take quite a while to complete. The work began in 1848, but was built in two different phases. It wouldn’t be finished until 36 years later in 1884. 

​At home here in Frederick, I get the chance to see obelisks each and every day. Where you may ask? Of course, here at my place of employment, Mount Olivet Cemetery. There are several on our grounds, including our own version of “Cleopatra’s Needle.” This monument is a new one that went up last week on the gravesite of former Frederick attorney Cleopatra Campbell Anderson who passed away in March, 2018.

Born in 1935, Ms. Campbell was a former assistant state's attorney for Frederick County. She is one of the first two women to practice law in the state of Maryland, along with Mary Storm. Both women were admitted to the state bar in 1967. Campbell's first legal job was at the firm Mathias, Mathias, and Michel and her last was as an associate judge of the Maryland Orphan’s Court. To learn more, I have provided a link below to a fine story written by Cameron Dodd, which appeared at the time of her death:
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https://www.fredericknewspost.com/news/crime_and_justice/courts/cleopatra-campbell-anderson-was-a-pioneering-female-lawyer/article_0a75c799-7c84-5086-8b93-eb1e616341ae.html

Elements of Egyptian, Greek and Roman architecture became very popular forms of funerary monumentation during the Victorian era. In particular, grave decorations utilizing the obelisk motif are said to symbolize heavenly ascension or a ray of sunlight.
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The most prestigious obelisk here in Mount Olivet is a tribute to transportation pioneer Gen. James C. Clarke (1824-1902), namesake for Clarke Place, a short block from our front gate and the object of an interesting “Story in Stone” blog published back on March 6th, 2019. The most famous obelisk was erected in memory to Frederick's famous Civil War heroine Barbara Fritchie. Another belongs to local baseball icon, Harry Grove, namesake for the stadium that bears his name roughly 100 yards from his gravesite.

​Another obelisk, located on the west side of cemetery hill, the highest point in downtown Frederick, is that of a former local businessman who started his existence in the Glade Valley area north of present-day Walkersville. His name--Noah Edwin Cramer.

Instead of re-inventing the wheel here, I will simply share his biography as it appears in Volume II of T.J.C. William’s History of Frederick County, Maryland, published in 1910:

Politically, Mr. Cramer is a strong adherent of the Democratic party, and in religion is a member of the Evangelical Reformed Church of Frederick. He is a self-made man, and has attained the position he now occupies through perseverance and strict attention to business. Mr. Cramer is a member of Mountain City Lodge No. 29, Knights of Pythia, of Frederick.
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I found thousands of mentions of Mr. Cramer in online newspaper archives, a direct byproduct of being a successful real estate and fire insurance agent. I'm assuming his profession also aided in helping him acquire Rose Hill Manor in 1906, but it seems that the country estate was a showplace for him, hosting special events and parties. The family lived at 117 Record Street, next to the Record Street Home and Court House Square.

In 1922, Noah Cramer was among the organizers of Frederick's first Board of Realtors and would serve on the inaugural executive board. His son James would eventually join him as a business partner as well.

​Mr. Cramer worked through his sixties, but punctuated his life with fine vacations around the globe. At a time when travel abroad was still reserved for a privileged few, Cramer made trips to places such as Bermuda, Florida, Seattle, the Philippines, and Western Europe. I learned more about the European trip taken by Mr. Cramer in 1927.  Cramer, noted also for his elocution skills, was asked to share details of his recent trip with the local Kiwanis Club. 

​I don’t know when the obelisk went up on the site, but I’m guessing sometime shortly after Mr. Cramer's death. Like that of the other obelisks to be found here in Mount Olivet, the Cramer monument is among the first, and last, to catch the light of day, hopefully still as pleasing to the sun god(s) today, as was the case thousands of years ago in ancient times.

"What's in a name?" an age-old question usually credited to William Shakespeare for introducing the proverb to us through Romeo and Juliet. A person's name is said to be the greatest connection to their own identity and individuality. Interestingly, one can walk for hours through a cemetery like Mount Olivet and read hundreds of different names on gravestones and monuments. Some may be familiar and recognizable, perhaps friends, acquaintances, or relatives. However, I would definitively bet that the vast majority of tombstones gazed upon would represent names and people completely foreign to you and, hence, desirous of intrigue and curiosity. Well that's the sole reason I have been doing this blog for almost four years now!

Even I have little to no idea of who these people are, what they did, how they died or what they were like. And that's why the hours of research I pour into these stories is so fulfilling, I actually come away not only learning about an individual (usually forgotten over time), but in bringing their memory back to life, I usually learn local, state, national and world history some how. These lives are reflections of the time periods in which they lived, allowing me to see the world through their lens, not manipulated by how we look back today and see/judge things. 

The above mentioned statement I made about names (A person's name is said to be the greatest connection to their own identity and individuality)really rang true to me last week as I encountered two gentlemen I knew relatively nothing about. However one had a name in which I associated a greater quality of life experience, while the other I thought would be hum-drum and ordinary. In fact, both men's last names also double as adjectives—talk about descriptive irony. The first man was Francis Scott Key, Jr. "Key" when used as an adjective is defined: "of paramount or crucial importance" (ie: The quarterback made a key throw in the final touchdown drive to win the game.") The other gentleman in question is Simon Fraser Blunt. "Blunt" as an adjective is defined as "having a worn-down edge or point; not sharp" (ie: The blunt knife was virtually useless as it couldn't cut anything.") Blunt also has another meaning when it pertains to a person or remark, and means "uncompromisingly forthright."
(She was very blunt with her date, saying that there was no need for him to bother asking her out again."

Last week’s story focused on a son of Francis Scott Key, one who had the same name as his father, but certainly the opposite fortune of leaving a lasting legacy. To my surprise, Francis Scott Key, Jr. didn’t do anything of particular note outside being a loving husband and father. Newspapers had scarce mentions of him during his lifetime, and he is non-existent in any history book. FSK, Jr.’s proud estate, named “the Elms” in Howard County, is long gone, without a trace. His children really didn't stand out in their own way either. Key, Jr. died in mid-1866 and was first entombed in a graveyard in Baltimore, but would be re-interred a few short months later in Frederick’s Mount Olivet along with his parents and another gentleman (who I am very excited to introduce you too). All four individuals had previously rested within the Howard family vault in Old St. Paul’s Cemetery.
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Francis Scott Key, Sr. and wife Mary Tayloe Lloyd Key were moved yet again, in 1898, to their present location (within a vault under a fine memorial more befitting the author of “The Star-Spangled Banner,”) by our cemetery's front gate. With this move, the memory and acknowledgement of Francis, Jr. sank further into obscurity as few visitors would travel to the vicinity of his grave and notice his slab of marble.

I enjoyed the research challenge nonetheless, and fed my curiosity to learn more about this gentleman and, in the process, more about the immediate family of the guy who wrote our national anthem.  

I mentioned a fourth individual of the “Key entourage” to be reburied from Baltimore to Mount Olivet back in the year 1866. This was Simon Fraser Blunt, and the exact date of his burial in Mount Olivet’s Area H/lot 439 occurred without fanfare on October 1st, 1866. Mr. Blunt was Francis Scott Key’s son-in-law, having married daughter Ellen Lloyd Key in 1846. Blunt is only about five yards away from brother-in-law FSK, Jr., but a comparison of life stories is “night and day,” as they say. I was astounded with what I found out about Simon Fraser Blunt, and am prepared to show you that although short, he had an adventurous 35 years here on Earth. To be perfectly "blunt," our subject's life was uncompromisingly forthright, and the furthest thing from dull. 
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Simon Fraser Blunt enjoyed a distinguished career in the US Navy, one that would encompass the majority of his life. He was a member of the Wilkes Expedition which explored and surveyed the Pacific Ocean, a cartographer of San Francisco Bay and served as captain of the SS Winfield Scott when it shipwrecked off Anacapa Island in 1853. Two geographic features, Blunt Cove and Point Blunt are thought to be named for him. Yet, there are few, if any, individuals today who have actually ever heard the name of 1st Lt. Simon F. Blunt. In particular, two chapters of his life are particularly amazing and worth telling as these would bookend his Naval career front and back.

​Blunt Force
Simon Fraser Blunt was born August 1st, 1818 in Southampton County, Virginia. His father, Dr. Samuel Blunt, owned a fine plantation named Belmont, located a few miles northeast of the small crossroads town of present-day Capron. According to the 1831 slave census, Dr. Blunt’s father owned nearly 36 slaves. This fact would play out during “the dawn’s early light” on the morning of August 23rd, 1831. Belmont would take part in the bloodiest and best-known slave revolt in American history. 

​Nat Turner (1800-1831), an enslaved black preacher was living at the home of Southampton County craftsman Joseph Travis in the summer of 1831. He had been recently acquired by Mr. Travis, having been bought and sold by a few different slave-owners throughout his life.
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Having believed he was divinely selected to lead his people out of bondage, Turner took this as a sign in the form of an eclipse of the Sun caused Turner to believe that the hour to strike was near. His plan was to capture the armory at the county seat of Jerusalem, and, having gathered many recruits, to press on to the Dismal Swamp, 30 miles to the east, where capture would be difficult. 

On the night of August 21st, together with seven fellow slaves in whom he had put his trust, he launched a campaign of total annihilation, murdering Travis and his family in their sleep and then setting forth on his bloody march toward Jerusalem. In two days and nights about 60 white people were ruthlessly slain. Doomed from the start, Turner’s insurrection was handicapped by lack of discipline among his followers and by the fact that only 80 Blacks rallied to his cause.

Just before dawn on August 23rd, Turner and about 20 of his followers had covered a distance of about 15 miles and arrived at Belmont, home of our subject, Simon Fraser Blunt, then having just turned 13 years of age a few weeks prior. Forewarned of the dangers ahead, Dr. Samuel Blunt insisted that his slaves remain and defend the plantation and his family, or join the insurgents. All stayed and successfully defended the home and its occupants.
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Tradition states that young Simon Blunt fired the first shot at the insurgents, either from the front porch or an upper window as there are two account variations. Belmont would serve as Nat Turner’s “Waterloo” of sorts, and the site of the next-to-last skirmish of the rebellion.  Many of his followers had perished upon reaching the Blunt plantation and the remainder were captured and executed upon arrival. Turner, himself, escaped and would be the focus of a multi-month manhunt, before being captured on October 30th, 1831. He was convicted and hanged twelve days later on November 11th, 1831. 

As an aside, I will share that the Nat Turner rebellion prompted the Virginia General Assembly to spend much of its December 1831 session debating the possible abolition of slavery, something state governor John Floyd had hoped to accomplish. Contrary to Floyd’s wishes, the legislature enacted more stringent slave laws and attempted to suppress abolitionist writings. Turner’s short, but violent revolt, so alarmed the South that a much stricter regimen was soon instituted against slaves and free blacks alike, leading to further hardening of attitudes between the North and South.
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As Nat Turner had made a name for himself, but lost his life for it, our subject Simon F. Blunt would gain newfound fame and be set on his career path because of Turner’s ill-fated insurrection plot. The plucky teen would be rewarded for his heroism and bravery in battle and summoned to the White House to meet President Andrew Jackson. The president bestowed on the lad immediate commission in the US Navy. His enlistment date states September 7th, 1831.

In 1838, Blunt was assigned to the USS Porpoise, under the command of (Washington County native) Captain Cadwalader Ringgold (1811-1867) and passed midshipman on June 23rd before the ship joined the Wilkes Expedition in early August.

A passed midshipman, sometimes called as "midshipman, passed", is a term used historically in the 19th century to describe a midshipman who had passed the lieutenant's exam and was eligible for promotion to lieutenant as soon as there was a vacancy in that grade.
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The Wilkes Expedition is also known as the United States Exploring Expedition of 1838–1842 and served as an exploring and surveying expedition of the Pacific Ocean and surrounding lands. Funding for the original expedition was requested by President John Quincy Adams in 1828, however, Congress would not implement funding until eight years later. In May 1836, the oceanic exploration voyage was finally authorized by Congress and created by President Andrew Jackson.

The expedition is referred to as the "Wilkes Expedition" in honor of its commanding officer, United States Navy Lieutenant Charles Wilkes. The expedition was of major importance to the growth of science in the United States, in particular the then-young field of oceanography. Lt. Wilkes had a reputation for hydrography, geodesy, and magnetism.

Personnel included naturalists, botanists, a mineralogist, a taxidermist, and a philologist. They were carried aboard the sloops-of-war USS Vincennes (780 tons), and USS Peacock (650 tons), the brig USS Porpoise (230 tons), the full-rigged ship Relief, which served as a store-ship, and two schooners, Sea Gull (110 tons) and USS Flying Fish (96 tons), which served as tenders.
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During the event, armed conflict between Pacific islanders and the expedition was common and dozens of natives were killed in action, as well as a few of the American explorers. In March, 1839, at Orange Bay, Simon Blunt transferred to the USS Vincennes. On January 16th, 1840, the expedition sailed close enough to Antarctica to see the actual continent and it has been said that Blunt Cove is named for him. 

Going from one temperature extreme to another, the expedition would next visit the Sandwich Islands in the South Pacific. Formerly this group of tropical islands was known to Europeans and Americans as the Sandwich Islands, a name that Captain James Cook chose in honor of the then First Lord of the Admiralty John Montagu, 4th Earl of Sandwich.

The contemporary name, dating from the 1840s, is derived from the name of the largest island, Hawaiʻi Island. The islands were first known to Europeans after the expedition of Álvaro de Saavedra Cerón in 1527. Interestingly, they would become known to all US residents, and the world to a greater degree, exactly 101 years after the Wilkes Expedition made their explorations. The famous naval station at Pearl Harbor would be established here in 1899, after the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom and subsequent annexation of the territory in 1893.  

Our friend, Mr. Blunt, however, would not have the nicest time in paradise. He apparently took sick in April, 1841 in Honolulu, possibly from participating in the trip to the summit of Mauna Loa Volcano. He eventually rallied and made it back home to the US east coast. A few weeks after the expedition had arrived back in New York City, Simon Blunt was promoted to the rank of lieutenant on July 28th, 1842, ​
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In 1844, Blunt was assigned to the USS Truxtun which departed Philadelphia in June of that year and would participate in patrolling activities off the coast of Liberia (Africa). In particular, the ship took up station off Tenerife in the Canary Islands to begin duty suppressing the slave trade. This tour lasted 16 months and when Simon returned, the young man attended the newly formed United States Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland.

Lt. Blunt's time spent back in Annapolis, put him on a collision course with his future wife, Miss Ellen Lloyd Key, daughter of Francis Scott Key. The ninth child of the famous lawyer and songwriter was born in Georgetown in 1821 and was said to have been “especially attractive, a fine writer and even better public speaker.” On January 27th, 1846, Simon married Miss Key in Washington DC.

​Ellen’s famous father was not in attendance as he had died three years previously. Also absent was Ellen’s older brother, Daniel Key, a former midshipman of Annapolis who was killed in a duel in Bladensburg (MD) in June, 1836 by a fellow Navy midshipman named John Sherburne. It’s highly likely that Blunt and Sherburne knew one another, and quite possible that Simon had met Daniel Key in his younger days as a midshipman of similar age.
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One more unique connection could have helped “match-make” this particular marriage. Blunt’s former commander and colleague, Cadwalader Ringgold, was the half-brother of Virginia Ringgold Key. The former Miss Ringgold had married Ellen’s older brother, John Ross Key (1809-1837) in 1834.

Mr. and Mrs. Blunt went on to have three children: Alice Key Blunt (1847–1927); John Yell Mason Blunt (1849–1910); and Mary Lloyd Key Blunt (1850–?). 
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In 1849, Simon F. Blunt was appointed to a Joint Commission of Army and Navy Officers whose purpose was to identify potential sites for lighthouses and defense facilities along the Pacific Coast of the California and Oregon territories. The Joint Commission consisted of three army engineers: Maj. John L. Smith, Maj Cornelius Austin Ogden and 1st Lt. Danville Leadbetter; and three naval officers: Commodore Louis M. Goldsborough, Commodore G.J. Van Brunt, and Blunt, himself. It had assembled in San Francisco by early April 1849. 

Blunt, either on his own or with the rest of the members of the Joint Commission, presumably joined his former Captain on the USS Porpoise. This was "Commodore" Cadwalader Ringgold who led an expedition on the chartered brig Col. Fremont in an effort to chart the San Francisco Bay region, suddenly important because of the recent discovery of gold in the area—the Gold Rush of '49.

Ringgold is reputed to have named Point Blunt on Angel Island in the San Francisco Bay for our friend Simon.

​​ Afterwards, Lt. Blunt assisted Commodore Ringgold in the creation of two charts for the Bay area:

Chart of the Farallones and entrance to the Bay of San Francisco, California (1850)
Chart of the Bay of San Pablo, Straits of Carquinez, and part of the Bay of San Francisco (1850)

​Blunt also drew a lithograph, View of Benicia from the anchorage east of Seal Island for Ringgold's Chart of Suisun & Vallejo Bays with the confluence of the rivers Sacramento and San Joaquin, California.  A colored version of the lithograph was published in 1852.

