Mortuary — Cora Bell Cartwright

Leon, Iowa area, 1901

Mortuary.

Cora Bell Cartwright, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. W. T. Cartwright was born in Davis City, Iowa, Jan. 23, 1879, and died of that dread disease, consumption, at her home in High Point township July 7, 1901, aged 22 years, 5 months and 14 days. She left a father, mother, four brothers and three sisters who were all at her bed side except one, Harry who is in Joplin, Mo. She had been a sufferer for the past five months, but in all her suffering she was patient and cheerful. "Co" as she was familiarly known had a kind word for every one, always ready to do her part, and such nerve and presence of mind as she manifested in her last hours is seldom seen. She called each member of the family and friends to her bedside and bade each one a last good, begging them not to grieve for she was ready to go and wanted rest. She leaves a host of friends to mourn her loss.

Dearest sister you have left us,
To mourn thee here alone,
Thou art singing with the Angels,
Before God's shining throne.

—————

The house occupied by Mrs. Sears will be for rent after June 1.
T. E. HORNER.

Mortuary Lore: Curious Epitaphs

1900

Clockmaker Expresses Hopes in Hereafter

Collecting epitaphs is not a particularly cheerful sort of hobby, but a well-known Philadelphia business man has acquired the grewsome fad, and is now thoroughly saturated with all sorts of mortuary lore.

Curious epitaphs find their way into print from time to time, many of which bear small traces of authenticity, and these are eagerly sought after by the collector in question, who inserts them in a book which he keeps for that purpose. His great pride, however, is in the inscriptions which he has seen with his own eyes, and copied from tombstones which have come under his own observation. He has traveled extensively, and it doesn't make any difference where he is, whether in an old English cathedral town or a "boom" city of the far west, his first question is, "Where is your most interesting burying-ground?"

While in England last summer he came across a couple of rather curious epitaphs in the old churchyard at Balsover, in Derbyshire. One read as follows: "Here lies in a horizontal position the outside case of Thomas Hindle, clock and watchmaker, who departed this life wound up in hope of being taken in hand by his Maker, and being thoroughly cleaned, repaired and set a-going in the world to come, on the 15th of August, 1836, in the nineteenth year of his age."

The following, from the same churchyard, is a curious instance of economy such as one seldom encounters — that of a man being buried in the same grave with his three wives, and with but one stone to mark their final and collective resting place. Following is the inscription: "Sacred to the memory of Margaret Armstrong, wife of William Armstrong of Balsover Moor, who departed this life Aug. 2, 1835, aged 33 years. Also William Armstrong, who died Dec. 10, 1862, aged 67 years. Also Ann, second wife of the above, who died Feb. 21, 1838, aged 28 years. Also Charlotte, third wife of the above, who died June 4, 1864, aged 42." — Philadelphia Record.

Dramatic Funeral Ceremony of the Lascars

1893

How the Lascars Prepare Their Dead For the Grave

In the deadroom of the Medico-Chirurgical hospital recently a strange and dramatic ceremony took place. The occasion was the observance of the last rites and ceremonies by the crew of Lascars of the steamship Lanark over the body of one of their shipmates, who died in the hospital. The body had as usual been prepared for the undertaker by the hospital staff soon after death, and the body was removed from the ward to the deadroom. As soon as the steamship crew learned of the death of their countryman they all presented themselves at the hospital and asked to see the body.

The scene that followed was an impressive one. The dimly lighted room, the still form lying on the table surrounded by a dozen or more of his sorrowing people, with strange costumes, dark, handsome features and pointed beards formed a memorable picture. As the men stood with bowed heads and clasped hands and muttered their prayers to Allah, those who witnessed the scene were filled with emotions of respect and sorrow for those strange people, far away from their sunny tropical home among strangers.

They requested a bountiful supply of warm water and soap and 20 yards of clean new linen. This being provided they reverently removed the winding sheet. Every time their hands came in contact with the body they offered a prayer in concert. Then they removed their own shoes and stockings and washed their feet and ears and nostrils. After this they began the ablution of their late comrade, pouring the water over the head and face of the dead man. The entire body was thoroughly cleansed, the men touching it lovingly and reverently.

The new linen having been prepared by one of their number and the body having been dried the sailors requested another table, the one in use being thought contaminated by the water. This was provided. The shroud was placed upon it and sprinkled with camphor. Then the body was gently lifted and laid on the shroud while all offered up prayers in concert. It was rapidly enveloped in the winding sheet and strict instructions were given in broken English and by signs to those of the hospital staff present not to touch it. The sailors then formed in line, one who seemed to be the leader standing alone, the others standing behind in threes and fours. Turning their faces to the east and raising their hands above their heads they solemnly committed their comrade to Allah's care.

