(This nonfiction article is a reprint, having been published twice before, in slightly different versions, once in the late, lamented "Morbid Curiosity" magazine.)
Whenever I tell someone that I’m an archaeologist, the typical response
is something like, “Cool. I’ve always
been interested in that.” Then when I
describe a common artifact or site their eyes invariably glaze over. I certainly understand it; they’re used to
seeing dramatic things like Egyptian tombs or Mayan temples on television or in
National Geographic, and a few projectile points or the remains of a fire pit (
things that contract archaeologists like myself commonly encounter) usually
just aren’t interesting to a layperson.
However, mention that you’ve exhumed graves, and your audience usually
perks up. Many people pepper you with
questions. And the ones that don’t ask
anything usually are doing so because they find the concept revolting, but not
tedious.
Burial projects aren’t that common in my line of work, but even so, in
my twenty years in the field I’ve spent over two of these years just
exhuming. The jobs have ranged from a
week long project investigating a tiny, six grave family cemetery, to a nine
month long job with over 4000 bodies, and requiring a crew of 50 to remove
them. The jobs have been mostly in the
Mid Atlantic, and were fairly recent historic burials—early 1800’s up to the
1960’s.
For a variety of reasons the maps and overall burial records of the
cemeteries were usually spotty and incomplete.
Therefore we generally had only a rough idea of where grave shafts
were. The excavation of the graves was almost
always begun by the backhoes; the machines would remove most of the soil atop
the graves until the outlines of the grave shafts were seen. (Oh, and I know the expression is “Six feet
under” but clearly, especially in pre-backhoe days, and in areas with rocky or
compact soils, many gravediggers figured three or four feet was deep enough.) In some cases this was demonstrated by soil
changes, for some the actual coffin outline was apparent, and for some the
presence of the bones themselves showed the grave’s location. Once this was done workers would typically place
wooden stakes at the head and foot of each shaft, sometimes with nails
connected by string tracing the outline of the actual shaft. Each grave shaft would then be numbered, and
its location mapped in, and surveying teams would try to match up the graves to
the existing maps (if any).
Now it was time to actually dig up the graves. The excavators, typically divided into two or
three person teams, dug with shovels and discarded the dirt produced, until
they encountered bone. At this point,
the digging team used trowels, dustpans, and brushes to completely uncover the
skeleton. Soil lying directly adjacent
to the bones was then passed through quarter-inch screen to recover any bits of
bone or small artifacts (such as nails or buttons) not seen during the
excavation. After the skeleton was
uncovered and cleaned off as well as possible a photograph was taken of it. (Note:
On smaller jobs, when we had more time to spend on individual graves,
more photographs and drawings were done.)
Then, the bones were removed, and as they came out basic scientific data
was noted about them either by a professional osteologist (bone specialist) or
by the excavating team themselves, depending on the project. This information included the body’s
approximate age of death, sex, and stature, if any or all of these were
possible to determine (and many times they weren’t), along with any signs of
disease or injury. The bones were placed
within cardboard boxes, (sometimes wrapped in plastic bags) along with plastic
bags containing the coffin nails, metal hinges, (and for some projects, pieces
of the coffin itself) and any personal non-human remains found in the grave. These boxes were then usually reburied (for
one job they were cremated), typically in huge concrete burial vaults.
Several factors often complicated this simple procedure. Probably the worst one was water. Many of the cemeteries had relatively high
water tables, so a grave shaft was sometimes moist or even completely under
water. We would use sponges, buckets, or
water pumps depending on the severity, but in some cases there was no way to
remove the water and you just had to do the best you could, and hope no bones
were accidentally left in the murky lake facing you. Another common problem was soil that was
heavily infested with rocks and/or compacted by heavy machinery running over
it. To get through these soils, pickaxes
were necessary, which obviously increased the chances of inadvertently damaging
the bones. Other obstructions were
construction related, such as concrete
light post columns or highway supports which had been carelessly punched
through the grave shaft, which clearly also wreaked considerable havoc on the
body inside.
