Forest Haven Cemetery, buried in the woods, sealed by the storm

Leelanau School cemetery photo by Linda Dewey

With Halloween approaching, we tour our rural, sometimes forgotten, cemeteries

By Linda Alice Dewey
Sun contributor

At one time, it was lovely and serene. “We begin in a peaceful place in the woods among the tall timber and wildflowers of Leelanau County,” wrote author Leonard G. Overmyer in his 1999 book Forest Haven Soldiers: The Civil War Veterans of Glen Lake & Surrounding Leelanau. “A site, by Forest Haven Road and M-22, where lies the old Glen Arbor Township Cemetery. It was used primarily in the 1800s and beginning of the 1900s for the early pioneers of the area. This quiet location holds the final resting-place of several Civil War soldiers.”

Historian Al Barnes had also described the graveyard 20-some years before, as cited in Overmyer’s book. “At the edge of the village of Glen Arbor is an abandoned and overgrown cemetery. Only a few graves can be identified. Trees have grown about them … Here and there, a rusted G.A.R. [Grand Army of the Republic] sign can be seen. Memory of many people who lie there is gone. The cemetery tells a part of the history of the village, which should be salvaged and, in some way, somehow, made to live again in the minds of the residents.”

I first visited the little cemetery in the woods behind Boonedocks in 1991. My experience there was so profound, it would eventually compel me to write my first book, Aaron’s Crossing: An Inspiring True Ghost Story.

It was the perfect setting for a ghost story. “The little graveyard deep in the woods appeared to have been abandoned long ago,” I wrote. “Headstones tipped at odd angles, and a rusty wire gate swung into oblivion …”

But, it wasn’t abandoned—not completely. The National Park Service (NPS), which now owned it, had cleared fallen trees and underbrush along the path. My future visits would reveal new clusters of artificial flowers at a family grave or painted rocks carefully placed on footstones or little American flags posted at each soldier’s grave. Even so, on later visits, I was the one to take a stick and scratch away the moss and leaves growing over the flat, large handmade cake of cement that named Trumbull antecedents.

Then came the storm of Aug. 2, 2015. Tree trunks twisted and tangled as they fell, piling high across the long path, blocking it. Using GPS, my friend Bonnie Gonzales and I tried to climb through from every angle. It was impassable. The graveyard I had once described as “dormant, its secret hidden by the forest,” was not only hidden now, it was completely sealed in by the storm. I could only imagine the dismay of families who had buried love ones there, had they somehow known. At the time, they had trusted the cemetery’s care to the township.

Who were these people in these graves? What were their stories? Where are the records?

Thirteen or 14 years ago, when I was researching Aaron’s Crossing, Glen Arbor Township Clerk Bonnie Quick told me that the National Park had requested all the cemetery records. Glen Arbor obliged and sent them over. I then called the Park and was told that they never received them. I contacted Overmyer, who said most of his information came from Traverse City’s military records. I also learned that, a long time ago, a fire at the Glen Arbor Township Hall may have destroyed many of the town’s records.

Interestingly, another small cemetery in Glen Arbor does have well-maintained grounds and records. There’s even a story to go with this little plot located on the lake side of the entry drive to the Leelanau School. There, atop a small hill, two large white crosses stand surrounded by an unpainted ranch-style fence.

Spanish teacher Kim Speicher often takes her students there on Dia de los Muertes, to honor that tradition. She told me the story of the woman who lies there with her twin babies.

According to Speicher, the pregnant woman and her husband fled Beaver Island’s King Strang, who led an offshoot Mormon sect and designated himself king. From 1850-1856, Strang ruled the island with an iron fist.

Unwilling to bring their children into the world under a tyrant’s rule, the couple set out in a small boat. When they could paddle no more, they landed on the shores of Glen Arbor, which was at that time was called “Sleeping Bear Township.”

Fearing the king’s reprisals, the couple, assisted by the townspeople, broke up the boat to make it appear shipwrecked. When his family died, the devastated husband left. The cross at the burial site says, “Mrs. Fields and her twins.”

The Leelanau School owns and maintains the cemetery, states retired teacher Norm Wheeler. “We rebuilt the fence and crosses maybe 10 years ago, but it’s time to spruce things up, at least with a coat of paint,” Wheeler says. “The students at school have a sense of ownership when they hear the story every year.”

It’s somehow satisfying to learn the story behind a grave. Someone lived here, loved here, died here.

