Scary stories to tell in the dark
Just right for Christmas
If you want a white Christmas, stay out of Massachusetts.
New England’s third-worst state is presently — and will likely remain — damp, drizzly, and gray, throughout the holiday. The crowds hustling and bustling about doing the holiday this and that are wearing, at best, lightweight, unlined trenchcoats1 and carrying iced coffees without even an extra cup to protect their hands.
But it’s tradition to tell scary stories around the holidays, so I will offer one.
In the late 19th century, death was a bit like pregnancy. Its causes were known, but there was no single test. Signs could be subtle, early on, although given enough time, the condition would grow plain, and then unmistakable.
Being mistaken for pregnant is awkward.
Mistaken for dead, though, a far bigger deal. Thus, there was a movement — to call it a fad would be a bit mild, and a craze would belie its zeal and seriousness — to “prevent premature burial.”
Tracts were published. Books. Legislation was introduced.
Sensible people suggested that cremation be banned, just in case. Well-meaning journalists suggested, as a middle ground, perhaps, we set our loved ones to the side, let them putrefy just a bit, before anybody gets entombed, just to be safe.
The Prevention of Premature Burial, by Edward Perry Vollum and William Tebb2, sold like gangbusters and went into multiple printings3. It contained a number of accounts of alleged “premature burials,” and “near-misses.”
One story, though, intrigued me.
You may be able to guess why.
Because, of course, there are names.
And dates.
Shall we?
Virginia McDonald. She’d need to be unmarried, with both parents living, to fit the story. She’d need to be buried in Greenwood Cemetery, in Brooklyn.
Is there a Virginia McDonald, who died unmarried with both parents living, in Greenwood Cemetery, in Brooklyn?
Yes, Virginia.
The McDonald family plot, back there. Virginia has a stone.4
New York City death records reflect that she lived on 82 Catharine Street, in Manhattan, and died on January 2, 1948. She was born in 1830.
She died unmarried.
Her father, Henry, was still alive when she died.
Her mother, Susan, was still alive when she died.
Her parents had resources. They would have been capable of paying for an exhumation.
Census records from two years later list Henry as the owner of real property valued at $12,000, roughly four times the value of their neighbors’ property.
The informant existed.
Oscar F. Shaw was a lawyer, practicing in New York, although by 1891 his office was in Brooklyn, not Manhattan.
The story may be true. It seems true, at least, that someone told it.
If you want to know more, feel free to dig around.
I’m still seeing shorts. What’s wrong with people.
Noted anti-vaxxer, anti-germ theory, anti-science gent. If he weren’t dead and British I think he’d be nominated for a cabinet position immediately.
It’s available on Archive.org, as well as other places.
Thank you, Find a Grave. I love you. https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/54029829/virginia-mcdonald/photo