The Ottawa CitizenAndrew Schwerdfeger: Section 51S, Lot 631, Grave 1Saturday, September 18, 2004Page: E1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Zev SingerSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the GraveCORRECTION: (From the Ottawa Citizen, September 22, 2004) Andrew Schwerdfeger died on Dec. 20, 1995. Incorrect information appeared in a story Saturday onpage E1. *****Illustrations: Photo: Andrew and Sadie Schwerdfeger were married in 1940 and had four children.

Colour Photo: (Andrew and Roseda Schwerdfeger' s headstone)

There is a headstone at Beechwood Cemetery withthe engraving of an electric bass guitar. The name onthe stone is Andrew Schwerdfeger, who lived from1915 to 1995.

A second name is chiselled out as well -- Sadie, bornin 1920. Her final date is not filled in yet. She iswaiting to join him.

In the meantime, as Alzheimer's disease slowly takesher away, her husband plays music for her, on tapeshe made before he died.

Ottawa-born, both of them, they met when she wasjust 14 and went with friends to visit his family'scottage. They first saw each other, the story goes,when he was holding a basin full of dishwater.

"Here, funny face, empty that for me," were his firstwords.

"Sure," she replied. Then she dumped it on him.

So began the love affair.

They were married in 1940 and had four children --two boys, two girls. During the war he was a medicstationed in England, and when it was over he camehome to Ottawa to work as a public servant.

Nights and weekends, under the name AndyAndrews, he played with his big band and his showband. His whole life he played music -- as a bassistand sometime singer -- and Sadie usually came tolisten.

In their Ottawa home and their cottage nearWakefield, as young parents and later asgrandparents, they always had the music.

In 1995, when he was sick and knew he was dying,he told his son, Greg, that he worried what wouldbecome of Sadie.

In the last week or two, before Andrew died onChristmas Day, Greg Schwerdfeger made a promise.Sadie would never go into a home.

It's been almost a decade, and the Alzheimer's beganseven years ago, but with help from his sister,Jo-Anne, Greg has managed to keep his promise. Hemoved in with his mother and he has stayed.

Andrew is still doing his part, too.

Earlier this month, on the front porch of her house,Sadie sat listening to her husband, on the tapes he leftbehind.

Many are recordings from his performances, othersof family sing-songs. Some of the tapes, like the oneplaying now, are collections he made of favouritesongs.

Although the songs come with introductions byAndrew, she can no longer follow what he says.

Sadie is now entering the sixth of seven stages ofAlzheimer's. When presented with a picture of herhusband and herself, she needs help identifying thepair. Her son can sometimes decipher her intendedmeaning, but her conversation, by now, is rarelyintelligible to an outsider.

Yet as Andrew's band plays the old songs, she singsalong, word-for-word.

You wander down the lane and far away

Leaving me a love that cannot die

Love is now the stardust of yesterday

The music of the years gone by.

The lyrics, to Hoagy Carmichael's Stardust, arepulled from her, automatically. It's not clear at all thattheir meaning registers.

Her white hair is brushed straight, her hands restcalmly in her lap. Despite the loose connection of herwords, there is no pain or confusion in her face.There is a mild smile.

Nighttime is often harder, says Greg, who is 49 anddivorced. Her disease is not always easy to manage.

For this moment on the porch, though, his mother hastranquility.

As the tape continues, Andrew addresses an oldfriend and fellow musician while introducing one ofthe songs.

"In one of the little ditties you did, you used to kidme about serenading Sadie while drifting down theold Ottawa River. Well, there was more truth to that

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than fiction. The tune you're about to hear now is oneI used to sing around the campfire at my brother'scottage on Kettle Island, when Sadie was a teenager.Incidentally, I was 75 when I did this tape. The tune:Auf Wieder-

sehen, My Dear."

Come let us stroll down lover's lane

Once more to sing love's old refrain,

Soon we must say, Auf Wiedersehen,

Auf Wiedersehen, my dear.

During the introduction to the song, Sadie, hearingher own name spoken by her husband's voice, looksup.

"That's me," she says.

On their headstone, in addition to the guitar, are anumber of musical notes. They are not random. Theyscore out Irving Berlin's Always. The fact that thecouple shares hundreds of songs does not preventthem from having one they thought of as their own.Whenever Sadie hears it, she responds; wherever shemay drift, her lips still know the way home.

Days may not be fair Always,

That's when I'll be there Always.

Not for just an hour,

Not for just a day,

Not for just a year,

But Always.

- - -

Stories from the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is the firstof a daily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones.

- - -

On the web for seven-day subscribers:In Ottawa'sBeechwood Cemetery there are 75,000 completedlives, and each one has a story. Follow our seriesonline.

www.ottawacitizen.com

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The Ottawa CitizenBeechwood's stone pages tell 75,000 life stories: A hobo, a tycoon, alittle girl, a pair of brothers, an aviation pioneer, a prime minister... Theywere strangers in life, but are neighbours in eternity. Zev Singer reports.Saturday, September 18, 2004Page: A1 / FRONTSection: NewsByline: Zev SingerSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the GraveIllustrations: Colour Photo: Bruno Schlumberger, The Ottawa Citizen / In this decade, two-thirds of funerals end in cremation, and the cemetery is far less often aplace of visitation.

On a city bus, strangers will try to sit at least one seatapart. In a cemetery, they may rest side by side foreternity. There are differences between the gatheringplaces of the living and the dead.

Walking through a cemetery, the eyes of a visitor willflit from stone to stone, searching. Though a mindmay be absorbed in thought or conversation, eyeswill seek out names and dates. This same visitor, nowa rider on the bus, will seldom wonder what namewas given to the person across the aisle.

Far fewer clues about a life are apparent on a stonethan in the form of the fellow commuter, and yet thissparse information compels.

It may be the mystery, the fact that the verysparseness leaves so much to the imagination. Morelikely, though, it's the completion.

Completed lives are whole lives, something that'sharder to notice among the living. With the living, itis easy to see just a cashier -- or, even, just a spouse-- rather than a life in its entirety. In the cemetery, thewholeness is unavoidable. Wrapped up and presentedfor display: lives.

In Ottawa's Beechwood Cemetery there are 75,000completed lives, and each one has a story. Beginningtoday, a Citizen series will tell a few of these stories,one each day for two weeks.

Most of the stories are about unknown, ordinarypeople, and there is a reason for that.

Beechwood, 131 years old and 65 hectares in area,tells the history of its city. It even tells the recenthistory of the world -- developments, trends,technologies and wars are all written into the stones.Certainly, history runs through the lives of theathletes, poets, mayors and lumber barons who arehere -- so, too, for a prime minister, Sir RobertBorden.

Yet, since the famous are no more than a tinyminority, it is through the ordinary graves that mostof the history is written, one plot at a time.

The series began with a simple walk through thegrounds, reading names and dates and wondering atthe little glimpses the stones offer into the drama ofthe lives that were.

In Section 51, two brothers are buried side by side.The dates suggest that the parents are likely stillalive. They are, and they have a story to tell.

Nearby, in Section 51s, is a headstone with theengraving of an electric guitar. The man buried therewas born in 1915. The name of his wife is also on thestone, with her final date not yet filled in. She waitsto join him, while he sings to her on tapes he madebefore he died.

Near a back corner, in an older part of cemetery,Section B, Range 6, two unrelated women are buriedin neighbouring graves with matching headstones.Neither seems to have relatives buried nearby. Thestones indicate that they were both pioneering femalejournalists. One of them wrote a history book,arguing the importance of keeping accomplishedwomen from slipping into obscurity. Fifteen yearsafter her death, the memory of each has largelyevaporated. Yet, the story of these two women, or atleast part of it, can be, and has been, pieced together.

Other graves profiled in the series were sought outand found by the Citizen, to follow up on the lives ofordinary people who made brief appearances in thenewspaper's pages in decades past. Like a shortaccount, 75 years ago, of a little girl who died after18 days of life. Now, a lifetime later, her brothers andsisters are coming to the end of their own stories.

Thirty-five years ago, another girl, 19 years old, diedwhen a pioneering surgery could extend her life onlyso far. With today's medical technology, she wouldstill be alive.

The first Ottawa police officer killed in the line ofduty and the man who shot him, the last man hangedat the Nicholas Street Jail, both lie in Beechwood, notfar from each other.

Some of the graves were pointed out as curiosities bythe cemetery staff. One was an Ottawa man wholived largely like a hobo but became internationallyknown for his political views. Another was a youngman whose unusual and puzzling death became partof Canadian aviation history.

Another story presented itself when the Citizenhappened upon a mother and daughter visiting

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Beechwood; they had the information that translateda plain headstone into a tale of tragedy and war andlove.

Beechwood Cemetery could probably have come intoexistence only when it did, in a window ofopportunity between the early 19th century, whencemeteries were first thought of as places of aestheticbeauty, and the late 20th century, when NorthAmerican society became too busy for the dead.

Today, it seems impossible that so much prime realestate, right across Beechwood Avenue from theluxury homes of Rockcliffe Park, could become acemetery.

In 1873, the attitude was different. If today Ottawaneeds an NHL arena such as the Corel Centre to betaken seriously as a North American city, a centuryago it needed Beechwood. Cemeteries weredestinations then, featured in city guidebooks.Anywhere that was anywhere had to have a first-ratecemetery.

Beechwood, founded in 1873, is an example of theNorth American "elite garden cemetery," a trend thatstarted in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1831 and thecreation of the Mount Auburn Cemetery. Laurel Hillin Philadelphia, Green-Wood in Brooklyn and MountRoyal in Montreal are other examples of the form --essentially parks, with roads winding throughgroomed landscapes.

