With books
such as "Stories In Stone: A Field Guide To Cemetery Symbolism And
Iconography" and "Forever L.A.: A Field Guide To Los Angeles Area
Cemeteries And Their Residents," Chico writer-photographer Douglas Keister
has unearthed extraordinary tales of the dearly departed. His interest in
funerary art began with a ground-breaking collaboration with Xavier Cronin, an
editor at American Cemetery magazine, in a book first published in 1997.
A new
edition is now available. "Going Out In Style: The Architecture Of
Eternity" ($24.95 in hardcover from Echo Point Books & Media,
echopointbooks.com) features an introduction by Cronin and hundreds of
Keister's full-color photographs and captivating captions. As a blurb notes,
"mausoleums, statues, and memorials are a connection between the modern
world and the generations that went before us."
"The
word mausoleum," Cronin writes, "is derived from the name Mausolus,
king of Halicarnassus, a great harbor city in the kingdom of Caria in Asia
Minor (modern Turkey), whose tomb was a huge fortress build in 353 B.C. by
Mausolus's wife Artemisia (who happened also to be his sister)." Some
years later, in 1831, "the rise of the American mausoleum begins with our
first 'rural' cemetery--Mount Auburn, just down the street from Harvard Square
in Cambridge, Massachusetts."
Keister's
chapters focus on architectural styles, what's inside the tombs, the depiction
of humans in the cemetery, public buildings in the cemetery, and creative
funerary arts (such as the Cogswell Monument in Oakland, a "70-foot
granite obelisk crowned with a 10-inch rose crystal star and surrounded by
curious carved stone sculptures" depicting Faith, Hope, Charity, and
Temperance; dentist Henry Daniel Cogswell, who died in 1900, "was an
ardent foe of demon rum").
Inside the
Blocher Monument at Forest Lawn Cemetery in New York one can find a statue of
Nelson Blocher, who passed away in 1884, "resting peacefully on his
back," carved from "gleaming white Carrara marble." It's said
Blocher died of a broken heart when his philanthropist father fired Blocher's
true love, a maid who worked for ol' dad, who, "perhaps motivated by
guilt," honored Blocher "with this eccentric memorial."
Who better
to bring these stories to light than Keister, Chico's premier "crypt-ographer"?