Merchants of Death by Vagabunda

Section goes here

â&#x20AC;&#x153;To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.â&#x20AC;? J.K. Rowling

Temple University School of Journalism, 2014 3

Table of Contents I. Unclaimed bodies in Philadelphia...............................................8 II. The Godfrey Funeral Home..................................................10 III. Evans Funeral Chapel and Cremation Services.....................20 IV. Wackerman Funeral Home...................................................34 V. Miller Berry & Sons Inc. casket mattresses.........................38 VI. Philadelphia Crematoriums.....................................................50 VII. BataroFlorists.....................................................................58 VIII. Grounds Foreman Frank Rausch.......................................62 IX. Sentiments.........................................................................72

The Merchants of death are those who have made conscience decisions to work around death on a daily basis. We spoke to funeral directors, a florist, crematoriums, a grave digger, and a company that manufacters casket mastresses to learn of their experiences and opinions in regard to death and how it has affected the ways in which they view life.

Merchants of Death

Unclaimed bodies in Philadelphia After spending decades on a shelf in the Medical Examiner’s office, 1,500 unclaimed and/or unidentified remains were finally laid to rest in 2010 under a common grave at Laurel Hill Cemetery along Kelly Drive in Philadelphia. An estimated 1,500 cremated ashes remained unburied as of 2010. The Medical Examiner’s Office and Public Health department both refused to comment on the current number of bodies and procedures in regard to processing unclaimed and unidentified bodies. According to an article by Allison Steele of the Philadelphia Inquirer, the unclaimed/unidentified remains began accumulating in the early 1980s after a former burial place in the Northeast became full. In order to save space, the Medical Examiner’s Office began cremating all identified but unclaimed bodies in this time period. The remains would then be stored in either cardboard or plastic boxes, depending on the time period, and neatly stacked on shelves. Remains must stay in the Medical Examiner’s Office for a minimum of three months before they may be relocated in the case of somebody coming to claim them, according to the Public Health department’s website. Mass cremations take place once 50-60 bodies have been accumulated, or about every three to four months, according to a source at the Medical Examiner’s Office who wished to remain anonymous. Unclaimed bodies in Philadelphia

Requests for cremations are sent out to a list of funeral homes and the job is given to the lowest offer. Ashes then come back and sit in storage so that people can come and claim them.

The Medical Examiner’s Office is located at 321 S University Ave. in Philadelphia, PA. Friday March 7, 2014. (PAUL IMBURGIA)

Merchants of Death

Laurel Hill Cemetery was founded in 1836 and ever since has been used by the City of Philadelphia as a means to alleviate crowding in other city graveyards. Friday March 7, 2014. Philadelphia, PA. (PAUL IMBURGIA)

Section goes here

ABOVE: Headstone designating where the City of Philadelphia, with the help of Laurel Hill personnel, cremated and buried 1500 unclaimed or unidentified bodies. Friday March 7, 2014. Philadelphia, PA. (PAUL IMBURGIA) BELOW: Known as “Millionaire’s Row”, the wealthier of Laurel Hill’s deceased rest in giant mausoleums. Friday March 7, 2014. Philadelphia, PA. (PAUL IMBURGIA) OPPOSITE: Grave sites of the 19th century are much more intricate, often resembling something significant about the deceased’s life. Friday March 7, 2014. Philadelphia, PA. (PAUL IMBURGIA)

Merchants of Death

Unclaimed bodies in Philadelphia

Merchants of Death

II.

The Godfrey Funeral Home My name is Herb Godfrey, I am the owner, I do everything from soup to nuts, from receiving first calls to making the funeral arrangements to preparation to conducting the funeral. I’ve been working for Godfrey Funeral home since 1989. I was actually an ironworker and a boat builder before I began working for the family business. I went on a job one day out at the steel mill in Coatesville, PA and that convinced me that I’d much rather wear a suit than look like I worked in a coal mine. Originally I did whatever my dad told me to do, I was the low man on the totem pole. When my dad passed away, I guess you could say I kinda fell into it. The rest of my family took responsibility too, my sister Sally works for the business as well. It’s either really busy or we get a couple of weeks where there’s nothing going on. But it averages out to just about a funeral a day throughout the year. Some weeks we don’t have anything then the next week we’ll have four funerals for every day of the week. The next closest funeral home would be in Cape May Court House, 15 minutes away. We are the only funeral home in Ocean City and we have another location outside of the city in Palermo,in upper township. I guess the most fulfilling thing

The Godfrey Funeral Home

Herb “Herbie” Godfrey, 48 of Ocean City, NJ, the owner of Godfrey Funeral Home is pictured with sisters Susan and Sally. (PAUL IMBURGIA)

is that you deal with a family through their hardships, and after everything’s done and complete, a month later or so, you get a nice letter from the family saying how much they appreciate your help through a hard time in their life. Getting to help out the people is basically my thanks. There’s lots of times people say “if there’s anything I can do, just give me a call”, well I actually get to do something, you know? Sometimes I do keep in touch with families, just to see if they need help with anything; any resources I could provide them or steer them in the right direction towards. I actually had a fellow

text me yesterday, I buried his grandmother a couple of years ago, he was not from Ocean City but needed a local attorney so I was able to help him with that. It had nothing to do with funeral work, he just trusted me. I grew up overtop of the funeral home so I’ve been around it my whole life. Working for the funeral home really hasn’t changed my outlook. Life is fragile, it’s here one minute and then it’s gone the next, you just have to enjoy it while you’re here. In ways the job is always difficult, I think probably the most difficult thing is dealing with the death of a child. We seem to step up our game when we deal with a child’s funeral. It’s taxing to one though, after the services you definitely need a day off, hug your kids a little more and thank God that you have a healthy family. A lot of people today treat death as an inconvenience, something disposable. When you have a funeral it’s not for the deceased, it’s for the living; to pay their respects and to put a period at the end of a person’s life. The suffering for the deceased is over, the people who are alive have to go on with what they’ve done or haven’t done.

