Listen to the stories — all 70,000 of them
Memphis. Forever and ever. Turns out Boss Crump and Ben Hooks were closer to each other than you might have thought — about 25 feet.
What do two Tennessee governors and three U. S. senators share in common with one Memphis madam? Eternity, evidently.
In one place, Overton, Lee and Church aren’t parks, McKellar isn’t a lake, Snowden, Treadwell and Bolton aren’t schools, and Winchester, Goodlet, Buntyn, McLemore, Mendenhall, Goodbar, Rembert, Vinton, Willett and Walker aren’t streets. They’re residents.
They’re all here. And whenever you’d like to visit, trust me, they’ll all still be here.
This is Elmwood and, established in 1852, it is Shelby County’s oldest active cemetery. There are more than 70,000 stories here, 70,000 lives led, and among them our most famous and infamous. Veterans of every American war rest here, including the Revolutionary War.
Former mayor, congressman and political puppeteer E. H. Crump joins 20 other Memphis mayors, and all the governors, senators, generals, privates, scions of society and scallywags beneath the shade of champion trees.
There is roughly one degree of separation between the history of this nation, Memphis, and Elmwood.
Patrick Henry isn’t here, but his daughter is. Jefferson Davis isn’t here, but his son is. Helen Keller isn’t here, but her grandfather is. Robert Church Sr., Robert Jr., and his daughter Roberta are here, along with Dr. Joseph Walker, his son, Maceo, and granddaughter, Pat. Together with Dr. Hooks and individually, that’s more than a century of African-American groundbreaking on a na- tional scale.
And what stories they all have, many you know, and so many more you don’t.
The aforementioned madam, Annie Cook, turned her Gayoso brothel into a hospital during the 1878 yellow fever epidemic and gave her own life nursing the sick. It took the good citizens of Memphis 101 years to put a marker on her grave recognizing her sacrifice.
Wade Bolton, benefactor to both Bolton School and Stonewall Jackson’s widow, was a despicable character by all accounts. He died in the middle of Court Square, shot down in a family feud. The terms of his will demand- ed a true-to-life statue on his grave. His family complied and his scowling countenance stands there today, full-size, with his fingers crossed behind his back, his vest misbuttoned and his shoes untied.
That leaves 69,998 stories to tell, and counting. Visit. Listen. You’ll hear them.
This is an outdoor museum, art gallery, sculpture garden, official bird sanctuary and arboretum — and a public park full of our most public figures and private losses. The arched entry bridge and Carpenter- Gothic cottage are one-of-a-kind architectural finds in Memphis. All 80 acres are on the National Register.
A few years ago, another local historical treasure, Perre Magness, authored “Elmwood: In The Shadows of the Elms” and another writer of note contributed the introduction. Famously from the Delta, he felt destined for his family plot. So taken with Elmwood, he changed his mind and now rests here.
His name is Shelby Foote.
I’m a Memphian, and I’ll be under that big magnolia over there. Dan Conaway is a communication strategy consultant, author of “I’m A Memphian,” and president of the Elmwood board of trustees. This was republished with his permission.