"The people in the middle of the 19th century sawthemselves as creating landscapes where you wouldget enveloped by nature, because the nature wasintended to be a moral educator and today wedefinitely shy away from that," says University ofSouthern California professor David Sloane, authorof The Last Great Necessity: Cemeteries in AmericanHistory.

Originally outside city limits, Beechwood would be aday's outing by horse and buggy for a family, likelyto bring a picnic lunch and spend time walking andadmiring some of the more elaborately sculptedmonuments -- the type that are rarely erected now.

You might call it a monumental change. Today, eventhe richest Canadians are unlikely to leave theirmarks in granite bought by the tonne, as they oncedid. The foremost example at Beechwood is themonument that marks the grave of John RudolphusBooth, the Ottawa lumber king. At one time therichest man in Canada, Mr. Booth died 75 years agoat the age of 98.

Although he was known for the simplicity of hislifestyle -- he wore his clothes until they were "greenwith age," according to a biographer -- the 10-metre,red granite obelisk Mr. Booth ordered built,originally to mark the grave of his wife, would cost atleast $125,000 to replicate today, according to anestimate by Laurin Monuments.

One reason that such monuments are out of favour,according to Columbia University history professorKenneth T. Jackson, is that they would be a waste of

money now, since few visitors would be likely to seethem.

"I think there's been a decline in the centrality of thecemetery in our daily life," says Mr. Jackson, authorof Silent Cities: The Evolution of the AmericanCemetery. "I think a hundred years ago or even more,125 years ago, the cemetery was a major place ofvisitation. And how your funeral was held and whereyou were buried and what kind of a monument therewas was something that really mattered."

While in some countries, such as Russia and Poland,people still attach much importance to elaborategrave adornment, North America and WesternEurope are moving away from it, Mr. Jackson says.Instead, the western countries are moving moretoward cremation -- in Ottawa for example,two-thirds of burials are cremations, which givefamilies the option of either keeping the remains athome, burying them or disposing of them in someother way.

"It is odd," says Mr. Jackson, "because we are anaging population in both the United States andCanada and you would think that there would be agreater attention and greater reverence to deathbecause it does seem likely we're just still all going todie."

The move away from the cemetery may not speakwell of our society, he says.

"For all of our legendary technological prowess, itcould well be that people who lived 100 years agohad a much more sophisticated and matureunderstanding of life and death.... It's kind of like wecelebrate life and we're trying to avoid confrontingdeath and I think that's one reason we stay out ofcemeteries."

The truth is that it is possible to walk through acemetery without wondering about the people buriedthere, without asking yourself why your eyes arescanning the stones. It is possible to leaveunprocessed the information taken in this way, justthe way it's possible to look at people on the bus --even the interesting-looking people on whom an eyemay rest -- without truly wondering about theirstories, their whole lives.

Yet to visitors willing to walk beneath its trees,among its stones, Beechwood will always have a taleto tell. To each, it will whisper a new version.

Those who listen may awaken not only to thecompleted lives within its gates but to those beinglived all around.

- - -

Stories from the Grave

Our series of portraits spotlighting some of the talesbehind the graves at Beechwood begins today. Seestory, page E1

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The Ottawa CitizenAndy and Nicholas Lambrinos: Section 51, TG 213Sunday, September 19, 2004Page: A1 / FRONTSection: NewsByline: Carrie Kristal-SchroderSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the graveCORRECTION: (From the Ottawa Citizen, September 22, 2004) A headline and photo caption accompanying a story on page A1 Sunday misspelled NickolasLambrinos' name. *****Illustrations: Photo: Stories from the grave: There are 75,000 stories in the silent city of Beechwood Cemetery.This is one of a daily series of portraits spotlightingsome of the stories behind the gravestones.

Photo: Nicholas Lambrinos and daughter Sasha Anastassia. Photo: Andy Lambrinos, who died in 1968 leaving Nick tormented by guilt.

A short walk from the main entrance of BeechwoodCemetery, under the occasional shade of a cedarhedge, a black granite tombstone holds space forTassia and Tom Lambrinos.

Their names are engraved in the stone, and theiryears of birth.

When they visit the site, they sometimes transplantimpatiens and other flowers from their garden athome, and place tealights around the stone angel thatwatches over their two sons.

On the same marker, Andy's name and year of birth,1961, is followed by the date of his death, six yearslater.

Nick's year of birth is followed by the date of hisdeath, in 1986, at the age of 27.

It's not easy for Tassia to visit the graves. She feels illfor a couple of days each time she goes. Tom goesmore often, when he is downtown on business.Sometimes he doesn't tell his wife, because he knowshow hard it is for her -- even 35 years after Andydied.

On Jan. 21, 1968, a Sunday, Tassia took her threeboys -- Andy, 6, Nick, 8, and Peter, 10 -- to churchwhile Tom was at work.

Tassia and the boys sang in the car on the way home.The fog and snow showers of earlier that morninghad cleared and the sun brightened the mild day. Theyounger boys were itching to get outside.

After lunch, their mother walked Nick and Andy to askating rink around the corner from their home inOttawa South. She kissed them and told them she'dreturn in an hour to pick them up. Nick was in chargeof taking care of Andy, as he had done before.

But that day, Nick's protection was not enough.

The sun and above-freezing temperature had madethe ice too soft, so the boys decided to head to afriend's house before the hour was up.

While playing outside, their sled skidded ontoKaladar Avenue and into the path of a car.

Andy died in hospital an hour later.

Nick was unhurt, physically.

For some time after the accident, Tom Lambrinossaid, Nick suffered terrible guilt, feeling he shouldhave been able to protect his little brother. However,with time and his family's support, he came tounderstand that Andy's death was a tragic accidentthat he could not have prevented.

Family friend, Carol Frangiskos, recalled the firsttime she laid eyes on Nick. "He was on stage afterwinning a dance competition and I rememberthinking he was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen-- it was like he had an aura."

She says that what set Nick apart was a hunger forlife and a great capacity for love.

Nick got married and, with his wife, Brigitte, had adaughter, Sasha.

Within a year of her birth, Nick was diagnosed withcolon cancer. He would die at his parents' home onNov. 3, 1986, what would have been his littlebrother's birthday.

Before he died, young Nick Lambrinos promised hismother that he would do for Andy what he wasunable to do when he was alive.

"It'll be OK, Mom," he reassured her.

"Don't worry. I'll be with Andy -- I'll protect him."

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The Ottawa CitizenCharles Cecil Willis - Section 30, Lot 188A, Grave 3Monday, September 20, 2004Page: B1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Zev SingerSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the graveIllustrations: Photo: By the end of the war, Charles Cecil Willis of the Royal Canadian Air Force had flown 36 combat missions.

The two women sat eating sandwiches for lunch in ared car pulled over to the side of the road near thegraves. It was just past noon on a Thursday lastmonth.

They had driven in from Renfrew, a daughter, in her50s, and a mother, in her 80s.

The older woman's Alzheimer's disease wasadvancing and the younger one wanted to make thevisit while there was still time. As it was, the motherwouldn't retain the short-term memory of this outing,but there remained some ability to experience themoment.

Buried here was Charles Cecil Willis, the man she'dbeen married to for 60 years, except for a short periodwhen they were divorced.

It wasn't a lack of love that caused the split, said theirdaughter, Barb Haydock. It was the strain of what theman went through over a lifetime.

He was born on a farm south of Ottawa and when hefinished high school in 1937 he joined the RoyalCanadian Air Force.

He met his bride, May, in Thunder Bay, when herfather saw him walking down the street, a young manin uniform, and invited him for a home-cooked meal.

They were married in 1943 and that year he went toEurope. He flew in Halifax and Lancaster bombers,as a navigator-bombardier, about half his missions indaylight, exposed to the enemy gunners.

In February of 1944, nine months after the wedding,he managed to get all the way back to Canada -- for asix-hour visit -- for the birth of their first child,Charles Edward, known as Ted.

In hospital, as May told the story years later, sheheard her husband's footsteps coming down thehallway and knew it was him.

Then he was back to Europe and the noisy, day-longbombing runs. By the end of the war, he'd flown 36combat missions, including the one that would haunthim.

After the war he stayed in the Air Force, becoming apilot -- in time, he would be leader of the 425Squadron -- and taking an expanding family with himon his postings. After Ted, Barbara was born, in1947, Robert in 1949 and Peter in 1952.

A decade later his three sons were dead.

In September of 1961, his oldest was killed in a caraccident during a weekend leave from the Air Force.His father's footsteps, the same ones that had echoeddown the hallway the night he was born, had led himto join up.

He was buried in the military section of BeechwoodCemetery.

The next summer, the two younger sons went for aride in a float plane near the family cottage when itspilot lost control of the craft. It sank in a lake, killingboth boys, ages 12 and nine.

Two years later, Mr. Willis retired from the Air Forceand moved with his family, now only three, toPeterborough.

He sold real estate.

Whether it worked or failed, stoicism was the onlyapproach he knew, according to his daughter. Thestrain on the marriage increased over the years.Charles and May separated in 1986, after 43 yearstogether.

But being apart was harder on them than beingtogether. They remarried in 1990. They stayedtogether until death parted them last year, onChristmas Eve.

Not far from their older son's grave, Charles Willis isburied with his two younger boys. His name wasadded to their black and grey headstone, a piece ofgranite that had weighed on him for 40 years beforehe joined them beneath it.

