Philadelphia Cemeteries that Mark Our Nation's 250th Birthday - Part 4

Gloria Dei Old Swedes Church, Philadelphia

I must thank my readers for prompting me to write about the graveyards associated with the first churches of Philadelphia! I swear this was next on my list. Of course I will discuss Old Swedes Gloria Dei in the Queen Village neighborhood - this is actually a few blocks from where I live and therefore a place I visit often! 

But first, lets talk about the settlement of Philadelphia. I thank historian Tom Keels for sparking my initial interest in Philadelphia’s original burial grounds with his wonderful book, Philadelphia Graveyards and Cemeteries (Arcadia, 2003). As Keels says, the city’s 18th century cemeteries spanned its residents’ social hierarchy from “the elegant obelisks and table tombs of Christ Church [est. 1733] to the unmarked trenches of Strangers Burial Ground" [a potters field, established in 1706 in what is now Washington Square Park at Fifth and Walnut Streets – yes, there are thousands of people buried under that park!] 

Washinton Square Park, 5th and Walnut, Philadelphia (former potters field)

Burial grounds in 1700s Philadelphia consisted of those associated with churches or synagogues, private family burial grounds, and public cemeteries (Potters’ Fields). I’ll cover the latter two categories in an upcoming blog post, but for now, we’ll focus on churches and their adjacent graveyards. 

Early 1700s gravemarkers, Old Swedes

The oldest church in Philadelphia, in fact the oldest in Pennsylvania, is Gloria Dei Old Swedes Church, which was built in 1698 (see black and white photo at top). The Swedes’ settlement on the Delaware River in what is now the city‘s Queen Village neighborhood (historically called Southwark) occurred in 1638, predating the establishment of the city itself (1682). The Old Swedes Church is actually the oldest original building surviving in Philadelphia (and in my opinion, its graveyard has the oldest standing gravemarkers (1708) in the city. Betsy Ross was married here in 1777. Imagine that! You can actually stand at the same altar, on the same marble floor on which she stood. There is a story that the lightning rod and cabling running down the building was installed by a company owned by Benjamin Franklin.

Old Swedes is about ten blocks south of Independence Hall, so if you’re visiting the area, it is a lovely walk down through the Society Hill and Queen Village neighborhoods. And these are neighborhoods in the truest sense – Philadelphia has an oddly high percentage of residential housing mixed in with commercial and historic properties. 

Old St. Mary’s Church, with open graveyard entrance gate

Old St. Mary's Church

If you start your tour of historic Philadelphia near Independence Hall, and decide to head on down to Queen Village to see Old Swede’s, do make it a point to walk down Fourth Street, so that you pass Old St. Mary’s Church, at Fourth and Spruce. Its graveyard entrance is only about thirteen feet wide (the width of a typical rowhome in this city), and you might not even see it if you’re driving. You might not even see the massive church itself! Even though the church is not a rowhome (it is about the width of four rowhomes), it’s entrance directly borders the sidewalk on Fourth Street. This is a densely populated city, and you might be surprised that the churches and synagogues are typically not set back from the street separated by a green lawn like you see in the suburbs. Another interesting fact about the building is its unusual rear architectural design (see photo below). All rowhomes in Philly look alike from the front, but they can be wildly different once you get beyond that!

Visitors in Old St. Mary's Church graveyard

St. Mary’s graveyard entrance is bordered by a heavy black iron fence, directly to the right of the church. Its gate is open from about 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. on weekdays and is one of the city’s oldest burial grounds (it was established in 1759). Commodore John Barry, Father of the American Navy (whose statue you see on the giant pedestal behind Independence Hall), is buried here, along with many early Philadelphians. Signers of the Constitution, artisans, publishers, General George Meade’s grandfather George Meade, Jaqueline Kennedy’s great-great grandfather, Michael Bouvier (who was a renowned cabinet maker), are all buried here in this well-maintained graveyard that opens up into a large area behind the church. Helpful placards are placed throughout the graveyard to identify specific graves and to relate a bit of each person's contribution to our country's history.

Rear view of Old St. Mary’s Church and graveyard, Philadelphia

Grave placard, Old St. Mary's Cemetery

Old St. Joseph's Church

Old St. Mary’s was the second Roman Catholic church to open in Philadelphia, the first being Old St. Joseph Church (near Fourth and Walnut Streets), which was established in 1729 by the Jesuits. Both churches are still active and regularly celebrate mass. That said, open Roman Catholic worship was not tolerated in Philadelphia until 1734, when it was declared legal. 