A summary of the further activities of this group state the following:
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The Joint Commission may have been joined by members of the land branch of the Pacific division of the United States Coast Survey. The USS Massachusetts was transferred to the Navy in San Francisco on August 1st, 1849, and detailed for the use of the Joint Commission to take up and down the coast, however they could not recruit a crew. They borrowed some crewmen from another ship and Blunt may have made his second trip to Hawaii, where the Massachusetts wintered and hired native crewmen. Upon its return, the Joint Commission made preliminary recommendations to President Millard Fillmore to reserve various islands and coastal regions in and around San Francisco Bay. Then they and the Massachusetts sailed up to Puget Sound. After a cursory examination of the mouth of the Columbia River, the ship and the Joint Commission returned to California in July 1850. After a trip to San Diego, the Joint Commission made its final recommendation on November 30th, 1850.

If Blunt went with the Joint Commission to Hawaii, immediately upon his return he separated from it and the Massachusetts. On March 10th, 1850 Blunt was in command of the Schooner Arabian with another military survey party en-route to Trinidad Bay. Upon reaching the bay, a boat with a landing party from the schooner swamped, resulting in the drowning of five men. Five more men survived. Blunt appears to have continued to the Columbia River and explored the Willamette Valley, and by August 1st, 1850, to have attached to the Survey Schooner Ewing of the Pacific Coast Survey. 

In a letter of that time period from William Pope McArthur (the first leader of the hydrographic branch of the Pacific Coast Survey) to his father-in-law, Commander John J. Young, McArthur wrote of his group’s foray into what had been recognized officially as the Oregon Territory in 1848:
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 "Lt. Blunt who is now with me has traveled considerably through the country (the Willamette Valley) and is so much pleased with it, that he has taken a section of land and made a regular claim to it, he has also taken one for myself and one for Lt. Bartlett, both adjoining his!"  

The forementioned Lt. McArthur was commander of USS Ewing, and Washington Allon Bartlett was one of its officers.

By August 31st, 1850, the USS Ewing had already worked its way south to San Diego. At the end of December 1850, the USS Ewing was severely damaged in a storm while attempting to take the new land branch of the Pacific Coast Survey to Monterey Bay. Upon her repair, she traveled up the coast to the Columbia River.

​If Blunt was with still with the USS Ewing,  he was back by early to mid-summer of 1851, when he was a signer of the constitution of the San Francisco Committee of Vigilance. This was a vigilante group formed in response to rampant crime and municipal government corruption in a town that had grown from 900 residents to over 20,000 in a short period thanks to the famed Gold Rush.

While here, Blunt spent time with friend John Charles and wife, Jessie Benton Frémont, at their home in the same city. Frémont (1813-1890) was an American explorer, military officer, and politician. He had recently been elected a US Senator from California, and later in 1856 would become the first Republican nominee for President of the United States. Simon likely discussed with the couple an idea that he was developing that would help lower lifeboats into the water from ships. This would be foreshadowing at its very best.
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Meanwhile, I wondered what was occurring with Lt. Blunt's young family back east? At the very least in the year 1850, I found Ellen Key Blunt and Simon’s children living in Baltimore in the large household of Haslett McKim, a wealthy businessman, banker and broker. The residence was located at 27 West Franklin Street, not far from the Baltimore Cathedral.

I'm assuming that based on the life of a sailing man, more time for the couple was spent apart than together. Perhaps Ellen traveled out to see him on the west coast? Or maybe a furlough home at some point was enjoyed for the young US Navy veteran with a decade's service logged up to this point. Simon would be back home soon, but not for long.

On January 15th, 1852, Secretary of the Navy, Will A. Graham ordered a Naval Commission to select a site for a west coast naval yard. Simon F. Blunt, along with Commodore John Drake Sloat, Commodore Cadwalader Ringgold, and William P.S. Sanger (former overseer of construction of Drydock Number One, Norfolk Naval Shipyard) were appointed to the commission.

​On July 13, 1852, Sloat recommended the island across the Napa River from the settlement of Vallejo, as it was "free from ocean gales and from floods and freshets." The Navy Department acted favorably on Commodore Sloat's recommendations and Mare Island was purchased for use as a naval shipyard in July 1853 at a cost of $83,410. On September 16, 1854, Mare Island became the first permanent US naval installation on the west coast, with Commodore David Farragut, as Mare Island's first commander.

Lt. Blunt was reunited with his family for the Christmas holidays of 1852. The following year of 1853 would prove another busy year for Simon Fraser Blunt. It began with him being named to the new, national Light House Board, in which he would oversee the New York district. 

It appears that Blunt had a home in Washington, DC, but had made a permanent move to New York, and I assume that his family was in the plan as well, but I'm not positive about this. I do know that he was soon to work inspecting and building  lighthouses with particular focus on the Long Island Sound and vicinity.

​Not so “Golden” Moment
​Somehow, Simon F. Blunt switched gears and left lighthouse inspection to become a steamship captain. I don't know if it was just a factor of his tenure expiring after the initial review of lighthouses or not, but he was now going to shuttle back and forth to the west coast. By mid-1853, Lt. Blunt had been hired as the captain of the SS Winfield Scott, which carried passengers, mail and cargo between San Francisco and Panama.
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The discovery of gold in California brought thousands of fortune seekers from the east and around the world. To meet this new demand for travel and resources, shipping and maritime activity increased dramatically. Sailing ships and steamers carried people, food, and supplies up and down the coast and from the eastern United States. A typical voyage from New York to San Francisco brought passengers first to Panama and, once there, it often took over a month for another ship to arrive and take them up the Pacific seaboard.

In 1847 two steamship companies connecting New York with San Francisco and the Oregon Territory and charged primarily with the important task of delivering mail were subsidized by the federal government. The Steamship Company and the Pacific Mail Steamship Company acquired many steamships to travel the Panama route.

​Independent steamship companies competed with the mail steamships by promising shorter voyages. To reach their destinations more quickly, ships often risked navigating the narrow Santa Barbara Channel rather than traveling around the Channel Islands.

The Winfield Scott was owned by the Pacific Mail Steamship Company. Loaded with over 300 passengers and crew, bags of mail, and between $1-$2 million in gold, the steamship departed San Francisco for Panama on December 1st, 1853.
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The next evening Captain Blunt chose to pass through the Santa Barbara Channel to save time. The fog was dense, but he knew his course. Believing he had passed the islands, Blunt turned southeast, an unfortunate and tragic miscalculation. At 11:00 pm, the Winfield Scott crashed into a large rock off Middle Anacapa Island at full speed, striking two holes in the bow. The stern then struck, knocking away the rudder, and the ship began to sink.

Captain Blunt sent a boat to find a place onshore for the passengers and ordered everyone on board to abandon ship. The large group was brought to the beaches of Anacapa where they camped for nearly a week. Another ship, the California, saw the smoke from the passengers’ fires and rescued the women. It returned on December 9th and removed the rest of the passengers. The company of the Winfield Scott was left on the island to attempt to recover mail, baggage, furniture, and some of the machinery from the wreck, but there was little hope of saving the ship or of getting it off of the ledge.
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An eyewitness account by one of the passengers, an Ohio native named Asa Cyrus Call (1826-1888),can be found online thanks to descendants John and Virginia Call who transcribed/published Cyrus’ diaries (kept between 1850-1853) back in 1998:

The Winfield Scott
Dec. 5th, 1853.
A rock in the Pacific, 20 miles from the coast - Monday,
Dec. 5th, 1853.
 
I embarked on the Steamer Winfield Scott last Thursday, and at 12 o’clock we left Vally’s St. Wharf for Panama. We had fine weather till Friday evening, when it became foggy. One of the boilers had been leaking through the day which had retarded our progress, and the Sierra Navada had passed us, but it was repaired on Friday afternoon, and we were running about twelve miles an hour, when I went to bed on Friday night. This was about 9 o’clock. I had just got to sleep, when I was awakened by a tremendous shock. I knew we had struck a rock and hurrying on a part of my clothes I hurried up on deck where I found a general panic, but the steamer was backed off and with the assurance that all was right the most of the passengers retired again to their rooms. But I didn’t believe she could have struck a rock with such force without sustaining some injury, and not knowing what the upshot of the matter might be, I went down to my state room and put my money and all other valuables in my trunk into my saddle bags, and went into the upper saloon intending to be ready for what was to come next.
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I had hardly taken a seat when the steamer struck again, and with such force, that it seemed as if the ship was breaking into a thousand fragments. I again hurried on deck, and went forward to see if I could see land. It was so dark I could see nothing, but I could distinctly hear the roar of the breakers ahead, and on the larboard side. The steamer was unmanageable, and the order was given to let off the steam and to extinguish the fires to prevent the ship's taking fire. The decks were densely crowded but considering the circumstances the people behaved remarkably well. It was a perfect jam. And all I could distinguish was an occasional small shriek as the ship lurched to one side giving evidence that she was sinking. 

​December 9th 7 p.m.
The old steamer California came to our rock sometime in the night last night, and made her presence known by firing cannon. We climbed to the top of the rock and made a large fire of weeds, which is the only fuel we have on the rock. The sea was very rough which made it dangerous getting onboard, but we finally accomplished it without any very serious accident. It is now supposed that there were one or two men lost when we were wrecked, as they have never been seen since. One was a Mr. Underwood, a butcher by trade.

​After seeing to the rescue of the passengers and salvage of the mail and cargo, Captain Blunt continued “to Atlantic States on a visit to his family and for the purpose of representing in person, the loss of the steamer of which he formerly had commanded." Blunt would be cleared of any wrongdoing. An article from the time gives the sentiment of the passengers in regards to the accident.

​As an aside, between 1850 and 1900, at least 33 ships were wrecked in the same Channel. The Winfield Scott still lies beneath the clear waters of Channel Islands National Park. Divers regularly visit it still to this day.

Simon Fraser Blunt and the passengers of the USS Winfield Scott made it back to New York City on January 29th, 1854 as evidenced by two news mentions in the New York Herald.

​Sadly, this would be Simon Fraser Blunt’s last big adventure. I don’t know how he spent his last four months after returning home to the east coast from California, but he would die in Baltimore on April 27th, 1854 at the age of 35. His funeral was covered by the Baltimore Sun as his mortal remains were placed alongside his famous father-in-law within the Howard family vault in Old St Paul’s Cemetery in Baltimore. 

To support herself, and her children, Ellen Blunt worked as a copyist for the US Patent Office , where, by 1855, Patent Commissioner Charles Mason was employing four women clerks, including Clara Barton, who later founded the American Red Cross. In mid-1855, however, when Mr. Mason resigned, the women were forced to work at home because Secretary of the Interior Robert McClelland, who had assumed supervision of the Patents Office, objected to "the obvious impropriety in the mixing of the two sexes within the walls of a public office." Their pay was reduced to the piecework rate of ten cents per hundred words, and during some of the following months, they were given little or no work at all.

Interestingly, Ellen was the subject of a March 7th, 1856 letter by Jessie Benton Frémont (wife of the fore-mentioned California Senator and presidential candidate) to Washington DC socialite and “Navy commander wife” Elizabeth Blair Lee. In this correspondence, Mrs. Fremont laments Ellen Key Blunt's financial situation, one that took a nose-dive following the sudden loss of her husband (Simon). Frémont attempted to intervene on Blunt's behalf by writing to George W. Blunt, a prominent publisher of nautical charts and maps (with no known relationship to Simon Blunt), imploring him to buy a patent for a device developed by Simon Blunt to lower lifeboats into the water. By the end of 1859, Frémont was somehow exasperated with George Blunt and “gave up the ship” so to speak.

Mrs. Blunt made ends meet by writing and lecturing around the east. She received help from her siblings, as her sister Mary Key Pendleton helped her reputation in her home of Cincinnati, Ohio.

​Ellen would relocate to Paris in 1861. While there she gave dramatic readings or her works. She most likely moved due to the American Civil War and the instability of both Baltimore and Washington, DC at that time.  The family was Southern leaning and some of her poems and essays reflect this sentiment wholeheartedly. Her reputation was preceded by her father's patriotic tune, and her brother's brutal murder.

While in Paris, she must have okayed the move of Blunt’s body in October, 1866 to Frederick, Maryland. He would be buried in the new Key family plot in Area H/Lot 439. This was made possible by Fredericktonian George Murdoch Potts who it is said persuaded two of Francis Scott Key’s daughters to move the patriot’s body back to his native Frederick for re-interment in the town’s new cemetery, opened just 12 years earlier.

​Key, his wife Mary, son Francis Scott Key, Jr. and Simon F. Blunt were buried here on October 6th, 1866 after being brought from Baltimore aboard train. ​

Blunt's Lasting Legacy
The schooner the S F Blunt was built in 1854-1855 at Puget Sound by William Ireland. It would make many journeys off the coast of northern California, especially between San Francisco and Sacramento. You may think of California's capital city as being far inland from the coast. This is true, but the real city of Sacramento was developed around a wharf, called the Embarcadero, on the confluence of the American River and Sacramento River which had been developed in 1849 as a result of gold discoveries at Sutter's Mill in the area of Coloma. The port was used increasingly as a point of debarkation for prospecting Argonauts heading eastwards, and supplies were readily needed.

Unfortunately the S F Blunt would suffer a series of mishaps. It became waterlogged at Albion, California in November, 1862. Another accident occurred in 1865 in Tomales Bay. The two-masted sailing schooner was repaired and would sail another day until it was waterlogged again off the Mendocino Coast in May, 1868. This was the proverbial "strike three!," as the schooner was refloated and wrecked off Point Arena in 1868.

John was 12 when he and his two sisters moved to Europe. While still a teenager, John enlisted in the French Army and became a member of the Red Cross Corps. He later transferred to the Papal Zouaves, a unit formed by the Papal States to fight their incorporation into the new Kingdom of Italy. John was among the last troops to surrender when the Italians took Rome in 1870.
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John returned to France with a French unit of the Papal Zouaves, and fought in the Franco-Prussian War. Subsequently, he lived with his mother in Paris during the Commune of 1871. He next went to Spain and fought as a cavalry captain in the Carlist War of 1872 and 1873 on the side of Juan Carlos, the Pretender to the Spanish throne. After the war, he remained in the service of Juan Carlos in Paris and Marseilles until 1880. At this time John's mother moved to Great Britain for health reasons. Accompanying her, he joined the British Army and served in the First Royal Dragoons, a cavalry unit that did police work. 

​Meanwhile Ellen continued her writing and elocution opportunities throughout Europe. ​Ellen Key Blunt died on March 30th, 1884 in the coastal resort town of Tendy, Wales. I assume she was buried here instead of being brought back to the United States and laid by her husband’s side in Mount Olivet. I couldn’t find her exact burial location.

​Following his mother's death, John Y. M. Blunt resigned from his British employment and returned to the United States. He joined the US Army and served in the cavalry. He rose again to the rank of captain, serving in Maryland, Kansas, Cuba, and the Philippines. He retired in Manila after seventeen years of service in 1902. John remained in Manila and worked as a translator in the Philippine Constabulary until his final illness and death in 1910.

John’s son, Wilfrid Blunt was a veteran of World War I and World II, having graduated from the US Military academy at West Point in 1911. During World War II, he was the commander of Camp Carson in Colorado Springs, CO. He would retire in 1948.
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Simon Blunt had two daughters, Alice Key Blunt and Mary Lloyd Blunt. Neither daughter married, but led very different lives. The former traveled extensively and lived with relatives, and in various hotels in Baltimore throughout her adult life. She spent summers in Canada, which afforded opportunities to visit her sister.

Ms. Blunt was quite active in patriotic affairs and regularly sat on planning and social committees in her home of Baltimore. In fact, she was co-founder of the Baltimore Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution in March 1892. This group is also known (fittingly) as the Francis Scott Key Chapter. Ms. Blunt would serve as Maryland's second state regent in 1894, and was followed in succession by Betty Maulsby Ritchie, founder of the Frederick Chapter, DAR and buried only 30 yards to the south of Mrs. Blunt's  gravesite.

Alice Key Blunt was the subject of a Frederick News article in early summer of 1924 in which she visited her grandfather's hometown and made a visit to Mount Olivet to see the graves of her father, uncle and grandparents. 

​I couldn’t find Mary Blunt’s grave, but from John Y. M. Blunt’s obit,  I learned that she was a nun and teacher in Montreal. I found Sister Mary Blunt in the 1921 Canadian Census living at Sacred Heart Roman Catholic School and Convent.

​The Sacred Heart School of Montreal was founded in 1861, and built around the principles that were at the core of the Society of the Sacred Heart, which was begun by Saint Madeleine Sophie Barat in 1800. Among those principles was to educate girls to take part in society beyond the home or the church. I’m assuming that Mary’s time abroad in Europe likely influenced her to become a sister.