A second, older burden is recorded in his war-timeflying log book. It tells what his country asked of himon Feb. 13, 1945.

A page under that date reads "Operation #24,Dresden."

In red ink, the page notes that the seven-man crew inhis T-Lancaster bomber took nine hours and 35minutes to fly the mission.

It was the night Allied bomber command sent 800planes to firebomb the German city.

Tens of thousands of people, mostly civilians, wereburned to death.

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The daughter, in the car with her mother and the eggsandwiches, said her father never talked to her muchabout his time in the war.

He did pass on the log book though. At the bottom ofthat Dresden page, in blue ink, written some yearsafter he came home, are four words.

May God forgive me.

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The Ottawa CitizenCandis Karen Stewart: Section 21, PC grave 101ATuesday, September 21, 2004Page: C1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Zev SingerSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the GraveIllustrations: Photo: In March 1966, Candis Karen Stewart became the first person to successfully undergo a kidney transplant in Ottawa. She lived for three moreyears, dying on Monday, July 7, 1969.

The grave doesn't stand out at a distance. It has a flatmarker, rather than an upright headstone, and so canonly be read by a person standing right over it.

It is bronze, essentially a plaque. It says CandisKaren Stewart 1950-1969.

If the gravestones of Beechwood Cemetery are pagesof unwritten history, this one tells of lives whoselengths have been determined by medical limits oftheir era.

The life of Candy Stewart, the third of an airman'sfour daughters, began in the Manitoba town of PilotMound. After a year, the family moved west toRivers. Four years later, they left the province, thistime moving to Whitehorse.

To this point, Candy's parents had no indication thatshe was anything but a healthy girl. When she wassix years old, she started to have headaches. Afterthey moved to Moncton when she was eight, nauseabegan. When the family moved to Ottawa, after threeyears in New Brunswick, her kidneys were identifiedas the problem.

They had been undersized from birth.

When she was 16, in March 1966, after many longstays in hospital, the kidneys shut down completelyand had to be removed, making her dependent ondialysis machines.

It was an eventuality her parents had alreadydiscussed. Her mother, Ivy Stewart, would give oneof her kidneys.

On May 10 of that year, at the Civic Hospital, a25-person team performed the transplant. It was thefirst successful operation of its kind in Ottawa.

The surgery changed the girl's life, giving her theability to focus on her future. Although she hadmissed most of the Grade 10 school year, she wasable to catch up on almost all her courses in time forfinal exams.

"Before, I didn't care much what was going onaround me. I'd always get so tired," she told theCitizen 37 years ago. "But afterwards I took aninterest in reading and school work and all sorts ofthings."

Her father, James Stewart, told the paper how muchhe appreciated the hospital's work.

"We knew for a long time it was touch and go," hesaid. "We almost lost her a couple of times. It's prettyhard to thank people for this kind of thing."

Three years after the operation, at the end of her finalyear at Rideau High School, 19-year-old CandyStewart was an Ontario Scholar -- the certificatecame with a gold-coloured medal from Birks.

She was accepted to the University of Ottawa andwas shooting for medical school.

She never made it. Her body had been slowlyrejecting her mother's kidney. The first generation ofimmunosuppressive drugs was not powerful enoughto stop the girl's body from killing her.

She died on Monday, July 7, 1969.

Ivy Stewart, still alive and in Ottawa, is now 76, theoperation half her lifetime ago. She's had noproblems with the single kidney.

"I was very nervous about it," she recalled of thesurgery. "But really all I was thinking about was her,you know, if it was going to help her."

After Candy died, Mrs. Stewart collected photos ofher daughter and put them in an album. It took about15 years, she said, before she stopped flippingthrough it regularly.

She gets to Beechwood when she can.

"I go over, yes, when somebody takes me."

Yet, she can't get to Candy's grave anymore, since it'son too steep an incline, in its spot facing HemlockRoad, and she is now in a wheelchair.

Another of her daughters has died since then. Herhusband died four years ago. And Mrs. Stewart is bynow the last of five siblings still living.

She said she never got angry when her daughter wastaken from her.

Of death, she said: "It happens every day."

- - -

Stories from the Graves

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the very

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famous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones.

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The Ottawa CitizenSection 25, Lot 381/2, N. Pt.: Thomas James WensleyWednesday, September 22, 2004Page: B1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Graham HughesSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the GraveIllustrations: Colour Photo: (Thomas James Wensley granite headstone)

On the granite stone that marks the final resting placeof an Ottawa family in Beechwood Cemetery, there'sno indication of what befell Thomas James Wensleyon Sept. 26, 1888, the last day of his life.

The 21-year-old apprentice carpenter took theafternoon off to go to the Central Canada Fair -- thefirst year for the annual event, opened by LordStanley, the governor general, the day before.

He ate lunch at 107 Chapel St., where he lived withhis parents, Thomas James and Louisa Wensley, andsisters Georgina and Ann.

After lunch, he boarded a Rideau Canal steamboat forthe trip to Lansdowne Park, on the outskirts of thecity.

Mr. Wensley and the friends who accompanied himwere among the thousands -- the Citizen estimatedthe crowd as 15,000 men, women and children --attracted to the fair by the promise of seeing"Professor" Charles W. Williams, of Cincinnati,make a parachute jump from a hot-air balloon.

Mr. Wensley was one of several volunteers whohelped the professor prepare his balloon for the 5p.m. flight. The young man apparently told some ofhis friends that he intended to do something that hadnever been done before.

When the canvas balloon was finally filled with hotair, and the restraining lines released, only the weightof about 30 volunteers held it down.

Mr. Williams stepped into the basket for his plannedascent to 600 metres, and gave the command to letgo.

All but one man obeyed the order.

As the balloon rose, Mr. Wensley was clinging to athin rope below the basket.

Despite the urgent cries of spectators and Mr.Williams to "let go for God's sake," Mr. Wensleycontinued to hang on; the balloon was soon too highfor him to drop safely to the ground.

As the balloon rose, the newspaper recounted, theyoung man "gave a sickly cheer."

"It is the note of triumph of a madman about toaccomplish an act from which he half shrinks, butwill not flinch," the reporter wrote.

Mr. Wensley fell from about 245 metres and crashedto Earth west of Bank Street.

The shaken U.S. aeronaut stayed in the basket andlater managed a safe descent by parachute.

While conceding he had not heard the words, Mr.Williams said Mr. Wensley's friends had told him theman had said, "Goodbye boys, I'm going up andyou'll never see me again."

The Citizen story called Mr. Wensley "a daring lad,at times more wild than prudent."

No one knows for sure whether he was indeed beingimprudent and trying to get into the balloon, or hadfound a unique way to commit suicide.

Either way, the young man became the first aviationfatality in Canada.

On his tombstone, however, he is not singled outamong the Wensleys. Thomas James appears in thesame lettering as the eight other members of hisfamily.

Stories from the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones.Seven-day subscriberscan follow the series online at

www.ottawacitizen.com

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The Ottawa CitizenSection A, Range 53, Grave 26: Evelyn Joyce BuxtonThursday, September 23, 2004Page: B1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Sutton EavesSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories From The GraveIllustrations: Colour Photo: (Beechwood Cemetery)

Somewhere below the surface in BeechwoodCemetery's Section A is the infant-sized coffin ofEvelyn Joyce Buxton, but there's nothing aboveground to show just where. Hers is an unmarkedgrave.

To find Evelyn, if anyone had occasion to, it wouldbe necessary to consult the cemetery maps, theunderground blueprints that show exactly how thedead are arranged below.

To learn the details of her life, there is little morethan a few lines from a 75-year-old newspaper, takenoff a library microfilm reel.

"Evelyn Joyce, 18 days old, daughter of Mr. and Mrs.George W. Buxton, 476 Bronson Avenue, was foundded (sic) in bed by her mother this morning when shearose to begin her duties of the day," the Citizenreported on Aug. 7, 1929.

The coroner ruled that baby Evelyn, the youngest ofseven children, was smothered accidentally by thepeople who had brought her to life days earlier.

About 14 years old when her youngest sibling died,Toronto resident Jessie Cullen says the only thing sherecalls about the event, is her mother, Jean, animmigrant from Scotland, discovering Evelyn dead.

"I remember it vaguely," said Mrs. Cullen, now 89."My baby sister died. All I can remember is that theyhad her in the little white coffin in the living room athome. They used to put them in your house then."

No matter how devastated by the loss, Evelyn'sparents had to move on. Her British-born fathersupported the family as a mechanic at Imperial Oil.Her mother returned to raising the children: the sixothers, aged four to 14, still needed feeding, washingand caring for.

Mrs. Cullen, the oldest of the bunch, can't recall evervisiting Evelyn's grave. She said she can't evenremember if she was sad about what happened.

"I'm sure I was. But I mean, can you remembersomething that happened to you when you were alittle kid?"

The fading memories may be partly explained by thethree quarters of a century that has passed, and by thereality of the times. In 1929, Evelyn was one of the76 of every 1,000 infants born in Ontario who didn'tlive to see their first birthday. Today, the infantmortality rate in Ontario is about five of every 1,000

births.

What memories there were of Evelyn are dwindlingto wisps.

Over the years, her four older brothers have come tothe end of their own stories. At least one of them,Norman, has joined his sister in Beechwood.

There are only two siblings left. Jean Denton, who isin her late 70s, and Mrs. Cullen, who is fightingcancer and the effects of age. A web of second- andthird-generation relatives never met the girl.