No Christian can touch the body after performing this rite, so the Lascars presented themselves at the hospital again the nest morning and placed the body within the coffin. — Philadelphia Press.

Put a Head on a Corpse

Maryland, 1896

The remains of George D. France, killed at Kauffman's, were taken to his home at Cearfoss, Md., Friday, accompanied by his brother-in-law. Repository has told how dreadfully the body was mangled. The head could not be distinguished from any of the other crushed portions. Undertaker Smith and his assistants by painstaking and careful work found all the skin of the head and face making a head of cotton and sponge the skin was stitched together and drawn over it and the corpse placed in a black suit and made presentable. The man could have been identified readily from the restoration of the head. It was a wonderful piece of workmanship. — Chambersburg Repository.

Embalmer's Knife Flashing, Mom Insists Son "Alive"; He is!

Rhode Island, 1888

COFFINED, BUT ALIVE

Story of a Man Who had a Narrow Escape from Premature Burial

Mauly Z. Corwin, of Providence, R. I., has enjoyed the sensation of being coffined and prepared for burial, says the Boston Globe. But for an accident he would have been embalmed. He lives on Smith's hill, and is a carpenter by trade. Some years ago he was at work on the roof of a three-story house, and had a sun-stroke. Falling at his work, he rolled down the sloping roof and fell, an inert mass, to the street below. He was picked up and conveyed to the office of the nearest medical man, who pronounced him dead. An undertaker was sent for, and soon his assistants were measuring the corpse and making preparations for the embalming process, which was considered necessary for preserving the body for the funeral.

That evening a casket arrived with the name of the deceased, age and manner of death engraved on a silver plate.

After the body had been coffined and the room cleared, Mrs. Corwin, the mother, arrived, and, while laying her head upon his breast, she fancied she detected a motion of the heart. Another doctor was sent for, who, after making a stethoscopic examination, confirmed the opinion of the other physician, and declared life to be extinct.

The weeping mother was led from the apartment, and the watchers awaited the coming of the embalmer. The man was delayed so long that when he arrived the family requested him to postpone making the incision until the following morning.

The morning found the loving and disconsolate mother at her son's bier again, and again did the maternal instinct within her tell her that her boy was not dead, but sleeping. The embalmer came and displayed his instruments for opening the veins and for eviscerating the deceased. Then the mother refused to allow the operation. In vain they urged her to accept the verdict of medical science, but she refused to budge, and, throwing her body across that of her son, she declared she would not leave his presence until all doubt was ended. The weather was fearfully hot, and it was expected that the condition of the corpse would be unendurable by the next night, but it was not, nor the next night, and then some weight was attached to the old lady's belief. More doctors came, other examinations were made, and at the end of the sixth day a slight pulsation was felt.

The man was alive beyond all doubt.

The house swarmed with physicians after that. They came from New York, from Boston and from Philadelphia, and all agreed that the vital spark had not left the body, although how to fan it into a life-sustaining flame was a question not so easily settled. Various expedients were resorted to, and on the fifteenth day the "corpse" opened an eye. After that the man's recovery was but a question of time. To-day he is at work, a better and stronger man than he ever was, and the silver plate on his coffin, framed in crimson plush, adorns his parlor.

—St. Joseph Herald, Saint Joseph, Michigan, April 28, 1888, p. 5.

Doctor Resuscitates Girl at Her Funeral, Sits Up in Coffin

Wisconsin, 1883

Sitting Up in Her Coffin

At Black River Falls, Wis., the sensation of the day is the return to life of a young lady who to all appearance had been dead three days.

Miss Lina Richmann, the daughter of a wealthy German, had been very sick for some weeks and died, as was supposed. Her body was prepared for burial, when it was suggested by some one that the appearance of the young lady's face did not indicate death; but on the fourth day the funeral services were held.

While the ceremony was in progress Dr. Baxter, of Milwaukee, looking at the face of the supposed corpse asked that the services be interrupted long enough for him to attempt resuscitation. This was done, and he succeeded so well that the woman arose in her coffin with a terrible shriek. The scene was highly exciting. Men turned pale with horror, women fainted, and it was a long time before anything like quiet was restored.

Friends are continually calling to see and congratulate one whom they never thought to see again in this world. She says that while in a trance-like condition, she realized with unspeakable horror that she was being prepared for the services but could not speak or make any motion.

