When now-prime real estate is generously peppered with stones and bones, it can be challenging to come up with a cohesive plan.

It is so much easier to exhume tens of thousands of bodies, relocate them to mass graves, and use their left-behind headstones for new infrastructure projects, like sea walls and rain gutters.

Buena Vista Park

Established in 1867-68 as Hill Park, San Francisco’s Buena Vista Park feels like a forested escape room in the middle of the city. A spectacular mix of Coast Live Oak trees, decomposing wooden stairs nestled into slope sides, mossy paved trails, and pieces of grave markers artfully arranged at your feet.

Enter at the intersection of Waller Street and Buena Vista Ave W, near the Buena Vista Playground

The marble mosaics weren’t an original feature of the park. They were added over 50 years later when the Department of Public Works inherited tons of deserted headstones and mausoleums — and people needed jobs.

Great Depressions in the ground

Throughout the 1930s, 120,000-150,000 bodies were dug up to make space for city development projects. After decades of public opposition to the idea, including cemetery administrators ignoring ordinances and new state laws, San Francisco voters had finally okayed the eviction of their subterranean neighbors residing in Laurel Hill, Calvary, Masonic, and Odd Fellows cemeteries.

The exhumed were moved and reburied in nearby towns or stored away until this three-acre mass burial mound was ready for them.

But when families were contacted about also relocating their relative’s grave marker, most couldn’t afford the cost. So the stones stayed behind. (I’ll never get over the audacity of asking families to pay for headstone transportation.)

The Department of Public Works used some of the largest stones for sea walls and highway bedding. Others were used for a 1986 public art installation, The Wave Organ.

Thanks to FDR’s Works Progress Administration — an agency that created millions of public jobs during the Great Depression — smaller headstones (and at least one mausoleum chunk) made their way to Buena Vista.

WPA workers used these marble remnants to beautify the park’s rain gutters. The majority of broken grave markers were positioned face down, but a handful of them face up. You can make out bits of the carved epitaphs still today.

I have to believe a few WPA workers intentionally ignored stone-laying instructions, just like cemetery administrators ignored years of eviction pressure, in hopes of forcing future park patrons to pause and reflect.

Haight Street

After your meandering reflective jaunt, you’ll probably need caffeine, food, and a shopping break. These spots are just a four minute walk from Buena Vista Park.

Wake Cup
1476 Haight St
Sip on Vietnamese iced coffee, strawberry matcha, or lavender jasmine milk tea.

Sandy’s Muffulettas
1457 Haight St
Enjoy New Orleans-inspired comfort food. Vegetarian-friendly.

Relic Vintage
1475 Haight St
Pay your respects to 20th century fashion.

710 Collective
1644 Haight St
Sift through vintage, local art, plants, and records.

Last words: The city is a living memorial

The disinterment of bodies from four big graveyards in the 1930s freed up 162 acres for San Francisco’s living residents. But as you can imagine, it wasn’t a perfect sweep.

People are still being unearthed, like 3-year-old Edith Howard Cook, whose casket was inadvertently discovered beneath the former Odd Fellows Cemetery in 2016.

While shocking, these unearthings are fairly run-of-the-mill, especially in cities like Savannah or San Francisco. It’s actually a normal part of life and, I argue, a privilege — to be forced to look back on history, to learn, and to maybe even get to rectify something, rather than just charging ahead.

With gravestones sprinkled along coastlines and embedded in public parks, San Francisco seems to embrace this part of life, this privilege. The privilege of being haunted by inhabited by the past.

Sources

Beyond the Grave: How Old Tombstones Became Part of the Fabric of San Francisco by Rae Alexandra

Land of the Dead: How the West Changed Death in America by Terry Hamburg

Regulating the Dead: Rights for the Corpse and the Removal of San Francisco’s Cemeteries by Lance Muckey

Thanks for reading!

Your traveling taphologist,
Sam

She was born in 1887, 100 years before me, though we only missed each other on earth by nine years! Grace was a school teacher by trade. Around age 50, she set off on her second career as a home building contractor, partnering I assume with her family’s local construction business, Hempt Bros.

Between 1937 and 1956, Grace built 43 homes in Camp Hill, PA. For four years, my husband and I had the privilege of living in the home she built for herself.

We became the first owners who weren’t family, and I will always appreciate how sturdy, sensible, and classy her Cape Cod was. No wasted space, no weird angles. Stunning hardwood floors. Pink and black bathroom tiles. Gold curled door handles I never liked until I started noticing them around the neighborhood—a signature.

In early 2025, I wanted to learn more about Grace. We we were in the process of moving out, and a big part of us weren’t ready to leave. I never met Grace in person, but I feel I got to know her some through my research.

