THE BLADE
Toledo, Ohio, Thursday June 1, 2001



"This is a living, breathing place.
I want kids here. I want people here to see the trees,
the gardens, the architecture."
Angela Waller, spokeswoman for Historic Woodlawn Cemetery

Woodlawn offers
more than history

By Robin Erb
Blade Staff Writer

It is an island of tranquility - 160 acres of flowering trees, scampering critters, and chirping birds - smack dab in the middle of Toledo's bustling midsection.

	A portion of the 160-acre grounds are framed in the window behind them as Kay Foster, left, and Julia Orwig talk in the chapel at Historic Woodlawn Cemetery. The chapel was built in 1883. (Photo: The Blade/Lisa Dutton)

It also has a granite armchair.

Although Historic Woodlawn Cemetery is 125 years old and the resting place of some of the area's most distinguished residents, the memorial park at Jackman Road and Central Avenue also is an arboretum, an outdoor classroom, and an ever-evolving, sometimes quirky look at local history.

Perhaps most important, said Angela Waller, spokeswoman for the cemetery, Woodlawn is a living monument to the future of the city.

"This is a living, breathing place," she said. "I want kids here. I want people here to see the trees, the gardens, the architecture."

At a ceremony yesterday marking the cemetery's quasquicentennial, officials planted a tri-colored Beech tree near its entrance. Events are planned later this year as part of the celebration, and crews will break ground on a public mausoleum - the first in the cemetery - this fall.

Yesterday's planting of the beech was befitting a site where towering memorials, exquisitely-detailed grave markers, and grandly-ornate mausoleums are outdone only by a lush canopy of trees, a layer of flowers, and three reflecting ponds.

Tony Knight, Kirk Holdcroft, and Dr. Richard Lane, from left, plant a Beech tree in Toledo's Historic Woodlawn Cemetery as part of an observance of the cemetery's 125th anniversary. (Photo: The Blade/Lisa Dutton)

"We want something that will attract the herons, the birds, the wood ducks, and swans," said David Welch, grounds superintendent. "We want something beautiful."

Beautiful? Certainly. Historical? Even more so.

To understand the importance of the resting place for 65,000 former area residents, one must understand just how much of Toledo's past is contained here inside the two miles of turn-of-the-century wrought-iron fence.

Some of the history is obvious by the names on the markers: Libbey, Secor, Stranahan, Spitzer, and DeVilbiss. Many lie in extravagant family mausoleums reflected in the ponds.

Others are in graves marked by angels, Bibles, or ancient women carrying flowers. One monument holds the bronze relief of Civil War General William T. Sherman's famous "March to the Sea."

Flags mark burial plots - both elaborate and simple - of the approximate 5,500 veterans here.

A second layer of Toledo area history can be gleaned only after a quick lesson in graveyard etiquette and finances.

Like many cemeteries, Woodlawn's grounds are made up of concentric rings of status.

The closer a plot to the center - and thus to the site's 1883 chapel - the more expensive and prestigious the plot.

Stroll to the outer circles of the cemetery, and many of the graves are simply ground markers only - bearing the names of soldiers, homemakers, farmers, small businessmen, and their children. Along busy Jackman, Great Depression-era graves have sunken. Money was stretched too thin at the time to pay for the necessary shoring up of a grave to prevent such ground-shifting.

Around one of the four war memorials, Civil War soldiers are buried in a star-shaped pattern around the memorial marker that juts into the sky.

And then there's the . . . well, unconventional, side of Toledo's historic graveyard.

At the northeast comer, a 25-foot high pyramid of rocks honors the founder of the Toledo Newsboys Association.

In honor of John Gunckel his colleagues and friends collected rocks from around the world for his memorial.

Head back to the entrance, and one can hardly miss the spire-like memorial to Bessie Ludwig.

Four columns rise from an enormous pedestal and contain a detailed, granite replica of an easy chair. Folklore says that Mrs. Ludwig sat in the chair for 25 years after the death of her husband, afraid that if she lay down, she would never get up again. She died in 1930.

Looking to the future, Woodlawn has enough plots for another 50 to 60 years; longer if it expands into some unused city land nearby, Ms. Waller said.

"This place is Toledo," Ms. Waller said, scanning the lawns yesterday from her golf cart just before the ceremony . "Its history is here, and the older I get the more I understand that only by understanding your history can you plan your future."