Ruth Buxton, widow of Evelyn's brother Jack, saidher husband never mentioned the infant's name. "Hejust said he had a sister who died a crib death. Ofcourse, they were all upset. But that's all he ever said.

"I guess maybe it was so long ago," Mrs. Buxtonsaid, "that you forget about those kinds of things."

Stories from the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones.

Seven-day subscribers can follow the series online atwww.ottawacitizen.com.

FPinfomart.ca Page 11

The Ottawa CitizenSection 50, Lot 123 S. Pt., Grave A: Alice DenzilFriday, September 24, 2004Page: F1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Pauline TamSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the grave

Who were you, Alice Denzil, and why are youforgotten in death?

Were you a faithful servant, a dowager aunt, adown-at-the-heels cousin who relied on thegenerosity of wealthy relations? Were you among thegenteel poor who found favour in the households ofupper-class patrons? Or did your life conceal greatersecrets?

This is the mystery of the Ahearn family grave -- aplain monument near the entrance of BeechwoodCemetery. Flanked by a sprawling catalpa tree at thetop of a flight of steps, the stone commemorates thefamily of Thomas Ahearn, an entrepreneur whobrought electric streetcars to Ottawa.

Resting alongside Ahearn are his son, hisdaughter-in-law, his grandson -- and three womenwhose bodies were exhumed from another part ofBeechwood and reburied near him.

Two of the women were married to Ahearn. Thethird, Alice Denzil, doesn't have a marked grave andburial records do not explain her relationship to thefamily.

What's known is that Alice was born in England,moved to Montreal and later, Ottawa. Throughout her70 years, she was associated not only with theAhearns, but with the Southams and Flecks, twoother prominent Ottawa families.

Because the three clans were related by marriage, it'slikely Alice moved through their households as aservant, governess or confidante. In her final years,she worked as a housekeeper for Ahearn's daughter,who was married to the scion of the burgeoningSoutham newspaper empire.

Descendant Hamilton Southam, an authority on hisfamily's history, says he has no knowledge of AliceDenzil. Yet her burial with the Ahearn familysuggests she was no ordinary domestic. Alice mayhave had a close bond with the Ahearn wives -- onethat lasted long after she left this world.

It was Lilias Fleck who first married Thomas Ahearn,but she died after giving birth to two children.

Ahearn's second wife was Margaret Fleck, Lilias'older sister. Margaret and Thomas became the firstcouple to drive a motor car in the city, in 1899.

On Sept. 2, 1915, Alice died as a result of diabetes inthe Rockcliffe home of Harry Southam, theson-in-law of Thomas Ahearn. A day later, in

Montreal, her body was cremated, which was unusualfor the time.

But Alice's remains went unclaimed. She had noknown family in either Montreal or Ottawa, and it isunclear whether she ever married.

A month later, her ashes surfaced at BeechwoodCemetery.

Alice was buried, not at the Ahearn plot, but withLilias and Margaret, and their parents, at the Fleckfamily grave.

Though there was no stone to indicate her presence,Alice occupied a small corner of the lot -- the onlyone of the group to have been cremated.

In 1938, when Thomas died and an Ahearn familyplot was purchased, the remains of Lilias andMargaret were exhumed from the Fleck grave andmoved to where their husband lay. With them cameAlice's ashes.

While the two wives were given separate headstones,Alice's grave was not marked. Nor is there any clueas to what in her relationship with the sisters, or withThomas Ahearn, might account for Alice's finalmove.

The full story of this woman, who seems to havelived her life in the shadow of Ottawa high society,may never be known. But it might cause a visitor toBeechwood to wonder how many other Alice Denzilsthere are at the cemetery.

Stories from the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones. Seven-day subscriberscan follow the series online atwww.ottawacitizen.com.

FPinfomart.ca Page 12

The Ottawa CitizenSection 37, Lot 4 southeast: Cleary, Stoneman, BrownSaturday, September 25, 2004Page: E1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Bruce WardSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories From The GraveIllustrations: Photo: Hugh Carey Brown served in the Royal Canadian Corps of Signals in the Second World War.

Photo: He then went on to marry Lois Cleary Stoneman. Photo: Mrs. Stoneman's first husband, Det. Thomas Stoneman, above, died in 1945 and was the first Ottawapolice officer to be killed in the line of duty, leaving his wife with two young children.

Across the bottom of the headstone is the name ofMary Lois Cleary. Above it, side by side and withequal prominence, are the names of ThomasStoneman and Hugh Carey Brown, her two husbands.

The first was a man who died a hero's deathprotecting the city almost six decades ago. Thesecond was a man who lived a hero's life, marryingthe young widowed mother of year-old twins andfathering them as his own.

Ottawa police detective Stoneman, 37, was shot inthe chest on the night of Oct. 24, 1945, when heanswered a radio call about three men attempting tobreak in to cars parked in a lot on O'Connor Street.The shooter, Eugene Larment, 24, was no more thantwo metres away from Det. Stoneman when he pulledthe trigger. The bullet grazed his left lung and lodgedin his chest. He died five days later.

The slaying of Det. Stoneman shattered the jubilationthat lingered in Ottawa after the Second World Warended.

A sea of mourners lined Elgin Street on Nov. 1 as thefuneral procession for Det. Stoneman made its way toBeechwood Cemetery. Many of those paying theirrespects that afternoon must have thought of Det.Stoneman's widow, Lois, only 23, and the couple'sbabies -- twins Richard and Jill, barely 13 monthsold.

Almost five months later, there would be a fardifferent funeral service for the murderer whosecrime had shocked the city.

On March 27, 1946, at 12:30 a.m., Mr. Larment washanged at the Nicholas Street jail after beingconvicted of Det. Stoneman's murder.

Within hours of his death, Mr. Larment's body wastaken to Beechwood, where he is buried in anunmarked grave. He left nothing behind but disgraceand the distinction of being the last man to beexecuted at the jail.

It seems the people of Ottawa quickly forgot aboutthe wife and children of Det. Stoneman -- who wasthe first police officer in the city to be killed in theline of duty. His widow struggled to get by on thecity's $1,000 pension -- an amount less than half ofher husband's annual salary of $2,500.

But Lois Stoneman, who would remarry when the

twins were six, was a remarkable woman, recalls herdaughter, Jill Hopkins.

"Life was difficult in those years before sheremarried. I don't mean to sound mean-spirited, but Ithink the city, though they put on a verypomp-and-circumstance funeral, her widow's pensionwas very small," she said.

"There was limited housing. She was a woman on herown with two children, and often had to movebecause there weren't a lot of tenants' rights in thosedays. Now, when my mother remarried, her portionof the pension was cut off. She didn't talk about it,she wasn't bitter.

"She was only 23, and we were 13 months. When Ilook at my children and I look at myself at that age,it's hard to believe what she had to cope with -- thepsychological trauma, the sociological difference inher life."

Life changed for the better when Lois married HughBrown in 1950.

Mr. Brown, who died in July at 89, was awarm-hearted man who deeply loved what hisstepdaughter calls his "ready-made" family.

"The memory of my father was always kept alivebecause we were in close contact with his family. Iwas very blessed."

Jill and her brother, Richard, kept the nameStoneman after their mother remarried. "There wasnever any attempt to block our being with ourcousins."

Mr. Brown, an electrical engineer, served in theRoyal Canadian Corps of Signals. He was in combatin Italy, and later took part in the liberation ofHolland, during which he earned the Mentioned inDispatches award.

"I think he saw too much and he didn't want to talkabout it. When he first married my mother, he had anarmy trunk and I was desperate to get in there. I thinkwe were bugging him about it and he said to me, 'I'llshow you one thing.' And he brought out hisMontreal West High School autograph book. And hesaid, 'All my friends who signed this book, all theboys, died in the war.' I never asked again.

"As a child you have no concept of the finality of

FPinfomart.ca Page 13

death. It was quite a lesson."

Lois Stoneman died in 1993. A few years earlier, shehad paid for a headstone to be placed on Det.Stoneman's grave.

"The city didn't provide one, and my mother couldn'tafford to have one. Then with young children and anew marriage and everything, she didn't do it," Ms.Hopkins said.

"She just had that headstone put there in 1990, whichwas 45 years after my father's death. There wasnothing, no marker, before that."

It is the gravestone Lois Stoneman now shares withher two husbands, the fathers of her children.

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The Ottawa CitizenSection C, Range 16, Grave 21: Henry Wentworth MonkSunday, September 26, 2004Page: A10Section: CityByline: Carrie Kristal-SchroderSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the graveIllustrations: Photo: Brilliant, perhaps mad, 'Wenty' Monk coined the phrase 'united nations.'

Photo: (Stories from the Grave)

When you've discovered the solution to world peace,the more mundane tasks of everyday life, such asbathing, become secondary -- at least, that's the wayit was for Henry Wentworth Monk.

Every so often, his niece, the wife of Ottawa's countyclerk, would decide to haul him home for amuch-needed bath, and she knew just where he'd be:Parliament Hill.

In his threadbare clothes, toting his worn greenumbrella -- rain or shine, summer or winter -- andcornering every MP and senator he came across tomake his case, by 1890, Wenty, as his family calledhim, had become a fixture on the Hill.

Every day, from his downtown boarding house, he'dmake his way to Parliament Hill. He would stroll theformal gardens in front of Centre Block, sit on therocks overlooking the Ottawa River, and work in theParliamentary Library, always with an eye topresenting his case to anyone who would listen.

Highly intelligent, and possibly quite mad, Mr. Monkwas born into a prominent Ottawa family in 1827. Heis credited with coining the phrase "united nations" inthe 1870s while promoting his idea of aninternational tribunal.

