To All My Dead Friends up the Road by Lindsey Goddard

Growing up in Missouri didn’t make for the most exciting childhood. I went camping a lot and sometimes caught fish that I never once ate (I’ve always hated fish). I skinned my knees doing daredevil stunts on hot summer days, and on Friday nights I went to the roller skating rink with friends. No complaints, really…but I wasn’t exactly surrounded by diversity. Rarely did I meet someone who stood out from the pack, or someone with an interesting history.

Yet, in my early twenties, I discovered a group of people I’d been missing out on knowing. Some were famous, but some had met with a quiet end, and the world hadn’t batted an eye. Different stories from different time periods. All of these new friends held my interest and captivated my imagination, though. And they were just up the road, six feet under the soil, at Bellefontaine Cemetery.

Bellefontaine Cemetery in Saint Louis, Missouri contains more than eighty-seven thousand deceased residents. It is a historical memorial park which covers 314 acres and is home to several vast mausoleums and notable monuments. Dead or not, I got to know the residents of that cemetery back in my grave-strolling days. And I still think upon them fondly.

Author William S. Burroughs is buried there. If you’re not familiar with Burroughs, I’ll sum it up: He is considered a “Beat Generation” icon, and his novel, Naked Lunch, has sold over one million copies since its release in 1959. Personally, I don’t care for Naked Lunch, and I’m not a huge fan of this author’s work on the whole. Yet, once I located his grave, it was really cool paying my respects to a fellow writer who carved his own unique path in the world. Even cooler, someone had left a pumpkin for old Will.

Ever heard of explorers Lewis and Clark? They conducted the most successful exploration in U.S. history. They are responsible for discovering and documenting hundreds of species of animals and plants and providing invaluable geographical knowledge about the American West. Now they can be found in the hallowed grounds of Bellefontaine.

The largest tomb in Bellefontaine is the Lemp family mausoleum, which sits on a bluff called Millionaire’s Row. The Lemp family made their fortune as beer brewers, but unlike the Anheuser-Busch family (of Budweiser fame), their brewery didn’t succeed. The Lemps were not limited to tragedy in their business life alone. Several of them died by suicide, or by mysterious circumstances, leading to local lore surrounding the ill-fated family.

Another tragic story that has stuck with me over the years is the story of Rose Isabel Williams and her unfortunate lobotomy. Throughout her life, Rose served as a constant muse for her younger brother, Tennessee Willams, a famous playwright best known for A Streetcar Named Desire. The duo grew up “as close as twins”, but Rose underwent a lobotomy in her twenties that damaged her brain so badly, she had to be institutionalized for the rest of her life. Tennessee never shook the guilty feeling over not having prevented his parents from going through with the lobotomy. Haunted by the memories, he wrote plays such as The Glass Menagerie, which was a metaphorical expression of his pain over the surgery.

Hungry for another dose of tragedy? How about the story of Kate Brewington Bennett? Once regarded as the most beautiful woman in Saint Louis, Kate passed away unexpectedly at the age of thirty-seven. She’d been ingesting small doses of arsenic to retain the porcelain-like pallor that had earned her such high regard.

Here’s a photo I took of her grave before I knew how sad her story really was. I just thought it was a pretty memorial.

Also notable is the grave of former mayor, David Rowland Francis, who accomplished many impressive things during his seventy-six years of life, none of which are why I remember him. No. I remember him because his monument is spooky as hell.

It is of a lone figure, draped in a cloak, with its face hidden in the shadows of its hood. I only got close enough to snap a quick photo before quickly scurrying away to a much safer proximity. And I don’t even believe in spirits. Or do I?

So, if you feel like there’s no one exciting or new in your hometown, try the local graveyard. You’ll discover new people, just by reading the headstones and researching the names. Some of their stories will stick with you long after your visit, trust me.

And to all my dead friends up the road, I miss you guys! It’s been a long time! I’ll try to pop in soon for a chat!

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Lindsey Goddard is an author of dark fiction, poetry, and true crime, living in Missouri, whose short stories have been published in e-zines such as Gamut Magazine and Carnage House, as well as in anthologies such as Error Code and The Asylum of Terror, Vol. 1 and 2. Her work has been performed on popular podcasts like Creepy Podcast and Chilling Tales for Dark Nights. She is the author of four short story collections, two poetry books, and a novel, Ashes of Another Life. For more information, visit: LindseyBethGoddard.com