Catholics were discriminated against in the Colonies, and the religion was not tolerated by the Anglican Church (The Church of England). Catholics had to worship and hold mass in secret. In fact, this fascinating bit of history from The Old St. Joseph Church website tells us that the “Church of England was established by law in Maryland in 1702, an Act to Prevent the Spread of Popery was passed in 1704, and Catholics were fully disenfranchised in 1718…” Jesuit missionaries as a result began moving operations to the more religiously tolerant Pennsylvania.

By the summer of 1734, the matter of a public Mass was brought before the Provincial Council in Philadelphia, where it was reported (ref.) that there was “no small concern to hear that a House lately built in Walnut Street [at Third Street, the site of the current Old St. Joseph Church] was sett apart for the Exercise of the Roman Catholick Religion and it is commonly called the Romish Chappell, where Mass [is] openly celebrated by a Popish priest contrary to the Laws of England.” 

“After deliberations by the Council, the civil and religious freedom set out in Penn’s Charter of Privileges – the constitution of the colony – took precedence over the Penal Laws of England, and the chapel [what became Old St. Joseph Church] remained, a testament to Penn’s ‘Holy Experiment.’“

St. Michael's Church and graveyard, Germantown

St. Michael's, Germantown Ave.

St. Michaels's Church

While the Jesuits were fighting religious persecution in center city, and the Swedes were eating cheese steaks in south Philly, the Germans were settling an area north of the city, which would become Philadelphia’s Germantown neighborhood. St. Michael’s Lutheran Church (6671 Germantown Avenue) was founded in 1728 and its graveyard is fascinating – if only for this reason: Christopher Ludwick is buried here: George Washington’s Baker General to the Continental Army! 

Christopher Ludwick, Baker General!

Someone had to bake the bread to make cheese steaks to feed the army, right? Did you know there was such a person?! You can still stroll the cemetery grounds, but the church actually closed in 2016. Many veterans of the Revolutionary War, War of 1812, and the Civil War are buried here, as is Jacob Hinkle. What, you don’t know Jacob Hinkle? Why, he built the Mermaid Inn in Chestnut hill in 1746! The Inn still boasts a rousing folk music jam on a regular basis. 

Another view of Ludwick's large table grave in front of St. Michael's Church

Tour guide with open gate, Hood Cemetery

Hood Cemetery

If you’re touring Philadelphia, and you want to check out Germantown (or “Freedom’s Backyard” as  HistoricGermantownPa.org calls it), you can buy something called the OnePass this summer, which grants you access to nine historic Germantown sites. Available through August (2026), the $43 pass allows you access to historic buildings, but alas no graveyards. The Hood Cemetery (est. 1692) at 4910 Germantown Avenue, is actually on the tour map, but you need special access to get through its unusual keyhole-shaped entryway. While scaling the stone wall is possible, you really shouldn’t - you might injure yourself or the fragile grave markers. This small burial ground has 58 Revolutionary War soldiers buried here, fighters from the Battle of Germantown. It is one of a few secular burial grounds established in Philadelphia during the Colonial era, i.e., it was not associated with any church or religion. It was mainly for Germantown residents.

A most unusual grave marker in Hood Cemetery is the highly personalized zinc 1876 marker for Mary Ann, who died, tragically, when she was hit by a train. Odd that in this year of the semiquincentennial, 150 years later, people still get hit by trains. However, it is not odd to find a grave this recent in a cemetery this old. While Hood Cemetery is relatively small and it had been established 184 years before Mary Ann died, it seems they found space for one more. There is even a grave marker from 1937, which is about the time they stopped burying people here. Harrowgate, by the way, is a neighborhood in North Philadelphia, in the Frankford area. The helpful tour guides explained to me that the accident occurred in Germantown, so that may be why the girl is not buried closer to home.

This gem of an historic burying ground goes by other names (aka Upper Burial Ground and Axe’s Burial Ground); it was renamed Hood after William Hood donated money in 1850 to have the massive marble entryway and front marble fencing wall installed. The site can be visited on the Second Saturday of each month, 10 a.m. – 4 p.m., from May through October. Gates are just open and the well-informed tour guides will let you just wander. throughout, if you like Check out their website:programs@historicgermantownpa.org.

