Nothing is particularly outstanding about these tombstones, except that they are nearly two hundred years old and still quite legible.
IN
Memory of
ELIZABETH HERRIOTT
Consort of
GEORGE HERRIOTT
Who departed this life
August the 29th A.D. 1819
aged 46 years.
IN
Memory of
GEORGE HERRIOTT
Who departed this life
December the 2d A.D. 1826
aged 61 years.
This mausoleum from the early 1920s is an interesting and unusual design: a little bit Egyptian in shape, but without Egyptian details. The gorgeous stained glass inside is full of nautical references, which must refer in some way to the William S. Flower who is recorded as the first burial here in 1924. Does anyone know their significance? A Dr. William S. Flower was a dentist here in the early twentieth century, but Father Pitt cannot guess what sailing ships, hourglasses, and classical dolphins have to do with dentistry.
A tombstone for a young mother and her child. Elizabeth died at two months in 1839. Two months later her mother died as well. Did she die of the same disease? Cholera was very popular in Pittsburgh in the 1830s, but there seems to have been a lull in the epidemics in 1839. Perhaps Nancy died of grief, as mothers often did in those days. (Today we would look for another diagnosis, but modern medical science agrees that psychological factors play a large role in the body’s ability to overcome serious ailments.) Grief also reached epidemic proportions in the nineteenth century, when childhood mortality was, by our standards, appalling.
An attractive modernist mausoleum, probably from after the Second World War, that combines simplicity of form with enough (simplified) decorative detail to avoid monotony. The stained glass inside is pretty, if not particularly inspired.
The composite picture above is more than 75 megapixels. Expect about 22 megabytes of data if you click on it.
This is without a doubt the most spectacular Egyptian mausoleum in Pittsburgh. All the usual Egyptian elements are here, but the Winter mausoleum (1930)—whose colossal scale is hard to convey in a photograph—adds its own unique accessories. John Russell Pope, the famous beaux-arts architect, designed this mausoleum for banker Emil Winter—but “designed” is not really the right word here. The Woolworth mausoleum in Woodlawn, the Bronx, is nearly identical; Winter apparently saw it and told Pope “I want that,” and Pope gave it to him.
Mr. Winter’s amazing sphinxes bear an expression that old Pa Pitt can only describe as “snooty.”
The bronze door depicts Mr. Winter himself, large as life and in full Pharaonic regalia, about to set off for his journey into the afterlife. Even this is identical to the bronze door of the Woolworth mausoleum, except for the substitution of Mr. Winter’s face.
Inside is a stained-glass window that reminds Father Pitt of cheap illustrated Sunday-school handouts, showing Mr. Winter properly enthroned. (It was devilishly hard to get a picture of this window, because the front doors are actually backed by a mesh screen. This was the best old Pa Pitt could do.)