​One more individual of note is buried in this Key plot in Area H. In between the graves of Simon Blunt and his brother-in-law, Francis Scott Key, Jr., lies the grave of a nephew to both gentlemen—John Ross Key III (1837-1920). I wrote a story about this talented fellow back in July, 2019 entitled “Star-Spangled Artist.” John Ross Key III was a world class painter and grandson of Francis Scott Key. He was born in Hagerstown on July 16th, 1837, two months after the death of his father, John Ross Key II (1809-1837). Young Key’s mother, Virginia Ringgold Key (1815-1903), was the sister of Commodore Cadwalader Ringgold, a continual figure in the life and career of Simon Fraser Blunt. 

When referring to somebody by the moniker, “junior,” we are typically referring to the younger of two men bearing the same full name—most commonly, a son named after his father. It is often written as Jr. or jr. following the name.

Famous “juniors” in US history include Martin Luther King, Jr., John F. Kennedy, Jr., Teddy Roosevelt, Jr., Robert Downey, Jr., Sammy Davis, Jr., Lon Chaney, Jr., Dale Earnhart, Jr., Ken Griffey, Jr., Odell Beckham, Jr., Cuba Gooding, Jr. and the list goes on to even include a brand of candy featuring small rounds of mint filling, covered in a dark chocolate coating. 

Here at home, the founder of Frederick, Daniel Dulany (1685-1753), was aided greatly by a same-named son. This lad grew up to be one of the greatest legal minds of his time, but he actually didn’t carry the “Jr.” suffix, but instead opted to be called Daniel Dulany, the Younger (1722-1797).
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Not many know this, but the most famous, and well-known, occupant of Frederick’s Mount Olivet Cemetery had a son, who was a “junior.” I'm, of course, talking about Francis Scott Key.  In fact, I would venture to say that the reason we have Francis Scott Key in our cemetery, is likely due more to Francis Scott Key, Jr. than to anything else.

On Monday, October the 1st, 1866, the body of Francis Scott Key, Jr. was carried through Mount Olivet’s main gate by use of a horse and wagon. It would be laid to rest in the cemetery’s Area H/Lot 439. 

​The funeral cortege doesn’t seem to have been well-attended, or possibly even known about by the locals for that matter. This gentleman’s mortal remains had been removed, likely that same morning, from a vault in Old St. Paul’s Church burying ground in downtown Baltimore, not far from Camden Yards at 733 Redwood Street-- just off Martin Luther King, Jr. Boulevard. 

​Key’s coffin was taken and placed aboard a Baltimore & Ohio Railroad train at that place and traveled to Frederick for reburial. Frederick’s freight depot was the destination, a grand building once located on South Carroll Street, near East All Saints Street where a parking deck now stands today. Its claim to fame was that it was said to be "the oldest depot in the world" up to its demise in the early 20th century.

Key’s body did not travel alone, so to speak. Joining FSK, Jr. for this voyage west from “Charm City” were his parents, Francis Scott Key and Mary Tayloe (Lloyd) Key, and another gentleman named Simon Frazier Blunt. Mr. Blunt had died in 1854, and had been married to FSK, Jr.’s sister Ellen Lloyd Key.

​The renowned Francis Scott Key had died earlier yet, on January 11th, 1843, while visiting his daughter Elizabeth Phoebe (Key) Howard, then living in Baltimore at Mount Vernon Place. Elizabeth was Mr. Key's oldest child, and she had married Charles Howard (1802-1869)in 1825. Mr. Howard was the son of Maryland's fifth governor John Eager Howard (1752-1827) who was also a Revolutionary War commander, US Senator, and organizer of Baltimore's defenses for the War of 1812.  Howard County takes its name from  this accomplished gentleman.

​Today, a plaque on Mount Vernon Place United Methodist Church marks the former site of the Charles Howard home. A decision was made at the time of our famous songwriter's death to place his body in the Howard family’s funerary vault, located a few short blocks away in St. Paul’s graveyard. This was an interesting choice, because Key’s home at the time (of death) was Washington, DC, specifically not far from the US Capitol building. And better yet, why wasn’t Francis Scott Key buried in his old hometown of Frederick?

​As far as Frederick, the prime option for burial would have been the old All Saints’ Burying Ground, located basically 100 yards west of the B&O Railroad’s freight depot. At the time (1843) the graveyard had his parents as occupants, but had lost some of its luster over a century of use. The All Saints’ congregation had vacated their original church structure at this location nearly three decades earlier, wanting to be in a more prominent area of town near Court House Square. Meanwhile, there was no fancy-schmancy "garden cemetery" in the form of Mount Olivet, as this wouldn’t come into being until 1852—nine years after FSK's death.

Mrs. Key died on May 18th, 1859. Known more commonly by her nickname of "Polly," she would be laid to rest in Baltimore instead of Washington, DC or, more surprisingly, her native Annapolis. Mary was placed in the Howard family crypt with her husband in St. Paul's.
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According to historian Edward S. Delaplaine, Francis Scott Key had strongly considered Frederick for his place of burial. The illness that preceded his death came very quickly in the form of pleurisy turned pneumonia. Delaplaine’s 1937 biography entitled Francis Scott Key: Life and Times states the following:
“Many years later it was recalled that Key had expressed a wish to be buried “ ‘neath the shadows of the everlasting hills” in Frederick County.”

Apparently, some local movers and shakers here in Frederick rekindled the sentiment after the re-emergence of “the Star-Spangled Banner’s” popularity during the American Civil War—at least in the North, that is. People recalled the song’s author, and many in his old home county wondered where he had been laid to rest. Some folks thought that he should be here in Frederick instead of Baltimore, where he had never lived. The argument was strengthened by the fact that we now had a new and progressive “garden cemetery” which had officially opened in 1854.
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The chief responsible party for making the request and arrangements for re-interment of the Keys in Mount OLivet was George Murdoch Potts(1807-1893). This gentleman farmer was the son of Judge Richard Potts and Eleanor Murdoch. They were removed from All Saints Burying Ground and placed in, what we call, the Potts Lot--the only “gated community” within Mount Olivet. Here are buried members of the Potts family and also that of the Marshall family, whose patriarch, Richard Marshall, was one of the cemetery’s original founders and responsible for having Francis Scott Key’s parents buried here from the fore-mentioned All Saints' Episcopal graveyard. Mr. Marshall also made arrangements to bring Francis Scott Key's sister, Anne Taney here as well.

The story goes that Mr. Potts corresponded with two of Key’s daughters, the earlier mentioned Elizabeth Howard and another, Alice Key Pendleton. He introduced and inquired about the possibility of reburial in Frederick. Alice Key had married George H. Pendleton (1825-1889), an American politician and lawyer who represented Ohio in both houses of Congress and served as the Democratic nominee for Vice President of the United States in 1864 on the ticket with George B. McClellan.
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It has been said that Key’s daughters were against the idea of removal from Baltimore at first, however they warmed up to it over time. This is where “Junior” comes in.

I truly feel that Francis Scott Key Jr.’s death on April 4th, 1866 turned the tide. Maybe the concern arose with the family that there may not be enough room in the Howard vault for additional family members, whether they be Keys, or more importantly, Howards. Whatever the case, a decision was made for reburial in Frederick, and newspapers throughout the country carried the news and appear to give Mrs. Pendleton sole credit for the decision.

​I also think that whether the Key daughters knew it at the time or not, the opportunity for erecting a more fitting and substantial memorial to their famous father was likelier in his hometown of Frederick, without competing with the fine achievements of "crypt-mate" John Eager Howard and other Howard notables. The beautiful new cemetery in Frederick could accommodate additional Key family members for future burial and various forms of funerary sculpture and architecture not possible at old St. Paul’s. Permission was granted, and as said earlier, October 1st, 1866 marked the date of the 47-mile move of the four individuals in question.

Here is another aside, as I found an article from a local Frederick paper from May, 1920 that recounted the fact that undertaker A. T. Rice was responsible for conveying the Key bodies from the train to Mount Olivet. Apparently, Mr. Rice used an old fashioned hearse with "a hat top and no adornment, and drawn by one horse" for transporting Francis Scott Key Sr.'s coffin.

Francis Scott Key, Jr.

Francis Scott Key, Jr. was born October 7th, 1806 in Georgetown. Not much is known about his childhood, but we can get a glimpse from Edward Delaplaine’s biography of Francis’ father:

“A strong bond of affection existed among the members of the Key family. Francis Scott Key himself was deeply affectionate. He poured out his love for mother and father, for his sister Anne, and for Polly and the children. The family was a happy one. When Key reached forty, Polly had already given birth to eight children. Their eldest child, Elizabeth, was nearly sixteen. Maria was over fourteen. Frank, named after his father, was approaching thirteen. John, named after his grandfather, was ten. Ann was eight. Edward, named for Polly’s father, was nearly six. Daniel Murray, named for Key’s old college mate, was three. The baby, Philip Barton, named for Uncle Philip, was a year and four months.

Traditions are redolent of the many happy hours in Georgetown. “The shady lawn and orchard sloping to the Potomac’s edge,” wrote one of Key’s granddaughters many years after his death, “and the terraced garden with it walnut trees and Lombardy poplars shading the walks, made a happy playground for the household band. Here, for each child, a tiny round garden had been made by the gardener, under their father’s directions, and what ecstasies of delight abounded when the sprouting seed took the shape of names, and ‘Maria,’ ‘Lizzie,’ ‘Anna,’etc., were clearly spelled out in the center of the green seedlings!”

Education was important for the Key children, as was a sense of family history. The Keys regularly returned to the Key family plantation of Terra Rubra each summer. The location is in today’s Carroll County, just over the border at present day Keymar.

Info on Francis Scott Key, Jr. is hard to find. Like his father, he would receive his upper level education in Annapolis. He did not attend St. John’s College, but rather the US Naval Academy. While here, he would marry Elizabeth Lloyd Harwood on April 5th, 1826. Miss Harwood was a first cousin through his mother’s side of the family—the Lloyds. Interestingly, “Junior’s” mother, Polly Key, would now serve a new role as mother-in-law to her son’s new bride. Elizabeth had known Polly solely as an aunt for her first 18 years.
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The family can be found living in multiple places over his life. After a childhood spent in Washington, DC, he can be found in Anne Arundel County in the 1830 census, Carroll County in 1840, Baltimore County in 1850 and Howard County in 1860. 

​The couple would have eight known children: Henry Harwood Key (1827-1889), Elizabeth Lloyd Key (1829-1919), Fannie Scott (Key) Dorsey (1840-1925), Alice Turner (Key) Smith (1833-1907), John Francis Key (1838-1920), Daniel Murray Key (1841-1913), Anne Arnold Key (1844-1850) and Wilfred Key (1845-1865) who died as a POW during the Civil War.

​I found an article from 1907 which helped shed a little more light on my subject. It comes from a front page article appearing in the Baltimore County Union, published in Towson (MD) on January 5th of 1907. In particular, the article talks about Mr. Key as being a former host of an elegant property known as “the Elms.”

​Mr. Key would be a resident of Harford County at the time of his death on April 4th, 1866. His obituary reports that his exact location of death was the Maltby House hotel. 

​Junior’s grave is located north of the original site of his parent’s graves on Area H, not far from Confederate Row. As visitors came to see the great patriot’s grave, his was spotted as well in close proximity. An article that was carried in many papers in 1878 talks of the shabby condition of the Key gravesite, especially in relation to other well-kept lots surrounding it.

​This outspoken article sparked attention. This was combined with questions asking why this “great American patriot” was not receiving the same treatment as the grand monument movement of the time in which Civil War soldiers and officers of both sides were being honored with beautiful works of marble, granite and bronze.

Within two decades, a grand monument was crafted for Francis Scott Key, Sr., and he and his wife were moved for a third, and final, time to a vault beneath the work crafted by Alexander Doyle and immigrant sculptor Pompeo Coppini.
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Replica stones would eventually replace the original gravemarkers for Francis and Polly.  All the while, Francis Scott Key, Jr’s gravestone has endured the trials of time, weather and obscurity--“Good Old Junior.”

So the 275th anniversary of Frederick is upon us, however after this year of 2020, it’s hard to get excited about anything outside an end to Covid-19 and political squabbling. Frederick Town, as it was originally named, was established in 1745 by lawyer and land speculator Daniel Dulany of Annapolis. That year, property lots were surveyed here, east of Catoctin Mountain, in the Monocacy Valley. The exact setting was Dulany’s parcel named Tasker’s Chance located in the extreme backwoods of Prince Georges County.
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For one reason or another, an arbitrary date of September 10th somehow arose as Frederick’s official founding date, but the origin/source of this particular day is somewhat unknown. The origin likely lies in a long lost “day planner” of either Mr. Dulany, or his hired surveyor, Thomas Cresap—the latter quite an interesting story himself! Regardless, three years later in 1748, Mr. Dulany would petition the Maryland General Assembly in establishing a brand, new county. He succeeded and Frederick County was carved out of the existing Prince George’s County, and Dulany’s planned community of Frederick Town would grow in stature as a new county seat.

​“The town of Frederick was laid out on Tasker’s Chance in September, 1745, on both sides of Carroll Creek.”
The quotation above comes from page 24 of a book I consider myself lucky to have in my collection. I’m not alone, as many are fortunate enough to own, or possess, a copy of one of the best reference publications and resources of our local history. Simply titled: History of Frederick County Maryland, this two-volume work was originally published in 1910 by the L.R. Titsworth & Co. and consists of 1,635 pages written by two special gentlemen: T. J. C. Williams and Folger McKinsey. 

​Judge Thomas John Chew Williams (1851-1929) was a newspaper editor, historian and prominent citizen of Washington County, who had capped a career in law, politics and newspaper work, with 19 years of service on the Juvenile Court bench of Baltimore. Although not buried here in Frederick’s Mount Olivet, but instead at St. Mark's Episcopal Church at Lappans (Washington County), Mr. Williams was quite familiar with many already buried here within Mount Olivet, and countless more eventually destined to reside here when their time would come. 

Judge Williams, son of the Rev. Henry Williams of the Protestant Episcopal Church, was born in Calvert County in 1851. At the age of 19, he was admitted to the bar and went to Hagerstown to practice in 1872. While in the law office of William T. Hamilton, then a United States Senator, Mr. Williams became interested in politics, and this association would lead him into the newspaper field. He soon became part owner of the Hagerstown Mail in 1874 at the age of 23. He remained at the Mail until 1891 when editorials attracted attention which led to an engagement as editorial writer on the Baltimore Sun. His first appointment to the juvenile court bench followed in 1910.
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Aside from his conspicuous work in the town newspaper field in Hagerstown and Baltimore, Judge Williams was the author of a history of Washington County in 1906. This would lead to his follow-up act in tackling of our county's history. To assist him in this endeavor, he would turn to one of the greatest newspapermen in our state’s history, a native of Elkton, Maryland named Folger McKinsey. McKinsey was best known by his pseudonym, the Bentztown Bard—a nod to valuable time spent in Frederick during his storied career.

​Though well-loved and remembered in many Maryland homes, McKinsey (1866-1950) really made a name for himself here where he was editor of The Frederick News daily and weekly editions. He earned his pen name by regularly writing poems for the local publications, usually “tongue in cheek” entries dealing with current and past events. While here in Frederick, he lived primarily on South Market Street, but is thought to have resided first in the area known as “Bentztown,” the vicinity of Bentz Street’s intersection with West Patrick Street. He rapidly became involved in the community, and is particularly credited for reinvigorating a stagnant effort to have a suitable memorial erected over the grave of Francis Scott Key here. Success in this undertaking was achieved in 1898, and McKinsey’s daughter was captured by photographers on the dedication day in early August.

​McKinsey eventually took his talents to a larger stage when he moved on to The Baltimore Sun where he was a features reporter and columnist. “The Bentztown Bard” provided readers with countless reflections on small-town life across Maryland from the mountains to shore. In addition, Folger McKinsey was an active debater, a skill that served him well as a friend of “The Sage of Baltimore,” H.L. Mencken of The Baltimore Sun, and a member of Mencken’s Saturday Night Club. He would remain in the employ of The Sun for 42 years, and lived out a gilded life at his 500-acre farm with six miles of waterfront on the Magothy River in Anne Arundel County. A nearby elementary school bears his name.

​Around 1907, McKinsey was approached by T. J. C. Williams to help write History of Frederick County, Maryland in two volumes. The second volume included biographies on leading members of the Frederick community. The inclusion of a family-oriented biography was a common practice and added incentive, used at the time to help sell the main history textbook (Volume 1) to subscribers. Many of these bio recipients are buried here in Mount Olivet, and it’s no wonder that I regularly call on volume 2 for help with my weekly “Stories in Stone” blog.

I first became aware of this two-volume masterpiece back in 1993 when I worked for Frederick Cablevision/GS Communications. I had recently begun work on a video documentary about Frederick City for its 250th anniversary commemoration. The project was completed in time for the official celebration date on September 10th, 1995. Williams and McKinsey’s history would prove a true Godsend to me, as I based the 10-hour documentary on its chronological telling of our rich story up through 1910. I then had to cover the next 85 years on my own with various other sources!

I began the documentary with a quote by T.J.C. Williams’ included in his introduction to the work. I thought it fitting to have my big boss, George B. Delaplaine, another newspaper professional and local history aficionado, perform the read. The passage goes as follows:

“The history of Frederick County is not merely a local history. It is a history of men and events of national importance and events.” 