RIGHT: ”Trixie” the cat of the Godfrey Funeral Home is often pleasant company for those in mourning. Thursday March 6, 2014. Ocean City, NJ (PAUL IMBURGIA) FAR RIGHT: As a family business, and one that deals in such a sensitive matter, the importance of family is paramount to the Godfreys. Thursday March 6, 2014. Ocean City, NJ (PAUL IMBURGIA) BOTTOM LEFT: The lower level of Godfrey Funeral Home is a chapel that can be used to hold services . Thursday March 6, 2014. Ocean City, NJ (PAUL IMBURGIA) BOTTOM RIGHT: The interior decor of Godfrey Funeral Home is comfortable but still very ornate. Thursday March 6, 2014. Ocean City, NJ (PAUL IMBURGIA)

Merchants of Death

Section goes here

Merchants of Death

The Godfrey Funeral Home is located at 809 Central Ave. in Ocean City, NJ and is open year-round. (PAUL IMBURGIA)

The Godfrey Funeral Home

Merchants of Death

III.

Evans Funeral Chapel and Cremation Services “Mr. Evans had a vision; he went to the Southwest and really fell in love with it. All funeral homes serve the same purpose. I have all the parts I need to have a funeral service take place, but I’m not reminding you that in our area here in Maryland a lot of the funeral homes are high-backed chairs, Victorian style. We feel like we’re sitting in my living home. It’s a little brighter, a little cheerier than the standard funeral home that some people think is really macabre. There’s a lot of natural light in our building we have sky lights, we have a lot of window space so it brings all that in. And there’s spirituality inside of it. The Indian culture has a lot of spirituality without any denomination. When I was talking about how we serve different faiths, well we serve Christian faith, and we have Jewish individuals that use our funeral home, Hindu, Brahmin, they come here for the cremation service if Hindu or Brahman and it’s not Catholic, it’s not Christian and it’s not a type of protestant. It’s just spiritual and natural so a lot of people find that more comforting than standard funeral homes. That’s why he [Charlie] did it. I always tell people that we all know why we’re here unfortunately we have to be here and we’re honoring our loved one but I don’t need to remind you it’s a funeral home. And working for Mr. Evans, I found out he’s very innovative and he is always is on the cutting edge of what people need and what people feel. People walk in here and it Evans Funeral Chapel and Cremation Services

makes you feel differently just coming in and seeing the furniture and seeing how bright and the spirituality that is surrounding you but there’s nothing that pinpoints exactly what, I mean, we’re a Catholic run organization but we’re not..we don’t have a crucifix right as you walk in. So, it’s very important to us to make people comfortable. Mr. Evans is Catholic and we always were a Catholic family serving many faiths. That’s very important to him and he has very strong views and very strong ties to the Catholic Church. Jeffrey Testerman, funeral director

Entering the funeral chapel and crematorium in Forest Hill Maryland is like taking a trip to the Southwest; complete with desert landscapes, cacti and Native American artwork. The rocks depicted in this stained glass symbolize birth in Native American culture. (ALISA MILLER) 21

ABOVE: Evans Funeral Chapel and Cremation Servicesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; main building is located at 8800 Harford Road in Forest Hill, Maryland. (ALISA MILLER)

Merchants of Death

BELOW: The crematorium and chapel is located at 3 Newport Drive in Forest Hill, Maryland. (ALISA MILLER)

Section goes here

Nick Hassani, an apprentice with Evanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Funeral Chapel and Cremation Services, speaks with Stacy Spahr after a funeral. (ALISA MILLER)

Bev Shandruk is the housekeeper at the main location in Parkville, Maryland. (ALISA MILLER)

Charles F. Evans, Jr., owner and president of Evans Funeral Chapel and Cremation Services. (ALISA MILLER)

Cringle waits for her owner, Charlie Evans, to return to the office. (ALISA MILLER)

Merchants of Death

Charles F. Evans began the funeral business in 1865. It has been passed down for three generations and will continue on to a fourth (ALISA MILLER)

Evans Funeral Chapel and Cremation Services

Charlie Evans spent some time in the Southwest and wanted to bring some of the desert back with him to the East Coast. He took his experiences from his travels and built this funeral home in an attempt to create a brighter and more spiritual atmosphere. (ALISA MILLER)

Merchants of Death

Almost all of the small details in the funeral home relate somehow back to the Southwest. (ALISA MILLER) The white buffalo is an important symbol in Native American culture and represents strength and unity, something that may be helpful to people who are grieving (ALISA MILLER) Evans Funeral Chapel and Cremation Services

Merchants of Death

TOP LEFT: Almost all of the furniture in the building is hand-made for the funeral chapel by differnent Native American tribes. (ALISA MILLER) TOP RIGHT: Jeffrey Testerman shows the conference room where all of the details are worked out for a funeral by the time the client leaves the room. (ALISA MILLER) BOTTOM LEFT: A display of possibilities that one can do to remember their loved ones. (ALISA MILLER) BOTTOM RIGHT: The front lobby of the funeral chapel. (ALISA MILLER)

