Post-mortem photography

This might seem an abrupt change in direction, from last week’s silly and frivolous post about hotties in old photos, changing over to this week’s post to, well, dead people in old photos. But nevertheless, here we go.

(Disclaimer: I will be sharing a few examples of post-mortem photography from my own photograph collections near the end of this post. They’re not graphic at all, but if you prefer not to see any actual photos of dead people, you might want to bail before you get to the end. Let the record show that I warned you.)

Back in May when I was writing my “Hair in a Book” post (5/24/2011) about the several locks of hair I found in an old Bible, I kept coming across the term “memento mori” – which, loosely translated from Latin, means “reminder of death.” That was one of the primary reasons people kept locks of hair – as a memento of a departed loved one. That sort of memento was particularly common in the Victorian era, a time when sentimentality and high mortality converged.

Another type of memento mori was post-mortem photography; that is, photographs of deceased individuals. Now, I actually had seen some examples of post-mortem photography before (we’ll get to that in a minute), but I did not realize it was a relatively common practice (or at least, that’s what I understand to be the case based on what I’ve now read about it).

In the Victorian era, mortality rates were higher and photography was…well, it was within the reach of many but was mainly conducted by professionals. People might hire a photographer to take a picture of a deceased person who, especially if it was a child, may never have been photographed while living, so this post-mortem photo was literally their last chance for a photo of that person. We might think this seems strange today, but death was much more a part of everyday life back then. Eventually this type of photography became much less common in America by the early 20th century because the subject of death has become uncomfortable to discuss, let alone photograph.

I won’t attempt to cover all the details of the history of this custom, but if you want to know more, you may find the following sources interesting:

• “Post-mortem photography,” on Wikipedia.
• Elizabeth Kelley Kerstens, “Secure the Shadow…Ere the Substance Fades,” Ancestry Magazine 23:5 (Sept./Oct. 2005), online.
• Various works by Stanley B. Burns, including Sleeping Beauty (3 vols); here’s his web site and his blog.

According to Stanley Burns (Sleeping Beauty, 2nd ed., 1990), post-mortem photography in America in the 1930s-1940s was “mainly being done by immigrant, ethnic, and certain lower-class groups”. Furthermore, he calls the era of 1935-present “the age of amateurs” and states that “almost any aspect of funerary process, from casket to graveside, is seen.”

That pretty much sums up what I found in my grandfather’s photograph collection.

(If you don’t want to see the pictures I mentioned before, now might be a good time for you to leave.)

My grandfather was born in Italy in 1913. He immigrated to the United States in 1934. His parents had immigrated shortly before he did, and the family settled in Portsmouth, Ohio. His mother died in 1941 and his father in 1952.

Grandpa had several photographs each from both his parents’ wakes and funerals. I remember how odd I thought this was, when I saw them for the first time several years ago – when Grandpa was still alive. I had never seen these types of pictures before.

Great-grandmother's funeral, in the parlor, 1941

Great-grandmother's funeral, at the cemetery, 1941

One of the photographs from my great-grandfather’s wake even had my grandfather in it — standing next to his father’s open casket.

Grandpa and great-grandfather, funeral, in the parlor, 1952

Great-grandfather's funeral, in the parlor, 1952

Great-grandfather's funeral, at the cemetery, 1952

I wondered whether this practice had anything to do with Italian customs, since I had never seen anything like it before. Perhaps this is common in Italy, I wondered. In the case of these particular pictures, it can’t be because they didn’t have other pictures of the individual — because I have seen several other pictures of both these people, while they were alive. So I guess I just don’t know. It’s too bad I didn’t think to ask Grandpa, “What was your reason for taking these pictures?” while he was still alive. But alas, I didn’t…and in 2008, he died, also.

I wasn’t sure what the reason was for his post-mortem pictures of his parents, but I thought maybe he’d be pleased if he knew that somebody thought to take a post-mortem picture of him, too. But, like all the articles have said — and as we just sort of know — people can be weird about death, and you don’t often see post-mortem photographs anymore. So at my grandfather’s wake, I asked my father if he would mind if I took a picture — I didn’t want to weird anybody out — and with his permission, I snapped a few. Here’s one of them.

