The mystery of the down-pointing hand

A walk in Highland Cemetery uncovers a mystery and later solves it.

James Mann "Ghost Tour" in Highland Cemetery

Dusty D were privileged to take part in a tour of Highland Cemetery last night with local historian James Mann. Bonus: atmospheric kerosene lanterns!

About 15 people showed up at 6 p.m., mostly young people from a local History Club (?). James lit the lanterns and leading the way with one, led us through the side gate that the caretakers had left unlocked for him. We walked under the huge yellow trees lining the driveway, over yellow leaves like decals on the wet asphalt.

James led the group south past the graves of O. E. Thompson and his wife, onetime merchant in the THompson Building. He stopped at two small graves under an incandescent yellow maple tree. "How many of you know what green stamps are?" he asked. Three adults raised their hands, and James proceeded to tell the story of Shelly Hutchinson's rise as the pioneer of these consumer "points" stamps.

A pause at the Soldier's Memorial was followed by a stop at pioneer doctor Helen McAndrew's grave, near the spot where last week's SLAPS tour had had an encounter. We turned at the southwest corner and headed north along the back of the cemetery.

James paused at several graves and gave talks about the person resting in each one. The high point for Dusty D came when we visited lumber baron Scoville's family plot. James talked about the iconography on three graves standing together. One showed clasped hands. The next, a hand pointing up. The last, the grave of Elizabeth Scovill, showed a hand pointing down. James said that none of the researchers at the Archives had been able to find any information about her--not even an obituary, for one of the most well-known families (that included a mayor) in the history of Ypsilanti.

You can be sure that Dusty D was intrigued. I also noted that the top of this monument had been broken off at one point, and replaced. Hmmm.

Night and rain fell. James continued to lead the umbrella'd group around in the northern section of the cemetery, but sweetie and I said a goodbye and scooted off. Dusty D was glad to see James in action and observe how he conducted a tour. It was a pleasant evening in a stunningly beautiful red, orange, green, and yellow October-evening.

Highland Cemetery Ghost Photo?

This photo was taken in Highland Cemetery last Saturday night while ghost- hunting.

SLAPS member Jennifer says, "Here is the picture that we took when Gerry started yelling that the car was moving. It was taken by our ghost hunter T."

This photo was taken in the extreme southwest section of Highland Cemetery.

Wednesday Mystery Photo: The Trysting Tree

Dusty D hoped to stump readers with a close-up of Highland Cemetery's famous "trysting tree," the enormous copper beech covered with decades of lovers' inscriptions. Nope. A gentleman in Dearborn (formerly of Ypsi) nailed it. The tree is just a bit north of Starkweather Chapel. Turn right and walk till you hear yourself saying "Holy ******* ****!" That's the one.










Here's a background tale of the Trysting Tree, Ypsilanti's only named tree (click for readable size).


It's written by Eileen Harrison, my favorite former local history writer. She's good.


This week we move away from the natural world to a man-made structure.


The only clue you'll get is that it's not terribly far from the Trysting Tree. Take your best guess, and good luck!

Peck's Gully Investigation and the Mysterious White Lions

DD: "Honey! Guess what I found out! That Peck's Gully thing has stuff sticking out of the ground!"

DDH: "Peck's what?"

DD: "Peck's GULLY--it's that old dump! We have to go see it! It's like a nineteenth-century Superfund site!"

DDH: "Sounds jolly. We're gonna wear Hazmat suits into Highland Cemetery?"

DD: "Nooo, silly, all the bad stuff is gone by now." (Sudden musing) "Like Mrs. Winslow's Soothin' Syrup. That had opium in it. They used to give that to kids!"

DDH: "We're gonna look for opium in a Superfund site?"

DD: "Nooo, honey, we're gonna try and authenticate--"

DDH: "I'm not going unless there's morphine."

DD: (derailed again) "Well, a lot of patent medicines DID have morphine. And cocaine--catarrh powders were mostly cocaine. But for most medicines the thing was booze. (back on track) Wouldn't it be cool to find an old patent medicine bottle? That would be AWESOME!"

DDH: "Almost as awesome as reading my book."

DD: "Honey...if you go to the dump, someone could read a book about YOU--because it'd be such a cool thing! You could be a part of history! You could...I thought..." (lower lip trembles)...

At the cemetery, we reconnoitred the southwest side. We were looking for the elusive white lions that kind reader Siani had alluded to:

You know, if anyone is interested in poking around down there my husband and I found a path down into the gully from the cemetary. We live directly across the street and love to take walks there, or just sit on the porch and admire the view. It's somewhere along the back left side of the cemetary, I think on the path that leads back away from the civil war memorial? There are two small white lions that stand on either side of a little path leading out of the cemetary and down the hill.

DD: (near Civil War Memorial) "We're looking for the Path of the Two White Lions."

DDH: "This is getting very Da Vinci Code."

We wandered along and passed the grave of William McCullough at the back southwest side of the cemetery. No sooner had we passed it when--

DD: "LOOK! THERE THEY ARE!"

The white lions flanked a little path leading back into the woods. We followed it as it wandered down the hill. Five minutes in, we glimpsed a blue thing to the right of the path and investigated. It was a tarp, under a stick lean-to evidently built by kids. Some burned wood and an old chair hinted that this had been a beer-drinking spot. A pair of unmentionables supported this theory. We went back to the path and followed it down.

The path winds down the hill for 15 minutes or so. Then it dead-ends at a small stream, likely spring-fed. Four tree trunks blocked the stream. DDH noted, "Oh, someone built a dam." I wondered. It didn't look like a dam. It looked more like...a barrier. I quietly picked my way down the stream a bit. Through the thick underbrush, just beyond the barrier, not 20 feet away through thick underbrush, I glimpsed a white dome tent (below). I turned to DDH and held a finger up to my lips.

DD: (whispers) "Someone's down there. Either someone's living there or it's some meth lab or something."

DDH: "Backtrack?"

DD: "Yeah!"

We quickly and quietly scooted back up the trail.

Though we had searched for a way to get down into Peck's Gully, the presence of a tent denizen made us vow to seek another route down in the future. We'd seen multiple other paths, but they were impossibly steep. But given time and patience I'm sure we will find a way down that avoids a confrontation with the individual apparently living deep in the woods behind Highland Cemetery.

Why do two white lions mark this trail? Who placed them there? What did they originally signify?

One thing haunted Dusty D on the way down.

About 400 yards from the lions, deep in the woods, there's a huge patch of lilies of the valley.

Although they're native to Michigan, it's also something you see over and over in old or abandoned cemeteries--large, incongruous spreads of lilies of the valley probably originating from just a few plants planted on someone's grave. You may recall that they surrounded Allie McCullough's father's grave (at right). Left to their own devices, the plants often spread throughout the grounds of untended 19th-century cemeteries overcome by woods. I've seen such patches in several places in old Washtenaw County cemeteries.

I also reflected that in the distant past, some cemeteries would refuse to bury, within their consecrated grounds, suicides, lunatics, murderers, or unbaptized babies.

Could these lions mark the entrance to an old, unconsecrated section of the cemetery?

Were the lilies planted a century or more ago on an unmarked grave? Or graves? Planted by someone who, despite the community's attempt to erase and forget that person... remembered?