After years of studying the Bible, Mr. Monk had avision that convinced him he'd found the key tointerpreting the Book of Revelations. He believedthat world peace, and hence Jesus's second coming,would only be achieved when the Jews had beenrestored to Palestine. While a small number of otherChristians shared his belief, few took up the cause theway Mr. Monk did.

By the age of 25, he had renounced all his worldlybelongings, including his inherited land, to followJesus, proclaiming the "truth." He also vowed neverto cut his hair or shave his beard until his mission hadbeen accomplished; he had flowing locks until hisdeath.

While zealous, Mr. Monk was said to be well-spokenand quite charming. "He was actually fun to bearound: he was very cheery and laughed a lot," saidFred McEvoy, an Ottawa historian who is writing abiography on the man. "One of his nieces describessitting on his knee while he explained the Book ofRevelations. So he was not miserable to be around --except for his poor personal hygiene."

And except for the times he became particularly

manic. "In 1868, he was arrested under a governorgeneral's warrant and committed to the RockwoodAsylum for several months," said Mr. McEvoy. Thecause of his insanity was diagnosed as "religion."

Despite his troubles, Mr. Monk never doubtedhimself. During the 1887 election, he lobbied theConservative and Liberal candidates to step aside inan Ottawa riding so that he might be acclaimed asmember of parliament. He also pressed Sir John A.Macdonald for an appointment to the Senate.

After more than 30 years of prolific letter writing topublic figures, including Queen Victoria and CzarNicholas II, presentations of countless public lecturesand the publication of an array of books, pamphletsand newspaper articles, Mr. Monk finally got thepublic forum he craved.

"There actually was a Senate debate on his idea of aninternational tribunal, but it was judged to beimpractical and was dropped," said Bruce Elliott, ahistory professor at Carleton University.

Mr. Monk is buried in section 17C in a far corner ofBeechwood Cemetery, his grave obscured beneath apine bough. When he died on Aug. 22, 1896, hisbrother, George, paid $5 for an unmarked plot.

In 1969, another relative, Ruth Monk, placed in theground a small bronze plaque.

"Henry Wentworth Monk," it reads. "Pioneer ofworld peace."

- - -

Stories from the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones.Seven-day subscriberscan follow the series online atwww.ottawacitizen.com

FPinfomart.ca Page 15

The Ottawa CitizenSection E, Range 17, Grave 18: Chow Fie GinMonday, September 27, 2004Page: D1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Jennifer ChenSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories from the grave

At the back of the cemetery, obscured by a five-metrecedar hedge, lie 320 graves arranged in orderly rows.

Yet, even if a visitor's gaze penetrated into theoriginal Chinese section, several flat markers that liebeneath the overgrown cedars still would not bevisible. These graves beneath the hedge belong tosome of the earliest members of Ottawa's Chinesecommunity. Among them lies Chow Fie Gin.

The only facts known about Mr. Chow consist of aline, written in the large tomes that record all deathsand burials in Beechwood Cemetery. His entry isrecorded in the third of five books, on page 243, 12lines down, under Mary Frances Kingston, 81, a"spinster."

The records reveal that he died on Sept. 10, 1946, ofcoronary thrombosis. Under next of kin were CharlieKung and Joe Doyyat, of unknown relation. Under"occupation," he is listed as a "labourer."

He lived at 218 Albert St., in the Chinesecommunity's core. Near Mr. Chow's residence, manyChinese frequented the three grocery stores, twolaundries and two recreational clubs between Kentand O'Connor streets.

A population that was just 170-strong in 1911, hadgrown to 300 two decades later. Organizations likethe Oriental Club of Ottawa, the Chinese NationalistLeague and the Moo Chung Chinese Club werethriving.

Chinese immigrants in the early 20th century workedlargely in laundries or as restaurant workers. Manymen sent money and letters to family back homewhen they could.

They scarcely had time for leisure, but when theyweren't working they'd often go to the gamblingclubs. Mostly they were solitary men who regardedthese places as social organizations where they notonly played mah jongg and pai gao, but also ate,found jobs and sometimes slept.

In this community, people took care of each other.

Canadian documents presented a particular challengefor these immigrants. They risked losing theiridentity as names were translated and changed. Thecemetery's records were no exception, and mistakescommonly made in life carried over into death.

The Chinese tradition of writing the family namebefore the given name confused cemetery recordkeepers, so Wong Sing became Mr. Sing rather than

Mr. Wong, and family looking for Seto Tim Ling hadto search under Ling instead of Seto.

Names diverged as they became anglicized in recordbooks.

Depending on how it was put down in English, aChinese name would become either Hum or Tam,Coon or Quan, Chow or Joe. Beechwood's recordshave them all.

Immigrants from other countries encountered similarchallenges in their adopted home. While the Chinesesection is the oldest ethnic section, the cemetery laterdevoted sections to Vietnamese, Lebanese,Portuguese and Poles.

When Chow died at age 85, an ocean away from hisfamily and his birthplace, the Chinese communityprobably took care of his burial at a cost of $5 to $10.

None of the Chinese owned private plots and manyfamilies couldn't afford to observe the custom ofbringing the remains back to China. Some onlymanaged years later, while others found and removedtheir kin to newer, more prominent Chinese sectionson higher ground.

The new gravestones are upright, many bearingphotographic likenesses. Less visible, further downthe slope, Chow lies under his stone, the carvedChinese characters filled in with dirt, a smallreminder of what came before them.

- - -

Stories from the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones. Seven-day subscriberscan follow the series online atwww.ottawacitizen.com.

FPinfomart.ca Page 16

The Ottawa CitizenSection B, Range 6, Graves 20A & 25 : Bettie Cole and Rosa ShawTuesday, September 28, 2004Page: C1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Marci SurkesSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories From The GraveIllustrations: Colour Photo: (A headstone)

Near the back of Beechwood Cemetery, in Section B,are two matching charcoal granite stones: twocrosses, two identical rose border designs, a sharedfont.

They are separated by five unmarked graves, but arevery much a pair.

Rosa L. Shaw died first, in 1981. She was 86 yearsold. Bettie L. Cole lived until 1989, when she was 81.

Their bond was not of blood, but of decades ofdevoted friendship. And though their lives may havediverged, there can be no doubt that they are reunitedin death.

Their graves lie in one of Beechwood's oldestsections, on an outer edge, where Ms. Colepositioned herself as near to Ms. Shaw as possible.

According to Ms. Cole's stone she was the "First GirlJournalist on Men's General Staff 'Ottawa Citizen.' "

Ms. Shaw's stone says she was a "Past PresidentCanadian Women's Press Club. First Women's NewsEditor Montreal Gazette."

Yet, despite the credentials, information about thesetwo women, their lives, careers and friendship issurprisingly difficult to find. The matching stones area invitation to the curious, though -- and one that istoo hard to resist.

Bettie L. Cole, who made her mark amid the clackingtypewriters of the then-downtown newsroom, spentnearly two decades as a newspaperwoman. Born inthe village of Marbleton, Que., in 1908, she beganher career filing social notes to the women's pages ofthe Sherbrooke Record.

With the boys at war, and countless newopportunities on the home front for single, youngwomen, Ms. Cole left the Eastern Townships andlanded a reporting job on the city desk of the Citizenin 1941.

In so doing, she became the first woman on thenewspaper's general reporting staff. She stayed withthe paper until 1952.

It was also in Ottawa that her life became intertwinedwith Rosa Shaw's.

The war years saw a large increase in membership inthe Canadian Women's Press Club, which was asocial network and an active lobby group rallying for

equal wages for female journalists. It was de rigueurto join the club, and Ms. Cole was no exception.

Rosa Shaw was the charismatic and outspoken clubpresident. When elected in 1938, she was working asan editor, the first female editor, at the MontrealGazette. The daughter of a British justice, she wasraised in Montreal, where, like most young womenwho wanted a career, she received her teachingcertificate. But after two years in a classroom, shesought a wider audience for her creativity. She foundit as a reporter overseas in the London offices ofVogue. Upon her return to Canada in the late 1920s,she was drawn to the club. She came to Ottawa afterleaving her 14-year Gazette post for an appointmentwith the Canadian Welfare Council.

It was in the early 1940s that Betty Kennedy, then acub reporter at the Citizen and later a regular panelliston the CBC's Front Page Challenge, first noticed thewell-heeled Ms. Shaw, who would often drop by thenewsroom to meet Ms. Cole at the end of theworkday.

"She was a very attractive woman, and always sofashionable," said Mrs. Kennedy. "She and Bettiewere very close friends. And though Rosa neverworked with me, I do remember Bettie as being avery competent, conscientious reporter."

According to Ottawa city directories, the womenshared living quarters at several different addresses.Their social circle was comprised of prominent careerwomen, including Charlotte Whitton, who was thefirst woman to be elected mayor of Ottawa, in 1951.

In the mid-1950s, Ms. Shaw compiled a history of theNational Council of Canadian Women. The volume,Proud Heritage, was published in 1957.

In her introduction to the book, Ms. Shaw writes ofthe forgotten founding mothers of the nationalcouncil and her wish that they "may emerge out ofobscurity to which time has relegated them and taketheir rightful place in our Canadian chronicle. Suchwomen may have been forgotten, but truly theirworks live after them to our great benefit."

She could have been describing her own life and Ms.Cole's, because from that point their trail goes cold.

By the end of the 1950s, there were no moredirectory records for the two women, although Ms.Cole's name comes up many years later without Ms.Shaw.