Grandpa, at the funeral parlor, 2008

I like to think Grandpa would be pleased. After all, he’s looking pretty sharp in his Knights of Columbus uniform. I have another photo in which you can see two of the Knights standing guard on either side of him. In still another, my cousin’s little boy is having a sit on the prayer kneeler…which everybody thought was pretty cute at the time. I was glad the photographing went over well with the family. I certainly didn’t want to upset anybody…but at the same time, it was one of those “last chance for a photo” moments. (Again, we have tons of pictures of Grandpa while he was living. But I just thought…in case I ever do find out there was some real significance to the photos he felt the need to take of his own parents and that maybe he would have liked one of himself, it’s not like I can go back in time and take the pictures later…)

In parting on this subject, I will leave you with the only other post-mortem photograph I have ever found (i.e., besides the ones of my great-grandparents). This one is of a tiny baby in a wooden casket — probably an example of one of those cases where no other photo of this person ever existed prior to death.

baby girl in casket

The photo is not dated, but I have guessed it was probably from the 1920s or 1930s. The writing on the back is in Italian, but I can’t quite make it out. I think some of the words must be misspelled, because I am usually pretty good with an Italian dictionary or at least Google Translator. And I’m not getting much from the words on the back of this picture, besides “povera mia” or “my poor girl”. If anybody would like to take a stab at translating it for me, let me know, and I’ll send you the image.

So…I’m curious. Has anyone else found any of these in their collections? Apparently early ones can be difficult to recognize as post-mortem photos because the subjects were often posed in lifelike positions. I’d be interesting in hearing what others have found in their collections, because as I said, until I found these in my Grandpa’s photos, I had never even heard of such a thing, let alone seen one.

** EDIT ** Here is a scan of the back side of that photograph of the deceased infant. Thanks to Theresa for offering to try and translate it for me! (I have tried myself, but I think either the handwriting or the spelling — or both — is what’s defeating me!)

Back of the Baby Girl in Casket photo

Hair in a book

Last week, I was sorting through a box of unprocessed materials labeled “miscellaneous scrapbooks” when I found an old Bible. Based on the inscription in the front, the Bible seems to have belonged to the Matchett family of Ithaca, Darke, County, Ohio.

At first, I wasn’t quite sure how an 1857 Bible qualifid as a “miscellaneous scrapbook,” but then I started leafing through it. There were a number of items tucked into the pages of the Bible, including this:

Hair from the Matchett Bible

I did a bit of a double-take as this “insert” passed my eyes. I think I jumped a little, and I might have even made a little yelp. Sure, maybe that seems silly now, in hindsight, but at the moment, I really wasn’t expecting to find a squirrel—er, I mean, long, thin ponytail—inside a 150-year-old Bible!

As I looked more carefully through all the pages of the Bible, I found no less than 18 different locks of hair, including a braid, two small wreaths, and another ponytail (strawberry-blonde this time). I also found quite a few other items, including obituaries, manuscript papers, and even a tintype photograph.

I carefully removed all of these items from the Bible, putting them into more suitable archival enclosures, to be kept with the book. But with every “ew” and “ohmygod another one”, I kept thinking to myself, What would possess someone to tuck all these locks of hair into a Bible?

Which led me to another question: Why would people save these locks of hair at all? Now I’m not completely clueless; I had some ideas, of course — the most likely of these being that the hair probably belonged to a dead relative.

In attempting to research this subject, I did not have much luck in finding any comprehensive (let alone scholarly) sources. (Perhaps this is such a seemingly simplistic topic that no one thinks it necessary to write more than a line or two about it?)

I was just about to give up, when I finally stumbled onto a blog post by the FIDM Museum (a fashion/jewelry museum in Los Angeles) concerning “Hairwork jewelry”. (And I was stunned at the date of the blog post – May 16, 2011 — less than a week before I made my discovery. What a weird coincidence.)