Section goes here

ABOVE LEFT: A head that is used to brush out wigs if they are necessary for the dressing of the cadaver. (ALISA MILLER) ABOVE MIDDLE: Jeffrey Testerman shows that although the operating table is not made for comfort, blankets and a pillow are added out of respect for the deceased and their loved ones. (ALISA MILLER) BELOW LEFT: The embalming machine replaces the blood in the deceased body with embalming fluid. The machine has not been updated in the past 30 years. (ALISA MILLER)

Merchants of Death

ABOVE RIGHT: Entrance to the embalming room. (ALISA MILLER) BELOW RIGHT: All of the equipment that morticians use to embalm is the same as would be found in an operating room, only not sterile.

Section goes here

Merchants of Death

The viewing crematorium gives families the option to sit with their loved one while they are being cremated. They even have the opportunity to push the bottom that will initiate the cremation if they wish to do so. (ALISA MILLER) Evans Funeral Chapel and Cremation Services

Merchants of Death

IV.

Wackerman Funeral Home By simply looking at her, one would not assume that Beth Wackerman has any experience in mortuary services, let alone over twenty years’ worth. But the quiet, unassuming 42 year old has been working in the funeral industry since she first completed Mortuary School at Northampton Community College in 1993. “The classes were small, and the students were all very close in the program there. I think that really contributed to me sticking with it.” Beth comes from a line of funeral directors, her Grandfather, Charles, established the family’s first funeral home in the city’s Germantown section in 1940. Since then, the family has moved throughout the city several times, finally settling in Fox Chase, along Verree Road. The business quickly developed a strong relationship with the surrounding Parishes, relying heavily on their repeat business. But, Emily points out, it has hardly ever been about the business. “It’s by no means a business. We really exist at the behest of the community, fulfilling a necessary service. And we cherish those bonds.” We typically experience death in a vacuum, a single instance, where we as individuals and communities are able to bereave the loss of a loved one in a cathartic and comforting way. But for those like Emily, such an existence is impossible. She is surrounded by death; grieving families, emotional eulogies, tearful children, and rousing homilies. Not to mention her interactions with the recently deceased’s cadaver. They are not only forced to contend with the emotions of loss, but also the constant, existential presence of death. “You develop a tolerance to a certain extent I think. But the passing of different people Wackerman Funeral Home

Emily Wackerman displays a gown worn by those who pass without family to provide them with adequate garments. (DANIEL PELLIGRINE)

affects you in different ways. The other day, during the service for a 49 year old mother who had passed, I had to leave. It was just too much.” She goes on to say, “But thankfully that doesn’t happen often. It’s those deaths that happen before their time that are the hardest.” Funeral Directors, perhaps more than anyone else, need a vacation once and awhile. For Beth that means Florida. No not for the annual Funeral Convention in Ft. Lauderdale, but for Phillies Spring Training in Clearwater. “You have to have your pastimes and passions in this profession, and so every year I go down to Clearwater. It’s an opportunity to unwind and forget for a while.” It isn’t long though until Beth is back in Philadelphia and back consulting families and preparing for the next service. But in a business that is more like a community service, Beth says that the little rewards of consoling a grieving family member are more than enough to keep her going till next year’s Spring Training. “I really couldn’t see myself in any other business at this point. If you’re a people person, it really can be a dream job.”

Emily Wackerman, Funeral Director at Wackerman Funeral Home in Northeast Philadelphia, Pa. (DANIEL PELLIGRINE) 36

Merchants of Death

Family is the cornerstone of Wackerman Funeral Home. Emily is one of many of her family members , including her sister, to work at the Home. (DANIEL PELLIGRINE) Wackerman Funeral Home

Merchants of Death

Miller Berry & Sons, Inc. In a nearly abandoned fishing town on the coast of the Delaware Bay in Cumberland County, NJ stands Dean Berry’s family business. Originally formed in the early 19th century by his grandfather, Miller Berry, they farmed salt hay in the salt marshes on their property. Although salt hay was a cash crop during the summer months, the company needed a way to make ends meet during the longer winter months. After attending a funeral, Miller Berry saw a niche in a market to fill. During the winter months, Miller and his sons started making casket mattresses. Today, Den Berry’s business isn’t the same one his grandfather started. Although Dean still harvests salt hay on the weekends, Dean staffs a modest workforce of 10 workers. Although his father’s plans for a casket mattress contained wood and hay, most of Dean’s staff is proficient at welding instead of woodworking. This also reflects how the mattresses are made for the modern casket. The mattresses they first started making went through a few different rounds of prototypes. Originally they constructed the mattresses out of wood, salt hay and a cloth covering. Once they realized that during the warmer months, bugs and other critters that lived in the salt hay became active again, they needed to move to a different filler material. Excelsior, wood fibers that were dried in a kiln and most commonly associated with shipping glassware, was their next choice. That lasted them for a while until they found that funeral directors and casket makers wanted to make the process of displaying a body to be easier. They then moved to a steel frame with adjustable height controls. This is the current model they are issuing to their dropping number of customers. Miller Berry & Sons, Inc

Although one would think that a mattress to bury a loved one on would be a business that would never fade, the Berry family has face adversity when coming into the modern age. Many casket makers have decided to make their own mattresses, which eliminates the need for companies like Dean’s. A rising interest in alternative funeral events, such as cremation, has reduced the need for caskets overall. The Miller Berry & Sons company is one of two independent casket mattress manufactures left in the United States. There is a squeeze on Dean’s business but making deals with companies outside of the U.S. has offered him a boost in business. As long as humans walk this earth, humans are going to die. Since their sons have not shown an interest in continuing the family business, Dean’s business is most likely going to die with him and his sister but until then, the Berry’s will be providing casket companies with high quality, American made mattresses. They will always be making the last mattress that people will ever have to buy.

