Region's old cemeteries filled with history, pitfalls http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/05249/566265.stm Tuesday, September 06, 2005 By Caitlin Cleary, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette The oldest of the gravestones in Murrysville's Olive Cemetery pitch and tilt, but hold fast to the earth, veiled by high weeds, their engraved words worn smooth by time and weather. On those granite slabs, and in the parish records of what was once the Olive Reformed Church, are the long-forgotten stories of those who lived, worshiped and died here. With the Olive Reformed Church long gone, Gladys Ostronic has become the caretaker by default of Olive Cemetery in Murrysville. "I don't know who to give it over to, pass it on to," Ostronic said. "It's not like there's money to say, here, take care of this -- there is not. I do worry about the future of this little cemetery." Elias Cashdollar, 60, died Aug. 15, 1880 -- kicked by a colt. Catherine, Hugh and Philip Hill, 19, 14 and 4, all died in the winter of 1878 as diphtheria, smallpox and other diseases ravaged the Olive congregation. Baby Boy Summerhill died in 1942. Despite all of the compelling history buried under its grassy lot, Olive Cemetery barely gets by -- and only then because of its lone caretaker, with some help from local Rotarians. With no church to maintain it, the final resting place for all these souls was turned over to Gladys Ostronic, a hairdresser from Monroeville. Ostronic said she has been responsible for Olive Cemetery since the 1980s, when its location near the intersection of Logans Ferry Road and Holiday Park Drive was much more rural. Now the cemetery is tucked directly behind the large new homes of the Summer Ridge subdivision. A screen of pine trees separates the grave sites from the back yards, with their tranquil swimming pools and bright plastic swing sets. The stones are marked with names like Beamer and Remaley, some of the oldest families in Murrysville, known then as Franklin Township. Revolutionary War and Civil War veterans are buried there. The records from Olive Reformed Church -- disbanded around 1960 and demolished more than 10 years ago -- document generations of baptisms and marriages, as well as deaths from such period ailments as apoplexy, typhoid fever and whooping cough. Olive is just one of many such abandoned cemeteries in Westmoreland County and around the region. Orphans of their original churches, or private family plots sold off and reused generations later, they are islands of the past in a new suburban sea. Their survival relies on community volunteers, the shrinking pool of relatives of the dead, and a resurgence of interest in genealogy and historic preservation. Ostronic inherited the job from her mother, who was the last person to be buried there, in 2000. Caretaker by default, she was given a map, a briefcase full of old papers and a bank account with $50 in it, said Pete Geiger of Murrysville, a member of the Murrysville-Export Rotary Club whose mother was a Remaley. Once a year, Rotarians pitch in to give the abandoned cemetery "a good working over" for Memorial Day, Geiger said. "A church builds a cemetery, then it goes out of operation," he said. "The corporation stays on the books, but everybody dies. So there's a cemetery with nobody responsible for it." According to Scott Doyle, a historic preservation specialist with the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, the public's interest in preserving historic cemeteries is high right now. "You're the fourth call I've received today," said Doyle. "It's a pretty active group of people, and there's a big concern about historic cemeteries in the commonwealth. As for those that assume care for these abandoned cemeteries by choice or by default, we can provide guidance on what appropriate measures are to document or restore them." Every year, Ostronic writes letters to the small and dwindling number of relatives of the deceased, asking them for donations. She hires a local man to mow the grass, but tries to stretch out the meager funds by having him mow only before the "big holidays," like Mother's and Father's days. "I don't know who to give it over to, pass it on to," said Ostronic. "It's not like there's money to say, here, take care of this -- there is not. I do worry about the future of this little cemetery." Ostronic has her own story marked down in the parish records of Olive Reformed -- born to Rees Davis and Gladys Bond McCoy, baptized Dec. 8, 1946, by the Rev. H.A. Robb. She remembers going to church at Olive Reformed as a little girl, with her mother, aunt, cousin and grandmother. Olive's sparsely populated front rows, long wooden pews and skinny windows, the outhouse and creepy basement, all