Mr. Delaplaine’s uncle, the Hon. Edward S. Delaplaine, was tasked with writing the introduction for the re-publication of History of Frederick County in 1967—incidentally, the year I was born. Judge Delaplaine (1893-1989), a true local historian of Frederick and a pioneer and promoter of heritage tourism, had this to say in that reprint edition:

“The History of Frederick County is a lasting memorial to Thomas J. C. Williams. For more than half a century it has been used as a reference work by thousands of people—by historians and genealogists, by teachers and students, and persons in all walks of life who have desired to find information about early members of their families.
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Thomas J. C. Williams performed a valuable service in preserving information about a host of Marylanders, yet his own career had been almost forgotten. The story of his life—how the poor boy from the tobacco plantation toiled as public school teacher, as lawyer, as editor and publisher, as historian, as public servant, as churchman, and as Juvenile Judge, until he became a friend and confidant of publishers, prelates, senators, governors, and presidents—this is the story of a fine American.”

Judge Delaplaine is buried here in Mount Olivet and will definitely be chronicled by me one day in this blog. However, today, I just want to connect dots to a lesser known person, forgotten to the past, in an effort to show the true value of Williams’ and McKinsey’s work. I could give countless examples of how it influenced my work as I reflect back on the 25th anniversary of my Frederick Town documentary. Ironically, it was that same Delaplaine family that gave me the opportunity to make historical documentaries, thereby pushing me into the incredible field of public history in the first place. I guess when I think about it, I’m also nearing the fourth anniversary for this “Stories in Stone” blog, which originally began a year earlier as my HSP History Blog on my HistoryShark.com website. As a matter of fact, one of my first blogs was on Frederick founder Daniel Dulany.

When we traditionally think of the word biography, imagery of grade school is usually conjured up. It appeared as an early vocabulary word in language arts and English classes, and usually morphed into a written project assignment in which students had to write about someone’s life. And then there was social studies or history class assignments requiring us to read biographies of interesting people in history and retain fascinating facts and anecdotes about their lives.

The past week has certainly been a sentimental one for me, likely why I have school on my mind, especially high school. My son, Eddie, began his freshman year at my alma mater of Gov. Thomas Johnson High School. Among his classes this semester are Freshman English and AP History. I can’t believe that 35 years have passed since my high school graduation in 1985. While I’m at it, I find it necessary to thank all my former teachers, but especially the two most influential in my everyday professional life in presenting public history. One was Terry Hershey, my 10th and 12th grade AP English history instructor, who taught me how to write position papers, debate and overcome a fear of public speaking. The other was Mike Bunitsky, my 10th grade and 12th grade AP History teacher who had such a unique lecture and teaching style that not only made history fun, but certainly made it come alive for me and my classmates. 

Well, in writing this week’s piece, I decided to randomly choose one of the biographical subjects featured in Williams’ and McKinsey’s Volume II of History of Frederick County. I blindly opened the book and pointed to a name on the page. The recipient was a gentleman named John William Molesworth (b. 1848), who also appeared with a picture attached to his bio.

 I was familiar with the surname, but certainly not this gentleman. Before going any further, this choice had to pass one important test—Is he buried in Mount Olivet?  In checking the Mount Olivet grave database, I found the answer to be yes.

I went back and read Mr. Moleworth’s biography, before making a quick pilgrimage to his gravesite. Here is how the author(s) depicted Mr. Molesworth:

​Talk about some interesting and unexpected life details? Well, that’s what you can come to expect with the bios found in Williams and McKinsey. This is true gold for a family researcher or historian who comes upon an ancestor chronicling of this kind.

One additional connection I found lies in the fact that John's son, Roger Wright Molesworth (1898-1964) is one of 600 World War I veterans we have in Mount Olivet. A few years ago, we created a memorial page for him on our sister-site MountOlivetVets.com.

Our subject, John William Molesworth, died on January 3rd, 1912, just two years after History of Frederick County was originally published. He would be buried in Area OO/Lot 28. 

Thanks again T. J. C. Williams and Folger McKinsey. From the perspective of a judge and a poet, those who know nothing of our past history of Frederick and Frederick County, will usually experience a fitting “poetic justice” if given the opportunity to read your two-volume set.

Oh, and by the way, Happy Birthday to the City of Frederick......and many, many more! As a final tribute, I leave you with an address and poem delivered by Folger McKinsey upon a speaking engagement here in Frederick in 1911.

On September 2nd, 1945, Japan’s formal surrender took place aboard the USS Missouri, anchored in Tokyo Bay. There is a little bit of controversy tied up in the date of surrender because Americans first heard Japan’s emperor Hirohito actually make his announcement of surrender on national radio on August 14th. Again, to clarify, September 2nd marks the formal signing of the surrender document.

Regardless, both later dates came several months after the surrender of Nazi Germany, and hold a bit more weight as they officially ended World War II.  The significant “lettered” day(s) became known as “V-J Day,” and was added to the vernacular along with “V-E Day” (May 8th, 1945) and “D-Day” (June 6th, 1944).
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Japan’s defeat brought an end to six years of hostilities in the Pacific Theater of War. As can be imagined, this event was highly anticipated in bringing a peaceful return to American life, especially in the form of having soldiers, sailors and others serving in the armed forces( and hospital centers) back home.

Nothing better describes the feeling of “V-J Day” back home than an iconic picture most of us have seen. It captures an impromptu kiss in New York’s Times Square featuring a US sailor and a nurse. Entitled V-J Day in Times Square, the photograph by Alfred Eisenstaedt was published in Life Magazine in 1945 with the caption, "In New York's Times Square a white-clad girl clutches her purse and skirt as an uninhibited sailor plants his lips squarely on hers."

While I have the opportunity, Frederick has a connection to this world-renowned photo. The nurse was a one-time Frederick, Maryland resident named Greta (Zimmer) Friedman (June 5th, 1924 – September 8th, 2016). The Austrian native was actually a dental assistant with a uniform similar to that of a nurse. At the time of the photograph, Greta suddenly found herself grabbed and kissed by Navy sailor, George Mendonsa (1923–2019) on that celebratory day of August 14th, 1945.

It was a happy day of sorts for Greta as much as her veteran counterpart. She had experienced much heartache and fear over the previous six years. In 1939, at the age 15, Greta emigrated to America from Nazi-controlled Austria in with her younger sisters Josephine and Belle. Their parents, Max and Ida, unable to leave Europe, died in concentration camps during the Holocaust.

A decade after the photo was taken, Greta was married in 1956 to Dr. Mischa Friedman, a WWII veteran of the U.S. Army Air Corps and a scientific researcher for the Army at Fort Detrick. She would move to Frederick and lived at 314 W. College Terrace. She eventually attended Hood College, studying oil painting, printing, sculpture, and watercolors. She did not graduate until 1981, the same year her two grown children (Mara and Joshua) also graduated from college. Friedman worked for ten years at Hood restoring books.

​Greta Friedman died at age 92 on September 8th, 2016, in Richmond, Virginia. She is not in Mount Olivet, but instead inurned at Arlington National Cemetery beside her husband. As for Greta’s photo counterpart, memorialized forever in a photograph—George Mendonsa died last year after seven decades of proudly recounting the kiss that brought him fame.

​Just as important to him, were his stories told about his time aboard the USS The Sullivans, a ship named for five brothers from Iowa who died when their ship, the USS Juneau, was sunk by a Japanese submarine in 1942. This family tragedy was part of the impetus for the storyline in the motion picture “Saving Private Ryan.”  United States Army Rangers Captain John H. Miller (Tom Hanks) and his squad were tasked with the search for a paratrooper, Private First Class James Francis Ryan (Matt Damon), the last surviving brother of a family of four, with his three other brothers having been killed in action.

The Sullivan brothers enlisted in the US Navy on January 3rd, 1942, with the stipulation that they serve together. The Navy had a policy of separating siblings, but this was not strictly enforced. George and Frank Sullivan had served in the Navy before, but their brothers had not. All five were assigned to the light cruiser USS Juneau.The Juneau participated in a number of naval engagements during the months-long Guadalcanal Campaign which began in August 1942.

Early in the morning of November 14th, 1942, during the Naval Battle of Guadalcanal, the USS Juneau was struck by a Japanese torpedo and forced to withdraw. Later that day, as it was leaving the Solomon Islands' area for the Allied rear-area base at Espiritu Santo with other surviving US warships from battle, the Juneau was struck again, this time by a torpedo from a Japanese submarine. The torpedo likely hit the thinly armored light cruiser at or near the ammunition magazines and the ship exploded and quickly sank.

As a direct result of the Sullivans' deaths (and the deaths of four of the Borgstrom brothers within a few months of each other two years later), the US War Department adopted the Sole Survivor Policy:
​
"Special Separation Policies for Survivorship" describes a set of regulations in the Military of the United States that are designed to protect members of a family from the draft or from combat duty if they have already lost family members in military service.”

​Some may recall a “Story in Stone” written back in December 2016 about former county resident Ray Jacob Stambaugh, buried here in Mount Olivet within the confines of our World War II monument. He was a native of Jimtown, a small crossroads southeast of Thurmont where MD route 550 and Hessong Bridge Road intersect Moser Road. 

Jacob Stambaugh served as a fireman on a ship in the US Navy. He would die not far from where the Sullivan brothers perished near Espiritu Santo. He was reported missing in action in early September, 1942. An article in the Frederick News (dated October 3rd, 1942) confirmed Stambaugh’s death at the age of 21. He would be the first World War II Naval casualty from Frederick County. Interestingly, Jacob’s death would inspire his only brother, Luther M. Stambaugh, to immediately enlist in the US Navy upon hearing of his sibling’s death.

Ray Jacob Stambaugh actually died on August 4th, 1942 aboard the USS Tucker.  I soon found the following account documenting an event that occurred off the South Pacific island of New Hebrides:

“The Tucker entered the harbor at Espiritu Santo's western entrance, leading the cargo ship SS Nira Luckenbach, unaware they had entered a minefield laid earlier by US Navy minelayers. After striking at least one mine, the destroyer was almost torn in two at the No. 1 stack, killing all three of the crew in the forward fireroom. The rest of the crew survived but Tucker did not. The destroyer slowly settled in the water and sank. An investigation revealed that the USS Tucker had not been given information about the existence of the minefield.”

I wrote the particular story (about Stambaugh) as the cemetery co-hosted a solemn commemoration with our DAR partners in December, 2016 in accordance with the 75th anniversary of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Interestingly, Jacob Stambaugh was aboard the USS Tucker the previous year which survived Japan’s devastating surprise, aerial attack on the US naval base on December 7th, 1941 at Pearl Harbor on Oahu, Hawaii. This “day of infamy” capped a decade of deteriorating relations between Japan and the United States and led to an immediate US declaration of war the following day. Japan’s ally Germany, led by Adolf Hitler, then declared war on the United States, turning the war raging in Europe into a global conflict. 

Over the next three years, superior technology and productivity allowed the Allies to wage an increasingly one-sided war against Japan in the Pacific, inflicting enormous casualties while suffering relatively few. By 1945, in an attempt to break Japanese resistance before a land invasion became necessary, the Allies were consistently bombarding Japan from air and sea leading to V-J Day in mid-August and the formal surrender just weeks later on September 2nd.

As was the case in World War I, the bodies of many local casualties returned home and are buried in cemeteries throughout the county. Several are here within Frederick's Mount Olivet.

With assistance from a myriad of local groups and donors,  a monument was proposed and built here to honor the memory of those 200+ former residents who made the ultimate sacrifice. It  lies within Mount Olivet Cemetery’s Area EE, and was originally dedicated on May 30th, 1948.
​
The double-columned monument, made of Indiana limestone, features a central obelisk containing the names of 219 individuals from all parts of Frederick County. Atop this pilaster is a sculpted eternal flame of gold, below which read: “The flame of love shall burn into our hearts the memory of our noble dead.”

​What makes this memorial even more sacred is the fact that it is flanked by the remains of 30 World War II veterans who died in the line of duty in both Europe and the Pacific. These men are buried in a semi-circular design around the monument and their final resting spots are marked by flat, military-issue stone markers of white marble.

Here is a brief overview showing the location of death for the 30 active-duty casualty victims interred here within MOC’s World War II monument:

Traditional Pacific Islands/Pacific Theater                                                                                                          7
Southern Pacific (India)                                                                                                                                                   1
Traditional Europe/ European Theater (France, Germany, Belgium, Holland, England)         19
Southern European Theater (Italy)                                                                                                                          2
Africa (Tunisia)                                                                                                                                                                     1

In addition to the fore-mentioned Ray Jacob Stambaugh, a breakdown of those seven other boys who died in the Pacific Theater shows that two men, 2nd Lt. Nathan G. Dorsey, Jr.  (1919-1945) and PFC Earl Mason Harwood (1924-1945), died on the Japanese Island of Okinawa.

Nathan G. Dorsey was a former schoolteacher from Mount Airy, somewhat reminiscent of Capt. Miller (Tom Hanks) in Saving Private Ryan. Ironically, I found a newspaper article dating from July, 1939 which reported the College Park (Maryland) grad was responsible for Japanese Beetle control in his hometown as it was affecting farm crops and the local canning business. Dorsey’s father was a well-known businessman who dabbled in politics at various levels. He would serve as mayor of Mount Airy at the time of his son’s participation in the war. 

​2nd Lt. Nathan G. Dorsey would die in May, 1945 and was buried in a military cemetery in the Pacific. His body would be brought back to the US in 1949, and soon after re-interred in Mount Olivet within the World War II Memorial.

​PFC Harwood was a native of Burkittsville and a standout baseball player at Brunswick High who was drafted by the New York Yankees and expected to play for one of their minor league teams after the war. He was the youngest of six sons, five of whom served in the Armed Forces. He landed on Okinawa on Easter Sunday, April 1st, 1945, and was killed in action on May 11th. Harwood was buried in Mount Olivet on March 12th, 1949, three days before 2nd Lt. Dorsey was laid to rest.

​Irvin B. Gaver (1921-1944), a resident who once lived at 410 W. South Street in Frederick, perished in a plane crash at Midnapore, India. The recent newlywed and Frederick High grad was serving as a flight officer within the US Army’s Air Force. Sadly, Mrs. Gaver (the former Claudine Smith) learned of her husband’s death on August 14th, 1944 through the War Department’s usual message of sympathy to bereaved relatives, and not through an initial telegram with such news as was customary. Flight Officer Gaver had died on July 26th, and Mrs. Gaver had last received a letter from him dated July 22nd.

I was able to find the following official report of the accident on the internet courtesy of the Flight Safety Foundation:

​Four other victims of the Pacific Theater buried within the the proximity of the Mount Olivet World War II Memorial died while in active duty in the Philippines. The Philippines campaign (also known as the Battle of the Philippines or the Fall of the Philippines) occurred from December 8th, 1941 – May 8th, 1942 and featured an invasion by Imperial Japan and the defense of the islands by United States and Philippine forces.

​ In November, 2019, I wrote a “Stories in Stone” article about Brigadier General Allan Clay McBride, entitled “Marched to Death.” A former resident of both Jefferson and Frederick City, Allan C. McBride (1885–1944) was an American brigadier general and chief of staff in the Philippines at the time of the Japanese invasion. He would survive the infamous Bataan Death March, but would die in a Japanese Prisoner of War camp on the nearby island of Formosa, better known today as Taiwan.

The Japanese launched the invasion by sea from Formosa, over 200 miles north of the Philippines. The defending forces outnumbered the Japanese by 3 to 2, but were a mixed force of non-combat experienced regular, national guard, constabulary and newly-created Commonwealth units. The Japanese used first-line troops at the outset of the campaign, and by concentrating their forces swiftly overran most of country's largest island, Luzon, during the first month.

The Japanese high command, believing they had won the campaign, made a strategic decision to advance by a month their timetable of operations in Borneo and Indonesia, withdrawing their best division and the bulk of their airpower in early January 1942. This, coupled with the defenders' decision to withdraw into a defensive holding position in the Bataan Peninsula, enabled the Americans and Filipinos to successfully hold out for four more months.

​Japan's conquest of the Philippines is often considered the worst military defeat in United States history. About 23,000 American military personnel and about 100,000 Filipino soldiers were killed or captured. ​Three individuals who died there are buried here in this hallowed ground immediately surrounding the eternal flame monument: Cpl. George William Ford, PFC Mehrle E. Leatherman, and Pvt. Russell Yinger Dansberger.

​Now, I’ve just summarized the lives, and deaths, of simply seven of the 30 servicemen buried by our World War II monument/memorial. Keep in mind that there are several other World War II vets buried in the cemetery who also died in active service, but with this article I am  just focusing on those buried in the  semi-circle at the memorial.

Outside of those connected to the War in the Pacific, and especially revered on this monumental 75th anniversary of “V-J Day,” nineteen others died in northern Europe, primarily in France and Germany, with a few succumbing in Belgium, Holland and England. Two additional soldiers fell in Italy and another perished in Tunisia while seeing combat in the war's North African campaign. Of special note, I'd like to tell you about a few other slabs of marble which rest over the bodies of a set of Frederick County brothers killed during active duty during World War II. Next to them is a trio of cousins, I’d also like to introduce their story to you.