Miller Berry & Sons, Inc. has been a family business ever since it began. After the generation of Dean and Susan Berry though, they are unsure as to whether it will remain a family-owned business. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON) 39

The petite office of Miller Berry & Sons sits on the lawn right beside the factory. If the office didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have a sign marking what it was, a passerby could mistake it for a small cottage. The building has been there since the 1920â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s and was kept separate from the workshop due to fumes. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON)

Merchants of Death

Miller Berry & Sons, Inc

ABOVE LEFT: A joke jar of “Ashes of Problem Employees” rests on a shelf in the main office at Miller Berry & Sons Inc. The Berry family has been making casket mattresses for over 65 years. (PATRICK MCPEAK) ABOVE RIGHT: Susan Berry, sister of Dean Berry, works in the office of Miller Berry & Sons, Inc. in Port Norris, NJ. She commented that even though the business had been in their family for generations, she did not believe that it would go further than her and her brother. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON) LEFT: A steel cross hangs in the rivet shop of Miller Berry & Sons. (PATRICK MCPEAK) RIGHT: Dean Berry, president of Miller Berry & Sons, Inc. points to the map where the salt hay farm was that used to be the primary business of the Berry family in prior generations. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON)

Merchants of Death

Miller Berry & Sons, Inc

ABOVE: A cardboard press sits at rest in the factory of Miller Berry & Sons Inc. The press adheres a fiber pad to a piece of cardboard. Some of Berryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s customers request the pad for their mattresses. (PATRICK MCPEAK) BELOW: Stacks of casket mattress frames lean against the walls of the Miller Berry & Sons, Inc. factory, waiting to be completed for shipment. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON)

Merchants of Death

ABOVE: Rolls of fiber material lay untouched in the factory. This material is one of the last steps to creating the casket mattresses, which makes the mattresses look a bit less like a rectangle of metal and more like a mattress. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON) BELOW: Mattress pads are stacked and wrapped in plastic before shipping them to Canada to one of Miller Berryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s bigger customers. (PATRICK MCPEAK)

Miller Berry & Sons, Inc

ABOVE: Miller Berry & Sons uses recycled scrap metal to create the frames of the mattresses and welds them together in the factory. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON) BELOW: A welding station is empty during lunch time. The steel in the mattress frames is made of reclaimed steel from railroad rails. (PATRICK MCPEAK)

Merchants of Death

ABOVE: An employee demonstrated the process of putting the pieces of metal on the table in the nooks laid out before he was ready to weld the pieces into place. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON) BELOW: A riveting machine sits idle. Miller Berry used to have a staff of 25 to 28 people but recent trends in alternative burial methods and cremation has reduced demand for casket mattresses. (PATRICK MCPEAK)

Miller Berry & Sons, Inc

A counter on one of the machines in the casket mattress factory lets the employees know how many pieces of metal have been stamped out, as to keep track of the number needed in a certain order. The count is reset after each order’s parts are made. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON)

These buckets of parts are ready to be sent to the client “Thacker” with the rest of the mattress parts. Each bucket has a total of 800 pieces within it, which are marked in order to keep track of the counts. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON)

An employee at Miller Berry and Sons digs through the large cardboard box of parts in order to assemble the piece of the mattress that allows it to be raised and lowered inside of the actual casket. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON)

From what looks like a ribbon spool of metal, an employee cuts pieces of metal apart in the casket mattress assembly process. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON)

Merchants of Death

A rusted test casket is propped up against a workbench. Although the casket was rusted and damaged by Superstorm Sandy, it still functions for the workers to test components. (PATRICK MCPEAK)

A full order of casket mattresses comes with a full set of leveling brackets so that funeral directors can adjust the position of the body for closing the lid. This is one order of brackets. (PATRICK MCPEAK)

A full shipment of ready casket mattress sits on the loading bay of Miller Berry & Sons Inc. in Port Norris, NJ. This particular shipment is heading to a small casket maker in Canada. (PATRICK MCPEAK)

Metal scraps litter the floor of the workshop. (CHARLOTTE JACOBSON)

Miller Berry & Sons, Inc

Merchants of Death

VI.

