Vail Memorial Cemetery
Because Vail Memorial Cemetery dates back nearly 300 years, I thought its address—1774 US Highway 46—was some kind of allusion to its first burial. But no, it’s just an address. And while I’m used to highways edging cemeteries that were once actual places of rest—now part of the agitation that is, say, the BQE—Route 46 barely makes a rumble.
As what seems always to be the case when I visit graveyards, it’s either deadly (no pun intended) cold or roasting. On the first visit it was the latter, on the second, the former.
Aided by my dear companion, Adam McGovern, who scouted the area while I took photos as my hands froze, I learned about the history of where I now live from the people who died here.
First, a public service announcement—don’t leave gasoline in a graveyard.
Moving on … Vail is the surname of one of Morris County’s earliest (and wealthiest) families, up there with the Morris family. There’s Vail Road, Vail Gardens, the Vail-Trust House, and Vail Manor Apartments. Among the first and notable NJ Vails were Samuel Vail, born in Westchester and an 18th-century expat to New Jersey, specifically Green Pond in what is now Somerset County, and John Vail, who bought land in what is now North Plainfield in Somerset County in 1732. And, lest you think rich southerners were the only Americans who owned slaves, rich northerners in the Colonial Era did as well. Both Vails were willed land and slaves from their father, Samuel. Eventually, they branched out from Somerset into Morris County.
Depending on where the family moved to and what religion they followed, you can find Vails in cemeteries throughout Morris County—the First Presbyterian Churchyard in Morristown, the First Presbyterian Cemetery in Rockaway, Greenwood Cemetery in Boonton, and Evergreen Cemetery in Morristown. I went on a second visit recently because I realized that for all my Vail-talk about Vail Cemetery, I didn’t see any Vail graves among my photos. So my dear companion, Adam McGovern, and I went back in the dead of summer in search of Vails.
The gates beckon you in …
And give you the former name of the cemetery, along with the date of dedication, November 30, 1745. “Burying Ground” is not a term usually used today. Neither is the name “Ichabod,” as in “Ichabod Crane” from Washington Irving’s 1820 story, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Coincidentally, “Van Winkle” is the surname of the main character in Washington Irving’s 1819 short story, “Rip Van Winkle.”
And as a grammar nerd, I appreciate that they used “comprised” correctly. That’s it from me with quotation marks.
I wasn’t able to find much about the cemetery from Googling, nor even from the web page of the church it’s associated with. I was able to learn a lot more by just going there. In addition to Vail, “Condit” is a name frequently seen in cemeteries around here, “Baldwin” was seen a lot in this cemetery, and Adam told me “Benedict” is part of the Livingston Benedict House—a 250-year-old historic home that has actual people living in it today.
Note Theodore N. Vail, I’ll get to him in a moment.
In looking for Vails we saw this right away, which we’d actually photographed last winter. Notice the “Vail” marker toward the bottom of the statue.
It turns out this is the burial spot of Theodore Newton Vail, a member of the Vail family from Ohio, who moved to New Jersey and became the first president of American Telephone & Telegraph, known today as AT&T. Such clout did Vail have that during his 1920 funeral, all phone service in the U.S. stopped for one minute. Vail’s endowment is the reason this is now Vail Memorial Cemetery, where it had previously been Parsippany Burying Ground.
Theodore Vail wasn’t the first of his kind to make a name in connectivity—previously, his cousin, Alfred Vail, co-invented the Morse Code with Samuel Morse. (Alfred is buried nearby at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Morristown. Some say he was the real inventor.)
Since this cemetery began accepting burials in the 18th century, it has quite a number of sandstone headstones. Sandstone is my favorite, both for its look and because it weathers well (especially compared to limestone). Except when it comes to lichen. Lichen can be found everywhere, including Antarctica, so they have no problem with New Jersey headstones.
Last winter my frozen hands took this photo, and the name, Ebenezer Grover, piqued my interest, as did the story told on the headstone. But the lichen and the angle of the photo made the ending impossible to read. This is as far as I got:
In Memory of Ebenezer Grover who Departed
this life January 20 1782
In the 61 Year of his Age
A few days before his death he
came from New England to m? his Son Reverend Joseph
Grover
This time, Adam was able to make out the rest:
In Memory of Ebenezer Grover who Departed
this life January 20 1782
In the 61 Year of his Age
A few days before his death he
came from New England to make his Son Reverend Joseph
Grover a gift. But who can promise a
Return when Going from their
Habitation
In short: You probably can’t go home again.
I’m fascinated by the angel heads that topped 17th and 18th-century headstones. In earlier times they had skulls with wings, but it was decided in the 1700s that cherubic faces made the grieving process go down easier. Though as my friend, Cate Ludlam, who runs Queens’ Prospect Cemetery, noted: “A lot of them tend to look like Richard Nixon.” This is the one on Ebenzer Grover’s grave.
This one has similar hair, wings, and jowls, but a different nose. I think this one actually does look like Richard Nixon.
Since there was no machinery back then for carving headstones, each were hand carved, so you can often tell the artist by the angels he carved and his style of writing. Many of these craftsmen were based in New Jersey, specifically Newark, but worked for families near and far. As you can imagine, this was an expensive process, so now imagine burial costs plus the cost of hiring a craftsman to do a one-of-a-kind headstone. For all the people you can tell are buried, there are just as many, if not more, with no markers. Trust me on this, I’ve learned it the hard way after walking miles through cemeteries looking for a family burial spot, only to find a blank space.
This photo was taken last winter and this angel is far different from the others. The head is dwarfed by its wings and there are decorative flowers on either side, reminiscent of the Victorian Era, though this headstone predated that.
Speaking of the Victorian Era, many cemeteries in this area of New Jersey date to Victorian times, which you can tell by the extravagance. Gone are the sandstone headstones, people were now spending lots of money to show how rich they were through monuments. Elaborate decorations, and a movement away from the crucifix—which was deemed too Catholic— toward Ancient Greece and Egypt prevailed. You’ll see a lot of obelisks from this era (like the ones at the top of this page), sometimes combined with anachronistic designs like Greek keys, and an emphasis on symbolic decorations and sculptures. At the top here is an urn covered by a shroud, the shroud often standing for the gateway between life and death.
This style continued until WWI, when such a display was looked upon as tactless and gauche. This one doesn’t quite illustrate how over the top they could get—there weren’t a lot of this style in Vail Memorial Cemetery—but stay tuned for them.
Tactless and gauche sounds like a good place to take a break, so I’ll just sit on this bench for a rest and get back to you soon with Part 2 of Vail Memorial Cemetery …