The Art and Architecture of Death
Churchyards and family burying-grounds often hold hidden treasures, especially gravestones of early settlers, placed in the days when stonecutting was a local craft.
Another example of a typical Slavic tombstone with inscriptions in two languages—again, we suspect that “OUR SON” came with the stone, and the inscription in Slovenian was supplied to order. The cross was not originally blank: if we look very carefully, we can trace the faint outlines of a crucifix in shallow relief that has eroded almost completely away.
The cross has gone missing from this typical Slavic tombstone. The inscription is partly Slovenian and partly English; we suspect that “OUR FATHER” came with the stone, and the rest of the inscription was made to order.
Stanley Zaksesks died in 1920 when he was eleven or twelve years old. Perhaps his father worked in the construction business; this monument appears to have been cast in concrete. The name and date are painted.
The stone has eroded so much already that only the outline of the crucifix is visible in the Byzantine cross. The inscription is still very legible, however; the monument was probably put up when Mike P. Sapsara died in 1932, but old Pa Pitt suspects the inscription has been recut, replacing an illegible original. Note that the inscription is a hybrid of Croatian and English. The photograph of Mike P. Sapsara is in poor shape, but you might still recognize him if you met him on the street.
A fairly large cross for a seventeen-year-old whose family perhaps could not afford a professional monument. Note the one attempt at decoration: a small sun pattern (or something) at the top.
This fine Byzantine monument has inscriptions in what looks to old Pa Pitt like Ukrainian. He would be delighted to have a translation in the comments. There are inscriptions on both sides, and here they are in high resolution:
A monument for a girl who died at the age of fourteen. The weathered and damaged angel is probably much more picturesque in this condition than it was when it was new.
The base includes a photograph that is badly faded, but with the help of modern image-editing software we can restore a recognizable image.
This is almost the archetype of the Slavic tombstone, with a fine folk-art crucifix to decorate it. With the help of Google, Wiktionary, and other Internet resources, we translate the Polish inscription thus:
HERE LIES
MARIAN
FABISZEWSKI
DIED MARCH 14, 1924.
—
Say a Hail Mary for Me
Google Translate identifies the inscription as Croatian. The translation would be something like this: “Here lies my husband Michael Paczak Dubos. Born 29 Apr 1874. Died 15 Mar 1927.” The Byzantine cross is used by both Russian Orthodox and Byzantine Catholic Christians, but in Pittsburgh the Byzantine Catholics make an especially big deal of it.
Visitors from all over the world come to St. John the Baptist Byzantine Catholic Cemetery to pay homage to one resident: Andy Warhol, son of Andrew and Julia Warhola (whose monument we see in the background). They come bearing gifts, and it is rare to find the otherwise unassuming monument undecorated. Campbell’s Soup cans are de rigeur, of course, but people who know something about Andy also bring rosaries. Andy Warhol was, in his own strange way, a devout Byzantine Catholic to the end of his life.
This Byzantine cemetery in Castle Shannon is near the Washington Junction station, where the Blue and Silver Lines meet. It is not at all hard to find Warhol’s grave in the cemetery. Just look for the cameras, and they will point the way.
It would have delighted Warhol to know that, as he rests in peace, his eternal slumber is livestreamed to the whole world.