—The Hopewell Herald, Hopewell, New Jersey, Nov. 7, 1884.

Couple Wed in Funeral Parlor

California, 1926

Superstition?
It doesn't bother MISS ELIZABETH G. EDWARDS, Berkeley girl, who became MRS. ERNEST FRANDSEN yesterday at a wedding in an Oakland funeral parlor.

COUPLE WED IN FUNERAL PARLOR

Undertaker's Helper Finds No Gloom in Chapel, He Tells Friends.

Love laughs at lots of things and yesterday it chuckled at the supposedly traditional gloom of an undertaking establishment when Ernest Frandsen claimed Elizabeth G. Edwards as his bride amid surroundings dedicated to the softening of grief instead of aiding and abetting Dan Cupid.

The wedding took place in the chapel of a funeral parlor at 2935 Telegraph avenue, with Elder E. A. Adams of the Seventh Day Adventist church as the officiating minister.

A group of close friends of the couple and business associates of the bridegroom were present.

"Unusual? Well, maybe," said Frandsen in explaining the choice of the wedding scene. "But you see I work here and it suggests no gloom for me. And it'll suggest even less now."

Frandsen's bride is the daughter of N. B. Edwards, 956 Ventura street. The romance is the outcome of an acquaintance of several years.

—Oakland Tribune, Oakland, California, July 2, 1926, page 1.

Note: According to Social Security Death Index, Elizabeth Frandsen was born Dec. 23, 1907 and died in June 1986. And Ernest W. Frandsen was born Sept. 2, 1907 and died August 24, 1994. The last residence for each was 95448 (Healdsburg, Sonoma, California.) So assuming they were married all that time, 1926-1986, just missed 60 years by a month or probably less.

Funeral Customs – Old Fashioned Woe Being Replaced

1903

Funeral Reforms Needed

Old Fashioned Parade of Woe Gives Way to Better Customs

It accorded with old beliefs, remarks the Brooklyn Eagle, that a funeral should be a scene and occasion of gloom — absolute, hopeless gloom. The front room, with its dismal ornament, its black hair cloth furniture chairs and "sofy," its framed wedding certificates, its wreaths of flowers preserved from other funerals, was reduced to darkness by the lowering of the shades and closing of the blinds, so that guests fell over one another's legs when they entered and fumbled their way to the chairs. The deceased was dressed in black, nailed into a black coffin that rested on a black bier, and all the company dressed in the blackest things they could dig up from their wardrobes. No light, no air, no color, and from the minister little comfort. His voice creaked for the occasion. Then the company went away in darkened carriages to a bleak burying ground where the last rites were as dismal as might be.

This was the Yankee way. Some other people did differently. The wakes held over the remains were comforting to the survivors and added much to the reputation of the departed for hospitality. And the German fashion of going to a hotel after a burial and ordering unlimited beer proved that there was still a few solaces left on earth. Americans reverence their dead too much to make a funeral a scene of festivity; but they are mitigating the gloom of these occasions to a degree. Flowers and music take the edge from grief, and it is no longer necessary to darken the windows. White is more and more used in place of black for dress and decoration, and in placing the body in the casket — or, better, on a couch — there is avoidance of the stiffness of attitude that suggests a pose before the old fashioned photographer.

Reform in these matters comes, in part, through the holding of funerals in other places than the home. Some undertakers have mortuary chapels as part of their establishments. Cemeteries have buildings for a similar purpose. Mount Auburn, in particular, has a beautiful little chapel, near the gate which replaces the gothic structure in the middle of the grounds, now become a crematory. In this chapel, with its organ, carved oak roof, stained windows and electroliers in the form of funeral torches, the bier is so easily movable that it can be turned by a single hand: hence much of the struggle to place and carry away the casket is foregone.

But what especially marks the difference between the funeral here and the home funeral, between the now fashion and the old, is the lack of mourning emblems and the presence of plants and palms. The chancel is a mass of green — kentias, rubber trees, oleanders, and smaller plants, in rows and groups, so that the casket, with its usual burden of flowers in the center, suggests a great bloom itself in a whorl of leaves than the depository of a dead body. The clergyman delivers his address from a pulpit at one side, and if he is a wise clergyman it is a hopeful and encouraging address; in preference to the old fashioned threnody. When that is over there is music form the organ — a fine instrument — and the company files out into the sunlight. It is far better than the old fashioned funeral — that type of absolute woe.