Now, thank goodness I didn’t find any actual “hair jewelry” (but go check out their post – it’s very interesting!). But the blog post gives a good succinct explanation of the whole “hair memento” thing:

“Locks of hair have long served as sentimental and tangible reminders of deceased or far-away friends and close relations. Among family, friends and romantic partners, exchanging a lock of hair was a sign of mutual esteem and deep affection. Upon the death of a loved one, locks of hair were often cut and kept as a way to both honor and remember the dead” (“Hairwork Jewelry,” FIDM Museum Blog, 5/16/2011).

That pretty well sums up most of the snippets I was able to find “here and there” in other sources. (One of the most interesting “sources” I found while researching this topic was a Google timeline of references to hair as keepsakes. I didn’t even know Google did such a thing – plus it was really interesting to see the references, many of which came from literature.)

In summary, here are some of the reasons why people might keep a lock of hair:

• Baby’s first haircut. This makes sense; I think I have heard of that.
• Another hair-related milestone. For instance, my mother had longh hair when I was born but cut it short when I was a baby. (I wonder if I started pulling it, or if she just needed something a simpler ‘do?) Anyway, she put it in a ponytail and cut it off all at once; she still has it.
• Send a lock to a distant friend/relative as a memento.
• Request a lock of hair from a “celebrity” as a memento. (I don’t think this would be very well-received by today’s celebrities. However, a young lady once asked for a hair locks as a memento of a visit from George Washington and Anthony Wayne, and the two soldiers obliged her.)
• From a soldier heading off to war as a token of friendship or ”something to remember me by,” in case he died on the battlefield. That way, the person already had a lock of his hair, should they wish to have one — because it might not be available later if he didn’t make it home for burial.
• As a “memento mori” (loosely translated from Latin as “reminder of death”)

The memento mori seems to be the most common reason for keeping a lock of hair – one last thing to remember the person. This was apparently particularly popular in the 19th century. I can definitely see why it would have been popular before photography became widely available - you might not have any other visual representation of the physical person, so hair was a lasting memento. (Hair is a pretty good choice, too: it doesn’t really break down easily, and taking it doesn’t disfigure the corpse. Definitely the least gross part of a deceased person that you could “collect”!)

I did find a few examples of memento mori hair locks from famous people:

• A watch owned by Thomas Jefferson and containing a lock of hair from his wife Martha (who died in 1782) is soon to be auctioned off at Christie’s Auction House in New York (see a photo). (If you’ve got $40-80k, you could make it yours!)
• Jane Austen’s niece received a lock of her hair after Jane died in 1817 (read article); it is on display at a museum in Chawton (see photo).
• There is a fascinating story surrounding a lock of Beethoven’s hair taken after his 1827 death (read about it).
• The New York Public Library has a lock of Frankenstein creator Mary Shelley’s hair taken after her 1851 death. As a matter of fact, it’s going to be on display for soon as part of an exhibit commemorating the library’s 100th anniversary (see article with photo).

A lot of the items I’ve mentioned or referenced in this post talk about different things that people would do with the locks of hair they collected: such as putting them into a piece of jewelry (as Jefferson did) or making jewelry or display items out of the hair itself. I didn’t find anything like that in the Matchett Bible — just plain old locks of hair. But it was enough to pique my interest, and I hope you have enjoyed reading about what I found out.

The archivist in me wants to finish up with a preservation/storage note, since that’s how this whole post came about in the first place. Now, as I don’t deal with hair very often, I don’t feel confident in trying to advise you on the “best” way to keep and preserve any locks of hair you might have lying around. Perhaps some of my museum friends can help me out on that one. But I am going to go out on a limb here and say that putting unidentified locks of hair into the family Bible is probably not the best thing to do. (Oh, and if you do, it may frighten some future family member or archivist. Ahem.)

Museum peeps, your suggestions are welcome here: But I am inclined to suggest putting the locks into individual enclosures of some type and please, for the love of god, LABEL THEM as to whose hair it is (and maybe even a date and how/why you have it – did they die? go to war? baby’s first haircut? what?). I’m a big fan of labeling things. Can you tell?

The Bible (and hair locks and other mementoes!) discussed here can be found at the Dayton Metro Library, Main Library, Local History Room, 215 E. Third St., Dayton, OH 45402. For more information on the collection, contact the library, or feel free to leave a comment on this blog.