I signed up for a 7-day newspapers.com free trial. I viewed mid-century real estate ads on microfilm at the State Library. I paid $10 to explore archives at the Historical Society of Dauphin County. I visited Grace’s mystifying grave at St. John’s Cemetery.

St. John’s Cemetery

Located at 4605 E. Trindle Road in Mechanicsburg, St. John’s Cemetery was founded in 1793 and is owned by St. John’s Lutheran Church (about a mile away). The cemetery sits next to the historic Peace Church, built in 1798, which houses an 1807 Conrad Doll Organ and hosts summer concerts on the lawn.

Driveway access at E. Trindle Road or St. John’s Church Road

To my surprise I found Grace’s headstone, a shared family monument, right away. It’s striking, stately, and the biggest of its kind in St. John’s Cemetery.

The practice of topping headstones with heavy granite orbs started in the late 19th century, and many say the sphere represented eternity. To some, the new design had a more modern appeal and also signaled wealth. In the Hempts’ case, status and wealth may have been a driving factor for choosing this style, but the family also owned a couple quarries, so they had easy access to materials.

You can not move these giant boulders by hand. But over time, they begin to shift on their own, thanks to water freezing and thawing beneath the ball, uneven weight distribution, and/or otherworldly shenanigans.

The 5,200 pound Merchant Ball in Marion, OH, is perhaps the most famous example of this phenomenon. In his post Mysterious Moving Monuments, Matthew Gryczan cites additional cases throughout Ohio, Connecticut, Illinois, Iowa, Maine, Massachusetts, Michigan, and South Dakota.

Now Pennsylvania joins the list.

Kindred Spirits

I feel a special connection to Grace.

She graduated from Shippensburg State College (now Shippensburg University) in 1908, just 30 some miles from where I graduated.

In 1937, Grace became an elected member of the Dauphin County Historical Society, which was announced in an article about Grace and other locals attending a talk on old family burial grounds. What are the odds?

In 1941, the Harrisburg Sunday Courier reported that Grace was in charge of entertainment for a church Halloween party. I too have been known to throw a mean masquerade.

The following year, Grace tricked some neighborhood kids into playing it safe.

When Miss Hempt began construction of four houses in Chestnut street this summer, the construction work provided the setting for many a game among the neighborhood boys. Miss Hempt called the boys together and suggested it might be a better game if they would “play police” around the construction work and “guard” the houses. The idea worked and the houses were built without the workmen worrying about children getting hurt.

Harrisburg Telegraph
September 8, 1942

When all four houses were nearly finished, Grace hosted a weiner roast to thank the kids for their service—I like to think I’d do the same!

And in the 1950s, Grace served on the Building Committee for Trinity Lutheran Church’s new sanctuary, located at 2000 Chestnut Street. Every day for four years, we got to enjoy Trinity’s church bells chime at noon and 6 p.m. on the dot.

Explore Camp Hill, Grace’s old neighborhood

If you find yourself in Grace’s old stomping/building grounds anytime soon, here are some recommendations.

Cedar’s Lebanese Cuisine
2153 Market Street
Everything is delicious! Especially the shish tawook, lubia bi zeit, and filo pastries. BYOB.

Cornerstone Coffeehouse
2133 Market Street
Fun seasonal espresso drinks, “healthy breakfast cookies,” good sammies, and local art.

The Watershed Pub
2129 Market Street
The first pub in Camp Hill since prohibition, opened in 2020. You can’t go wrong with the spicy chicken sandwich.

Chef de Crêpe
2017 Market Street
We like to split one savory and one sweet.

Roberto’s Pizza
2000 Market Street
Classic no frills sub and pizza joint. Cherry Coke on tap.

DaisyAge Vintage
2136 Market Street
Recreate Grace’s flair at this dreamy boutique.

One Good Woman
1801 Market Street, Suite 206
Trinkets, tea, and coffee beans galore.

Camp Hill Cemetery

St. John’s Cemetery is a 10 minute drive from downtown Camp Hill. But if you need a quick walk after a plate of crepes, Camp Hill Cemetery is just a few blocks away. Here you’ll find a lovely portrayal of the archetypal granite orb.

Located behind Camp Hill Presbyterian Church and Camp Hill Fire Department; narrow driveway access at 21st, 22nd, and 23rd Streets

Thanks for reading!

Your traveling taphologist,
Sam

I’m delighted to report that Salem lives up to its cinematic reputation; it invites you to embrace your weird in such freeing ways. It’s also pedestrian friendly. Which means tons of people come to let down their manes and stretch their bat wings, especially during the weirdest and gloriest of months, October.

We’re fast approaching Salem’s big month, so I’m sharing two retreat zones for when the cackling crowds get too loud, only 3.5 miles away in Marblehead, Massachusetts.

Incorporated in 1649, Marblehead is misty, quaint, and wealthy. It has the best secondhand store I’ve ever been to: Magic Hat Thrift Shop. The town is full of snaking streets, and I’m convinced they reroute themselves overnight.