Philadelphia Crematoriums Cremation began in the early Stone Age, in nomadic tribes spanning Europe and the Near East. Around 8000 B.C is recorded the earliest practices of cremation by indigenous tribes in North America. The practice began for its practicality and spiritual background. Nomadic tribes were able to carry with them the ashes of their ancestors, bringing their roots with them wherever they traveled. It was assumed that fire was a purifying element, and that bodies that were burned were protected from evil spirits, in addition to physical threats of animals and enemy mutilation. The practice was thought to send the spirit into paradise by transporting it with warmth and comfort. Funeral pyres of great heroes and mass battles were used for cremation in times of war, a sanitary and practical way to dispose of bodies in a dignified way. Early Aryans thought that fire equated light, which moved the universe forward as man wakes each morning with the sun and rests when it is gone. Therefore when the body met fire it met light, ascending to the sun and stars according to myth. In the nineteenth century cremation was accepted as a form of disease control, and became common practice as the trade expanded to different countries. Richard McFillin, LaSalle graduate and Philadelphia native, has worked in the crematorium business since his college years. His work at Philadelphia Crematoriums is fulfilling, he says, as it provides a basic human service that acknowledges an inevitable part of life. McFillin’s perception of life has been altered by his work as a “merchant of death,” he often reflects on how many people are affected by each individual demise; through friends and family. The Philadelphia Crematoriums

most emotionally testing part of McFillin’s job is when he must cremate the remains of children aged six to eighteen. He fully recognizes that his personal success comes at the cost of other’s loss, and never looses sight of that reality.

The secondary processing machine which reduces bone to ash. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

ABOVE: Family members can choose to watch the cremation from the viewing room, or push the body of their loved one into the fire of the crematory oven. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN) BELOW: The crematory ovens are heated to 1800-2000 degrees Fahrenheit for two hours or more. Generally four to eight pounds of cremated remains are left post-procedure, the remains (mostly bone) is processed in another machine to become ash. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

Merchants of Death

LEFT: This brush and pan are used to sweep the ashes from the second processing machine where organic bone material is crushed into the uniform powdery substance. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN) ABOVE: Pan where baby remains are kept before they are put through secondary processing and become ash from their organic material. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN) BELOW: Tongs used to remove metallic substances such as bone replacements, clothing fragments, and dental fillings from organic remains. The metal is either claimed by the family, or sent to a company in Detroit where it is melted down and sold to companies for profit. A small portion of the profits are donated to St. Judeâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Hospital under the name of Philadelphia Crematoriums. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

Section goes here

William Sucharski has worked in the cremation business for years, a boon to Philadelphia Crematoriums. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

Richard McFillin shows the roughness of his hands after years working in a crematorium. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

Merchants of Death

This smaller casket hold infant bodies before they are burned in the crematory ovens. Infants who are cremated are often still-borns or miscarriages, McFillin says the real pain of cremating children comes when they age around six to eighteen. He contends that is the hardest part of his job. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

Philadelphia Crematoriums

For clients who choose to have their ashes released over an expanse of land or sea, scatter tube cremation urns are available to shoot the ashes over a wide area. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

A collection of urns at Philadelphia Crematoriums lets clients observe what container they may choose to have their ashes stored inside. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

Memory glass allows colors of choice and a loved oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ashes to be blown into a glass sculpture together; creating a beautiful one-of-a-kind memento. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN) Merchants of Death

There are endless options for what family members can choose to do with the ashes of their loved ones; including storing them in wind-chimes. (MAGGIE ANDRESEN)

Philadelphia Crematoriums

Merchants of Death

VII.

BataroFlorists Rich Bataro is a male baby boomer, reared through the 1950’s and coming of age during the tumult of the 60’s, Rich wanted to be a lot of things. Actor, chef, entrepreneur. But it was while working as a delivery boy for a flower shop that he discovered what he would do for the rest of his life. “’Just green it up’ they would tell me. Up until then, I was just making deliveries, but I guess they didn’t mind teaching me a few other things. And after a while, I realized I was good at it.” From there he developed a love for the craft, one that grew into his own business. Operating out of Horsham for 10 years, Rich has become the go to guy for weddings, ceremonies, parties, events, and the all too common funeral. And despite his years of experience in the field of floral, Rich still has trouble in one respect when it comes to providing flowers for a funeral. “I always try to talk them down in price, which isn’t great for business. For a wedding, if you want the best, of course. But after a funeral, the flowers are simply going to die. And I have a problem making money off of that.” He explained to me however, that a common practice of chain or large scale florists is that they will often use older flowers, from the freezer that may die sooner than fresh flowers, when preparing arrangements for funerals. “They will look absolutely the same. They will look amazing. I am not opposing their practice, in fact, I see where they’re coming from. It’s just not what I do.” Most of the time however, relatives will not even try to pick out flowers. “Often, especially with the elderly, we’ll just get a call and they’ll say, ‘Rich, her favorite color was pink, make it nice’ and I take it from there. It’s not cold, it’s just there’s a lot going on, Bataro Florists

Ribbons play a large roll in any florists’ supplies. (DANIEL PELLIGRINE)

and flowers are the last thing they want to think about.” Even when a call for a funeral arraignment comes in quickly after a love one’s death, Rich has only three, sometimes four days until the funeral service. “When it comes to funerals it can get very challenging. The flowers are from a supplier, whose supplies aren’t always full. This especially becomes a problem when someone orders an exotic flower that may be out of season.” Rich takes pride in his work, whether it’s for the mourning of a beloved soul or the celebration of marriage. “You have to have an eye for color, balance, and composition. And steady hands.” He shows me his scarified hands. “Nowadays it hurts to touch literally everything. Over twenty years of preparing arrangements, bouquets, tying ribbons and bending wire have really done a number on them.” Despite this however, Rich remains optimistic and jovial, looking forward to preparing the arrangements for his son’s upcoming wedding. “I want him to do all roses. In bulk they’re cheap, and create an unparaled romantic quality.” 59

Merchants of Death

ABOVE LEFT: A bow seems simple to tie, but getting it just right is just as important as the flowers themselves. (DANIEL PELLIGRINE) ABOVE MIDDLE: Dealing with thorns, stems, wire, and twine for 20 years has left Richard’s hands calloused and painful. (DANIEL PELLIGRINE) ABOVE RIGHT: A floral arrangement for a funeral can take the florists 3-4 days at the most, a very small window considering the nature of a perishable commodity like flowers. (DANIEL PELLIGRINE) LEFT: Richard Bataro’s back room is where he creates his floral arrangements. Having been in the Floral industry for two decades he is a master of flower composition and design. (DANIEL PELLIGRINE)

Bataro Florists

Merchants of Death

VIII.