Link to purchase

Old Swedes Gloria Dei Church

I think I want to end this piece with a bit more about Old Swedes and its graveyard. I do include it in my latest book, Abandoned and Forgotten Cemeteries of Philadelphia and its Environs (America Through Time, 2025), as an example of one of the twenty oldest burial grounds in Philadelphia that has NOT disappeared! There are literally 200 unmarked burial grounds under the streets, playgrounds, and parking lots of the city! You can see the names and locations of these properties that have been buried or forgotten on the website of the Philadelphia Archeological Forum (link). It is nothing short of a miracle that about twenty burial grounds are still intact. Old Swedes is one of those gems.

Not only is the burial ground still active, but the church itself is a vibrant part of the neighborhood. Like Old St. Mary’s and Old St. Joseph’s, masses are still regularly celebrated. The graveyard and the church’s adjoining dog park are open all the time, and neighbors are always about enjoying the green space. Not just parishioners – everyone. Their community outreach is rather unorthodox – I give you, the “Sexton Sideshow.” The what? That’s what they call it. There is intense community involvement with events on the grounds, midnight mass at Christmas, and concerts in the church. The press is local, so you need to see the handbills posted on the telephone poles in the neighborhood to see what’s going on. But word gets around quickly. The church is packed for the annual one-man presentation of the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar!

Grave of Capt. Morris, Old Swedes Church

Each December, come have a beer in the church hall, mingle with your in-the-know neighbors, then file through the graveyard of sea captains and Swedish settlers into the church for a live musical performance of the movie, Oh Brother, Where Art Thou, all presented by local musicians! You really get that old-time church revival feeling here when you’re singing along with a hundred of your closest friends, Will the Circle Be Unbroken and In the Jailhouse Now. The church is so small and the acoustics so perfect, the musicians need little amplification - the experience is stirring. The early Philadelphia churches are still alive and well.

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? performance, Gloria Dei Church

Conclusion

And just like that, we make it to the end of another America 250 post, where we visit the Philadelphia burial grounds that were established prior to 1776, and are still with us. It is a powerful thing to remember that these sacred spaces don’t simply still exist. They remain with us because of the ongoing efforts of fiercely dedicated people who value their past, don't cover it up, and want it to live on. In this way, we make history every day. 

Grave in Old St. Mary's Church graveyard, Philadelphia

In the book, Pleasure Grounds of Death (University of Michigan Press, 2024), Joy Giguere tells us that the communities that grew during America’s Colonial period “had their origins in the seventeenth century, during which time British, Dutch, and German colonists had created churchyards and common burial grounds for the dead based on Old World practices.” As we continue to explore the people and ideas behind our country’s origins, it becomes obvious how important immigration has been to this nation’s success. You can’t un-ring that bell.

References and Further Reading:

https://www.old-swedes.org/pages/history

https://www.oldstjoseph.org/18th-century

https://www.phillyarchaeology.net/

https://historicgermantownpa.org/

My Mother and the Sea

This week’s Cemetery Traveler post was guest written by my friend, Cynthia Solem. - Ed Snyder 

My Mother and the Sea

My mother, Violet, was born in Philadelphia. On her mother’s side of the family, she was a seventh generation Philadelphian, as she was descended from the Krefelders, the founders of Germantown. Her father was the son and grandson of German immigrants to Pennsylvania.

Photo below:  Alice Marker Robinson and children:  Alyce, Violet, and Ray, Wildwood, New Jersey(?), Circa 1933. (Family archives)

Alice Robinson and children, c. 1933

Violet’s father, like his father, worked at the Philadelphia Naval Yard. My mother, along with her two siblings, spent her early childhood in South Philly, in a neighborhood for shipyard workers. During the Depression, this was an excellent job to have, as Grandpa had a steady income. One of my grandmother’s relatives had a beach house at Wildwood, New Jersey, and, when he was about to lose it for unpaid taxes, my grandparents bought it. For the next several years, my mother’s favorite place was Wildwood in the summer. My grandmother, as befitting her Pennsylvania Dutch origins, was a neatnik, but she relaxed the rules at the beach. My mother and her sister and brother were given a lot of freedom to go to the beach and the Boardwalk. As a teenager, my mother became friends with several lifeguards, and, after they got off duty, they would all go out to swim with the dolphins.  For my mother, the ocean always symbolized freedom.

World War II intervened and spoiled this lovely family time. My mother (who had by this time changed her name to the more-modern Vicki) joined the Cadet Nurse Corps, and studied at Presbyterian Hospital to get her nursing degree. My uncle joined the Navy. Aunt Alyce took a job as personal secretary to the head of a department store. (Strawbridge and Clothier’s) but still found time to attend USO dances. At one dance, she met two nice Army sergeants from Wisconsin who were about to be shipped off to North Africa. She invited them home for Thanksgiving dinner. My mother was studying for exams, but Alyce was very persuasive and said it was her patriotic duty to take these young men, who might die, after all, on a tour of the City of Brotherly Love. One of the young men, Bob, was apparently quite smitten by Vicki, who had just turned eighteen. He asked if he could write her, and she agreed.

