Rocco Siciliano, 1885-1925 Hermitage, Pennsylvania
“One distinctive aspect of the Italian American cemeteries is the ceramic photo images imbedded into memorial stones. [...] One writer commented that it was good that few Italian Americans could afford such stone portraits. He stated that if ‘there was much of this, our burial grounds would become ghostly indeed.’ [...] Another writer noted that the photographic portrait was ‘not merely the likeness’ of the deceased. It was ‘the very shadow of the person lying there fixed forever!’ These memorials became a staple in the cemeteries of other ethnic groups from eastern and southern Europe, no matter what their religion.” – Meg Green, Rest in Peace: A History of American Cemeteries
Vincenza Piccini headstone, Hermitage, Pennsylvania
Many Italian Americans made Western Pennsylvania their home at the turn of the 20th century when the coal mines and steel mills were flourishing. I’ve explored two of these cemeteries, though I’m sure there are many others for me to discover! These are Economy Cemetery in Ambridge, PA and St. Anthony/St. Rose/Italian Cemetery in Hermitage, PA.
Left and Center: A priest and Anna Popik, both in Ambridge. Right: Anna Wesko, Hermitage.
Both cemeteries not only include the Italian American grave stones with ceramic photographs, but also those of Eastern European families, such as Ukranian or Slovak. (I’m really only good with the Italian translations, so if I’m wrong about the ethnicity of those stones, let me know.) Because these two ethnic groups arrived in the States around the same time, worked the same types of jobs, and were generally treated the same by the larger American population, the two groups of immigrants often stuck together, forming Italian-Slovak societies, interchanging customs, and intermarrying.
Left and Center: A Slovak girl and Antonio Incerto, both in Hermitage. Right: Ibah Aennhko in Ambridge.
Today, having a photograph mounted to a gravestone is rather common. Some people even have their image laser etched onto the marble itself (which in my opinion can look a little creepy, and I can’t imagine what it will look like if the stone begins to wear). At the turn of the century, however, ceramic grave photographs were mostly confined to the Italian and Eastern European cultures. For historians and genealogists, the photographs offer a unique opportunity to see photographs from the early 20th century and match them up with the names and ages of who they belong to.
Two very similar gravestones in Ambridge, PA. Silvia Lepre (left) and Maria Palladini (right)
Most of the gravestones that have ceramic photographs belong to children or young men and women. One explanation is that parents were more likely to endure the extra expense of the ceramic photograph as a result of their grief of losing a loved one “before their time.” Another explanation might be that a large number of children and young people died during the the time period when ceramic photographs were most popular (1900-1940) due to disease or tragic event. I suppose I’ll just have to do more research on that topic.
Antonio Catanzariti (left) and Bettina Rinaldi (center) in Ambridge. Francesca Paola Perry (right) in Hermitage.
One creepy part of looking at ceramic gravestone photographs is the occurance of post-mortem images. Most of the time, post-mortem images are of infants and children, so if the image of dead babies disturbs you, beware. Most of the time, the photographs are studio photographs taken by a professional photographer in a prepared setting. And most of the time, the children are photographed to look as though they are sleeping. (Mourning or Memorial Cabinet Cards were also popular in the mid to late 19th century. Search for some on Flickr to see some.) Why in the world would a parent allow their lifeless child to be photographed in such a way? I’m sure every reason is different, but one probable reason is that they were too young to have their picture taken in life.
WARNING: The following are some photos that may or may not be post mortem.
A brother and sister (left) in Ambridge. Sisters Angiolina (center) and Margretta Santelli (right) in Hermitage.
The cemetery in Patrica, Italy.
Recently, my husband and I travelled to Patrica, Frosinone, Italy. Patrica is the town where most Italian American immigrants settling in Ambridge, PA originated. My own paternal grandparents are from there. The cemetery in Patrica is very different that most cemeteries in the United States and even in other places in Italy. No one is interred in the ground. Instead, everyone is buried in the walls, and the walls are built up upon different levels of a hill. The owners of the plot do not own it outright, but instead rent or lease it for maybe 80 years… the family has the opportunity to renew their lease and bury other family members there. Sometimes, bones are moved to a smaller plot, and when the bones are completely deteriorated, they are removed and discarded in some fashion, though I’m not exactly sure how. All I know is that the oldest grave in Patrica was maybe 1908 or so.
