Deathstyles of the Rich and Famous

Woodlawn cemetery is about a mile north of my house. It's roughly 400 acres large, and is chock full of famous people, including Herman Mellville, Miles Davis, Fiorello LaGuardia, Duke Ellington, Countee Cullen, and many, many others. The most amazing graves, however, are the gargantuan crypts that New York's movers and shakers built for themselves in the late 19th and early 20th century.

In the early 1860's, the graveyards in lower Manhattan were almost full. Unfortunately, New Yorkers continued to die. There were cemeteries in Brooklyn and Queens, most notably Green-Wood, but the ferry passage across the East River was very hazardous. Women often weren't allowed, and quite a few people had impromptu (and unintended) burials at sea. When Woodlawn cemetery opened in 1863, the rich and powerful embraced it, and it soon became THE place to get buried.

Over the years, Woodlawn became the site of an ongoing contest between various rich people. The goal was to build the most opulent, outrageous mausoleum. I'm not sure who won; everyone I've brought to Woodlawn has his or her favorite crypt. However, I am pretty confident that Woodlawn is among the most beautiful outdoor art museums in the world.

One mausoleum theme was the "temple of antiquity." My favorite one of these is Frank Woolworth's crypt, which was funded by his chain of Five and Dime stores, and imitates an Egyptian temple.

Nothing says "classy" quite like nippled Sphinxes:

Another rich guy who went with the "ancient temple" theme was Jay Gould. He was a famous financier, speculator, and railroad developer. His tastes leaned more to the Greek than the Egyptian, hence his decision to build himself a copy of the Parthenon:

This doesn't seem all that impressive until you realize that Gould didn't just build himself a temple. He also bought an entire hill on which to place it:

In a move worthy of the Pharoahs, Gould also placed many of his cronies and hangers-on in crypts at the base of his little knoll. Here's my favorite of the bunch:

I forget who's buried here, but it's a relatively small crypt--only about twenty feet high--and it does a beautiful job of mixing various colors and textures of stone.

Another fun crypt is George Ehret's:

Ehret was a famous brewer, and his crypt is insane. It's over forty feet tall, has two huge stone lions, and has a secluded "yard."

Incidentally, I held the camera straight. The crypt is crooked. Honest.

Another awesome crypt is the Armour mausoleum. It's amazing what a meat packer could buy in the nineteenth century. The crypt looks like something from The Prisoner:

And here's a shot of it from the front:

It was straight when I lined it up, but then the crypt shifted. Seriously.

Another one of my favorites is the Foster crypt. It is a huge monument, complete with dome and narrow steps:

And here's a picture that gives you a sense of its scale:



And, lest you think that gaudy, audacious crypts were only a 19th century phenomenon, here's a crypt that dates from 1999:

Unfortunately, I can't show you the entire exterior, as it has the family name on it. However, I can tell you that this place is the size of a small cottage, constructed out of pink granite with black marble columns, and has two carved lions out front.

Inside, it looks like a cross between the Fortress of Solitude and a disco. I'm not sure why they included a mantle.



One of the most interesting things about the massive monuments that these people created for themselves is the fact that the mausoleums greatly outlasted their fame. Most of the once-famous occupants of the cemetery are now well past their fame. In some cases, they even seem to have outlasted the concern of their loved ones. A good example of this is the grave of John R. Hegeman, which I call "The Havisham House":

From this angle, you can see the faded curtains in the front door and the overgrown lawn that sits on top of the crypt's base. The sides of the crypt also have windows. These have tattered curtains, through which one can see an abandoned sitting room, with a dusty carpet, chair, table, and window-seat. On the table sits an abandoned Bible:

I used to think that this was the saddest, creepiest crypt. However, on our last visit, the wife discovered this one:

This crypt is almost completely overgrown. It has a short stairwell on either side. These lead to little vestibules that are also overgrown. The whole place smells like rot.