Grounds foreman Frank Rausch Laurel Hill Cemetery is one of the most impressive cemeteries in the Philadelphia area as well as the entire country. In fact, it is one of the few cemeteries in the country that is recognized as a National Historic Landmark. Being right along the Schuylkill River makes Laurel Hill a naturally beautiful place to visit. However, the magnificence of the 40,000 headstones (73,000 burials) and mausoleums dating back to the 1800s cannot remain as beautiful and intact all on their own. A small group of groundskeepers are responsible for keeping up with the maintenance of the cemetery as well as a yearly goal of resetting 500 headstones. The grounds foreman, Frank Rausch, lives on the grounds of the cemetery and has been working at Laurel Hill for 13 years. “Some people think its kind of gruesome to live on the grounds,” says Rausch. “It’s nice to think I have an 80 acre backyard.” Founded in 1836, it serves as a final resting place for notable Civil War generals, several Titanic passengers, and some wellknown Philadelphian names including Rittenhouse, Elkins, Strawbridge, and Widener Rausch is lucky enough to be neighbors with such great, historical figures. General Meade, who defeated Confederate General Robert E. Lee at the Battle of Gettysburg in 1863 is just one of the 39 other Civil War Era g2enerals that rest in the cemetery.

Grounds Foreman Frank Rausch

Today, the cemetery is open for visitors, picnickers, runners, and bicyclists everyday for free. Rausch finds his job rewarding to know that he is improving the quality of the cemetery’s headstones, making them legible for visitors. “Like any job, it has its high points and its low points,” says Rausch.

A wooden casket for a child dating back to the 1800s remains intact. (EMILY GANSER)

Grounds foreman at Laurel Hill, Frank Rausch, sits on a bench near the central side of the cemetery. (PAUL IMBURGIA) 64

Merchants of Death

Grounds Foreman Frank Rausch

Laurel Hill is located in the North section of Philadelphia, comprising an estimated 78-acre tract of land that is divided into three sectionsâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the North, Central and South portions of the Cemetery. (EMILY GANSER)

Merchants of Death

ABOVE: A small flock of Canada Geese fly away from cemetery visitors. (EMILY GANSER) BELOW: Bridge over Huntington Park Avenue, connecting the central and southern sections of Laurel Hill Cemetery. (EMILY GANSER)

Section goes here

ABOVE: Fresh soil sits upon a newly sealed grave in the central part of Laurel Hill Cemetery. (EMILY GANSER) LEFT: Tomb of William James Mullen, the founder of the world’s first medical school for women. The monument shows a woman who has been freed from the prison behind her. Mullen is on the pedestal above her. (EMILY GANSER) BELOW: Close-up of the statue on William James Mullen’s tomb. (EMILY GANSER)

Merchants of Death

Frank Rausch, grounds foreman opens the door to a mausoleum on the south section of Laurel Hill (EMILY GANSER)

Looking down the stairs to a mausoleum on the southern section of Laurel Hill. (EMILY GANSER)

Stairs leading up, out of a mausoleum on the south side of the cemetery. (EMILY GANSER)

Grounds Foreman Frank Rausch

Merchants of Death

A casket-lowering device is stored away in the Receiving Vault. The device uses a pulley system to safely lower the bodies. (EMILY GANSER) Grounds Foreman Frank Rausch

Merchants of Death

IX.

Sentiments Paul Imburgia Alisa Miller Dan Pelligrine Charlotte Jacobson Patrick McPeak Maggie Andresen Emily Ganser

Sentiments

Merchants of Death

Paul Imburgia Obviously, as a non-religious person, my view on death and dying is rather bleak. I’ve made a habit of surrounding myself with morbid imagery on a daily basis, just try searching the word “death” in my itunes library. I think of death almost every single day, it’s nothing new. You lose consciousness and your body rots, trust me I’ve been over this again and again. But it’s the impact that death has had on me that determined how I chose to approach this assignment. Dying is the easy part. The deceased, free from pain gets to rest and decompose back into the earth. Not gonna lie, it sounds kind of awesome. But what happens to everything and everyone they leave behind? It’s coming to terms with the frailty of life that takes its toll. About three years ago my family and I had to euthanize our dog who I was very close with. She had been suffering from pancreatic cancer. I had endured the loss of a family member but never before had I been granted with responsibility for another living creature’s suffering. Having to make that decision, to end another being’s life, and watch as that decision is carried out, that’ll leave you pretty fucked up for sure. Death doesn’t get the recognition that it deserves and I loved that this assignment shed light onto a topic that people frequently shy away from. Death is too often romanticized or abhorred and hardly ever appreciated for what it offers people: completion and freedom from suffering. I think we need to start viewing death like we view life, by beginning to value it.