The burial plot of the Ferrari family, Patrica, Italy
The gravestones of the Patrica cemetery nearly all had ceramic photographs, although often time there were more names engraved on a stone than photographs. There is a greater occurance of photographs of elderly people, but there also was a lot of post mortem infant photographs as well that dated into the 1960s. Another thing about the Italian graves was that many of the post mortem photographs were not made to look as though they were asleep at all. In fact, some of the children in photographs had their eyes open.
Like many early malls, the Dort Mall was once a bustling shopping center with stores and even a bar downstairs. Today, it features the aforementioned gigantic hockey store owned by Bob Perani, a bargain store, dollar store, consignment store, head shop, Star Bros Coney Island, alterations shop, and sports printing shop. As the mall became painfully empty, Bob Perani began displaying things he had collected over the years. According to a 2003 Flint Journal article, Perani enjoys the thrill of the hunt – in terms of antique auctions and the like.
The Dort Mall, or “Small Mall,” (for those of you not from the Flint area), is not a museum. The artifacts are not organized or labeled in any special way, although they are organized in an aesthetically or subconciously pleasing way. The neat thing is seeing kids come in and look at the things as though they are in a museum.
The swimming pools that Wesley Bintz designed and built are unique (and patented) in that the pool is above the ground and, in most cases, the changing areas are underneath. While typical Bintz pools were ovoid in shape, some of his above-ground pools were rectangular. They also ranged in size from 25′ x 40′ (Batchelder Hotel, Old Orchard Beach, Maine) to 130′ x 240′ (Cleveland, Ohio). He patented his “Bintz Pool” design in 1926.
According to a 1958 newspaper article on the man, Wesley Bintz and his associates had designed 135 swimming pools. With a little help from Bintz enthusiasts in Oklahoma, I’ve tracked down 63 Bintz pools, or locations where Bintz pools were constructed. Seven of these are traditional sunken pools, but the rest are above-ground “bintz” designs.
The first two pools Bintz designed in Flint, Michigan have been demolished, but the bath house of one in Kearsley Park still stands and is used for park events. When the pool was demolished in the 1980s, the cost estimate to demolish the three-story concrete hillside bathhouse added nearly $100,000 to the project, so the city decided to keep it and use it as a pavilion.
Kearsley Park Swimming Pool / Pavilion:
Ever since I was very young, old houses and family stories have caught my attention. For a romantically-inclined child who read far too many books, every old house had a secret passage, every attic had a hidden trunk filled with treasures, and every ancestor was beautiful or handsome with a secret royal lineage. 
I received my BA in Public History from the Lee Honors College at Western Michigan University in 2006. While there, I took part in a number of projects, including an adaptive reuse analysis of the old Bryant Paper Mill in Kalamazoo, the 
While working towards my Masters degree, I worked at the Crossroads Village & Huckleberry Railroad, a living history village and working railroad that is part of the Genesee County Parks system in Flint, Michigan. My first year (for the summer, Halloween, and Christmas seasons), I worked as a costumed interpreter. My second year, I was promoted to Assistant Village Program Supervisor. My duties included not only being in costume and character, but supervising up to 70 employees, planning and implementing programs, and purchasing supplies. My favorite duties at the Village included hosting the Christmas Teas and planning this summer’s programs, including a weekend dedicated to family history and architecture.
My strongest specialty to date is my association with the Wesley Bintz Swimming Pool. Aside from some other enthusiasts who I have contact with through email, I am the country’s foremost Wesley Bintz scholar. Please take that assumption with a grain of salt. For those of you who do not know, Bintz pools are a specific type of “above-ground” swimming pool that were quite popular throughout the U.S. from 1920 until the 1950s. I’ve done independant research on the existing and demolished pools as well as a graduate fair presentation on their inherent preservation problems and possible solutions. I’ve contributed a little to a magazine coming out in July in Cushing, Oklahoma, and there is a possible collaboration with the International Swimming Hall of Fame in the future, but I will keep you posted on that.