I wonder how many of us have driven by here and wondered what this was?
This is what's left of Bacon Cemetery. Yes, you read that right. Bacon Cemetery. It's quite a story.
A historic cemetery in the heart of Indianapolis was all but destroyed when a "nobody" came to the rescue.
Ever wonder why there is a cemetery or monument or whatever it is at the southeast corner of Keystone Avenue and Kessler Boulevard, one of the busiest intersections in Indianapolis?
It's a neatly groomed quarter-acre lot with an old maple and buckeye surrounded by a wooden picket fence and presided over by the flags of the United States and Indiana. Beneath the flags and inside a black iron fence are three stone markers.
Briefly, in 1835, Hiram and Mary Bacon deeded the land to "the citizens of Washington Twp. And their heirs forever" as long as a "burying ground." Exactly how much land they deeded is now impossible to determine.
Hezekiah Smith, a Revolutionary War veteran, was the first to be buried in what became known as Bacon Cemetery. When Crown Hill Cemetery opened in 1864, several bodies were moved there. How many and who they were is unclear.
In the early 20th century, more and more graves were moved to Crown Hill, more records were lost, and a "developer" named George Kessler built a street east of Keystone, named it after himself and destroyed a portion of the cemetery.
Today, the official record of Bacon Cemetery in the Washington Township trustee's office consists almost entirely of rambling letters. No burial records. No Names. Nothing, although hundreds of people were buried in the area. By the time the trustee's office took over the cemetery, everything had been lost, tombstones knocked over and dead people paved over.
Vernon Earle, 73, a retired engineer, remembers finding his great-great-grandfather's 1862 gravestone in the old Dawson cemetery at Rural Street and Kessler when he was a kid. One day in the early 1950's, he returned to find his great-great-grandpa's gravestone gone. It, along with others, had been dumped in a landfill by a "developer," A house now sits on his great-great-grandfather's grave.
In 1994, the City-County Council allowed Methodist Hospital to build a clinic at the northwest corner of Kessler and Rural, despite ferocious opposition from Jesse Poole, his outraged neighbors and a heartsick Vernon Earle.
"We fought a corporation and lost, of course," said Jesse.
How many graves lie beneath the clinic is not known. A human femur bone was churned up by an auger during construction. Oh well, probably just somebody's mom or dad.
"It's a horrible, sickening desecration that went on in that whole area," said Vernon Earle, "How'd you like your ancestors underneath a house or an office building or road?"
In the 1980's, a group of neighbors, led by the owners of the now-defunct wine art store across the street, erected the fence and memorial to one of the revolutionary war soldiers who were buried here. Thousands of folks drive by here every day, without giving it a glance...without a thought of those who came before us.
I'm giving this cache a "2" terrain rating because there's no easy parking. You can park in the lot of the currently closed wine shop across the street, or, if school is NOT in session, in the school lot. Either way you'll have to walk across either Keystone or Kessler. Please exercise caution when crossing the street, and keep a close eye on any little ones you might have with you.
As with all cemetery caches, night caching is not allowed, and any logs indicating such will be promptly deleted. Please practice CITO as needed.
The cache itself is a small lock and lock container with a logbook, pencil, pencil sharpener, and an assortment of swag. Please feel free to take a Dulcimer Guy or Mandolin Girl pathtag for FTF prize, and leave the other for someone else. Please leave the pencil sharpener in the cache container.
Enjoy your visit to Bacon Cemetery, and please cache responsibly.