Marino offers an expert look at Hill Side Cemetery
Editor's note: This is the first of a summer-long series in which Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather visits old cemeteries to try to dig up interesting tidbits of local history.
Last year, I spent my summer visiting all the Berkshire County tourist spots I had never seen, despite living here for 45 years.
This year, I was dying to delve deeper into some more local history, so I thought I would try and unearth some by visiting a few of the old and very picturesque cemeteries I have passed by on my travels across the county. (Don't worry. I think I've exhausted my need for bad puns now.)
But this is an area in which I have absolutely zero background, so I thought I would turn to someone who is in fact a cemetery expert - and also likes bad puns as well as I do. When it's North County cemeteries you want to know about, it's Paul Marino you call upon.
Marino met me at Hill Side Cemetery in North Adams on a recent Saturday to shed some light on how to go about my cemetery quest. We started at the very top of the hill on the north side of Route 2. After struggling in my very slippery-soled clogs to the top of the steep hill, Marino told me, "They don't call it Hill Side for laughs!"
Lesson One learned: Always wear sneakers or light hiking boots. Shoes with bottoms as slick as a greased pig are not conducive to traipsing across grassy areas. I came down that same hill in my socks, to prevent a less than graceful upending.
Marino was quick to point out the oldest grave in the cemetery, which dates to the death of Olive Knight on Feb. 13, 1798, at the tender age of 18. Hill Side, he said, is the oldest municipal cemetery in North Adams, and the third-oldest overall. The very oldest, if it were still in existence, he said, would be the Fort Massachusetts burial ground, which is most likely located under where Price Chopper is now.
Olive Knight was a member of the farming family who started the plot. Lilles Knight, her mother, said Marino, deeded the land to use as a free burial ground, so in fact Hill Side was a Potter's Field, as well.
The graves we visited spiraled out from that original Knight line, those descendants including the Richmonds and Tinkers and so on, so many that the relationships Marino flung effortlessly about swam before my eyes, completely befuddling me. I couldn't keep up with the children, and the marriages, and the professions. It was as if he was a walking archive.
Marino has been offering free cemetery walks each summer since 1993. He said the way to start with cemetery research is with the cemetery department. "Another place you can go is the town or city clerk," he added.
Lesson Two learned: This column may take a lot more time than I had anticipated. Schedule these visits as early in the week as possible, so I have plenty of time to track down information.
In addition to being an invaluable resource about how to begin my research, Marino also didn't disappoint when it came to the personal stories I was looking for. Take, for example, Adelbert A. Haskins, who committed suicide in 1917. Born in 1839, he had been a member of Company B of the 10th Massachusetts Civil War regiment.
There was also Amasa Richardson, who had been mentioned in Nathaniel Hawthorne's "American Journal" by name, as a woman who had amassed a large bar tab at the North Adams House.
Perhaps most intriguing was poor Johnny Atwood, who had just a simple small memorial set into the ground with his three initials - not even a marker with a full name. Atwood had been a founding member of the Johnson Grays, a volunteer regiment organized prior to the Civil War. Those same Johnson Grays formally became Company B of the Massachusetts 10th when they enlisted.
Atwood was struck with sunstroke before the Battle of Gettysburg. He was there, however, to hear Abraham Lincoln deliver the Gettysburg Address. He also was chosen to serve as the color bearer for the Massachusetts color guard during the Gettysburg Cemetery dedication ceremony.
And yet Atwood had only a small plague in the ground. When Marino discovered he had no GAR marker - Grand Army of the Republic, used to indicate a Civil War veteran - he initiated its placement. "When we put the marker on Atwood's grave, there were still members of his family here. They were stunned by our interest in their ancestor," Marino said.
But of course there are sad stories, too, like that of the three Kimbell babies who died within a few days of each other, possibly in 1849, although the date had been nearly obliterated by time and weather from the marble headstones.
Marino has stories and information about many of the leading families, from the Kimbells (the New Kimbell Building) to Sarah T. Haskins (of Haskins School) to the Sullivans to archaeologist John Henry Haynes.
He is also well-versed in motifs used in headstones, such as the anchor, which represents faith in Christ with the waves representing the troubles faced in life; the lamb, used to show purity and innocence; and the upside down torch, symbolic of eternal life, as well as many others.
Marino's interest in cemeteries and his belief in their value closely echoes my own, and neatly sums up my reason for wanting to write this column this summer: "I have a passion for local history and I think it's important that the stories be known by as many as possible, especially children," he said.
Lesson Three learned: Find some more local cemetery experts. I don't think I can do this one on my own.
Advocate Assistant Editor Judith Fairweather can be reached at jfairweather@advocateweekly.com or 413-663-7942, ext. 234.