Posts Tagged ‘Calvary Cemetery’
intently and shudderingly
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Dissonant, the mad cacophonies of Western Queens often drive one such as myself beyond the brink of madness, and solace from this unending assault can only be found deep within the grounds of Calvary Cemetery. First Calvary, that is. To me, the name of the neighborhood which hosts the burial grounds of the Roman Catholics is aptly named, and Blissville is where one retreats to commune with the relative silence of the polyandrion.
Now, over the last few years, I have seen many strange and wonderful things, and witnessed places in New York City that only a select would even suspect to exist. I have seen dead animals of all sorts littering the streets, a few killed in rituals, but mostly from accidents. I have never seen a dead human being floating by in the rivers or the creeks, nor have I found some dude lying on the side of the road- I’m lucky like that.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Imagine how excited I was, then, when this seeming casualty appeared on my jaunty stroll through First Calvary on a sunny March afternoon. Finally. That’s when the terror set in.
A question which a humble narrator often asks himself, when confronted with situations that require moral, legal, and philosophical contemplations is simply “How would I explain this to Judge Judy?.”
In the case of photographing a possibly deceased human (pondered as I shot these pictures so quite obviously one wasn’t exactly impaled on the horns of dilemma) do you photograph first and then call the cops? What exactly do you tell the cops? “Yeah… I do this blog… Yes sir, I walked here… No sir, nothing like that… Yes sir, Waxman with an x”… and so on?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As your humble narrator processed an answer which might be acceptable to both televised jurist and hard boiled gendarme, the corpse suddenly animated, its mouth parts bleating out a long and phlegmatic tone which reminded one most of snoring.
Deductive reason suggests that instead of dead, this fellow was merely asleep. A lovely place for a nap, despite the shocking suggestions offered by a prone positioned human laying stock still on the ground in a cemetery, as the sun was warm and bright, soft grass welcomes, and there is plentiful company. Below, three million lie.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The ground at Calvary is sown with “all too soon’s,” “should have been me instead’s,” and “why’s.” The soil is composed of the “they’ll never get to’s” and “cut down in their prime’s,” along with the good who died young and the bad who died old. If there is any place in New York City where one can sense that there very well might be a whole other side to existence that extends beyond the meat, it’s at Calvary.
Spending too much time here can be dangerous, a little over three hours usually does it, when a hypnagogic spell begins to infiltrate the mind of the visitor.
Lethargy and somnolence exert a pull inexorable, and afflicted day trippers experience a desire to just lay down on the ground… and nap.
“Just for a little while,” they will say. I always answer this with a single question.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
What would one dream of, if they were to fall sleep in First Calvary Cemetery?
impersonal investigator
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Often does a certain conflict arise within me regarding Calvary Cemetery and the various tales unearthed there which are then presented at this, your Newtown Pentacle. On the one hand, vainglory states that by speaking about the departed, and telling some part of their story, the interred are in some way kept alive.
In other cases, and this is typified by a soul chilling email received around a year ago which had the subject line “why is my grandmother’s grave featured in your blog?,” offer credence to my fears that a certain line is often crossed.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A humble narrator subscribes to the bardic viewpoint which believes that a hero or villain is only dead when people stop talking about them, which is why Ghenghis Khan, Alexander Magnus, and Adolph Hitler are immortal.
There is another point of view, of course, which dictates that what happens at the cemetery stays at the cemetery. While researching the Early family, in whom my interest was sparked merely by the centuried integrity of their monument, this waters of this conflict bubbled forth.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Not much is out there about the Early’s, not an obituary nor a requiem or even a trail of legal bread crumbs. Specialists in Irish genealogy might be able to reveal more than I, but that’s not really the point. From a moral and ethical point of view, should the dead just be allowed to just keep their secrets?
Attempts have always been made, around NP HQ, to present historical necrologies in the best of all possible lights, as much out of respect for heirs and descendants as for the desire to not speak ill of the dead. One attempts to remain cold, clinical, and impersonal when constructing these narratives.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Conflicted, one nevertheless forges on in the attempt to create some sort of visual record of Calvary Cemetery, the great polyandrion of the Roman Catholics in New York City. All that can said of the Early clan is what is inscribed upon the stone- that it acknowledges the memory of the matron Ellen Mc Collough who died at 75 in December of 1893, a 21 year old woman named Rose who died in 1872, and finally the presence of the earthly remains of Mary Early who left the mortal coil in March of 1902.
The monument is a fine piece of carving, which has robustly weathered a century of exposure to the elements.
potent interest
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A carven forest of infinite sorrow and cosmic loss, Calvary Cemetery here in Queens often brightens the mood of one such as myself.
