The Architecture of Memory

I suppose it’s a bit melancholy to be dwelling on cemeteries in the midst of a golden August but the community conversation around the proposed closure of Salem’s oldest cemetery, the Old Burying Point on Charter Street, during October when it is besieged by crowds, has my head spinning in several directions. I’m thinking about preservation, education, memory, and reverence, public history and family history. Cemeteries are more complicated than I thought, but generations past valued these spaces in ways worthy of revisiting, and to do so I started searching through some old photographs of Charter Street, most by Frank Cousins, whose large collection of glass plate negatives has recently been digitized by the Peabody Essex Museum and Digital Commonwealth. There are no people in Cousins’ photographs of Salem cemeteries in the 1890s and 1910s, so they don’t shed any light on social practices, but the fact that he made so many photographs of both graveyards and gravestones is a testament to their perceived value in the urban landscape. I always thought of Cousins as primarily an architectural photographer, but of course cemeteries are a form of architecture, and he was also a contemporary of Harriette Merrifield Forbes (1856-1951), whose Early New England Gravestones and the Men who Made Them, 1653-1800 (1927) was a groundbreaking work on colonial funerary art. Forbes included Charter Street gravestones in her work, and I think every single regional guidebook from this fledgling age of heritage tourism drew Salem visitors to the Old Burying Point in general and the graves of Bradstreet, Mather, Lindall, Hathorne, McIntire, More (and more) in particular.

Charter Street Forbes

Charter Cousins_00314 Lindall

Charter Street LindallIt seems as if Timothy Lindall’s gravestone has always been in the spotlight.

Cousins photographed all of Salem’s cemeteries–the “newer” ones, Greenlawn and Harmony Grove as well as the Colonial grounds, Broad, Howard, and Boston Streets—but he really focused on Charter Street, in more ways than one. We see all the details of the individual stones as well as the big picture, including a built context which is very different now. The photographs are just beautiful, and important, as he captured fragile objects for all time.

Charter First

Charter Cole

Charter Pratt

Charter James Jeffrey

The fragility of these memorials is very apparent when we compare Cousins’ photographs to their condition today (though I am not the photographer that Cousins was obviously and I think black-and-white really serves cemetery photography better). Of course time wears everything down, and the competing demands of Salem’s rich material heritage necessitate prioritization: as I said in my last post, I think the City should be commended for its preservation initiatives of recent years. But we really need to remember that these memorials are going to deteriorate under the best of conditions, and the intense crowds of every October are the worst of conditions.





Charter Cousins Mores Collage

pixlr-4I feel particularly bad for Mr. and Mrs. Nutting, put to rest in a lovely calm neighborhood and now in the midst of the Salem Witch Village! And I really wish that Cousins had photographed my very favorite Charter Street gravestone: that of Mr. Ebenezer Bowditch. What are those carvings? Does anyone know?


When our descendants look at photographs of the Old Burying Point in our time a century from now, what will they see? I really hope it’s these weathered but still-stately stones, and not the props I saw when I searched through several social media sites with the hashtag #salemcemetery. This is just a sampling, I’m sorry to say.

pixlr-5Old Burying Point Cemetery, Charter Street, Salem, October 2017 & 2018.

6 responses to “The Architecture of Memory

  • Helen Breen

    Hi Donna,

    In your discussion of closing the Charter Street Cemetery during October (excellent idea), you mentioned several other graveyards in the city including Harmony Grove.

    That brings to mind the burial of banker/philanthropist George Peabody (1795-1869). Peabody, of humble Danvers roots, made an immense fortune in trading, moved to London where he amassed untold wealth and really created the system of banking as we know it today, along with his partner Junius Morgan. Peabody invested a great deal in building what we would call today “public housing” in London that greatly endeared him to Queen Victoria.

    When he died, the royal family held funeral services for him in Westminster Abbey. He could have been the first American buried in the Abby except that the terms of his will were explicit – he would be buried in South Danvers, later called Peabody.

    Prime Minister Gladstone arranged for Peabody’s remains to be returned to America on the newest ship in the British fleet, HMS Monarch. The body lay in state in Peabody for eight days. Over 25,000 people passed the closed bier. Prince Arthur, son of Peabody’s friend Queen Victoria, was present for the occasion in full dress regalia as was the English Minister Sir Edward Thornton. However, on the actual day of the interment at Harmony Grove, an untoward event occurred – a devastating New England blizzard raged and sent many of the dignitaries scrambling for cover in local Peabody and Salem farmhouses.

    Picture it…

  • Paul Reiners

    You’ll never see a skull at the top of a modern tombstone, like on many of the old tombstones pictured here. Modern people don’t want to think about death in that stark of terms.

    • daseger

      No, you don’t. I regularly walk in one of our more modern, still-“active” cemeteries, and some of the most recent headstones have images of the living on them—I understand the sentiment, but they look kind of odd to me.

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