The burial practices of the time period also complicated our job. The average grave shaft had more than one
body in it (the most I heard of was seven) and frequently the coffins had
rotted to a degree that sent all the bodies in the shaft into each other. It was often difficult (sometimes impossible)
to tell which bone went with which person.
Finally, the preservation of the bodies varied tremendously. Some were nearly pristine, with every single
bone still present and firm.
Unfortunately, these were rare exceptions. Most had suffered significant decay, and
sometimes the few remaining bones were either powdery, mushy, or as thin and
fragile as tissue paper. The ribs,
vertebrae (spine bones), hand bones, and foot bones were more rarely recovered,
with the skull and long bones—the femur (thigh bone), tibia and fibula (lower
leg bones), humerus (upper arm bone), ulna and radius (lower arm bones), and pelvis being the most resistant to
decay. Notice that I’ve only mentioned
bones so far. Flesh was rarely
found. By far the most common organ
recovered was the brain. Other tissue
remains I saw were sheets of fat (which resembled grayish globs), and probably
kidneys/liver (which looked like reddish-yellow cornmeal). Hair was rare as well, but every so often it
would be recovered—sometimes entire ponytails, eyebrows, and even,
disturbingly, pubic hairs. One body in a
cracked concrete vault (which really helped preserve the deceased) also had
extensive skin, and ligaments. That was
one of the very few bodies that had a strong, bad odor—reminiscent of pickles,
very vinegary. And finger and toe nails
were exceedingly uncommon—much to the relief of much of the crew, as many found
these body parts oddly repugnant.
Some pathologies—illnesses or injuries—leave evidence on the bones. Although these were rare, all told we saw
quite a few different injuries and conditions.
Most of the injuries seen were bone breaks, sometimes showing healing
with bad settings, which must have been excruciatingly painful. One man obviously had been hit by a large
object such as a train, as practically every long bone he had showed the
distinctive spiral fractures which would result from such a collision. Another man had clearly been murdered; he had
a blunt force trauma on the front of his skull, along with two gunshot wounds, also
to the skull. One of the bullets, a .32
caliber, was recovered and must have been lodged within him.
As for diseases, tuberculosis was by far the most common one seen, with
its characteristic pits in the long bones, clavicles, and vertebrae. Several cases of syphilis were also found,
including one man whose striations (bands) on his teeth revealed that he had
congenital syphilis. Another skeleton’s
pelvis was extremely thick and looked like coral, indicating cancer. Some bone abnormalities showed how a disease
had been treated or identified; we saw dozens of bones, usually skulls, with
straight cuts through them that indicated that they had been autopsied, and
other skulls with smooth, bored holes which told us that the person had been
the recipient of trepanation.
Skeletons with extraordinarily rare conditions were also exhumed. Several microcephalic skulls were recovered,
whose owners in pre-P.C. days were probably called, “pinheads.” Another woman’s pelvis yielded a boney, but
slightly spongy softball-sized mass which was either an ovarian tumor or a
reabsorbed placenta/fetus. And one
radius with an extra “prong” was something our osteologist had never seen
before.
Several other unusual items appeared in grave shafts every now and then
as well. One grave contained a skeleton,
along with a metal box which contained the cremated ashes of another
person. Most unsettling of all was the
jar with a five-month-old fetus still preserved in formaldehyde. Also strange were the tiny coffins containing
nothing but an amputated limb, which seems bizarre and absurd to me. I guess that’s the one funeral in which the,
“deceased,” can give their own eulogy, and what do they say? “My right leg was one of my closest friends,
and I’ll always remember its generous nature and delightful sense of humor.”? One cemetery had a “witch’s bottle” buried in
it—a magic charm consisting of a bottle filled with nails (and sometimes,
bodily substances, such as urine, feces, menstrual blood, etc). This was usually evil magic, to break up a
relationship, so the witch could steal a partner. (And I don’t know what excuse the witch used
if the victim caught them collecting waste from their outhouse!)