Sentiments

Merchants of Death

Alisa Miller One thing is for sure, after working on this project I know what I want to be done with my body after I die. I want to be an organ donor, but I always knew that. I definitely do not want my body pumped with embalming fluid, nor do I want my loved ones to have to see me dead in a casket, but instead to remember how I was in life. I’ve never understood why open caskets are tradition, I mean, why would you want to see someone you love so stiff and lifeless? I’ve always had this romantic idea of being buried when I die, returned to the Earth and all that, and was shocked to learn that bodies are not allowed to actually go directly into the ground but instead are placed first into a casket and then into an “outer burial valt”. If a green, Earth burial is not possible; I would like to be cremated, some of my ashes stored in a windchime, and the rest scattered into the wind. It does not really matter where, it is all the same air. The idea of the windchime just seems so beautiful to me, every time the wind blows someone close to me will be reminded that I am still all around them and not in a creepy way, I hope. To be honest I do not think about death so often. When I am in dangerous situations I do, of course, worry about my well-being but beyond that, not so much. The only thing that I am certain will happen after death is that my energy will be recycled. That is just physics, right? Energy never dies, but is instead transferred to something else. The physics is clearly referring to actual physical energy like heat but I feel like the same applies to my “life energy” as well. At the very least, I will always live on through stories, photographs, and memories. All the morticians I interviewed reiterated the importance of appreciating life, and not taking anything for granted. This is something I try hard to remind myself of and incorporate into my life everyday, but alas I am only human and sometimes lose track of what is truely important. On the way home from interviewing morticians for this book, my sister and I saw a car that slid out of control on Route 1, flipped over, and drifted on its roof across the median to our side of the road. The car was smashed. We parked and ran out and thanks to his seatbelt, the man was fine. His car was almost flattened and he had hardly a scratch. If he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt we would probably have walked up to a dead body. I wanted to hug him for being alive but I was too afraid to break him, we just waited for the police to come. I made sure to call everyone close to me over the following days to tell them how much they all meant to me. It’s clique, I know, but life is crazy and you really never know what is coming next.

Sentiments

Merchants of Death

Dan Pelligrine Just over a century ago we believed a deity was responsible for the rise of man, a creator had created the universe. Now we know better, both biologically and cosmologically. Only after the birth of modern science were we able to look back at our species meteoritic rise and appreciate how we were the only ones responsible for it. I would like to believe that we are living in such ignorance now, but instead of needing to ask where we came from, we must ask, “where are we going?” Or perhaps, “where will I go?” Unlike the evolution of a species and the rise of civilization, death is a singular experience. Despite crafting an astonishing amount of mythology over the course of history, our final moments can only be shared with ourselves, and relayed to nobody. Aloneness and uncertainty. Two emotions loathed by humans. As social creatures who’s survival depended on the empathy of their community, and intelligent animals who can think and reason and demands rationality, to be torn from our loved ones arms, to leave the only Earth you’ve stood upon, with absolutely no assurance of continuing to exist as a whole entity, is the most awful, frightening experience I could imagine. And, apparently, the last one. Reincarnation? An absurd notion which reeks of anthropomorphism. Heaven and Hell? A construct devised to assert control over the masses. I could make up my own of course, but it wouldn’t be real, no matter how many people believe in it or want to go there. If there is anything, ANYTHING after death, then it’s nigh heretical to lampoon it with such absurd ideas of an afterlife that do little more than comfort ourselves. I would like to believe though that this ignorance will be excised in our lifetimes though. Quantum Mechanics and string theory and the Big Bang hold answers much more spectacular than our minds can simply imagine, and it’s in these realms as humans exponentially dive deeper and deeper into them, that I believe the answers to our oldest questions will be found. We were born from the stars The stars are where we must go.

Sentiments

Merchants of Death

Charlotte Jacobson “Funerals, like all life cycle events, are powerful emotional moments. Very often when people seem to be at their weakest, that’s usually when they are showing their greatest strengths.” I don’t think I’ve had enough experience with death to truly understand this, but it’s definitely an interesting thought. The only funeral I’ve ever attended was my grandmother’s, and I was just 9 years old. I remember being sad, and seeing my parents cry was the weirdest feeling ever when I was that young. At that age, I feel like we often do not see our parents as real people yet. So, the fact that they were crying made me upset and confused as to how real the situation was. I’m not quite sure how I feel about the afterlife, or reincarnation. I would like to think that once we die, we aren’t just put into a box and stuffed underground the rest of eternity, but at the same time I have difficulty believing in a higher power that brings our soul up to “heaven” or “hell” and we are either rewarded or punished. It all seems too false to be real. Maybe I believe in reincarnation. I could have been Elvis in a previous life, who knows? I think that’s what is so intriguing about death. No one really knows. Death is a strange thing. You know it’s going to happen to everyone eventually, but when you’re young, it’s not something that crosses your mind as an actual possibility. I don’t have a will. I hadn’t planned on getting one anytime soon. But now I think maybe I should. Just in case. This is for my mom-mom and Justin. I wish I had more time with the both of you. Rest In Peace.