In Hocus Pocus, Max Dennison bikes up and down these twisty roads through one of Marblehead’s historic graveyards, Old Burial Hill, where bullies Jay and Ice are hiding (making?) out. Either way, everyone seems startled, and the bullies steal Max’s shoes. It was a rough day for Max, and I get why he CAN’T BELIEVE his parents made him move here. But perhaps he just needed a fresh lobster roll to put things in perspective?

Retreat Zone 1: Old Burial Hill, Fountain Park, and Little Harbor Lobster Company

Old Burial Hill Cemetery

Established in 1638 (what the sign says) or 1648 (what the website says), Old Burial Hill Cemetery is an elevated graveyard, literally and figuratively. It’s the perfect place to bring a book and blanket, peruse skull headstone art, and pay your respects to Marblehead local Wilmot Redd, a victim of the Salem Witch Trials.

Enter at intersection of Orne and Pond Streets (stairs) or at Redd’s Pond

Fountain Park

On the other side of the Orne-Pond intersection, you can climb a fair amount of steps to Fountain Park, a former Revolutionary War fort overlooking Marblehead Harbor and the Salem Sound. The reward is this vista and a pavilion with benches.

Little Harbor Lobster Company

Little Harbor Lobster Company is just 450 feet away from Fountain Park. While I have walked my hot-to-go order from Little Harbor back to Fountain Park, I don’t necessarily recommend it. Orne Street is narrow and curved, making visibility poor for drivers. Instead, find parking along Beacon Street, follow the chalkboard, and grab a picnic table or lobster cage throne near the shop!

If you’re lucky, a lobsterman on break will turn to you, gesture out to sea, and affectionately decree “Sommmmmme tiiide.”

Little Harbor Lobster Company
3 Beacon Street
Closed Mondays

Retreat Zone 2: Green & Harris/Mugford Street Cemeteries and The Little Store Pastaria

Green Street Cemetery

Green Street Cemetery is less than 1 mile from Old Burial Hill. It’s where I first noticed a new-to-me type of burial structure: long mounds with front doors and grass canopies. Earthen homes for the dead.

The crows are talkative here.

Enter on Elm Street

Harris/Mugford Street Cemeteries

Harris Street and Mugford Street Cemeteries are The Secret Garden of graveyards. The shared, tucked-away knoll is lush and quiet. I gasped when I got a glimpse of the ivy-caked retaining wall.

The cemeteries border the Unitarian Universalist Church of Marblehead, a church-held property since 1716. The grave markers are delicate, set together like thin slate roof tiles. Some of them seem abnormally well arranged, and that’s because they are. Around 1960, the church dug up and moved some congregant graves to build a bigger space. Then, they rearranged the remaining headstones.

Enter on Harris Street

The Little Store Pastaria

The Little Store Pastaria is a 5 minute walk from Green and Harris/Mugford Street Cemeteries; all three locations are situated along one infinity loop-shaped route.

I can wholeheartedly vouch for the bread basket, dipping oil, and Little Store Gnocchi (mushrooms, homemade alfredo sauce, truffle oil). They also gave me a wine glass for my Diet Coke. A 10/10 dining experience.

The Little Store Pastaria
9 Green Street
Dinner only, BYOB
Call for reservations

Thanks for reading!

Your traveling taphologist,
Sam

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My mission is to get more people in graveyards

Let me rephrase. I want more tourists to see old cemeteries. Some perks of visiting graveyards on your travels:

1. Free admission

2. Food and soft drinks allowed

3. Beautiful flora

4. Sometimes fauna (flabberghasted to see you in their space)

5. No lines, no [living] crowds

6. Local folk art and symbols

7. Unique surnames to research later

8. Quiet exhibits of ritual and remembering

9. Places to rest your sitz bones

10. Dead leaves, if you’re lucky

I don’t travel for graveyards per se. Cemeteries found their way to me when I needed a reprieve from people, noise, and self-imposed expectations to see and consume as much as possible on a trip.

Graveyards are time capsules that let you find your way back to yourself. They really do ground you. The Victorians picnicked in cemeteries—merging leisure and liturgy, morsels and memorial.

Wherever you go in the U.S., there will be green and grey parks dedicated to those who helped shape the town you’re in. There will also be unmarked or rediscovered burial sites that deserve our deference.

Carving out time to explore cemeteries has helped me establish a deeper connection to the area I’m visiting, and to myself, as I check things off my itinerary.

Memento mori,
Memento manducare

Remember that you have to die,
Remember that you have to eat

This community is for explorers who want to pencil in some trips to U.S. graveyards and good grub. Think Weird U.S. meets 36 Hours. I, Sam, will be your velvet cloaked guide. Thanks for being morbidly curious!