The American Way of Death Revisited

7

Mortuary Management stated editorially that it is the funeral director’s traditional prerogative to “get first whack at the family.” Concept: The Journal of Creative Ideas for Cemeteries was quick to take issue with this statement, calling it a “shocking blunder” and adding, “Regardless of the truth in the statement, isn’t it improper to talk that way?”

8

See end-of-chapter note.

9

Rose Hills (Los Angeles) Memorial Park boasts “the world’s largest lawn mower.”

10

Not true. In many states, home burial is still permissible in rural areas; and in all states, cremated remains may be buried on private property. In every state except California, cremated remains may be scattered at will or with the landowner’s permission.

11

This article first appeared in the Funeral Monitor, March 25, 1996. Reprinted with permission.

12

In a remarkable coup for the funeral industry, their lobbyists in California won legislation that prohibits survivors from scattering cremated remains on private or public property—forcing them to go through the cemetery or the funeral director to arrange for the disposition of cremated remains. What few undertakers are likely to acknowledge, however, is that it is perfectly legal for a family to simply take the cremains home with them. After speaking with every law enforcement agency in the state from the FBI to county sheriffs, I learned that no officer is vested with the authority to check up on what happens to Aunt Martha’s ashes, nor are they willing to collar culprits caught in the act of “illegal” scattering. Although this law is totally unenforceable, the industry uses it to pressure the family to hand over the cremated remains for more profitable commercial disposition.

13

And more recently still, an executive officer of Service Corporation International (see chapter 16).

14

See footnote, this page.

15

Today such a funeral would cost $8,000 or more. Bronze sealers begin at $4,000 and run up to $25,000 for the heavier gauges.

16

While on a visit to London, I applied to the Royal College of Surgeons of England for permission to see Mrs. Van Butchell. I received this reply from the office of the curator: “While it is true that the late Mrs. Martin Van Butchell once occupied a place of honour in the historical collection of this College, it is regretted that she was finally cremated with so much valuable material in the destruction of the College in May, 1941, at the height of the London blitz.”

17

This journal later merged with The Casket. The result: Casket & Sunnyside.

18

Sometime after publication, I met Francis Gladstone, a direct descendant of the erstwhile Prime Minister. When I asked him about his illustrious forebear’s comment, he became interested and wrote to scholars of his acquaintance at Oxford. Lengthy correspondence ensued, but no one was able to identify William Gladstone’s alleged statement. In the course of their research, one of their number did come up with the dying words of another Gladstone, Sir Joseph, the father of the Prime Minister, who died in Liverpool, aged eighty-seven. His last words —“Bring me my porridge”—while not earth-shattering, have at least the merit of being historically accurate.