exist now only in her memory. But Ostronic thinks the cemetery ought to be preserved, for history's sake. "I wish there was some way of getting money," Ostronic said. "Nobody gives unless they have someone here." Olive is not the only cemetery that relies on volunteers to keep it going. "There are several private cemeteries that are very much floating right now," said Carl Patty of Murrysville, a local historian. He cited one private plot off Hickory Hill Road, where members of the Armstrong and Wilson families are buried, and another family cemetery out Haymaker Farm Road, on what was the McCall farm but is now Hunt Club Estates. According to Doyle, there is limited funding available for surveying, documenting and preserving cemeteries, and the degree of protection state laws afford them is unclear. The Pennsylvania consolidated statutes define a "historic" burial ground as being at least 100 years old, and having had no interments within the past 50 years. When a church cemetery is neglected, becoming a "public nuisance," a court may direct the township to manage and improve it. But for private family burial grounds, there is little or no protection at all, Doyle said, because family plots were never incorporated or strictly regulated. Doyle manages two grant programs that award money for historic preservation projects, but both appear to have long lists of conditions and eligibility requirements. Within the next year, Doyle said, the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission plans to launch a Web site to assist the public -- clarifying all cemetery legislation and listing all the resources and funding opportunities. The private cemetery next door to Jeremy and Lesllie Coleman's old house in Lower Burrell was the town junk yard, a forest of dead trees strewn with scrap metal, piles of old tires and the trash from teenagers who came to party in its clandestine location, behind Clementine's Restaurant on Leechburg Road. But underneath the roots of those dead trees lay the family of William Ross, a Revolutionary War soldier and one of the original elders of Lower Burrell's Puckety Presbyterian Church. "My wife's really spiritual," said Coleman, now of Allegheny Township. "It was her idea to clean it up." Coleman, who works in the baby food division of Del Monte, began to clear the small piece of land in his spare time. He uncovered one toppled headstone when his rake hit it, and three others that had been tossed over the steep hillside bordering the cemetery. "I had a lot of time off, and my wife wanted me out of the house. I like working outside, and once I start something I go into it completely," he said. The cemetery was private and inactive, the last person buried there in 1927. Someone owed back taxes on it, Coleman said, and when it was put up for sale at a sheriff's auction, nobody bought it. "Nobody really wanted the property, because it's a useless piece of property," he said. "You can't do anything with it. You have to be respectful. But the taxes needed [to be] paid on it, so they made up a price -- $330." With the help of local businesses and individuals, Coleman planted grass, sawed off the dead trees and started learning a lot of local history. For instance, the Ross family owned wineries and a distillery, which created controversy and feuding among local churches. There is a marker for Andrew Ross, who was buried at sea during the U.S.-Mexican War; he died of a respiratory infection after suffering from the extreme climate change. A big iron fence once surrounded the Ross cemetery, but during the shortages of World War II it was removed and melted down for weaponry, said Coleman. It was replaced with barbed wire, which can still be seen stuck in the middle of the trees that grew up around it. These days, the Ross cemetery looks like a small park, shielded by a canopy of trees, with new headstones and a donated bench, along with a tire swing for Coleman's 4-year old son, Zakk. Last year, a contingent from Puckety Presbyterian visited on an organized bus tour. Coleman and his family have moved a few miles away, and can't spend as much time as they used to fixing up the cemetery. But he is still determined that it won't revert back to the junk yard it was before. He'd like to plant some flowers, and have somebody test the area with sonar to find out how many people are really buried in Ross cemetery. "I don't really have the $2,000 to spend on it -- I make like $9.20 an hour," Coleman said. "People used to party there, and everybody was always saying there's more stones, there's more stones," he said. "Who knows how many more are out there? It'd be nice to know." ---------- (Caitlin Cleary can be reached at <mailto:[email protected]>[email protected] or 412-263-2533.)