The Hessong Brothers
Your familiarity with this peculiar name may be based more on the famed Frederick County road (and bridge) mentioned earlier in conjunction with Ray Jacob Stambaugh’s home than by knowing an actual acquaintance by this surname. ​John T. Hessong (1848-1922) was a farmer whose property was located at the intersection of Black Mills Road and his namesake, Hessong Bridge Road. The Hessongs, or earlier Hessons, came from the Alsace region between France and Germany and settled here locally atop the western slope of Catoctin Mountain in the northwestern area of Frederick County of Wolfsville and Ellerton.

Although I'd love to continue this genealogical study, I will skip ahead to descendants that distinguished themselves in the Second World War.

Hailing from the Wolfsville area, the Hessong brothers, Robert and Arthur, were sons of farmers James Ellsworth Hessong and Sadie Ellen Brandenburg. There were 12 Hessong siblings in all, the last of which, Paul, passed away in October, 2018 at the age of 89.
​
Robert Lee Hessong was born on April 19th, 1922 and went by the nickname of Bob. He served in the 26th Infantry of the 1st Division of the US Army and reached the rank of Private First Class. Hessong was killed in action in Normandy, France on June 12th, 1944, having taken part in the legendary D-Day Invasion. His unit landed on Normandy at 7:30pm on D-Day. He would die a week later in the coastal town of Caen.

​Instead of having their son buried in the family’s home church of St. Mark’s Lutheran in Wolfsville, the Hessongs opted to have him buried in Mount Olivet on September 18th, 1948. PFC Robert Lee Hessong occupies lot #10 within the cemetery’s World War II memorial area.

​​In addition to the fore-mentioned “Bob” Hessong, three other brothers were serving in various branches of the armed services. However, less than two months after the death of Robert, the Hessong family would receive more terrible news—the death of son Arthur Jacob Hessong.

​PFC “Art” Hessong was a member of the Army’s 141st Infantry Regiment assigned to the 36th Division. He too would die in France, but in the southern part of the country. The 24-year-old was born on March 13th, 1920.

Like his younger brother, Arthur was buried in Mount Olivet under the shadow of the World War II Memorial on the same day of September 18th, 1944. He occupies Lot #11.

As can be seen in the articles, both Robert and Arthur had experienced earlier combat action in Italy. Thankfully for Mr. and Mrs. Hessong, they would be reunited once again with sons Joseph (1915-1972) and Parker (1924-1990), upon their safe returns home after the war. 

​Kennedy Cousins
Next to the Hessong brothers, lie three cousins, buried side by side within Mount Olivet’s World War II Memorial. They are PFC Francis Leo Kennedy, Jr., PFC Charles Francis Kennedy and Lt. Ignatius Benson Keyser.  

​The Irish Catholic family of brothers who would dominate political fame would come a few decades later, but this one would certainly be known to Frederick Countians during wartime because of losses experienced. That seems to be an interesting irony as well?

​Francis Leo Kennedy, Jr., the son of Francis Leo Kennedy, Sr. and Flora Victoria Marsh was killed on the Tunisian front in North Africa on March 31st, 1943. He lived at 219 E. Church Street in downtown Frederick and attended St. John’s Catholic High School a block from his home. Previous to going into the service, he worked with his father at the Kennedy Stove House. He served in the US Army’s 16th Regiment of the 1st Infantry Division. 

Francis Kennedy's parents received additional bad news the following year in 1944 as their son John would be reported  "missing in action." 

​Charles Francis Kennedy, the son of Bernard Joseph Kennedy, Sr. and Myrtle Blanche Woullard, grew up next door to his cousins Francis and John in a rowhouse located at 217 E. Church Street. Born December 3rd, 1919, he was a member of the 115th infantry regiment of the US Army’s famed 29th Division. Charles lost his life on August 10th, 1944 as he was killed in France.

​Francis and Charles had a paternal aunt named Mary Louise (Kennedy) Keyser, the wife of Calvin Vincent Keyser. The Keysers were the parents of Ignatius Benson (born October 27th, 1920).

Lt. Ignatius B. Keyser was a member of the 51st Armored Infantry Battalion of the US Army’s 4th Armored Division under Gen. George S. Patton. He was killed in action near Bastogne, Belgium on Christmas Day, 1944.

The sacrifices made by the Hessongs, Kennedys and countless others in uniform led to "V-E Day," celebrated on May 8th, 1945. Their county, countrymen and fellow soldiers would not forgot their loss. A monument listing the names of all World War II servicemen and women from Frederick County was dedicated in Memorial Park at the corner of W. Second and N. Bentz streets. As I recounted earlier, plans were made for an eternal reminder here in Frederick's "Garden Cemetery" as well.

​The dedication ceremony was held for Mount Olivet’s World War II Memorial on May 30th, 1948 at 3:00pm. The ceremony was well-attended and featured an address by Brig. Gen. William C. Purnell, War Time Commander of the 175th Infantry Regiment of the 29th Division. 

​One of the most poignant moments of the ceremony came with the placing of a wreath of dedication to all those Frederick young men who made the greatest sacrifice on behalf of their country. A Gold Star mother was chosen for this important honor. It was Mrs. Flora Kennedy, mother of Francis Leo Kennedy, Jr. and former POW John Robert Kennedy.

​Mrs. Kennedy’s son, Francis Leo, and her two nephews would be buried five months later on October 5th, 1948 in Mount Olivet, after having been buried first overseas.

We think we've had it rough in the year 2020? We will forever be "holding the beers" for those of the "Greatest Generation" who truly knew sacrifice for our freedoms, while celebrating life's blessings always and often. One of the greatest was the final end of World War II, seventy-five years ago on "V-J Day."

I recently saw an interesting meme on the internet which is attributed to American humorist Samuel L. Clemens, better known by his pen/stage name of Mark Twain:

"If voting made any difference, they wouldn't let us do it."

Ironically, as I looked further to research this quote and gain context to when, and why, Twain made this clever remark, I found that he really didn't say it at all. The internet has simply inaccurately attached it to him, but Twain historians say "no way." In fact, Mark Twain was a key proponent of the election process. In a 1905 interview in Boston, he is said to have told the press:

"In this country we have one great privilege which they don't have in other countries. When a thing gets to be absolutely unbearable the people can rise up and throw it off. That's the finest asset we've got-the ballot box."

Apparently the quote originated in the 1960s or 1980s, but it is a complicated web of potential individuals that may have been the source. So again, leave it to the mainstream media and social media to perhaps lead us astray. I'm thankful I looked further into the subject, because it is always good to check more than one source. And therein lies the moral of the story, make the effort to seek the truth whatever side of politics you are on. 

No matter the source, the supposed Twain quote at hand has particular historical relevance this year, because an important part of American society, roughly half, wasn't allowed to participate in the political election process until 1920. This group was women. The mainstream media of the day, along with our local newspaper of record, did a great job of telling the women's suffrage story and encouraged the fairer sex to register and get to the polls on November 2nd, 1920 once they had achieved voting equality.

The Covid pandemic and racial injustice/police reform riots have certainly distracted away interest for proper commemoration of this monumental achievement. Again, its hard to fathom this was possible, as are so many things in our history when viewed through the modern lens of today. To further the context, black males had already been given given the right to vote with the ratification of the 15th Amendment to the Constitution. This occurred 50 years before women were afforded the chance!

Interestingly, Maryland can trace its activism for woman suffrage all the way back to its very earliest days as a British colony. In 1648, Margaret Brent (1601-1671), a lawyer and executor of Governor Leonard Calvert’s estate, petitioned the Maryland General Assembly for a vote in the governing body. She argued that as a landowner, she was due the same rights that male Marylanders enjoyed. The Assembly rejected her demand.

Frederick and the Vote
Not a whole lot of work has been done on the local level in chronicling the subject of the women's suffrage movement as it pertains to Frederick. That is until early last year. In her Preservation Matters series, the talented author and researcher on all things local preservation, Lisa Mroszczyk, wrote about the subject in her regular column in the Frederick News-Post. This article appeared on March 10th, 2019 under the title of "Local women's suffrage movement coalesced in early 20th century." Here is a portion of that amazing article:

​In the summer of 1910, Miss M.L. Manning, field secretary of the Just Government League of Maryland, came to Frederick and went from house to house interviewing the city’s men and women and recording her impressions. The Just Government League of Maryland was founded in 1909 by Edith Houghton Hooker as an affiliate of the National American Woman Suffrage Association. Manning was internationally known for her work for women’s suffrage in her native Australia. It was reported that Miss Manning stopped in at 205 E. Second St., a boardinghouse operated by Margaret Young, in September. It is unknown if Manning simply stayed for a time at the boardinghouse while she worked in Frederick or if Mrs. Young or one of her boarders was a supportive contact for the local suffrage effort. It appears that Miss Manning concluded her Frederick tour with a lecture on Australia, including progressive suffrage legislation, in Kemp Hall on Sept. 16, 1910. Kemp Hall was the site of another suffrage lecture in 1913 by Miss Alice Carpenter, another suffragist prominent at the national level.

On Nov. 28, 1910, Edith Houghton Hooker, founder and president of the Just Government League, came to Frederick to speak to the Frederick Female Seminary Alumnae and the Art Club at the YMCA and to plead for the establishment of a local branch. Once the local branch was formed early the following year, the YMCA would become the site of many of the chapter’s meetings over the ensuing decade. The YMCA stood at the southeast corner of Church and Court streets (it was destroyed by fire in the 1970s). The Frederick branch of the Just Government League was formerly established in one of the classrooms at the Women’s College, which was housed at this time in Winchester Hall, East Church Street, in March 1911. Twelve directors were appointed to conduct monthly meetings and about 50 women had demonstrated interest in membership. On Oct. 6, 1911, the Just Government League hosted the Rev. Dr. Anna H. Shaw, president of the National Suffrage Association and prominent leader in the movement. She spoke in the Women’s College Hall to a large audience after being introduced by Miss Florence Trail.

​On June 4, 1919, the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was passed and sent to the states for ratification. The county courthouse, in the building that now serves as City Hall, made another appearance in the local suffrage movement when it served as the site of a woman’s suffrage rally on Dec. 16, 1919. U.S. Sen. Kenneth McKellar, of Tennessee, a strong advocate for women’s voting rights, was the featured speaker, along with Miss Maud Younger, a prominent suffragist from California and leader in the National Women’s Party. A resolution was adopted calling for the county’s legislators to vote for ratification of the amendment.

On Feb. 20, 1920, Maryland voted against ratification. The following May, Florence Trail announced what was likely the last meeting of the Frederick Just Government League, held at the Frederick Armory, since 35 states had since ratified the amendment. By August, the required 36 states ratified the amendment, giving women the right to vote. Maryland did not ratify the amendment until 1941.

Weeks after the ratification date of August 18th, groups in Frederick held additional meetings to organize according to political party. Local leaders urged women neighbors to do their duty in voting.  

Frederick's newspaper editor also did his part to positively influence ladies to register and exercise the new right given them. He also told of the corruption involved in the process, something that could be duly countered by an informed, participating electorate. However, an article in early September told the story of at least one well-known female citizen who had decided to take a pass on the election booth.  She would not  vote in a life that spanned a century, saying that there was no reason to start now. ​

​

One of the interesting things about this time period in our history was the strength and momentum of the temperance movement and its effects on national politics. This was, and still is, a movement aimed to curb the consumption of alcohol. It had a large influence on American politics and American society in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, a time of demographic and economic change in America. Urbanization, industrialization, the rise of the women’s rights and woman suffrage movements, progressivism, immigration and World War I all contributed to the society that voted to go “dry.”  Feminists like Susan B. Anthony supported prohibition because the abuse of alcohol so often led to violence against women.  Anti-immigration proponents associated alcohol with Irish and German immigrants. The Anti-Saloon League fought political opposition from brewers by connecting German beer with treason in the public imagination. 

The Eighteenth Amendment was passed by Congress in 1917, ratified in 1919, and went into effect at 12:01 am on January 17, 1920. The temperance movement had triumphed. Their victory was short-lived, however, as many Americans made and drank alcohol in violation of the law. Bootlegging and organized crime stepped in to profit from the market for spirits, while law enforcement lagged behind the rise in criminal behavior. Prohibition was unsustainable. In 1933 the Twenty-First Amendment would eventually repeal the Eighteenth, and manufacture, sale and consumption of alcohol again became legal in the United States.

In case you were curious, the first election after the ratification of the 19th Amendment (which granted women the constitutional right to vote) was held on Tuesday, November 2nd, 1920. In this, the 34th quadrennial presidential election, Republican Senator Warren G. Harding from Ohio defeated Democratic Governor James M. Cox of Ohio. In looking closer at this election of 1920, I found it quite ironic that Harding's campaign slogan was "Return to normalcy," I kid you not! This was meant to mean a return to the way of life before World War I.  Harding's promise was to restore the United States' pre-war mentality, without the thought of war tainting the minds of the American people. To sum up his points, he stated:
 
America's present need is not heroics, but healing; not nostrums, but normalcy; not revolution, but restoration; not agitation, but adjustment; not surgery, but serenity; not the dramatic, but the dispassionate; not experiment, but equipoise; not submergence in internationality, but sustainment in triumphant nationality.

Isn't history "a many splendered thing?" In other news from the 1920 election, women voters in Maryland helped Republican Ovington Weller defeat incumbent Democratic US Senator John Walter Smith's run for re-election for a third term in office. Republican incumbent Frederick N. Zihlman won re-election for the U.S. House of Representatives for Maryland's District 6.

As was shown through Lisa Mroszczyk's research and writing above, the three Trail sisters were the true leaders of the suffrage movement here in Frederick. Under the shadow of one of the finest monuments within Mount Olivet, one will find the final resting places of these women (Florence, Bertha and Anna) within the same family grave plot. Nearby is the grave of former US Senator and lifetime politician/statesman Charles McCurdy "Mac"Mathias (1922-2010). His maternal grandfather, Charles Bayard Trail, was a brother to these energetic and politically-minded ladies, making them his great aunts.

Many knowledgeable of local history are quite familiar with the father of these ladies, Col. Charles Edward Trail (1826-1909). Col. Trail was a prominent local landowner, businessman and a member of the Maryland General Assembly. The Trail family home still stands, and has always been seen as one of the most impressive of all structures that can be found within Frederick City's historical district, having been built in the 1850s. The Italianate-style structure sits at 206 E. Church Street and today serves home to the Keeney &  Basford Funeral Home. 

Col. Trail's wife, Ariana McElfresh Trail, was the daughter of a prominent lawyer and landowner near New Market. She also busied herself in both church-related and local civic activities throughout her lifetime and, like her husband, served as a great example of local leadership to her daughters.

Florence Trail (September 1, 1854 - April 21, 1944) was an American educator and author. Though she belonged to one of the wealthiest families of Maryland, she believed in the doctrine of self-support and left home to engage in teaching, first in Kentucky and North Carolina, and afterward in New York and Connecticut. On returning from an extended tour of Europe, she published My Journal in Foreign Lands (New York, 1885). This was followed by other volumes, among them: Studies in Criticism (New York, 1888), Under the Second Renaissance (Buffalo, 1894), and A History of Italian Literature.

Florence Trail was born in Frederick, Maryland, September 1, 1854. She was the second daughter of Charles Edward Trail and Ariana McElfresh. Her siblings included, Anna M. Harding, Henry Trail, Bertha Trail, and Charles Bayard Trail. A severe illness at 10 years of age left her with impaired hearing. Her quickness of perception and efforts to divine what others meant to say caused them to forget, or not to realize, that her hearing was not equal to their own. She graduated first in her class in the Frederick Female Seminary, in 1872, having studied mental and moral philosophy, evidences of Christianity, modern history, mythology, rhetoric and composition. The following year, she graduated with highest honors from Mt. Vernon Institute, Baltimore. 

After teaching for four years at the Frederick Female Seminary, she left home for a position in Daughters College, Harrodsburg, Kentucky, where she afterwards taught Latin, French, art and music. In Harrodsburg, as well as in Tarboro, North Carolina, where she taught music in 1887 and 1888, and in Miss Hogarth's school, Goshen, New York, where she acted as substitute for some weeks in January, 1890, she made many devoted friends and did superior work as a teacher.

In 1883, she visited Europe, and afterwards published an account of her travels under the title My Journal in Foreign Lands (New York, 1885), which passed through two editions and served as a guide-book. Trail has been a member of the Society to Encourage Studies at Home for 14 years, five as a student of modern history, French literature, Shakespeare and art, and nine as a teacher of ancient history. Her essay on "Prehistoric Greece as we find it in the Poems of Homer " was read before that society at the annual reunion at Miss Ticknor's, in Boston, Massachusetts, in June, 1883.