Most of the burials contained no non-human remains other than coffin
parts. However, clothing was not
uncommon; usually it was scraps and buttons, but occasionally certain articles
were recognizable, such as a pair of pants, or a dress. Shoes, belts, and hats, and even underwear
were sometimes found as well. Personal
items were more unusual still, but we saw a variety: jewelry such as rings, necklaces, pendants,
and earrings; religious items like rosary beads, crosses, crucifixes, and saint
medallions; change purses and coins; matches; shaving kits; makeup kits;
military medals; a truss; pocket watches; penknives; toothbrushes; combs;
bottles and jars (including embalming fluid bottles, evidently included by a
lazy mortician); dentures; gold teeth; a harmonica; clay pipes; and a doll. The rare glass eyes recovered usually caused
a stir—it’s somewhat alarming to uncover a skull that appears to be staring
back at you!
The fetus account especially reminds me of a common question we got
asked, and still do: “Did it bother you
to dig up dead bodies?” I’d have to say
for most of us the answer would be, “No.”
Certain things bothered some or even most of the crew a bit, like say a
baby’s skeleton, or brains, or particular smells, but this seemed temporary; I
can only recall a person or two who left a project early due to not being able
to handle it psychologically. Clearly, I
think that people had a good idea of what to expect when they signed on for
this type of job. Also, perhaps the fact
that we were basically dealing with just skeletons, and not fleshy bodies (usually)
helped us to distance ourselves enough to get through the project. And yes, we’re human—countless jokes were told
throughout the projects. The humor
ranged from innocent, “Alas poor Yoric, we knew him well,” references to bad
taste kidding around about necrophilia.
Possibly these were coping mechanisms, or else simply our way of passing
the time.
But all joking aside, I was offended by the circumstances which
warranted the projects in the first place.
Several of them were like the movie, “Poltergeist,” in that people or
organizations claimed to have moved the bodies at a previous time, but had only
actually removed a handful, but every one of the headstones or grave markers. One place in NJ had obviously been the area
where a machine had torn through over 60 graves and pushed the bones in a big
pile, in a scene unfortunately reminiscent of the movie, “The Killing
Fields.” Furthermore, the initial
reburial spot for one of the jobs had to be abandoned because a quick
inspection of the cemetery showed over a hundred pieces of human bone scattered
on the surface, near the burial vaults!
Apparently the cemetery’s caretaker was blind and never mowed the
lawn. These incidents obviously show a
serious lack of respect for the dead.
So, in closing, my feelings about digging up the dead are as
follows. Certainly I think that
cemeteries should be well maintained and secure against theft or
vandalism. Plus if alternate areas for
the construction of buildings or roads are feasible these should be opted for
instead. Any transferal of bodies is
disrespectful to a degree—I’m sure that most people don’t like the idea of
having their, or their relatives’ remains exhumed, picked up, probably jostled
and damaged slightly, and finally moved to what is in most cases a mass grave
or burial vault, with their bones encased in a cardboard box. However, the unfortunate reality is that in
some cases alternate areas aren’t feasible, sometimes due to issues like the
discovery of forgotten, unmarked grave yards after construction has begun. In these cases, then, I think that companies
and states should do what was done on the projects I’ve described—remove the
bodies using all reasonable care, and rebury them in another, safe cemetery. That said, I’d be lying if I said that I
didn’t enjoy cemetery projects. Even
with all the physical and emotional issues that I’ve mentioned, I still do find
it interesting. Perhaps part of this can
be attributed to a certain degree of morbidity on my part. “I never feel so alive as when I’m digging up
the dead,” is one of my jokey (perhaps of questionable taste) quotes. However, whatever the reasons, I always try
to do the job as best I can, and at least limit the negative aspects of what is
overall an unfortunate situation.
