I initially came here at the start of my decades-long interest in historic cemeteries. I had…read morealready been to nearby Gate of Heaven and Kensico on my own, but had my father drive me to Ferncliff the 1st time because he was much more familiar with NYC and its outer environs than I was. What prompted that initial interest? Joan Crawford and Malcolm X.
The cemetery was begun in 1927 and is a lovely expanse of property, with many trees and abundant foliage. Our 1st stop was the magnificent Cathedral of Memories community mausoleum, built in 1927. Several stories high, its hallways are somber yet elegant, having very much the art deco-ish feel and aura of NY as it must have been in the 20s and 30s, with polished marble corridors and stately private niches for the more affluent. Some of these private niches have gates, couches to sit on, and stained-glass windows.
Joan Crawford wasn't a great actress, but she was always entertaining (and I had a kind of crush on her as a teenager, although, as my oldest friend has said, "When you were a teenager, if they were female and breathing, you had kind of a crush on them, whether it was Pat Nixon or Nastassja Kinski."), and, speaking as an adopted person, I found the memoir of her abused adopted daughter Christina mesmerizing (just to clarify, my own adoptive parents were decent, good-hearted, non-abusive people, so it's not like I could relate to the specific trauma of her abuse). Joan is buried in a simple vault with her Pepsi executive husband, Al Steele. Around the corner, is the modest monument to Ed Sullivan, sports columnist turned TV host who showcased the Beatles for America.
In the past, Judy Garland was buried on the 2nd floor, and you could easily find her modest tomb by the flood of fresh flowers displayed in front of it every day. I was always a fan of "Wizard of Oz," but I hadn't realized that she was such a gay icon. From what I've read, she's no longer buried there, as her children arranged for her re-burial in CA.
On 1 visit by myself, I wanted to find the tomb of Ona Munson, an actor in "Gone With The Wind" and a suicide. (On a side note, I watched the film as an adult and was horrified at its blithe sanction of marital rape, the Ku Klux Klan, and the idea that blacks are simpletons happiest as slaves on a plantation). I had to go down a stairway to the basement that was dark and a little unnerving. Munson is buried in a wall crypt, not far from Sherman Billingsley, former bootlegger and owner of the celebrated Stork Club.
Malcolm X, a hero of mine, is buried in a simple grave on the other side of the cemetery. Not far away is the grave of Diana Sands, who was in the stage version of "Raisin in the Sun," and died tragically of cancer at 39 (she was also in a mediocre episode of the original "Outer Limits"). Nearby is the 2nd community mausoleum, known as the Shrine of Memories, built in 1959. I came here to find the crypt of distinguished actor Basil Rathbone, famous for Sherlock Holmes and "Son of Frankenstein" (and also considered one of the few genuinely nice people in Hollywood).
A lot of other famous people are buried here, along with the not-so-famous. Ossie Davis, Whitney Young, Thelonious Monk, James Baldwin, Ruby Dee, Jerome Kern, Aaliyah Houghton, "Trigger Mike" Coppola. John Lennon and Christopher Reeve were cremated at Ferncliff, although they are not buried here.
On a personal note, before my re-union with my genetic family, I always wondered if I had relatives or ancestors buried in these cemeteries that I visited. Turns out, my great uncle is buried in the Cathedral of Memories, in a private niche with his wife and infant daughter. I never met my maternal grandfather, but his is a fascinating story. He could trace his paternal lineage to the 1700s in New Hampshire; there's actually a book on Amazon outlining the family tree from the 1700s to 1917. My great grandfather was a doctor who lost everything due to alcoholism (or so I've been told), moved to Brooklyn, and married my great grandmother, an Irish Catholic. According to my birth mother, my great uncle aspired to lofty heights, marrying a wealthy WASP and becoming the mayor of a north NJ town. Their infant daughter died of a heart malady-- the heart health of my entire maternal line is not good. When my grandmother told me that he was buried in Ferncliff, I brought her up to visit along with my birth mother. We found the private niche, and my grandmother talked about the family history and the death of poor Jocelyn, who perished in 1940. As someone who never knew their ethnic history or ancestry or genealogy until adulthood, standing there with my birth mother, listening to my grandmother illustrating that history as only someone who was actually there can, was an unforgettable moment of enlightenment, clarity and understanding that I'll always cherish.
A beautiful, historic place for reflection, mourning, remembering, and...in the case of someone like me ...discovering.