Maryland Suffrage historian and researcher Amy Rosenkrans gleaned much on the Trail sisters. She wrote, "Florence along with her mother and sister Bertha, were elected to the Board of Directors for the Frederick County Just Government League (JGL) in 1911.  The directors took turns hosting the monthly meetings, many of which took place at the Woman’s College, later Hood College.  At those meetings, one of the sisters would often give a lecture on pertinent suffrage topics. When the Frederick chapter changed their governing structure to a more traditional format of officers, Florence was elected President.  As such, she chaired most meetings and even hosted them at her elegant home.  
In addition to chairing meetings and working to garner support in Frederick, both Florence and Bertha participated in suffrage activities at the state and national levels. 

Florence represented the county at the 1913 Suffrage March in Washington DC, held on the eve of Woodrow Wilson’s presidential inauguration, and at state Just Government League conventions.  In 1915, she was selected to represent Maryland at the National American Woman Suffrage Association Convention.  Bertha ended up attending the meeting in her stead and brought back information about the convention to the Frederick chapter as well as to the Frederick Female Seminary Alumni Association Meeting, of which both she and Florence were members.  
When the Frederick County JGL chapter dissolved in 1917 and became the Frederick County Woman Suffrage League, Florence was once again elected president.  The next year, she was elected to an office in the MD Woman Suffrage League.  Despite her state level position, Florence continued to support the movement in Frederick, planning and hosting meetings such as a 1919 Suffrage Rally on the Frederick Courthouse steps. 
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The Trail Sisters worked diligently to win the vote for Maryland’s women.  Their writing, speeches and constant activism did not end when the battle was won.  Both sisters continued to be active in the community.  Bertha was elected President of the Frederick County Republican Club in 1920 where she spearheaded the registration of new women voters."

Part of her surviving legacy is St. Timothy's Chapel on Franklin Street, across the street from the main entrance to the Frederick Fairgrounds. This entity began as a Mission Sunday School about 1897, established by Bertha Trail and her brother, Henry within the Schleysville subdivision, then just beyond the city boundary.

​The frame Mission Sunday School building was constructed in 1900, according to its cornerstone. In the History of All Saints ' Parish, Second Edition, the authors note that "one of Miss Bertha's objectives was to tum the attention of the local residents from the neighborhood saloon to St. Timothy's."  The present, stone structure was built in 1924.

The fore-mentioned Anna Mary Trail Harding was a leader of the suffrage movement in Philadelphia. She would be born and raised in Frederick, but lived elsewhere on account of the work of her husband, Rev. John B. Harding, an Episcopal minister. When she was widowed in the early 1920s, she made the decision to move back to her hometown.

There are many others that helped lead the charge for women's equality in voting that are buried here at Mount Olivet. I have simply included their obituaries and gravesites here, but please know that each of their life journeys are ample fodder for individual "Stories in Stone" on their own. Along with the Trail sisters, these ladies were among Frederick's first women to vote in November 1920.

Elizabeth (Pettingall) McDannell
January 1, 1858-March 13, 1930
Area C/Lot 133

Mary Ella (Stoner) Willard
July 31, 1876-December 28, 1951
Area AA/Lot 133

​Gertrude (Harner) Apple
December 12, 1868, 1876-August 9, 1953
Area CC/Lot 27

For more research on this topic, please check out these sites by Preservation Maryland and the Maryland Historical Trust for more research on our state's rich suffrage story.

https://www.preservationmaryland.org/programs/six-to-fix/projects/current-projects/womens-suffrage/
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​https://mdhistoricaltrust.wordpress.com/2017/12/12/a-story-map-of-womens-suffrage-in-maryland/

In this strange new world of Covid-19, I kick myself each time I walk up to a store or restaurant and upon getting within ten feet of the front door/entrance, I realize: “Crap, I forgot my facemask back in the car.”
I’m sure that this same thing has happened to many of you as well. Hey, I’m certainly not adverse to wearing the mask, or upset with the store or even a local, state or federal government entity for making me wear it—just disappointed in myself for not remembering to put it on. Regardless, the extra exercise experienced in making my way to the car, and back, can certainly to a body and mind some good.

I would bet good money that all of us have at least one interesting and entertaining mask story, or will have a few committed to memory when this is all said and over. Grandchildren and great-grandkids of the future will not be able to “social distance” themselves away fast enough from those like myself who will be able to readily “spin yarns” of that crazy year of 2020—made all the more ironic by the number sequence 20/20. It will be remembered as a time reminiscent of “an optometrist’s nightmare,” in which nothing seemed clearly visible or credible to the average human eye.
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One of the most unique experiences I’ve had over the past five months was an impromptu hospital visit at the beginning of June. My early morning trip was caused by a painful kidney stone. Thankfully, I remembered my mask on the first try as I was admitted to the local emergency room of the Frederick Health Hospital, or as I still call it—FMH/Frederick Memorial Hospital. The name switched in fall 2019. 

It is a surreal experience to find oneself in the emergency room during a worldwide pandemic. I wasn’t thinking to deeply about it at the time as I just wanted the excruciating pain radiating out from my left side to go away. I was, however, so thankful that this malady had held off for a few months as it would have been much more stressful on me had it occurred in late March, April or May, while we were in mandatory quarantine with fear at its zenith.
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I learned from physicians and specialists that I required the joyless experience of lithotripsy. This took place a few weeks later. The over-arching takeaway from my kidney stone episode during Covid-19, is  that I gained a newfound respect for health workers of all varieties, and their compassion for their jobs. Yes, I’ve been subjected to my share of Greys Anatomy episodes over the years (thanks to my wife, OF COURSE), but those folks in the medical profession are pretty damn special and possess that irreplaceable “superpower”—the ability to ease our pain and suffering to the utmost possible.

In this unique time in our history, the selflessness practiced by doctors, nurses, specialists and others in this profession, is truly on display and being rightly noted and recognized. Mind you, they are not newbies to donning masks, and washing hands as they have been doing it already for quite some time while in the line of duty. In addition, they can’t socially distance as their job requires them to do the opposite—come closer in an effort to find out what is wrong with their patients. This is truly phenomenal when compared to the selfishness many of us have displayed in having to deal with distancing, canceled events and ever-changing rules requiring us to make sacrifices in our traditional way of life.  

When I was in the hospital, I certainly had “time to kill,” especially once the pain meds started to kick-in. With smartphone in hand, I started to peck around the Frederick Health organization’s new website. I immediately wanted to see how they handled the institutional history. I had done a story on the hospital’s first president, Emma J. Smith (1843-1915), back in early 2019 for a “Story in Stone” like this one. Miss Smith is buried here in Mount Olivet in Area E/Lot 156. Another interesting page that caught my eye was the hospital’s webpage on nursing. Here is what Cheryl Cioffi, the facility’s Senior Vice President, Chief Operating Officer & Chief Nursing Officer, wrote in her letter of introduction:

Each day nurses throughout Frederick Health have the unique opportunity to affect the lives of the patients they care for in real and meaningful ways. The role that nurses play is critical in the delivery of excellent care for our patients and their families. How nurses communicate and collaborate inter-professionally with team members and colleagues both internal and external to Frederick Health lays the foundation for creating a patient and family centered care environment. Our nurses are innovative, skilled professionals who drive evidence-based practice and quality patient care outcomes across our entire system.

As Frederick Health continues to expand and innovate with new medical disciplines, advanced surgical capabilities, and state-of-the-art technology, our nurses will remain central to carrying out our mission and vision. As the landscape of healthcare continues to evolve with an elevated focus on population health, nurses will remain an invaluable driving force behind the superb quality care provided to our community. We strive to provide excellent care that is second to none. We consider it a privilege to care for you and your family, and an honor to be called a nurse.

This was very impressive, especially to a guy riddled with pain and at the mercy of anyone remotely displaying the slightest interest in taking said pain away from me. I soon reminisced about the interest in healthcare and medicine held by my late mother whose favorite professional life work was that of a medical technologist. She headed into this career immediately after high school, enrolling in a two-year accreditation program. 

My mom received her med-tech degree and worked in hospital emergency and operating rooms. She also managed blood banks and laboratories, before becoming a hospital administrator and later a healthcare consultant. I fondly recall her nightly tales about work at the dinner table while growing up. She worked at Suburban Hospital in Bethesda, and her anecdotes were not for the squeamish as we learned the fates of victims who had accidents of all sorts—especially as experienced by those driving in cars, riding on motorcycles, and standing on skateboards.

Looking back, it must have been her version of “Scared Straight” sessions to help my brothers and I avoid future potential mishaps. These also dissuaded me and my brothers from a job in the medical field. However, all three of my mom’s nieces were inspired by her profession and would become nurses themselves. As I said, the respect is, and has always been, in me for these incredible folks far more talented than I, and possessing much more stressful occupations. When you think about it, what’s the worst that can happen if I make a mistake in performing job duties such as researching and writing about someone. I can’t lose a patient (in the form of a subject), they’re already deceased by the time they hit my proverbial pen!

As my mother had a hand in giving the world more nurses (in the form of her nieces), so did this week’s “person of interest,” Miss Georgianna Houck Simmons. I have mentioned Mrs. Simmons in two previous stories—she was a great early benefactor to town. I wrote a story this past spring in which Mrs. Simmons donated a Frederick City real estate lot in order to preserve, and expand, a small park once located adjacent Carroll Creek and centering on the old Riehl’s Spring.

​In my fore-mentioned story about Miss Emma J. Smith, I chronicled the genesis of Frederick Memorial Hospital and the controversial start of Frederick’s first major healthcare center. It featured a battle between the local medical board with its doctors against the lady board of managers who raised the funds to construct and open Frederick City Hospital in 1902. The crux of the problem was sexism, as the male dominated profession of doctors did not want to answer to the ladies who built and planned to manage the hospital. To heighten the situation, the doctors opened their own rival hospital, once located on S. Market Street. 

Caught in the middle were the nurses, traditionally female at that time—and a time, I might add, that  pre-dated the Nineteenth Amendment to the US Constitution. Those who are unsure of your civics history, this was the amendment that gave women (of any color) the right to vote. The amendment was ratified on August 18th, 1920.
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I’d like to add that the woman who (beginning in 1897) raised nearly $9,000 and donated the land to give Frederick such a hospital, never possessed the legal opportunity to vote in elections during her lifetime. The same holds true for our subject, Georgianna Simmons. This makes their benevolence and accomplishments, along with those of other well-known local ladies like Margaret Scholl Hood and Emily Nelson Ritchie McLean even more impressive. 

Georgianna on my Mind
​So who the heck was Georgianna Simmons? Well, she donated two lots to the hospital in 1904. These would be utilized in which to build a nursing school, operated in conjunction with the early hospital. Mrs. Simmons was the sister of Emma Houck, who was on the board of directors for the hospital and the Houck family was known to have given generously to the healthcare endeavor. The Georgianna Simmons Nurses Home was completed on July 31st, 1913, and served as a training center for nurses and a home for them while studying.

Work on this novel building was started the previous year.

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​Ezra Houck was a successful farmer and businessman. Among his activities were serving as president of the Junior Fire Company (1840-1850) as well as the Farmer's and Mechanic's Bank, Mutual Insurance Company and Frederick and Woodsborough Turnpike Company.

​Desiring an opportunity to move his family into town, he bought a familiar Frederick landmark property on N. Market Street. It had been improved with a stately structure thought to have been erected by Richard Potts and located where the patio of Volt Restaurant now stands. Potts’ widow, Eleanor, sold it to Ezra Houck in 1838. I’m assuming the family re-located here at the time of purchase.

Georgianna (aka "Georgie") had ten siblings. She had been named for her grandfather, and an older brother who had passed away in 1833 at the age of five. She received an education in local schools in town, and the family attended Frederick’s German Reformed Church.  Georgianna's was a gilded life as her father was one of the wealthiest men in the county, especially while holding down the job as head cashier at the Farmers & Mechanics Bank located less than a block south from the family home. 

Georgianna lived at home until her 41st year of age. On December 3rd, 1873, she became the second wife of Simon Cyrus Simmons, a money broker who owned a sizable farm located just south of Buckeystown on the west side of the turnpike. 

​Sadly for our subject, married life was short as her husband died in October 1877, not allowing the couple the opportunity to celebrate their fourth anniversary. The farm stayed in the Simmons family and Simon Cyrus was buried next to first wife Anna Maria “Mary” Mantz Jackson (1793-1870) in a family plot located in Area H/Lot 257. Incidentally, Mr. Simmons was the third husband of “Mary” for those keeping score at home.

​Georgianna had to find a new home as Springdale was not leaving the Simmons clan. I’m assuming that she likely welcomed a return to the Houck homestead on N. Market Street in town. Other siblings still lived at home. Her father died the next year and is buried beneath a very impressive obelisk monument on Area F/Lot 84. Georgianna’s mother would serve as head of household in the 1880 census but died in 1886. 

​Speaking of households, my amazing research assistant, Marilyn Veek, found a 1949 Frederick News article that talks about how the six Houck daughters built what is now the Volt building next door to their old house. (Note: I will place this find at the end of this story.) Many of us remember this as the Frederick Professional Building long before Brian Voltaggio and his “cooking and culinary prowess” moved in. I went to my beloved, and longtime dentist, Robert E. Broadrup, here in this building. 

The old house that originally served home to the Houck family was torn down to build the new structure.  Don't worry, the ladies certainly didn't have to rough it as they found temporary lodging at the City Hotel while the construction was being done.  The six sisters built what architectural design deems a Richardsonian Romanesque masterpiece building. It would be a fitting home for a future “Top Chef.” And for those who continue to compliment me on my smile, the credit solely goes to the late Dr. Broadrup, a man who was undoubtedly in the same ilk as Brian Voltaggio as a stellar, seasoned professional who could easily wear the moniker of “Top Dentist.”

Now back to Georgianna Simmons for a quick life update. Without a husband, she could join her maiden sisters in figuring out a way to spend their inheritance, and in the process,  improve their hometown. Luckily, Emma J. Smith and the hospital project would win Georgianna’s interest. 

As I wrote in my earlier story on Miss Smith regarding the hospital:

“Emma and her lady Board of Managers worked earnestly to fund the hospital project. They went door-to-door, approached businesses and lobbied the state. In just five years, a new, "state of the art," two-story (and soon to be three-story) hospital building opened to the public. This was early May, 1902. The structure cost $8,000 to build, and featured 16 private rooms and would soon boast three wards. A school of nursing was also established in 1902 adjacent the Frederick City Hospital and named the Georgianna Simmons Nurses’ Home. Mrs. Simmons was the former Georgianna Houck (1832-1915) who contributed the bulk of the money needed to build this facility. Her gravesite is located in the same section of the cemetery as Emma and another major early benefactor of the hospital, Margaret S. Hood.”

Frances A. Randall wrote about the Nurses Home in the 2006 publication by the Frederick News-Post entitled Frederick County, Maryland: Your Life. Your Community.
“Miss Sallie Earhart was appointed the first superintendent of nurses. Five physicians were selected to give clinical instructions to the students. The first class of three graduated in 1904 from a two-year program. The school was changed to three years of study in 1907. The students lived in rooms in the main hospital building until 1913 when the Georgianna Houck Simmons Nurses’ Home was completed.

Mrs. Randall continued with her overview of the school, giving its history through to its eventual end.
“Quite often students would be called on during their times off to help when a crisis might arise at the hospital. At times, the nursing shortages were acute, especially during the war years, and many responsibilities were placed on the shoulders of the young students. Perhaps this helped to make them better prepared for the greater responsibilities that lay ahead. 

​The closure of the nursing school was a sad event for the alumnae, but the pride we have for our Alma Mater remains. The many instructors and doctors who helped the students through the years are remembered with fondness. And so an era that lasted 66 years came to an end. The Nurses’ Home was demolished in May 2002.”
As for Georgianna Simmons, she passed away on August 6th, 1914 —a year after the grand opening of the Nurse’s Home. The cause of death (given in our records) is listed as senility. Ironically, Georgianna didn’t die at the hospital, rather she breathed her last breath in the calming confines of her family home on N. Market Street—the future Professional Building of course. It is not known whether she was assisted by a nurse at home, or not. 

​Ms. Simmons would buried in the shadow of her parent’s impressive funerary monument within the family plot in Area F. As would be expected, her funeral was well-attended on August 8th, 1914. Most of her siblings surround her in death, just as they had in life. Her grave is between sisters Emma and Ella. I find it interesting that Georgianna's tombstone is in the form of a cross, a symbol associated with the nursing profession, specifically the Red Cross.

I can’t believe it’s been ten years since I received the call from Bill Sherman, my former father-in-law, telling me that Dr. Cable had passed. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was on the beach in Fenwick Island, Delaware, peacefully sitting in my chair in the sand and staring at the ocean on a beautiful, sunny late afternoon on the last day of July, 2010.
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As it does for so many people, watching and hearing the waves gently crashing on the shore has always filled me with an indescribable calm—as it is my favorite pastime, and place, in the world. The irony here was that the human personification of “the calming powers of the ocean” was none other than Dr. Dana G. Cable.

