Category Archives: Cemeteries

Looking for Tail-Gunner Joe

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A funny thing happened to me yesterday, late in the afternoon, as I scoured through St. Mary’s Cemetery in Appleton, Wisconsin, looking for a particular tombstone. I wasn’t having any luck finding it. But I did enjoy the graveyard’s handsome grounds, which are near the Fox River.

On Independence Day, we’d set out for northeastern Wisconsin – to see Appleton and the other Fox River cities, plus take a jaunt up to Door County.  I enjoyed parts of Appleton last year without my family, and I thought they’d like some of the places I’d been. As for Door County, we paid a visit in 2001, but it was too short and we’d long wanted to go again. This visit was also too short – I figure we’d need a week to do Door right.

Yesterday was our last day, and I headed out for St. Mary’s Cemetery by myself, since no one else cares to visit cemeteries. Specifically, I wanted to see the place’s most famous – infamous – resident, Sen. Joseph McCarthy. I couldn’t find him for a while. Find-a-Grave wasn’t exact enough. There were other McCarthys – even other Joseph McCarthys, since the cemetery is well populated with Irish names – but the Senator was elusive.

Then I spotted a man and his small daughter riding through the cemetery on something like one of those drivable carts you see at grocery stores. Eventually, they came fairly close to me, and I had to ask, since we were the only (living) people in the cemetery, and no guide signs or other clues pointed the way.

“Excuse me, do you know where Joseph McCarthy is buried? You know, the Senator.” Even in Appleton – he was from nearby Grand Chute – I can’t assume anything.

The man, about 10 years younger than me and with close-cropped reddish hair, looked at me for a moment. “We’re not supposed to tell people that,” he said. “He was my great-uncle.”

“Oh.”

“But I will tell you he’s at one of the corners, near the river.” And then they started on their way again. I guess he decided I didn’t want to harm the memorial, which of course was true. I just wanted a picture. Soon I found the stone and took one.

What are the odds of running into a grand-nephew of Joe McCarthy? (Assuming he wasn’t kidding about that.) I checked, and McCarthy was from a family of seven children, so in Appleton, the odds wouldn’t be that bad.

Funerary Art

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The All Saints Cathedral Polish National Catholic Church Cemetery near O’Hare doesn’t have the most elaborate examples of funerary art that I’ve ever seen, but there are some nice ones there.

Most a bit worn by the elements, and darkened by air pollution.

But they’re still standing in the places that family members, themselves probably long gone now, put them.

Most of the names on the stones are Polish, as you’d expect, but a sprinkling of non-Poles reside at the cemetery, too. Because it’s a cemetery, there are clearly sad stories beneath the stones. Such as that of Doris Jean Putynkowski, whose stone is simply marked 1925-1925. A family named Deal has a column indicating long lives for Robert (1920-2009) and Jean (1921-2008), but not so much for Jeffrey, whom I presume is their son: 1951-1999.

In contrast to the large funerary art, there were a handful of veterans’ stones, including this one.

It’s easy to look up in our time. The 383rd Infantry was part of the Okinawa campaign, so we can be sure that’s where PFC Schneider gave his last full measure of devotion.

All Saints Cathedral Polish National Catholic Church Cemetery

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The Cathedral of All Saints of the Polish National Catholic Church happens to be on Higgins Road in extreme northwestern Chicago these days, though it was once deeper in the city. I happened to drive past the current site today, and decided to visit its cemetery, a patch of land behind the church, verdant and quiet in the late morning.

Or at least as quiet as a place can be tucked near the junction of the Tri-State Tollway (I-294) and I-90, and within two miles of the runways at O’Hare. In fact, activity is all around the area, at hotels, restaurants, bars, entertainment venues, a casino, a convention center, and more – the town of Rosemont, which is right next door, has all that.

The cemetery has trees and bushes and grass and flowers and stones. Except for a groundsman, I was the only living person there.