Bob was sent to North Africa, contracted malaria, was part of the invasion of Sicily, was sent to a hospital in England to recover, then was sent to Omaha Beach during D-Day. He had a relapse, and then was sent back to hospitals in New Jersey, Florida, and Colorado. Bob was a good letter writer, and apparently a persuasive man because, even though he didn’t really know her, he eventually got my mother to promise to marry him and move to, as she put it, “the wilds of Wisconsin."  My mother, a big city girl, was quite out of place in the small Wisconsin town where they lived first with my father’s parents and then in a trailer park for returning GIs on the University of Wisconsin‘s Camp Randall Field.

My brother was born and my mother took the baby to meet his Pennsylvania relatives. My Philadelphia grandfather was ecstatic about having a grandson, but he didn’t have long to enjoy him because Grandpa died shortly after, at 54, of a massive heart attack.

My grandmother sold the beach cottage and the family home and moved to Wisconsin to live with us.

Every summer, Grandmom went to Ocean City, to visit my uncle and his family, and to Wildwood. She faithfully sent her Midwestern grandchildren salt water taffy.  Our family joined her a number of times and my brother and I learned to body surf and love the sea, just as our mother did.

My father died young, so my mother was widowed at forty-two. I asked her if she wanted to move back to the East Coast, but she had a family, a job, and friends in Wisconsin. As she got older, she was adamant that she did not want to be buried with my dad and the rest of his family at the family grave in Spring Green, Wisconsin. “I want you to scatter my ashes off the shore at Cape May,” she said.

Though my mother lived another forty-six years, it was still a shock when she died last year. Though she hadn’t left any written instructions, my brother and I both knew what her wishes were.

 

Rainbow over Cape May, September 10, 2015 (Photo courtesy of Martha Kendall)

Last summer, our families and two of my cousins and their spouses all gathered at Miss Chris Fishing Center in Cape May. My mother’s ashes were in a cardboard tube decorated with sunflowers. My son’s fiancée had brought a bouquet of flowers. To our surprise, the boat slowed right outside the Boardwalk at Wildwood and the captain told us it was time to begin the ceremony. It was a lovely day and laughing gulls were flying above the boat. My brother tossed the ashes, in their container, off the stern. Then each of us took a flower, made a blessing, and placed the flower in the water. We laughed, cried, and hugged.

Laughing Gull, Wildwood New Jersey, August, 2014 (Cynthia Solem)

My mother, like her mother, was a bird lover. She was particularly fond of cardinals. As our boat turned and headed back to Cape May, we were escorted by one of the laughing gulls.

“I’ve been noticing the birds a lot lately,” one of my sons confided to me. “I thought that maybe Grandma would want a cardinal to be with her, but it’s fitting that a gull has decided to come back with us.”

We live on the other coast, near another Boardwalk, but, when I smell the salt air, and see the gulls and pelicans soaring over Monterey Bay, I cannot help but think that we all came from the ocean. That’s where my mother has returned. ______________________________________________

Author: Cynthia Solem, Santa Cruz, California

Cynthia has lived on the Pacific Coast for over forty years. She has recently retired after teaching English and English as a Second Language at community colleges and universities in the Bay Area and the Monterey Bay area.

The Cemeteries of Germantown

Days after our mid-January tramp through Philadelphia’s Germantown cemeteries, I’m worshiping the Neti (pot) god, hoping the water doesn’t contain any parasitic brain-eating amoebas (see link at end). The frigid winter weather made my cold worse, in addition to freezing my fingertips off. But it was worth it.  Two fellow cemetery travelers and I checked out St. Luke’s and St. Michael’s churchyard cemeteries in Germantown, a Philadelphia neighborhood northeast of center city.

I had been to both locations in the past, but my friends hadn’t. I certainly didn’t mind, as you find something new in a cemetery each time you visit. For instance, the first time I visited St. Michael’s Lutheran Church cemetery around 2006, it was just for a few minutes. I was in a hurry to get somewhere and saw it as I drove by. Never one to pass up an opportunity, I pulled over and checked it out. I came away with the "Sacred" image below and these hourglasses-and-crossbones stones. So I was anxious to spend more time there. Turns out these are the only examples I’ve ever found in Philadelphia cemeteries that have markings similar to the old skull and crossbones symbols that are so prevalent in New England.