I first heard Dr. Cable’s name proclaimed by my mother back in the early 1980s. She had gone back to college to get her Master’s degree from Hood College. Dr. Cable was a psychology professor at the local institution and served as my mom’s instructor for a unique class offering centering on thanatology, the study of dying, death and bereavement. I recall how very excited she got for each week’s class, and would usually come home beaming and giddy—something that seemed very odd to myself and the rest of my family, given the serious content matter. She tried explaining the class to me then, but I was in high school at the time, and death and dying was the furthest thing on my teenage mind.

​Cable, a leading thanatologist over his storied career, originally came to Hood in 1972. He taught "Psychology of Death and Dying," one of the first classes in the field. Dr. Cable even conducted class field trips that involved walking treks within Mount Olivet Cemetery. Newspaper stories about him, and the innovative psychology classes he was designing, were picked up by the Associated Press and published in newspapers throughout the country.

Here are some poignant passages from the work mentioned above. These were specific points my mother had underlined in pencil within her copy used in conjunction with the class:

*”All of us will face the deaths of loved ones. It is time that we all learned to open the door to death and to look death in the face.” (pg5)

*”It is important to differentiate between what we call “fear of death” and what might be called “fear of dying.” When we speak of death, we are talking about a state of being. We are alive now. Someday we will no longer be alive; we will be dead. On the other hand, dying implies a process, a way of getting from that state of life to the state of death.”(pg 7)

*”For most individuals, the fear of death becomes greatest during the middle years of life. This is the time when we see our children able to function on their own. We are also at the peak of our profession and earnings, and everything seems to be going the way we want it to go.” (pg 12)

*”What then can we do in caring for the dying patient? There is no simple formula. However, whether we are nurses, physicians, janitors, clergy or significant family members of the dying patient, there are things we can do to make things easier both for them and for ourselves as well. First and foremost would be listening.”(pg 62)
*”Regardless of whether we choose the traditional funeral or a memorial service, the use of rituals is an important part of death. Rituals give us an opportunity to experience a rite of passage, a chance to say a final good-bye.” (pg 69)

*”When people do not do their “grief work” following a death, we may well find a serious mental, social, and emotional problem. The expression “grief work” is a very appropriate one. Overcoming a death, learning to go on without the love object, requires work. It is not something that just happens. In order to understand what the grief process is like, our starting point needs to be with some basic definitions.”(pg 80)

*”Finally, grief may be affected by our perception of the unfinished business that remains, unfinished business in the sense of failure to close relationships with the dead person.” (pg 87)
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*”In most individuals we will see the intense expression of grief last for periods of weeks to months or even a year. Experience tells us that for most people the grief process will take a period of approximately two years, but indeed, it will vary from one person to another.”  (pg 92)

My mom told me that Dr. Cable and the Hood class had helped her in so many ways, especially in coming to grips with the death of her father (the previous decade) and finally achieving adequate closure. Her dad had passed somewhat suddenly in 1975 after a short illness.

I certainly knew how tight of a connection bond my mother had with her father. She was the youngest of three and the “apple of his eye.” Just one week prior, I had accompanied my mom to Wilmington, Delaware to visit my grandfather in the hospital. He was upbeat and apparently making a positive recovery. Mom had to return back home to work the weekdays at her job at a hospital in Montgomery County, but planned to come back the following weekend to see him.

I often flashback to the following Friday, a day in which I woke up to find both of my parents staying home from work, and keeping my brothers and I out of school. My grandfather had died overnight, news given to me by my Dad. He told us that our mother was very, very sad. I was only eight, and my brothers were five and two, so we didn’t really get the magnitude of what she was experiencing. It was, however, the first major death of a relative I would experience and remember.

I won’t forget that day, seeing her more distraught than any other time in life. Actually, it makes me sad even thinking about it now. She regretted not being there in Wilmington by her father's side when he died as we had planned to head back to Delaware that Friday evening after her return from work. It was my first funeral, and a surreal experience seeing so much sadness from relatives. To add to the family’s loss, my grandfather was previously scheduled to come to Frederick to help preside over my First Communion the same weekend, as he was a Eucharistic minister in the Catholic Church.

I would see my father go through the same thing a decade later with the loss of his mother. I recall the support my mom was able to give him however, and a big part of that was by sharing the lessons and wisdom gleaned by Dr. Cable.
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When my mom and I talked two summers ago, she remarked that Dana Cable’s class was one of the most enlightening and rewarding educational experiences of her life. This was quite a compliment from someone who had an innate love for learning. She knew that he had made a difference in her life, just as he likewise did for countless others be them students, private practice clients and professional colleagues. Interestingly, Dr. Cable would one day do the same for me, as I would find myself in a situation I never expected to be in.

My mother passed in February, 2019 of respiratory scleroderma/interstitial lung disease. Once again, I know the impact that Dr. Cable had on her in the classroom also helped her battle her terminal disease, at least mentally. 

Obituary
To chronicle the rich life of this man who specialized in the study of death, I will simply submit his obituary and also provide a link to a fine story written about him and published at the time of his death in the Frederick News-Post.
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Dr. Dana Gerard Cable, 66, of Frederick, died Friday, July 30, 2010, at Frederick Memorial Hospital. He was the loving husband for 33 years of Sylvia K. Cable.
Born Aug. 27, 1943, in Sewickley, Pa., he was the son of Jean Clover Cable of Brookeville, Pa., and the late Boyd Cable.

Dr. Dana G. Cable earned his B.A. degree from West Virginia Wesleyan College and his Ph.D. from the University of West Virginia. He was a professor of psychology and thanatology at Hood College. A leader in the field of gerontology (the study of aging) and a pioneer in thanatology (the study of dying, death and bereavement), Dr. Cable was director of both the thanatology and human science graduate programs at Hood. He was a licensed psychologist and certified grief counselor.

Dr. Cable was on the editorial boards of The American Journal of Hospice and Palliative Care, and Omega: Journal of Death and Dying. He authored the book "Death: The Universal Experience." He authored and co-authored (along with Dr. Terry Martin) numerous chapters in books as well as professional papers. He and Dr. Martin were invited co-presenters at international conferences in Canada, Greece and Scotland.
Dr. Cable was on a team that developed a 10-part video course on death and dying for public television and distance learning. He served on the Board of the Association for Death Education and Counseling and earned that organization's Clinical Practice Award.

Dr. Cable served as president of Phi Kappa Phi international honor society and was chairman of the board of Hospice of Frederick County. He lectured widely in his chosen fields, most recently as the invited speaker of the Carhart-Rollandini Thanatology Lecture Series at Hood, when he presented his well-founded theory of grief. He was a gifted teacher and mentor to hundreds of students spanning his nearly 40 year teaching career.
Dr. Cable served as an International Trustee for Kiwanis International. He served as a governor for Capital District Kiwanis. He was a member of Kiwanis of Frederick. His favorite past-time was going to Las Vegas and taking cruises in January.

Surviving in addition to his wife and mother are two children, David Cable and wife, Carolyn, of Yellow Springs and Jenny Morgan and companion, Patrick Ellis, of Middletown; five grandchildren, Jared Cable, Samantha Cable, Taylor Cable, Ryan Morgan and Sarah Morgan; one sister, Penny Saxton and husband, Lew, of Pennsylvania; and nieces and nephews, Tina Chillcott, Bill Ramey, Daniel Cable, Waylon Boyer and Angie Lahrman. He will remembered by his lifelong friend and associate, Dr. Terry Martin. He is also survived by several great-nieces and great-nephews.

He was preceded in death by his grandson, Alex Nathaniel Cable; his sister, Christine Cable; and infant brother, Lanny Cable.

Here is a link to the FNP story on Dr. Cable from August 3rd, 2010:
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https://www.fredericknewspost.com/archive/our-friend-dana-cable/article_83e96229-bbbe-52ba-ada7-ea1f564b2ef8.htm

My Personal Remembrance (For what it’s worth)
The reason that Dana Cable and I intersected in life was certainly due to a death, as you would naturally think. However, it was not just any death-- it was that of a steady girlfriend of mine.

Back in the summer of 2009, I was recently divorced and inadvertently happened upon the beginning of a magical, new relationship with a charming woman living in Golden, Colorado. To say I experienced serendipity, is an understatement, as I met Alisha by total accident while I was attending a tourism-based work conference in Denver. I had flown out a few days early in an effort to do some sightseeing before the conference. I headed to Golden to tour the legendary Coors Brewery and visit the Buffalo Bill Museum and Gravesite which overlooks the sleepy, little Colorado town from atop Lookout Mountain.

I won’t bore you with the details of how we met on a restaurant patio overlooking Clear Creek, but we hit it off wonderfully. Neither of us were looking for somebody, but we found something very special that night—each other.

Like me, she was recently divorced and had a four year-old son, while my son Eddie was three at the time. A long-distance relationship would ensue and grew throughout that fall into winter with several trips made between Colorado and Maryland to spend time with one another.

She was truly amazing and the relationship grew fast. After an incredible Thanksgiving, in which I introduced her to my family, she would also spend Christmas week with us here in Frederick with her son. It was reminiscent of a movie on the Hallmark Channel --a reference to bring "cable" television into the story.

​Two days after a joyous Christmas Day, Eddie and I drove Alisha to BWI Airport and put her (and her son) on a plane home on December 27th (2009). Future plans had been made for me to fly out to Colorado three weeks later for her birthday. I had no idea that I would never see her again. Three days later, on December 30th, 2009, she was murdered in her home in the middle of the night. The alleged suspect was her estranged ex-husband who had broke into the house.

Riddled with shock and grief, I would be called on to assist investigators in the ex-husband's arrest. Instead of going to Colorado for Alisha’s birthday, I would travel to Colorado to deliver a eulogy at a memorial service for her at the famed Red Rocks Amphitheatre. I also met, and spent ample time, with investigator Kate Battan of Colorado’s Jefferson County Sheriff’s Office. A decade earlier, Det. Battan was the head investigator of the Columbine High School shooting tragedy.  

Months later, I returned to Colorado to serve as a principal witness in a very unpleasant child custody case for Alisha's son who had lost both parents, one to death, and the other to a detention facility. The trial was held in a conservative county outside of Denver and  somehow the court decided to place her son with the murderer’s family. It truly baffled the mind, as the fix was in from the start with her ex-husband's family. 

Another case of greater importance was on the horizon. The State of Colorado needed me to be mentally strong and collected in order to testify in a murder case which was scheduled for fall of 2010.  I was a key witness for he prosecution and was directed to see a grief counselor in advance of the trial, something the State of Colorado would fully embrace and fund on my behalf. I reached out to the earlier mentioned Bill Sherman, a psychologist himself, for guidance. He told me that he knew just the person for me to go see—Dr. Dana Cable. Apparently, the good doctor had stopped taking on new clients, but would make an exception for me based on the circumstances. He was also a friend of Bill’s so I really lucked out.

I started seeing Dr. Cable in April 2010 and we met weekly for the next three months. I already had a comfort level with him and had the unique opportunity to begin our therapy by telling him that my Mom loved taking his class at Hood, and what it meant to her. In our sessions over the next three months, I  was able to describe in detail the relationship I had built with Alisha, culminating with her death and the grief I had been feeling. I learned so very much from him, and more importantly, about myself during those weekly visits.

Our last session in late June ended with Dr. Cable telling me that he thought I was highly resilient, mentally strong, in a very good place and definitely ready for the trial, and moving forward in other aspects of life. He told me that perhaps my whole purpose in meeting Alisha was to provide her final months with happiness and bliss. He also said that I had channeled grief, emotion and energy into performing a mission in assisting the investigators and most of all Alisha’s family, of whom I would have the pleasure of meeting for the first time only in conjunction with her funeral services in Cincinnati, Ohio a week after her death and on my birthday of all days.

I would miss my next weekly appointment with Dr. Cable thanks to a planned vacation to the beach at the end of the month. We had set up my next session for Tuesday, July 6th (2010). I remember going to his home-based office near Bartonsville on that hot, July day. I was even ten minutes early and sat in the car before approaching his office door. To my surprise, no one answered after repeated knocks and ringing of the doorbell. I had waited nearly five minutes before I decided to try his home front door, as his office was connected to the house.

Eventually his wife, Sylvia, would answer the door. She apologized profusely and told me that Dr. Cable should have notified me as he had postponed all appointments for the week. She said that he was dealing with some health issues. I was perplexed and disappointed, but simply went back to work. When I returned home that night, I dug through the stack of mail from the previous week and found a letter from Dr. Cable sent out on July 1st.

As you can piece together now, I would never see Dr. Cable again. He died a few weeks later of septic shock relating to surgery undertaken to address colon cancer. When I got the news of his death that day in late July while on the beach, I felt two things. My first reaction was shock and surprise, but surprisingly without any  extreme sadness as he, himself, wouldn’t want that from me. Instead, I experienced a renewed reassurance that his lessons of life, and death, (along with the tranquility and strength gained from my current state in watching the ocean) would be there for me in the upcoming court trial, and the continual “trials of life” ahead. My second “deep thought,” was saying to myself: “Hey, wait a minute, am I living a Seinfeld episode? How should you feel when your grief counselor dies? And, more so, who are you supposed to talk to about it?”

Over a week later, on August 8th, I attended Dana Cable’s memorial service at a packed-full Coffman Chapel on the Hood College campus. I was simply in awe of the eulogies given that day, and various stories of the people he had touched through his life’s work on death. The gentleman was thoroughly accomplished and keeper of "A Wonderful Life."

Looking back personally, what strikes me is just how poignant Dr. Cable’s final words to me really were. He complimented me on my resilience, especially how I had processed the deaths of my two life’s heroes—my father and paternal grandmother earlier in life. He said this gave me the proper foundation for working to resolve Alisha’s death, albeit much more disturbing and tragic. He gave me his green light and approval to move forward, or at least the confidence and assurance.  I wasn’t just good, I was actually “Cable-ready,” to use a satirical play on words involving the well-known designation which indicates that a TV set or other television-receiving device (such as a VCR or DVR) is capable of receiving cable TV without a set-top box.

​As a footnote, the murder trial went as scheduled in the fall of 2010, and I performed my part in giving my testimony with honesty, love and conviction. And speaking of conviction, the convict in this case, Alisha’s ex-husband, was sentenced to life imprisonment in a federal prison for his horrendous crime.

Thank you  Dr. Cable. Not only did you help me then, but you somehow probably had a hand in me working for a  cemetery as well—a place predicated on death and dying. It certainly never crossed my mind prior to late 2015 at which time I was offered the job here..."Good Grief!"

​Dana G. Cable is entombed within a burial crypt within the Potomac Building in Mount Olivet Cemetery’s mausoleum complex. His mortal remains are located in crypt 29/Row B. (In picture above, the Cable crypt space is the first on the left, second row up from floor.)

I guess you could say that Harry Payton Fraley spent the bulk of his life around furnaces and ovens—quite a “warm existence.” Born on March 10th, 1896, Harry was the son of James Henry Fraley and wife Victoria Isabelle Sweeney, farmers in the vicinity of Catoctin Furnace. The small northern Frederick County hamlet (below Thurmont) boasted a prosperous iron producing operation established by James and Thomas Johnson at the advent of the American Revolution. A bustling industrial and residential complex grew up here taking the name of Catoctin Furnace from the adjacent geologic structure of neighboring Catoctin Mountain. Harry’s cousins operated the company store for many years, so named with the family moniker—Fraley’s General Store.
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Harry P. Fraley’s great-great-grandfather, Johann Henry Frolich (anglicized to Fraley), was a drummer in the Hessian Army and apparently captured at the Battle of Yorktown in 1781 and brought to Frederick to be imprisoned. After the war ended, he, like many other Hessian soldiers, decided to stay in the fair county and the newly victorious United States of America. Johann would eventually gain employment at the Johnson Furnace and lived in the village until his death in 1830. His son, Solomon, and grandson,  Jonathan S. Fraley, worked as laborers at the furnace in addition to farming. The latter (Harry P. Fraley’s grandfather) took employment at the local furnace, with the 1880 US Census showing that he drove a delivery team of mules for the operation. 

​Harry grew up here at “The Furnace” and attended the local public school up through the 7th grade, which was customary as he assisted his father and siblings on the family farm. He would experience three major events in his childhood. In 1903, the Catoctin Furnace went out of blast, being quieted for good after a run of 128 years. In June, 1905, tragedy struck the residents as news reached town that a flat car loaded with railroad workers from Catoctin Furnace was being hauled up the line and as a result of an error in signals, a fast train crashed into it. Almost every family in the village was touched by a personal loss. Two years later in 1907, the Catoctin Iron Works went into the hands of receivership and was sold to a congressman from Bedford County, Pennsylvania and soon closed. All of the machinery was moved to a like plant near Pittsburgh.

​In February 1918, Harry married Maude Mahala Zimmerman. Five months later, the groom shipped out of the vicinity to participate in World War I. He was a private with the Machine Gun Company within the 71st Infantry Regiment. He is one of nearly 600 local veterans of the Great War featured with a memorial page on our sister website www.MountOlivetVets.com. Here is a brief overview of his war experience including his draft/enlistment papers.

