Taphophile

Morgan's Point Cemetery is one of the oldest cemeteries in Harris County, and it's reputed to be the resting place for Emily Morgan, the free mulatto woman whose beauty and charms supposedly distracted Santa Anna long enough for the Texans to surprise him at the Battle of San Jacinto, securing the independence of Texas; Emily was honored through the song "The Yellow Rose of Texas." If she is buried here, the grave is unmarked, unlike that of her employer, Captain James Morgan. Visiting the cemetery itself is an unsettling experience, as it is a small island of graves and greenery surrounded by miles of concrete--the Bayport Terminal, one of the busiest ports in America, roars away all around it, and cranes offload freight and semis rumble by at all hours.  

Magnolia Cemetery, near the Montrose section of Houston, has a somewhat disjointed history, reflected in the groupings of markers as one tours it. Occupying a narrow north-south strip south of Buffalo Bayou, Magnolia was founded in 1884 as a German Methodist cemetery but soon opened its gates to a general population. By the 1960s, it was in a dilapidated state due to a lack of new burials, so it sold the northern section to American General, a large insurance company then building its new headquarters on an adjacent lot. This sale was fortuitous, as Gus Wortham, owner of AG, took an interest in the cemetery, even donating a section back to Magnolia, in which he built a restrained yet handsome mausoleum for himself and his wife.Today, Magnolia is surrounded by an attractive red-brick fence, and luxury apartment buildings and the American General high-rise hem it in.

Founder's Cemetery, Houston, Texas. I can't deny I was underwhelmed when I first visited Founder's, one of Houston's most historic cemeteries--final resting place for the Allen brothers, who founded the city, as well as associates of Sam Houston, Harris County's first sheriff, and veterans of the Texas War for Independence. When I first caught a glimpse of it as I parked my car along a side street, my impression was that it felt...empty. I suppose I expected it to look as historic as it was, with rows of graves, mausoleums, statues. We get none of that with Founder's; instead, it is a small lot with a few patches of graves and a few trees scattered here and there. The cemetery grew on me, however, as the graves are nicely weathered and with phrases that tell the early story of the city: "A Texan Pioneer," "Buried with Her Babe," "Born In Connecticut" or "Georgia" or "Brooklyn, NY." The downtown skyline fills the eastern horizon, and the gleaming buildings creates a striking juxtaposition with the graves.

Lynchburg Cemetery, Houston, Texas. Nathaniel Lynch came to Texas in the years before Texas independence, and he established a ferry at the point where the San Jacinto River and Buffalo Bayou flow into Galveston Bay. He also platted a new town, Lynchburg, along with a plot of land for a cemetery. The town never flourished, but the cemetery was in use for several decades. Unfortunately, it was forgotten for many years, which was doubly destructive because it lay in a piece of marshy ground subject to flooding by both high tides and storm surges--perhaps 90% or more of its gravestones are lost. Adding to the difficulties in restoring Lynchburg is the industries that have surrounded the small plot with high fences and security cameras, making it more difficult to gain entry; the gate is kept locked and an approved person with a key must allow entry. Despite these difficulties, the cemetery has its history worth pursuing--among the graves is that of Maria F., a woman who was drowned in the hurricane of 1875 and whose grave testifies to her husband's grief. Legend holds that her he held her lifeless body as he waited to be rescued. Recently, a tree fell over, only to disclose a large shell midden, the remains of generations of coastal Indians discarding their clam shells onto a pile that grew over the years. Many middens were destroyed by white settlers for use in road construction, but the fact that a tree grew over this one preserved it.

Adath Yeshurun Cemetery, Houston, Texas. Founded in 1895, this cemetery, since renamed Beth Yeshurun after the merger of two congregations, lies west of downtown, on a ridge on the south side of Buffalo Bayou. The cemetery is fairly small but well-ordered and mostly full. There are a few trees along the peripheries, but the central portions are dedicated to the straight columns of graves. Holocaust survivors are buried here, as well as veterans (including one young man who died on Iwo Jima) and names familiar to Houstonians, such as Westheimer. Many of the graves also have small stones left on them, a Jewish custom that indicates a remembrance of the dead.

Holy Cross Cemetery, Houston, Texas. The second oldest Catholic cemetery in Houston is a fascinating walk through an immigrants' history of the Bayou City. Since Houston was founded in 1836 as a Southern city, a shipping point for cotton, many of the old cemeteries are full of Anglo surnames, whether they belong to whites or blacks. A few decades had to pass before we get a cemetery like Holy Cross, with its sections of Italians, Poles, Czechs, Germans, Mexicans, French (mainly creoles from Louisiana), even Lebanese. Holy Cross sits alongside North Main, a stone's throw from Interstate 45, in a rough-and-tumble area of decrepit buildings and urban poverty, but within the cemetery itself, all is calm. A small but impressive collection of mausoleums and statuary is scattered throughout.

St. Dominic's Churchyard, D'Hanis, Medina County, Texas. Old D'Hanis is a ghost town, west of San Antonio, which died when the railroad passed several miles away from town. All that is left of the town are the ruins of St. Dominic's Church and its accompanying churchyard. A walk thought the cemetery confirms what the history of the town tells us--this area was settled by German immigrants. Many of the markers are iron, a tradition brought from the Old World, and in fact, many of these ornate crosses were imported from Germany. Hearts, eyes, and other imagery rare in American cemeteries can be found on many of the graves. This where immigration met the frontier, as markers with German inscriptions stand next to the grave of a man killed by Indians.

Bingham Cemetery, near Hardin, Liberty County, Texas. This African American Cemetery wasn't easy to find, as all I had was one map showing its location where a narrow county road curved sharply as it neared the Trinity River. After a few passes along the road, I realized it was possibly on the other side of a field of grazing cows. Since the gate didn't have a No Trespassing sign, I went through the gate and drove across the field. Being as far from the road as it is, Bingham had an even quieter atmosphere than most cemeteries. There were few trees, but moss hung thickly from the few that were there, and the river was apparently just beyond the tree line a few hundred feet beyond the fence. The earliest graves I saw dated to the 1920s, with burials continuing to the present. Some professionally done graves, including a few veterans, but also quite a few folk graves.

Sunset, North of Yoakum, Texas.

Two views along US 59. Ganado and Wharton, Texas.

Long Point Rd, Houston.