FPinfomart.ca Page 17

A cousin of Ms. Cole's, still living in Ottawa now,knew nothing of Ms. Cole's life beyond her time withthe Record. A scrapbook of family photos, whichincluded several of Ms. Cole, was disposed of afterthe branch of the family was dead.

When Ms. Cole died in 1989, her old paper ran only a142-word obituary. It mentioned her second career, inlandscaping in Orleans, although nobody in thebusiness seems to remember her now.

When Ms. Shaw died, in February 1981, there was nodeath notice published in the Citizen. A month afterher death, Ms. Shaw's sister, Kathleen Shaw, thenliving in the U.S., wrote to the editor of the Gazetteinquiring as to whether an obituary had beenpublished. None had been. More puzzling, though, isthat Ms. Shaw's burial was handled by the publictrustee and there is no evidence that Ms. Cole wasinvolved -- until later.

In 1982, Bettie Cole, suffering from a weak heart,retired. In July of that year, she purchased her ownplot at Beechwood Cemetery, five graves away fromMs. Shaw. Three months later, Ms. Shaw's stone waspurchased. The next March, Ms. Cole bought herown matching stone. Its final date would be filled insix years later.

It remains unclear whether Ms. Shaw was party to theplan, or whether Ms. Cole found her again only afterdeath.

- - -

Stories From the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones. Seven-day subscriberscan follow the series online

at www.ottawacitizen.com.

FPinfomart.ca Page 18

The Ottawa CitizenSection 40, Lot 96 south and 97, Grave 9: Nelson Davis PorterWednesday, September 29, 2004Page: B1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Tom SpearsSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories From The GraveIllustrations: Colour Photo: (A headstone)

Nelson Davis Porter had the foresight to buy 720square feet of the Beechwood Cemetery for $1 persquare foot in 1912, decades before he would need it.He added 3.75 cents per square foot for sod.

It's one of the biggest landholdings in the cemetery,with room for a dozen or so more Porters alongsidethe six there today, under one of Beechwood's largestmonuments.

Such a family gathering would suit Mr. Porter. Heloved to fill his Meech Lake cottage withgrandchildren in the summer; he even let athree-year-old, also named Nelson, sit on his lap tothink he was driving the car on the trip up.

In Ottawa, he took over his father's real estate andinsurance business, Porter and Porter, and was asuccessful businessman who owned the downtownAlexandra Hotel and buildings in the LeBreton Flats.

His outdoor interests drew him to Meech in the1920s. He once went up there with a fever,remembers the younger Nelson, Mr. Porter'sgrandson. He stoked the wood stove and fired up thecottage for several days "until he roasted the fever outof himself."

Mr. Porter was also an athlete. He won a 10-milespeed-skating race, and belonged to the OttawaBicycle Club, the Abitibi Fish and Game Club andthe Ottawa Amateur Athletic Association. He golfed.

It was a well-rounded, if unremarkable, life. Butthings began to gnaw at Mr. Porter. He and otherbusinessmen were paying too much in taxes, he said,and he was worried about the safety of Ottawa'sdrinking water.

So the family man, entrepreneur and athlete became apolitician. He was elected mayor in 1915 and 1916 --the only two of his 98 years reflected in publicrecords.

Mr. Porter made the most of his short time in thepublic eye: he made Ottawa's water safe to drink.

About 90 years ago, Ottawa had twin typhoidepidemics far worse than the Walkerton disaster.

Typhoid was no mystery in the early 1900s. It wasknown to spread from an infected person's feces intowater supplies. Usually it was confined to poorerneighbourhoods, and accepted as inevitable.

But Ottawa grew. By 1910 there were 14,000 houses

in the city; more than 2,000 still had outdoor privies.Bedrock made sewers impossible in someneighbourhoods. Hintonburg relied on sewage totrickle down Cave Creek into the Ottawa River.

No surprise, then, that in the winter of 1911 thepeople of Ottawa began to die of typhoid -- not just inpoor neighbourhoods, but everywhere city tap waterwas used. Ontario's chief health officer determinedthat water intake pipes, which drew mostly from themiddle of the river, were also sucking in water fromthe shallows of Nepean Bay, filthy with the runoff ofCave Creek's sewage.

That winter, 987 people developed typhoid and 83died.

"Despite that dramatic warning, civic authorities didlittle to remedy the underlying causes of theepidemic," historian Sheila Lloyd wrote in 1979.

The city did build a new intake pipe, but it didn'tsupply enough water to keep pressure high enough tofight fires. They kept mixing in water from the oldpipe. There was some chlorination, but it was spotty.

A second and worse epidemic struck in 1912, making1,378 people ill and killing 91.

There were fantastic schemes to pipe water greatdistances from cleaner sources -- abandoned as toocostly.

Despite never having made a public speech in hislife, Mr. Porter decided to run for mayor, mainly onthe platforms of lower taxes and safe water.

He won, and work began early in 1915 on a new pipeabove water level -- safe from the river'scontamination -- from Lemieux Island to themainland. He was also mayor when the ParliamentBuildings burned, touring the wreckage the next day,climbing on the fire chief's shoulders for a betterview.

Mr. Porter didn't last long at City Hall. He wasn'tre-elected after two years and never held office again.But the devastating typhoid epidemics never returnedto Ottawa.

- - -

Stories from the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the very

FPinfomart.ca Page 19

famous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones. Seven-day subscriberscan follow the series online atwww.ottawacitizen.com.

FPinfomart.ca Page 20

The Ottawa CitizenSection 23, Grave PC 2331: Nazeih and Daniel SaikaliThursday, September 30, 2004Page: C1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Charles EnmanSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories From The GraveIllustrations: Colour Photo: (Two headstones)

In the last row of upright headstones in Section 23 ofBeechwood Cemetery, just before the rows of flatmarkers begin, two women kneel by a brown granitetombstone.

They are mother and daughter, and they are here toplace a pot of red chrysanthemums on the grave of ayoung man.

Neighbouring this grave, also marked by a granitestone, is a plot bearing the remains of another youngman.

They are father and son.

The stone of the father, Nazeih Naif Saikali, notes theyears 1940 and 1971, marking a life of 31 years.

The stone of the son, Daniel John Saikali, notes thathe was born in 1968 and died on Sept. 28, 1988.

The women are here this sunny Tuesday to mark the16th anniversary of his death.

"When you lose someone, you never forget," saysGeorgette Saikali, the widow of Nazeih and motherof Daniel and five other children.

"Ten, 20, 30 years -- you still remember, especiallythe good times."

Georgette will return with her daughter, Abby, toreplant "something beautiful" in an area in front ofthe grave where perennials haven't thrived.

The Saikalis came to Canada from Lebanon in thespring of 1964. It was Nazeih's idea. His parents andhis brother and sister were already here. ButGeorgette had no blood relations here, and it made nosense to her, leaving home and farm to start fromscratch on foreign soil.

It didn't help that she was pregnant. Only two weeksafter their arrival, Abby was born, her fifth child.Four years later, Daniel was the final addition.

Nazeih was industrious. He soon found work as achef in a Lebanese restaurant in Hull. They had thebeginnings of a classic immigrants' dream.

And then Nazeih, a joker, standing on the bridge atHog's Back Falls, told a companion he could swim.As a joke, he was pushed in.

His body was fished out from the Devil's Hole thenext afternoon.

Georgette, not yet 30 years old, was left with sixchildren to raise.

Government helped out, as did Nazeih's family.Within a year or so, Georgette found work as achambermaid.

"I loved that job, you know, and I only quit it 15years later, after Daniel died."

Daniel was finishing high school in 1988. He hadmany friends, and plans -- he was going to join thearmy and see the world. He'd passed his physical andother assessments and was only waiting to completehis schooling.

He was riding his motorcycle to his school,Woodroffe High, when a truck hit him. Before any ofthe family could reach him, he was dead.

Georgette, fresh from surgery, had to be tranquillizedfor the funeral, but she remembers with pride howlarge it was, proof of Daniel's rich life in Canada.

For years, she used to dream of Daniel, at 20, riding awhite horse. But now, when he comes to her at night,he's "no more than five or six, just the little boy."

The chrysanthemums brighten the graves of the boyand his father.

They are the same kind of flowers Daniel brought tohis mother when she was in hospital for surgery -- theday before he died.

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Stories From the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind

the gravestones. Seven-day subscribers can followthe series online at www.ottawacitizen.com.

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The Ottawa CitizenSection G, Range 31, Grave 4: Name to Be DeterminedFriday, October 1, 2004Page: F1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Zev SingerSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories From The GraveIllustrations: Colour Photo: (A headstone)

The single-grave plot rests on a slope facingHemlock Road. Soon, a child will be buried there. It'snot yet known who that child is.

The grave once belonged to a young girl of an earliergeneration. Now, likely within the next year, it willbe passed on.

Janet Vivian Carter was born in Winnipeg in 1955.She was the fourth and youngest child of PhillipArthur Carter, an RCMP officer, and his wife,Cathryn. When the girl was diagnosed with leukemia,the Mountie was transferred to Ottawa, where shecould get better treatment.

In the meantime, the couple decided to keep theseriousness of the girl's illness from their otherchildren, Warren, the oldest, and twins Barbara andMarilyn.

"We were always told Janet was sick, but she'd getbetter," Warren Carter remembers. "I guess in thosedays they figured it was better for the other childrennot to know what was going on."