​Harry would be honorably discharged in January, 1919 and came back to Catoctin Furnace unscathed. He got to first hold his son, Francis James Henry Fraley, who had been born in December, 1918. The couple can be found living here in the 1920 US census.

The furnace property had been used for a couple of different purposes, but the hamlet’s lifeblood was gone. One of these supplemental operations gave employment to Harry P. Fraley. In 1920, he took a job at the local stave mill here, housed within some of the old furnace operation buildings.

​Stave mills produce the narrow strips of wood that compose the sides of barrels, which were vital for the transportation of goods in the days before easily fabricated boxes and waterproof plastic containers. The Hickory Run Stave Mill was begun in 1914, and managed by a firm out of Lehigh, PA. It would operate for about 12 years.
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By 1930, Harry had moved to the Ballenger Creek Pike area southwest of Frederick, and was employed as a tenant farmer on a property owned by his father-in-law. Fraley also dabbled in trucking and hauling. He would live with his wife and son until 1938, at which time he separated from his wife. The 1940 census shows that he was a driver for an oil refining company. The couple was back living together again, but this would not last.

In early 1946, Harry and Maude officially divorced, apparently due to Harry’s abandonment the previous year. Both had been put through immense strain in June, 1944 as they endured the news that son Francis had been wounded in France during World War II. In 1956, Harry remarried a divorcee named Lillian Anna Wachter. The two lived at 22 Hamilton Avenue in Frederick.

Oh What a Night
Harry lived out his life working as a night watchman for the G&L Baking Company, also written out as G.L. Baking Company. It was a peaceful and drama-free job for the man from north county, at least until his very last week on the job before a well-deserved scheduled retirement in September, 1975.

​On that particular overnight of September 25th/26th, while making his rounds, the native of Catoctin Furnace suddenly found himself “floured and battered,” but not exactly in that particular order.

Not a good showing for Harry as the bad guy made off with the dough, both literally and figuratively.  So much for the gold retirement watch, I guess. I’m not sure if our subject had to work out his last two days or not, but he would retire from G.L. Baking with the dark-comedic story of a lifetime to tell, although not of the standard hero variety. Regardless, Harry P. Fraley was a child of the mighty furnace, a war vet, and faithful employee of the stave mill and bakery.

I could not find anything further on the case, and am figuring they never caught the culprit. Harry would live to tell his harrowing tale for six anniversaries of the bakery burglary event. He died a few weeks prior to the 7th anniversary, succumbing on September 9th, 1982. He was laid to rest in Mount Olivet’s Area GG/Lot 55 by the side of wife Lillian, who had died nearly two decades earlier. 

​I have to say, this simple story made quite an impact on me, so much so, I was inspired to place "flours" on Mr. Fraley's grave. It was only temporary though, and I had to settle for a brand other than G.L. --as it's been quite a while since that local product has been on the grocery store shelves!
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(Author's Note: Special thanks to Thurmont mayor/historian John Kinnaird for the period images of Catoctin Furnace from the Robert S. Kinnaird Collection of Historic Thurmont Photographs.

​A few months ago, I wrote an article entitled “An Echo From the Past” which focused on a particular section of the cemetery’s Area T, which contains 40 victims of the Spanish Influenza pandemic of 1918. Most had died in the months of September and October. That time in our history featured mandated quarantines, event postponements and suggestions for social distancing. One also has to remember that there was a "world war" also going on at this time too!  The war ended on November 11th, but celebration was tempered because a second, lesser, wave of the flu hit a few weeks later and stayed into the new year of 1919 before dissipating by late February/March of 1919. I'm sure many at the time replied, "Oh, 1918, what a crazy and depressing year."

When things opened up there were no restaurant capacity limitations and mask requirements as we have been experiencing a century later, but one thing was certainly the same—people longed to return to normalcy after an eight-month period of unknown. Unlike Covid-19 which has targeted our older population today, the Spanish Flu skewed toward younger victims between 20-40, and included teens but not many children.

Things eventually returned to normal. One particular place that needed a peaceful return was the sleepy hamlet of Buckeystown, located just a few short miles southeast of Frederick.  It was here in late September, 1919, that Frederick County's first cases of Spanish Flu were occurred. Forty cases were reported there by September 26th, and our county’s first attributable death was that of resident Bessie G. Jones, a 33 year-old housewife. More "Buckeystownians" would perish in the weeks to come. 

In the summer of 1920, nearly two years later, the Buckeystown community would shaken when two local young ladies, both seventeen-year olds, would perish in a tragic accident, setting the stage for the largest attended funeral services in the town's history up to that time. Subsequently, the girls would be buried in Mount Olivet's Area T. Unlike their neighbors who had passed in 1918, their demise was certainly not caused by the flu, but by drowning.

​With the emergence of spring and summer, folks sought comfort in outdoor activities such as picnics, baseball games, the Braddock Heights amusement park, camping and swimming. The latter activity of water recreation can today be easily achieved with a multi-hour trip to the eastern shore and the beach or bay, or perhaps a trek westward to Deep Creek Lake. For most Frederick residents, the more common route to cool off in summertime included a jump in a nearby swimmin’ hole, be it pond, creek, or river.
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Sadly, our subjects of this week’s story would meet a tragic end in mid-July while on an innocent canoeing-swimming foray with a group of teenage friends in the Monocacy River just southeast of Buckeystown. 

Mary Elizabeth Ball was a native of Paeonian Springs, Virginia, located between Waterford and Leesburg. She was one of seven children, and went by her middle name. Her father, Stephen M. Ball was born in Tennessee, but had parental ties to Loudoun County. He married a Poolesville (MD) girl named Sarah Louise White. The Balls moved north of the Potomac River to Brunswick some years earlier but wound up in Buckeystown working as a tenant farmer on the farm of William G. Baker which was southeast of town on property now comprising Buckingham's Choice senior community and the Claggett Center.  Elizabeth's paternal grandparents had a farm in Buckeystown as well.

On Tuesday, July 13th, 1920, both Elizabeths  joined up with local friends for a day of fun and frolic on the Monocacy River (just east of town). Newspaper articles across the state would capture the terrible events of that ill-fated river excursion.

​As can be seen from the reports, Miss Ball was heroic in her attempt to save her new friend from Baltimore. Burial services were held at  Mount Olivet a day later on July 15th, 1920. 

​Interestingly, both girls are buried roughly ten yards apart in the northern section of Area T and have matching tombstones.

​As a matter of fact, Elizabeth Plant was buried in the Ball family lot. Mr. Stephen M. Ball, Elizabeth's father, took care of the arrangements for having Elizabeth Plant interred here. He, himself, would be laid to rest here just nine months later. The details of his death make the drowning story even sadder. ​

​​All deaths come with a degree of sadness, but a century ago in 1920, there was no sadder place than Area T on account of those who died far before their prime.

​As a footnote to the story, my research efforts showed me that the Ball family were not the only ones trying to move forward from the tragic drowning of July, 1920. Elizabeth Plant’s grieving mother, Mary, was experiencing added stress and heartache. The daughter of German immigrants, she was raised in Baltimore and came to Buckeystown in 1920 to operate a general store a decade after the death of her husband. In November, 1920, the business would suffer destruction from a fire. After getting back and running again, her store fell prey to a burglary. Not a banner year for Mrs. Plant at all. 

One year later, exactly one week after the first anniversary of her daughter's death, Mary Plant would be named Buckeystown's postmaster. She would eventually return to Baltimore by 1930 and lived out her life in "the monumental city" until her death in 1963. I couldn't find her definitive burial site, learning that she wasn't buried here in Mount Olivet with her daughter. Her husband, William is buried in Dundalk's Sacred Heart of Jesus Cemetery in Baltimore. I would assume she is buried there alongside him. Her parents are interred there as well.

Author's Note: Special thanks go out to my friend Ron Angleberger who did some advance research and introduced me to this somber tale. Likewise, friend and Buckeystown historian Nancy Willmann Bodmer gave me additional info and photos.

One of the most interesting areas within Mount Olivet Cemetery is labeled as NN. Here, stones are tightly packed together, many of which marking the graves of folks born before 1854—the year our cemetery opened for burials. Three local churches would buy lots in this small section that once marked the northwest extent of Mount Olivet before additional ground to the west were opened around 1910.

In 1908, bodies originally interred in Frederick’s Methodist Episcopal church graveyard were placed here, along with decedents brought from Evangelical Lutheran’s former burying ground (at today’s Everedy Square corner of E. Church and East streets) and others formerly resting in the Presbyterian burial ground on the northwest corner of N. Bentz and Dill Ave.

I have written stories on others buried within Area NN, which was neatly laid out in rows with the inhabitants of each of the three fore-mentioned cemeteries in distinct sectors according to congregation—from left to right, Methodist, Lutheran, Presbyterian.

Adjacent our boundary fence, a non-Frederick name on a stone jumped out at me. It is in the back row, right side, of the “Methodist section.” The decedent is Sarah Galezio. The brief “story on the stone” says that Sarah was the consort of one, Charles Galezio, and that she died on October 8th, 1833 aged 46 years, 4 months and 9 days. ​

Now Galezio is my focus for this story, but while I’m here, I want to mention the funerary phenomenon of the word “consort.” One can find that many women buried in our cemetery bear a descriptor on their stones in an effort to give context to a man of note she is related to. Now, I’m not trying to “stir the proverbial sexist pot” here, but “stations in life” carved into marble and granite grave markers are abundant. These include  “wife of,” “daughter of,” “grandmother of,” “aunt of,” and “widow of.”  On much older stones, the term consort or relict was used to describe the woman’s marital status. From the 17th through 19th centuries, consort was usually used on the graves of women, although a man could also be a consort.  The word consort was normally used in this manner:

‘Sarah--consort of Charles Galezio,’ in which consort meant that Sarah was Charles’s spouse and died before her husband did.  There is no other information listed. The fact that she was married to Charles is all that’s left as a reminder of her life and identity. Oh, and our cemetery database report that she was the mother of Charles and Mrs. Margaret Hobbs.
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Again, this was a name I was not familiar with in the annals of Frederick history—so what better reason than to go “in search of,” right? Well, I didn’t expect to find much, but would be pleasantry surprised with what I did “uncover”—however, maybe not the best word use when referring to cemetery-based research of this kind.

Our records record Sarah’s birthdate as May 30th, 1787, but no parents named, and a burial date in Mount Olivet of June 4th, 1895. She actually was buried three times as the 1895 date marks her removal from the Methodist Episcopal Church’s  graveyard to Area Q, Lots 252-253. In January, 1908, the Methodist churchyard burials were removed to her present resting spot in Area NN, Lot 123.
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Thank God once again for the internet! I mean, it would have also been quite possible to find a short biography on my subject of this week’s blog (Sarah Galezio)  had I been researching, in person, within the New York Public Library, specifically the stacks within the Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. I’m sure that a work titled Ancestry and posterity (in part) of Gottfried Frey, 1605-1913 would have easily fallen in my hands. This book is a family genealogy written by Samuel Clarence Frey and published by Dispatch-Daily Print of York, Pennsylvania in 1914. Of course, the world wide web led me to an online version after a few short word/name searches utilizing the Google search engine. I have since found that Frey’s book can be found in college libraries across the country, and also a hardcover reprint can be purchased on Amazon.com for $28.95, and if you have a Prime account, shipping is free and you could have in two days time! But, I digress.

Here is what Samuel Clarence Frey had to say about his distant cousin buried in our fair cemetery:          
“SARAH ANN CATHARINE FREY, the fourth child of Godfrey, was born in Montgomery County, Md., May I, 1789. Somewhat to the surprise, if not annoyance, of her conservative German father, when she was but sixteen years old she married an Italian music teacher, Charles Antonio Cazemere Galezio, born at Turin, Italy, March 4, 1773. He was a highly educated man, having been fitted for the priesthood; but left Rome and came to America, where he secured a position of some sort in the Navy, serving under Commodore Decatur. He spoke seven languages, and acted as interpreter for some of the foreign Legations. Two years after marriage, he was ordered on a naval cruise, and their first child was born at Sandy Springs, Montgomery County, Md (presumably Godfrey's home) during the father's absence, and was three years old before she saw him. The other children were born at Frederick. Md., where, after a little over fifteen years of married life, Charles died, in 1821. His widow survived him until October 9, 1833. From this union sprang the following descendants :

MARGARET GALEZIO, b. Aug. 5. 1810; d. May 22, 1882. Married Jan. 3, 1833, Rezin Hobbs, Farmer, Frederick. Md.

ANNIE VIRGINIA HOBBS. b. Oct. 17. 1835. Married Oct. 7, 1856, Richard Linthicum Waters, b. Feb. 18, 1834; d. Sept. 6, 1884, Farmer, Howard County, Md. (*granddaughter of Sarah)

SARAH MARGARET WATERS, b. July 22. 1857. Married, May 31, 1887, Thomas Edward Denoe. b. Apr. 25. 1846. Retired Grocer, Baltimore.” (*Great granddaughter of Sarah)

Another child is mentioned a little later in Mr. Frey’s family history. This was Sarah (Frey) Galezio’s only son, named Charles after his father:

“CHARLES GODFREY GALEZIO, b. Aug. 27, 1815, at Frederick, Md.; removed to Athens County, Ohio when a young man, living first at Chauncey and later at Wapatoneka. He was the first Recorder of the county, and a prominent Mason. At the outbreak of the Civil War he went to La Porte. Indiana, and enlisted, becoming a Lieutenant. At the expiration of his term he re-enlisted as a private and served until the end of the war, under Sherman, participating in the March to the Sea and the Grand Review at Washington. Died, Oct. 9. 1882, at the home of one of his daughters at La Porte. Ind. Married Sept. 16. 1838, Joanna S. Herrold, b. Mar. 21, 1822; d. Aug. 19. 1848.

ALEXANDER HARPER GALEZIO. b. June 20. 1839; d. Aug. 16, 1846.

ADELAIDE LOUISE (GALEZIO, b. Nov. 28. 1841. Sister M. Aloysia, in Convent at Glandorf, Ohio.
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MARY VIRGINIA GALEZIO. b. May 15, 1844. Married Apr. II, 1867. Charles R. Baird, b. Apr. 1832, Farmer, La Porte, Ind.”

Wow, again, you can learn so much about a person in a cemetery when you start digging. Again, maybe not the best word use, but you catch my drift. Sarah Galezio was now coming more into view for me. Now unfortunately, the problem with genealogy, especially when researching women in earlier times, is that most available information primarily focuses on those contextual others such as parents, husbands, children, cousins as they seldom held occupation titles of note, ran businesses or performed military service. Thus, these incredible ladies are simply a reflection of the deeds/professions of their husbands, fathers and sons. This in addition to the incredible work done in keeping homes, birthing/rearing children, and supporting husbands—some of which were true “pains in the ass!” Sad but true, and more so frustrating.
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We get lucky sometimes in finding personal letters or accounts of these women. Diaries can also be helpful in shedding light on one’s family and friends, or can paint an incredible picture of the personality of a diary keeper, be him man or woman. And you can’t talk about Frederick, Maryland and diaries without a mention of Jacob Engelbrecht who kept a chronicle of life in Frederick from 1818 through to his death in 1878. This quickly became my next research destination.

I found a handful of references to the Galezio family in Engelbrecht’s diary. Best of all, Sarah Galezio was mentioned by name in an entry penned by Jacob on October 9th, 1833 at 11am on a Wednesday morning:
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“Died this morning in the year of her age Mrs. Galezio (widow), mother of Charles Galezio (at Smallwoods) & Mrs. Margaret Hobbs. Buried on the Methodist Episcopal graveyard, of which church she was a faithful member.”

Engelbrecht doesn’t give us much, but at least Sarah Galezio’s death was noteworthy enough for him to document. In looking deeper into the diary, I explored a few more entries. Earlier that same year (1833), Engelbrecht mentions the marriage of daughter Margaret to Rezin Hobbs, and two years later, another marriage, that of daughter Sarah to Jacob Yeakle.

I did revel in two additional posts made by Engelbrecht in the previous decade, as he recorded the death of Sarah’s husband, or should I say—consort?

“Died yesterday (at the Almshouse) in this town, Charles Galezio (barber) a native of Italy and a citizen of this town about six years. Whisky principally occasioned his death. He used to say “if a rich man dies, he died with the consumption but if a poor man dies, then whiskey killed him.” So report says.”
Sunday, March 11th, 1821

Jacob Engelbrecht, a tailor by trade and son of a German Hessian mercenary soldier captured and brought to Frederick during the Revolutionary War, recalled one of Frederick’s earliest southern Europeans four years later in 1825:

“There was a barber living in this town, 4 or 5 years ago named Charles Galezio (an Italian) who once advertised, for employment, and at the end of the advertisement he had, ‘Call when you will, there’s Charley on the spot with razors keen, and water boiling hot.’
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He used to say too, during his lifetime (recollect, he’s now dead). “When a rich man dies, (they say) he died with the consumption, but when a poor man dies, why then whiskey killed him. The latter of which, Charley was tolerable fond of; but there are many more in the world who are fond of the “creature.”

March 25th, 1825.