Deeply jaundiced by the acts and betrayals of the living, a humble narrator has little choice but to reacquaint himself constantly with an era when honor and the keeping of ones word was the masculine ideal. Unfortunately we live in a debased age, wherein petty monsters are allowed to terrorize the townsfolk freely. Such creatures stalk every century of course, but in ours, the acts of vengeance one may enact against an opponent are considerably circumscribed by custom and law.
You just can’t punch a guy in the nose and be done with it anymore.
from wikipedia
The first burial in Calvary Cemetery took place on July 31, 1848. The name of the deceased was Esther Ennis, having reportedly “died of a broken heart.” By 1852, there were 50 burials a day, half of them were poor Irish under seven years of age.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Moral conundrums such as the one described above were less important than finding a meal for most of the 19th century Catholics who were buried here. They mostly died young, they died poor, and they most often died from avoidable diseases brought on by bad water, poor sanitation, and chronic malnutrition. Most were illiterate, violent, and alcoholics (by modern standards), and the only people looking out for them were their priests.
That “50 burials a day” number in the wiki quotation above represents an interesting organizational question to me. Around the beginning of the Civil War, the technological resources that the Roman Catholic Church would have had access to in performing these interments is easily explained as the sort of gear you’d see in a Cowboy movie- horses and wagon, pick ax, shovels and spades.
That’s a lot of digging, better than eighteen thousand graves a year, which would require a lot of cheap labor.
18,000 funerals a year also indicates a lot of clerical work, performing ceremonial functions for the cemetery itself and organizing the ritual schedules of mass and other votive tasks for funeral goers at the cemetery chapel.
from fordham.edu
In the 1840’s a massive number of Irish-Catholics immigrated to the United States. By 1855, there were over 200,000 Irish in New York City. British land policies, which sought to sweep the Irish peasants off their land, were compounded by the devastating potato famine of 1845 to 1847. A rot attacked the potato crop, on which the Irish population had become dependent. About 2 million people perished. The Irish often arrived in America with few material possessions and were forced to live in squalor.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As detailed in the past, the first service conducted here, for Esther Ennis in 1848, was conducted by the legendary Archbishop “Dagger” John Hughes.
Hughes was a charismatic firebrand who turned the Archdiocese of New York into a powerhouse player in education, real estate, finance, and politics within a single generation. Based in Manhattan, Hughes’s Archdiocese appointed the official chaplains of the Calvary Cemetery, once a prestigious position to hold. No evidence of a modern chaplain, although there must be some modern prelate who oversees the place, was discovered upon casual inspections.
The monument in today’s posting is that of one such chaplain of Calvary Cemetery.
from wikipedia
On April 8, 1808, the Holy See raised Baltimore to the status of an Archdiocese. At the same time, the dioceses of Philadelphia, Boston, Bardstown and New York were created. At the time of its establishment, the Diocese of New York covered all of the state of New York, as well as the New Jersey counties of Sussex, Bergen, Morris, Essex, Somerset, Middlesex, and Monmouth.
Since the first appointed bishop could not set sail from Italy due to the Napoleonic blockade, Fr. Kohlman was appointed administrator. He was instrumental in organizing the diocese and preparing for the Cathedral of St. Patrick to be built on Mulberry Street. Among the difficulties faced by Catholics at the time was anti-Catholic bigotry in general and in the New York school system. A strong Nativist movement sought to keep Catholics out of the country and to prevent those already present from advancing.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Lords and Ladies, gaze upon the inscription marking this marble as the monument of the First Chaplain of Calvary Cemetery, Rev. Patrick Hennessy.
This column, decorated and inscribed with iconography denoting the burial place of a Roman Catholic Priest, has stood here in section 3 since 1861. It adjoins two other monuments recently described at this, your Newtown Pentacle- the Connell obelisk from “whispered warnings,” and what turned out to be the Jeanne Du Lux and John P. Ferrie monument from “anxious band” and “doubly glad.”
from 1876’s “The visitor’s guide to Calvary cemetery, with map and illustrations” by J. J. Foster, courtesy archive.org
REV. PATRICK HENNESSY, Late Chaplain of the Cemetery, on which are the usual priestly insignia.
In the rear of the monument are statues representing ” Faith,” ” Hope,” and ” Charity,” angels in kneeling posture, and many others. Marble vases containing blooming flowers are scattered around, somewhat relieving the bare aspect of the ground, which is paved with small square-cut flagging, in which is a door leading to the vaults beneath. The whole plot is surrounded with substantial rails of marble.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
According to the quotation above, there is a subterranean vault which lies forgotten below the very spot upon which I stood while shooting the closer in photos which appear above.