When Janet died, on Aug. 25, 1962, it was Warren's11th birthday. Many of the details have faded aboutthe moment his parents told him "she wasn't comingback," but his feelings from that day are still withhim.

"I didn't think it was fair," he says. Although he nowhas an adult's view of life, that does not prevent the53-year-old public servant from revisiting theemotional world of that 11-year-old boy.

The Exhibition was in town on his birthday, as italways was. He'd been there just before she died, notfeeling right about going without her. Instead ofriding the rides, he took his money, all $20 of it, andspent it on a heart-shaped, silver-plated pendant forJanet.

He'd find out many year's later, through a friend ofhis mother, that the little girl had told her parents shewanted her brother to have a nice birthday and notworry about her. She chose a birthday present forhim, a Parker pen.

Since then, his birthday has been tinged with sadness,and the sight of the Ex is still more than he can bear.He keeps the Parker pen in a drawer. The pendantwas buried with the girl.

The parents bought the burial plot for Janet atBeechwood. It was in a part of the cemetery where

only flat markers are allowed, rather than uprightheadstones. It was what they could afford. They paidfor it in instalments.

Two or three times a year the family would visit. Thefather was always best at finding the grave. He had atrick for lining it up relative to the stone steps nearby.

In 1990, when the father died, it was decided thatJanet would be removed from her grave and buriedwith him in a new plot. The family had no otherrelations in Ottawa, and it was always important tothe parents that they stick together. The motherjoined them last year.

Shortly after that, Warren Carter was moved when heread an article in the Citizen explaining how difficultfuneral and burial expenses can be for families of theworking poor. He contacted the Children's Hospitalof Eastern Ontario and made arrangements to donateJanet's plot.

When the right circumstance presents itself, thehospital will give the plot to a young oncologypatient who can't be saved.

Then another family will have to install their own flatmarker -- and learn the trick of finding those stonesteps that point the way.

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Stories From the Grave

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is one of adaily series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind

the gravestones. Seven-day subscribers can followthe series online at www.ottawacitizen.com.

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The Ottawa CitizenInfinite possibilities in a book holding thousands of stories: The storiesof those buried in Beechwood Cemetery were fascinating for many,writes Zev Singer.Saturday, October 2, 2004Page: E12Section: CityByline: Zev SingerSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories From The GraveIllustrations: Photo: Bruno Schlumberger, The Ottawa Citizen / Beechwood Cemetery opened its gates in 1873 and by 1910 it was considered to be one of the mostlavish and famous resting places in the country.

Photo: Andrew Schwerdfeger: This story begins with the tombstone engraving of an electric bass guitar. It ends with the bittersweet image of a woman on a porchlistening to her husband's taped voice. She knows the words to the song he is singing, but she sometimes has trouble remembering his name.

Photo: Andy, above, and Nick Lambrinos: Tragedy befalls a little boy while he is in the care of his big brother. Years later, when faced with his own mortality, thesurviving sibling promises to do in death what he was unable to do in life: protect his brother.

Photo: Andy and Nick Lambrinos, above: Tragedy befalls a little boy while he is in the care of his big brother. Years later, when faced with his own mortality, thesurviving sibling promises to do in death what he was unable to do in life: protect his brother.

Photo: Charles Cecil Willis: The life of a Second World War navigator-bombardier is torn by the sorrow of losing three sons and the pain of having participated in oneof the war's most devastating bombing raids.

Photo: Candis Karen Stewart: The girl, above right, who received the first successful kidney transplant in the city is remembered by her mother, left, in a newspaperarticle.

Photo: Henry Wentworth Monk: The "pioneer of world peace" may have been mad, but that didn't stop senators from discussing one of his ideas in Parliament.

Photo: Bettie Cole and Rosa Shaw, above: Two unrelated women are buried in identical, neighbouring graves. What was their bond in life?

Photo: Nelson Davis Porter: The family man whose outrage led him to become mayor, for two of his 98 years, and bring clean drinking water to Ottawa.

Photo: Nazeih, above, and Daniel Saikali: A mother and daughter bring flowers to brighten the graves of a father and son.

Photo: Nazeih and Daniel Saikali, above: A mother and daughter bring flowers to brighten the graves of a father and son.

Photo: Thomas Stoneman, above, Mary Lois Cleary, Hugh Carey Brown: A mother of young twins loses her police-officer husband when he is killed by a thief. Asoldier steps in to father the children as if they were his own.

Photo: Thomas Stoneman, Mary Lois Cleary, above, Hugh Carey Brown: A mother of young twins loses her police-officer husband when he is killed by a thief. Asoldier steps in to father the children as if they were his own.

Photo: Thomas Stoneman, Mary Lois Cleary, Hugh Carey Brown, above: A mother of young twins loses her police-officer husband when he is killed by a thief. Asoldier steps in to father the children as if they were his own.

Graphic/Diagram: (See hard copy for graphic).

The black, leather-bound volume, with gold writingover a green label, is called Record of Interments,The Beechwood Cemetery, Ottawa.

It is the first volume in a set of five books that makeup an unparalleled catalogue of the city's dead.

Not replaced by computers until 1989, the books holdinfinite possibilities. Tens of thousands of stories aretold in longhand script, starting with the very firstentry in 1873.

The first person buried in Beechwood Cemetery wasJohn Alex Craig, of Ottawa. He was four years old.The story only truly emerges, however, with thesecond entry, for William Henry Craig, also four atthe time of his burial.

A notation indicates that John, who was two yearsolder than his brother, William, died two yearsearlier. When William died, at the same age his olderbrother had, the parents, John and Jane McKay Craig,had the elder son disinterred from a cemetery inSandy Hill so the two could be together.

Not every entry reveals as much at first glance, butthere is a tale behind every one.

Who was Frank Nofel Sabbagh, who died on Nov.17, 1925? He is listed, under the category "socialstate" as a pedlar, with a "nativity" of Assyria. Hedied at the age of 54 of "toxaemia." So says Volume3, page 47.

Page 124 of the same volume lists Ina MaudStandley. The 36-year-old unmarried woman is listedas an "elucutionist," who died Nov. 3, 1933, ofepilepsy. What is the story of her life?

This Citizen series, called Stories from the Grave,concludes today. It has tried to shed light on a few ofthe untold stories at Beechwood. Each profileattempted to take the reader for a figurative strollthrough the cemetery grounds and bid them to pauseat a tombstone, wondering at the lives behind it.

Although a mere drop in the ocean of possiblenarratives, the series aimed, at least, to spark theimagination of readers to how compelling are thestories of the city's ordinary lives.

The response from readers showed the series did,indeed, spark imagination. Several people contacted

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the Citizen to share their own stories. At least one ofthose, the story of Janet Vivian Carter, was then toldin these pages.

The cemetery itself has had several visitors over thepast two weeks come to the office, after having readthe daily stories, looking for information on relatives.

As the series ends, it's with reluctance. There are stillmany stories out there that could be told. Here are afew examples:

Section 40 has a very large monument to JohnAcomb Hick, Samuel Frederick Hick and RobertHick. The dates inscribed, and the big book, make itclear that the three were brothers, the youngest ofwhom died in 1919. Although they all lived full lives,there are no wives or children. The size of the tombmakes it clear that there was wealth in the family.Yet, it appears that none of the three brothers wasable to pass on the family name. What was theirstory?

In Section 21, a bronze marker commemorates RogerRene Barbe, who lived from 1929 to 1975. The bigbook lists him as a truck driver. It's a modest grave,and its epitaph, "He died rich," may have beenintended to reflect the spiritual than the material.With it is a second bronze marker, for his mother,Adelaide, whose dates are 1905- 1982. Her epitaphis: "Now I am with you son."

A member of the third generation, Richard Barbe,was buried with his father and grandmother just twomonths ago, Beechwood's records show. What familystory lies here?

In Section G, a man named Frank Greenslade waits,almost certainly in vain, for the wife that wassupposed to join him but never did. After his nameand dates (1888-1962) are the words: "husband ofMarie Rose Carisse 1892-19__. The last two digitsare blanks in the stone.

Her entry in the book never was written; recordsshow there is still only one body buried there. Didshe find a new husband late in life, and like himbetter? Did she die in a senior's residence, with norelatives left to remember where she was supposed tospend eternity? Is she still alive, aged 112?

Some of the other stories the Citizen came acrosswhile working on the project were not yet ready forthe telling.

After the tragic death of a teenage girl, her fathertook several years to design a monument for her,working through his grief as he sought to createsomething she'd find beautiful.

Yet, years later, the subject is still too painful forpublication -- the mere mention of his daughterenough to reduce the plainspoken businessman totears.

Many of the stories behind the graves were mysteries.

Today's profile, on Ephriam B. Blood, actually solves

one. Others, such as the profile on Rosa Shaw andBettie Cole, lifted the veil ever so slightly on liveslived but nearly lost through the passage of time.

It was rarely easy. Reporters, with invaluableassistance from researchers, librarians, archivists andcemetery staff, mined stacks of city directories, rollsof century-old newspaper microfilm -- and the booksof the dead. They cold-called potential descendants,surfed the Web and queried census databases. Cluesoften led to dead ends but sometimes yieldedprecious information.

Some stories were told to us at the gravesitesthemselves, by people checking in on their lovedones. Other stories were told to us in the homes andon the front porches of relatives.

Always, these people were generous in theirwillingness to share. They likely realize that -- as theleather-bound books of the dead grow older -- it ismainly through the people left behind that the storiesfrom the graves will be kept alive.