Both St. Luke’s and St. Michael’s are fairly large cemeteries, densely populated with Civil War and Revolutionary War veterans’ graves - most notably American soldiers who fought the British in the Battle of Germantown in October 1777.   

About six blocks from St. Michaels, down Germantown Avenue, is the Chew House (now known as “Cliveden”), the site of the Battle of Germantown. General Washington led his troops to attack the British on this spot, about five miles outside Philadelphia. The British, led by General Howe, won the battle, ensuring that Philadelphia, the capital of the self-proclaimed United States of America, would remain under British control throughout the winter. It was a key battle, in that it convinced the French government to side with the Americans.

"Christopher Ludwick was a resident of Germantown, a baker whom George Washington befriended at the time of the Battle of Germantown in the fall of 1777. Ludwig was a master baker of gingerbread, which seemed to one of Washington’s favorite treats. General Washington asked Ludwick (an ardent Patriot) if he would consent to becoming the Baker-General of the Continental Army, in charge of baking bread for the officers and soldiers. He consented, and thus became a part of the war effort for the Americans. He was personally responsible for causing a great many Hessians (German mercenaries) to forsake their cause and become American citizens after the war. Ludwig was also well-known for his generosity, and he funded many charities for orphan children with his estate money." (Ref.)

Ludwick is buried in St. Michael’s cemetery, having died in 1801. Both St. Luke’s and St. Michael’s appear to be closed to new burials, as we didn’t see any dates past the 1940s. St. Michaels seems quite a bit older, with graves dating back to 1742. While all the graveyards of Germantown are historic in their own right and definitely worth visiting, something about St. Michaels took me by surprise. After photographing there, I looked it up on the Internet and was amazed to find such an organized parishioner effort geared toward restoration and preservation of the cemetery! I invite you to read it on St. Michael’s website, where you’ll find photographs and historical information like the above quoted description of a quite notable grave.

The cemetery is at road level, and the iron fencing is bent and broken in spots – the unfortunate result of auto accidents on Germantown Avenue. It’s a very busy road, and apparently has been since the 1680s! Certain grave markers have actually been damaged by cars, if you can believe that. Though restoration efforts continue, many stones toward the back of the cemetery are toppled over, graffittied, and surrounded by empty beer cans. Sections of fence are missing all along the Phil Ellena Street side of the cemetery, inviting delinquents and vandals.

Axe's Burial Ground, Germantown

The ”Battle of Germantown” could actually be a current descriptor for the area’s fight to keep itself from totally collapsing under the weight of crime and urban blight. While the neighborhoods on Germantown Avenue are not horrible, they’re close. St. Michaels is just up the road from Germantown High School, where other battles rage - the students here have been known to beat up the teachers. The area around St. Luke’s is a bit safer, but not by much. It’s situated kind of between St. Michael’s and the more famous Axe’s Burial Ground further down Germantown Avenue. That area is definitely sketchy. The fortress-like wall around the burial ground thwarts vandals and has been painted with anti-graffiti paint.

A few years ago I pulled the car over to duck into a nearby package store for a cold six-pack, and was stunned to see the Asian clerk looking at me from behind bullet-proof glass. After taking my beer from behind the spinning security door, I walked out onto the avenue toward my car. Now realize that this is broad daylight on a warm Saturday afternoon. A well-dressed African-American gentleman in his seventies stopped me. In a hushed voice, he said, “Son, you really don’t want to be here.”

Times change, don’t they? While I found no additional hourglass-and-crossbones carvings in St. Michael’s cemetery, I was rather shocked to come upon a giant Roman-numeralled clock face lying amidst some stones – its bent metal hands and motor mechanism strewn across the grass. Luckily no one was standing here photographing the tombstones when it blew out of the clock tower above our heads. Time flies. After photographing the remains of the timepiece, it just got too cold to continue. Frozen on this late January day, with both my memory card and bladder full, we all beat a hasty retreat from St. Michaels’ for some winter ales and hot soup at McMenamin’s pub, a ways up Germantown Avenue, to contemplate life and all its quirks.

References and Further Reading:

Germantown Avenue (Philadelphia City Paper, 2003)

Philadelphia High School Teacher Badly Beaten by Students After Taking Away Their iPods 
Louisiana Issues Neti Pot Warning After Two Fatal Infections