Such occluded knowledge and latent danger is nepenthe, of course, for one such as myself. References gleaned from study of ancient tomes indicates that Rev. Hennessy actually lived within the gates of the cemetery itself, but that comes from a single source and is therefore not 100% reliable. If accurate, however, the structure would have been found at the foot of the hill which Section 9 sits upon.
One suspects that unlike myself, who is a vast physical and psychological coward known for his fits of shrieking laughter and terrifying pauses, an Irish priest from the New York of 1861 would have found little problem with straightening his back up and punching some rogue right square in the nose.
an obituary published on January 28 of 1861, found at the NYTimes archive, discusses the passing of Rev. Hennessy
HENNESSY. — At his residence, on Long Island, on Saturday, Jan. 26, Rev. PATRICK HENNESSY, in the 51st year of his age.
His funeral will take place from the Church at Calvary Cemetery, at 10 o’clock A.M., this day, (Monday.) 28th inst. His friends, and the reverend clergy, are respectfully invited to attend.
ornate and exotic
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Maddeningly, lucky captures like the ones featured in today’s posting have been pretty rare for me of late, but here’s three from the proverbial “right place, right time.” Whilst crossing the devastations of Laurel Hill last week, enroute to a meeting in Brooklyn, those dense atmospheric conditions which had all but occluded the visual presence of Manhattan, just an hour earlier, suddenly cleared up. The burning thermonuclear eye of god itself omnipotently bathed the accursed earth in its radiation, driving away the rain laden clouds.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Luckily, I was skulking and scuttling the periphery, along an obscure pavement, of the polyandrion of the Roman Catholic Church- called Calvary. Bearing witness to this sudden explosion of majesty and inadvertent stage lighting, for one such as myself, was fraught with danger. Having grown increasingly nocturnal over the winter months, your humble narrator let slip an audibly fearful hiss when that light- which had traveled 93 million miles in seconds and was aimed directly at me- struck my shadow tempered skin. At once, I was moving eastward- and toward safe harbor in the perennial shadows of DUKBO (Down Under the Kosciuszko Bridge Onramp) scuttled I.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Luckily, as it was late in the day, this luminous event was short lived and the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself now floated low to the horizon in the northwestern sky. Enormous volatility in the air and surrounding cloud systems lent an effusive quality to its emanations, which oddly framed the so called Freedom Tower- a megalith nearing completion on the site of national tragedy and aspiration. To one such as myself, however, such things are better left for others to contemplate, enjoy, and discuss. There is no place for me in the company of others. My place is here, along the Newtown Creek, and amongst the tomb legions.
doubly glad
“follow” me on Twitter at @newtownpentacle
– photo by Mitch Waxman
After the “anxious band” posting a couple of weeks ago, an email was received from none other than the Historian of Old St. Pat’s Cathedral- Jim Garrity. Mr. Garrity’s message was gladly accepted, as he offered the key to unlock the mystery of who the enigmatic monument described was dedicated to.
First- it was Jeanne Du Lux and John P. Ferrie inscribed upon the stone, names which were familiar to one such as Mr. Garrity, whose expertise on the subject of the 19th century Irish experience in New York City will be questioned only by madmen and fools.
With the help of Mr. Garrity’s sound advice and excellent tomb stone deciphering skills, the story is now clear.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
“With these provisions of the code in force Jeanne Du Lux a woman of French extraction died November 15th, 1854 at an advanced age in the city of New York intestate leaving a large personal estate to be administered and distributed according to the laws of the place of her domicile.”
That’s from 1871’s “Reports of Cases Argued and Adjudged in the Supreme Court of the United States, Volume 80” (courtesy google books).
So’s this-
“Within a month of her decease John Pierre Ferrie applied to the surrogate of the county of New York for letters of administration on her estate claiming them on the ground that he was her only child and therefore her sole heir at law and next of kin.
This application was opposed… During the pendency of these proceedings, Benoit Julien Caujolle Bert Barthelemy Canjolle, and Mauretta Elie, with their respective wives, appeared before the surrogate and asked to be heard alleging that they were the next of kin and for that reason entitled to intervene in the matter of the administration and to share upon the distribution of the estate and asking to receive their distributive share of the same.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It seems that Mr. Ferrie had to assert and prove his rights as heir in several high profile cases, included defending himself in his native France. The French Consulate and New York State ruled in his favor, but appeals elevated the dispute all the way to the Supreme Court.
At question was his status as having been born a bastard.
In the end, the bastard won, and is buried with his mom beneath an opulent monument that has carried both of their portraits for more than a century. You never know what you’re going to find at Calvary Cemetery in Queens- and sometimes- the things that you do find, you should ask a smart friend about. Thanks Jim!
from 1867’s New York Daily Tribune, courtesy fultonhistory.com
The Newtown Pentacle 