Unfortunately, declares Empire Township Clerk Chris Neiswonger, lack of records for small cemeteries is a not uncommon problem. Empire has one cemetery located within National Park boundaries. When asked about its records, Neiswonger answers, “I have no clue.” There’s another old, small, private cemetery within the township on Oviatt Road, she adds, called the “Bland Cemetery.” No records exist for it either.

“From what I was told,” Neiswonger explains, “a lot of times, records were held by individual people. Houses burnt down, etc., and those records went by the wayside. It’s a shame, really.”

Empire Township does not keep records of its cemeteries at all, Neiswonger concedes. Records for Maple Grove Cemetery, which is owned by an association, are kept by one woman, Dorothy “Dottie” Fradd, age 80, who is unavailable for comment.

Port Oneida cemetery photo by Andrew White, Port Oneida Community Alliance

Over in Port Oneida, Cleveland Township Supervisor Tim Stein states that the township owns Kelderhouse Cemetery, although it is located within National Park boundaries. Its maintenance, he says, “is on our dime.” Jan Nowak, the township clerk, reports that they hire someone to mow the grass and maintain whatever records they have.

In 2015, the Port Oneida Community Alliance (POCA) received permission from Cleveland Township “to clean, restore, and maintain [its] cemetery markers,” says POCA president Jim Kelderhouse. POCA received a grant, hired an expert and held a two-day cemetery restoration workshop. Workbees continue.

Of the nine cemeteries located within park boundaries, Ulrich tells us, four are owned by the National Park service: Forest Haven in Glen Arbor, North Manitou Island, South Manitou Island, and the Werner Cemetery at Port Oneida, plus at least two small family plots on South Manitou. “The park does the maintenance on those, often with the assistance of community that has an interest,” he notes.

Will the path to the Forest Haven Cemetery be cleared and the graveyard restored?

“I’m not sure,” admits Ulrich. “We would like to be able to have access to it,” he says, adding that there are families with people buried there. “The trail route that we tried to keep open is no longer the [best] way of getting there; the fuel break between Forest Haven Rd. and M-22 might be the most efficient route. It will be quite a substantial undertaking …

“I think we will at some point do some assessment,” he concludes.

Linda Alice Dewey is the author of Aaron’s Crossing: An Inspiring True Ghost Story and The Ghost Who Would Not Die, which is available at the Cottage Book Shop. She spoke about her ghost experiences at the October 10 meeting of the Glen Arbor Women’s Club at the Glen Arbor Town Hall.

Ballad of Johnny Fields
By Anne-Marie Oomen

Refrain:
Oh the Sleeping Bea now holds our bones,
And it makes, for the sailors, a home.
We’re buried here all through the years,
Lives marked by wood and stone.

(Woman’s voice):
I was just a girl and just a wife,
Married to young Johnny Fields.

(Man’s voice):
We vowed to live right, to live the good life,
With Strang’s Mormons on Beaver Island.

(Woman):
But things went wrong, soured our song,
Strang was mean as he was cruel.

(Man):
His greed was freed, his whip was long,
He turned to a tyrant’s rule.

(Woman):
We tried to live right, to keep the good life,
But my babies were on their way.

(Man):
We took to the lake, our only escape
A small boat in the great cold waves.

(Woman):
We drifted a day, lost our way,
We feared the lake’s wet tomb.

(Man):
I knew we were lost, cold watery ghosts,
Me, my wife, the babes in the womb.

(Woman):
Then at dawn, a distant song,
folks calling from a far away shore.

(Man):
We looked to the sand, a golden land,
Our failing hope restored.

(Woman):
They saved us from harm, made us warm,
And gave us a place to stay.

(Man):
Her time was near, for her they feared,
And convinced us we should remain.

(Woman):
But our fear was high, Strang’s men would fly
To hang traitors by the neck.

(Man):
The settlers made moves, developed a ruse,
Made our boat appear as a wreck.

(Woman):
And just as we felt the world would be well,
I began my labor of pain.

(Man):
Oh brave girl, like a flower unfurled,
She gave all without complaint.

(Woman):
I tried to live, I wanted to give
Johnny and the babes a good life.
Johnny, look here, don’t waste those tears,
Raise up those babies I’ve left.

(Man):
But the babes died too, and with them my youth,
My love, my life was all loss.
So I buried my wife and all that good life.
On their graves I planted a cross.

And ever since then, when times are cruel,
When the lake and its fates bring on death,
They bury them here, with the girl and her twins,
And wish them peace and good rest.

Refrain:
Oh the Sleeping Bear now holds our bones,
And it makes, for the sailors, a home.
We’re buried here all through the years,
Lives marked by wood and stone.