Sentiments

Merchants of Death

Patrick McPeak I have never been afraid of death. Growing up Catholic, I spent Sunday mornings at my grandmother’s house making pony-bead rosaries and other Catholic crafts with my brother. My grandmother always let us know that if we were “good Catholic boys” that God would take care of us when we died. I don’t necessarily believe that heaven is a place up in the clouds or that I’ll have to convince St. Peter to let me through the pearly gates anymore but I’ll never forget the first experience I had with the passing of a loved one I can clearly remember the cool, fall morning in September of 2002. I was 12 years old and in the sixth grade. We always had the same neighbors growing up, a couple, Barbara and Hershel Shipp. Hershel was the son of a pimp and one of his “girls,” who grew up in St. Louis but moved to Philadelphia in his twenties to get a job and live with his brother. I always knew Hershel as a retired man who loved sweets, no matter how bad is diabetes got. As I got closer to high school, his daily desserts finally caught up to him and he passed due to complications of the vile disease. To this day, Hershel’s funeral was one of the most beautiful events I’ve ever attended. A member of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Pennlyn, Pennsylvania, the choir was it’s own musical act that toured the country singing in gospel competitions and brought in award after award. Before the funeral started, guests were prompted to walk in front of the open casket and say their final goodbyes to Hershel. My brother was just as upset as he was when Hershel told him that he had to put down his beloved German Shepard, Major. I remember touching his forearm and letting him know that no one was going to tell him he couldn’t have another big slice of pie anymore. I was like any other Catholic boy. I would look at the song list for mass and get excited when there were only four songs on it, which meant mass would be a bit shorter and I could go back to playing video games in my living room. That day I was completely blown away by the power of song. I can clearly remember and almost hear the lead vocalist’s rendition of “Goin’ Up Yonder” like it was the other day. I thought I would be in for a somber service but there wasn’t a single set of hands silent that morning. We sang for Hershel because we were celebrating his life instead of mourning his passing. After we had finished the two-hour service, everyone spent another half-hour catching up and chatting before the pastor instructed us to move downstairs for a meal. Hershel’s daughter had cooked up what seemed like a hundred pounds of chicken and all of Hershel’s favorite foods. We ate, drank and told the funniest stories about Hershel we could. I couldn’t believe that this was what a funeral was. Sentiments

Merchants of Death

Maggie Andresen When I was six years old, I asked my teacher a question, the content was unimportant. She told me offhandedly that I would find the answer myself by the time I was twelve. Twelve! Surely, I thought, I’d be dead by then! It seemed eons away, I didn’t fear the concept but rather accepted it as a fact. Never a religious person, I always thought of death in a different way than a heaven or hell being a final resting place. From as early as I can recall, my mental image of any sort of “heaven” has been a large and interactive watercolor painting. Bright magenta, deep cerulean, forest green, all painted together in a wonderful mess. It wasn’t a place one could walk, speak, or embrace a “god.” Rather, I thought of it as a place where one became a mutable part of the fabric of the painting. As a section of watercolor, I dreamt of moving as a color around the other-world and it fascinated me. So death never frightened me growing up, when somebody I knew died I assumed they would be part of the painting. It was when I was a senior in high school and my friend Raven, two years my elder, killed herself when I lost that image of the painting. It hurt too much to think of her as gone, I didn’t place her in the same category as those I knew who had died of cancer, old age, or physical ailment. Because she chose to take her own life my concept of what it really meant to die changed. I stopped thinking about the painting because as much as I wanted to picture Raven there, I couldn’t. All I saw when I pictured her spirit was darkness, the same darkness she was shrouded in while she lived. Her youth changed things, the fact that she hadn’t really lived. How then could she live on in my painting, when she took her life before she had the chance? This project initially dredged up some nasty feelings to be completely honest. I struggle daily with my feelings about Raven’s suicide, it has become a normal part of my routine but that doesn’t make it easier. Our project, however, forced me to think about my painting again. That made me happier, because that’s where I have placed my other loved ones who have passed. It’s where I’m working on putting a brush stroke of black, for someone unable to enjoy life on the surface, but who I am making room for in my painting.

Sentiments

Merchants of Death

Emily Ganser I’ve never really been bothered by death. I had never even been affected by it until one summer during my junior year in high school. I had three people very close to me die in the span of one summer. My cousin passed away from a heroine overdose. I remember my dad calling me to tell me he was going to pick me up from school that day. It was really weird hearing that he died because I’d never gotten news like that. Oddly, it didn’t really hit me until I attended the funeral. There was an open casket, which is what caused me to break down. I hadn’t seen my cousin in such a long time and now he was this waxy looking body lying in a casket. It was a strange ceremony too since he died so young. Afterwards, we had a big luncheon in the building next to the church. It was as if we all didn’t just sit through a funeral and now it was time to eat. After that, my view on funerals was a little warped. Later that summer, my cross-country coach died from a heart attack while doing a charity hike. He had been coaching for a long time so his funeral was huge. It was held in this enormous church and not everyone even fit inside. People came up to the podium and gave their individual stories about him. I don’t think I cried during the ceremony at all. Several weeks later, my confirmation sponsor and close family friend, Svea passed away. She was in her late 90s, so her death wasn’t too much of a surprise. I didn’t even want to attend the funeral. I thought, “I shouldn’t have to go to another one of these.” My mom made me go to it. This funeral may have been the saddest one. There was barely anyone there and the people that did attend were much older. It broke my heart that someone in her 90s only had so many people in her life towards the end. I had gone from being so unfamiliar with death, to experiencing it all at once. It made me almost numb to the whole thing. To me, it’s just something that happens. It is also a subject to tiptoe around. Others are not as open to talking about death as I might be. I respect that because it’s a completely different perspective than I have and, at times, can even understand.

Sentiments

Merchants of Death