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Stories From the Grave - At a Glance

Thomas James Wensley: Was it an accident or asuicide? Either way, a man became the first aviationfatality in Canada when he plunged to his death froma hot-air balloon.

Evelyn Joyce Buxton: She lived for only 18 days, 75years ago, and what few memories remain are nowdwindling to wisps.

Alice Denzil: Three women are disinterred andre-buried near a wealthy entrepreneur. Two of thewomen were once married to the man. Who is thethird?

Chow Fie Gin: A peek into the history of the Chinesecommunity through a grave in a special section of thecemetery.

Name to be determined: In memory of a little girl, afamily donates a burial site to a child, not yet known,who will die of cancer.

Ephriam B. Blood: Beechwood's greatest mystery isfinally solved.

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The Ottawa CitizenUnravelling Beechwood's most enduring mystery: Section D, Range 13,Graves 1 & 2: Ephriam B. BloodSaturday, October 2, 2004Page: E1 / FRONTSection: CityByline: Zev SingerSource: The Ottawa CitizenSeries: Stories From The GraveIllustrations: Colour Photo: Kier Gilmour, The Ottawa Citizen / Just one of Beechwood Cemetery's Burial Record books used to catalogue all the bodies buried in thelarge cemetery.

Colour Photo: Nicki Corrigall, The Ottawa Citizen / Ephriam B. Blood's sarcophagus lies empty in the D section of Beechwood Cemetery.

But the largest question mark, the most impenetrablemystery, centered around the grave of one EphriamB. Blood.

- Madge Macbeth, 1955

On Aug. 13, 1910, a man giving the name EphriamB. Blood purchased two single-grave plots in SectionD of Beechwood Cemetery. He paid $7 for each. Hethen spent what must have been a considerably largersum building a sarcophagus, an elaborate cementburial vault, on that spot.

Yet the man never came back to claim the costlytomb. Nor has anyone else. Mr. Blood left no addressand was never heard from again.

The sarcophagus sits there still, empty.

In 1955, in her weekly column in the Citizen, a writernamed Madge Macbeth described it.

"The sarcophagus looks like a long stone box, 87inches long, 44 inches wide. It protrudes about 14inches above the ground but is thought to extendsome six feet below the surface. The two bodiescould not lie flat side by side but one above theother."

A white elm tree, not visible in the photo that ranwith the column, is now tall beside the tomb. Thestructure itself, however, is unchanged.

Writing of the mystery, Mrs. Macbeth called it"Beechwood's strangest story."

"Who was this shadowy figure who appeared out ofnowhere one day and dissolved into nowhere thenext?" she asked.

Searching through half a century of Ottawa citydirectories and other records, Mrs. Macbeth found notrace of Mr. Blood. A second column the followingweek posed still more questions.

"Was he married? Did he expect to be? Or hope tobe? Did he think, by any chance, that a hesitantyoung lady would decide in his favour because heprovided her with a dignified and costly resting placefor all eternity instead of a temporal home? Did helose her after all?

"The question mark on my (typewriter) is getting

pretty well worn, but there is still use for it. Was Mr.Blood a hale and hearty man? Or was he the victim ofsome dread disease that compelled his realization ofthe imminence of Death?

"We have no information."

Another half-century has passed since Mrs.Macbeth's columns, and the cemetery's staff stillpuzzle over the strange, unsolved case of Ephriam B.Blood.

Today, under the last name Blood, Canada411.ca hasfive listings in the 613 area code. Some quickphoning, not surprisingly, shows what Mrs. Macbethalready knew: nobody in or around Ottawa ever had arelative named Ephriam Blood.

But what if the man came to Ottawa from somewherefarther afield?

A check of the Canadian census from 1881 and 1901shows nobody of that name anywhere in the country.

U.S. census data from 1880, however, shows twoAmerican men at that time who did possess the samename as the man who bought the burial plots. One,listed as a carpenter, lived in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio.That man was 58- years-old though, making him along shot to be alive in 1910, when he'd be 88.

An e-mail response from the city clerk's office inCuyahoga Falls ends all doubt.

"We do have an Ephriam Blood buried in ourOakwood Cemetery, but his burial date was3/23/1886, which would mean he's not the EphriamBlood you are looking for. Sorry I wasn't able to helpyou solve your mystery. Good luck!"

The second man from the U.S. census, listed as afisherman, lived in Putnam, New York. He was 50 atthe time, making him a long shot as well.

Sure enough, he died in 1895.

Despite this, he is not a dead end. There are still twolistings under the name Blood in the Putnam area. Itturns out, after a few phone calls to the PutnamBloods, that this Ephriam Blood who died a decadeand a half too early to come to Ottawa is in theirfamily tree. More intriguingly, so is his son -- alsonamed Ephriam.

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Ruth (Blood) Corridon, of Rhode Island, a cousin ofthe Putnam Bloods, has a stack of family papers thatshow a long line of Ephriam Bloods. This son of thefisherman lived from 1855 to 1934 and was the onlyperson by that name who would have been alive in1910, in the sarcophagus era.

Ms. Corridon reveals another detail that strengthensthis Mr. Blood's candidacy to be the mysteriousOttawa tomb-buyer.

There are a lot of different ways to spell the nameEphriam, the most common of which is "Ephraim."Mrs. Macbeth, in her column, goes so far as to saythat Beechwood's records must have been mistaken inthe spelling it had for Mr. Blood's first name.

But all the Ephriam Bloods in her family, Ms.Corridon said, indeed spell their first name with the"i" before the "a."

Yet what about the middle initial, B?

This Mr. Blood lived at least part of his life in a townnear Putnam called Ticonderoga, New York. Thistown is a three-minute ferry ride across LakeChamplain from Orwell, Vermont, where he wasactually born. The town clerk's office in Orwell hasrecords of both his birth, on April 2, 1855, and hismarriage, to a Martha Cooper, on Aug. 31, 1879.Neither record lists a middle name.

But the 1920 census lists him living in Ticonderoga,and having aged appropriately, with the middle initialB. What it stands for, and whether he gave it tohimself later in life, is still unclear.

What's known about him is that by trade he was astonemason and plasterer.

Later, around 1880, he bought and began operatingthe Red House Ferry between the New York andVermont sides of the lake. He did that until his death70 years ago, on Sept 28, 1934. He is buried in theMount Hope Cemetery in Ticonderoga.

The family does not know of any living directdescendants of Ephriam B. Blood.

But in Pottersville, New York, about 50 kilometresfrom Ticonderoga, lives Betty (Blood) Griffen. Shewas the youngest of 15 children in her family and sheis now five months shy of her 90th birthday. She isthe niece of Ephriam B. Blood.

Mrs. Griffen, still perfectly sharp, has somememories of her uncle Ephriam. He was a friendlysort, she recalls. He believed in the curative power ofherbs -- had them hanging all over his house.

He wasn't as tall as her father, his younger brother,Amos Blood, who was over six feet. He was thin, likeall the brothers.

"They were all as lean as an old cat," she says.

She also remembers that, probably after beingwidowed, he remarried and had a son quite late inlife. That son, also named Ephriam, died within thelast decade, Mrs. Griffen says.

The question remains, though: what brought EphriamB. Blood all the way to Ottawa to purchase the twoplots in Section D that Saturday afternoon in thesummer of 1910. Was it, in fact, a love intrigue, asMadge MacBeth suggested?

Probably not.

The evidence suggests it was more likely business,not pleasure, that brought him here.

Back in 1955, Mrs. Macbeth in her column quoted aman named Tom Moore, whom she credits withbringing the mystery to her attention. A line from thispassage is noteworthy.

"The excellent condition of the tomb," Mr. Mooreargued, "proves it to have been made of the bestmaterial and with the most skilled labour."

In Rhode Island, Ruth Corridon refers to one of avery limited number of copies of a clan history booklong ago out of print: The Story of the Bloods, byRoger D. Harris. Mention is made in this book of theEphriam Blood in question, a short passage citing hiscareer as a stonemason and eventual ferryman.

There is, however, one other fleeting reference. OnPage 118, in a section recounting inventions byBlood family members, Mr. Harris writes: "In 1903Ephriam Blood of Ticonderoga made a cope forgraves."

A "cope," the dictionary explains, is a type of cover.The heavy lid on the sarcophagus in Section D wouldseem to qualify.

By 1910, Beechwood, which opened in 1873, wasalready one of the most lavish and famous cemeteriesin the country. It would have been a reasonable placeto try to promote a new type of burial vault.

If this was the scheme, it appears not to have been agreat success, ending in abandonment and a returnedfocus on the ferry operation.

In Section 19, Grave P.C. 60, only a short distancefrom the Blood sarcophagus, is the resting place ofMadge Macbeth, who died in 1965, in her late 80s. Inaddition to her column, called "Over My Shoulder,"she wrote more than two dozen books, includingfiction, drama, and non-fiction on everything fromthe Elysian Islands to Ottawa Valley Baptist history.

The name on the stone, however, is that of her son,Lt. Col. John Douglas Macbeth, 1903-1951, withwhom she is buried. Her name was not added to thewhite, cross-shaped marker and appears nowhere atthe grave.

The least that could be done was to brush off some ofthe cobwebs and tell her about the man from

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Ticonderoga.

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Last in a Series

There are 75,000 stories in the silent city ofBeechwood Cemetery. A few belong to the veryfamous; the vast majority belong to people whoselives are little remembered in death. This is the last ofa 15-day series of portraits spotlighting some of thestories behind the gravestones. Seven-day subscriberscan read the entire series online atwww.ottawacitizen.com.

FPinfomart.ca Page 27