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Holt Cemetery, New Orleans
May. 15th, 2013 11:16 amMy quest to photograph every cemetery in NOLA continues. Holt is the city's cemetery for indigent people; as such it's the only one to still practice in-ground burial, and many of the markers are hand-made by family members. It's out on City Park Avenue, which I sometimes refer to as "the nexus of the universe", because there are over a half dozen large cemeteries within a few square miles--I've photographed Greenwood and Cypress Grove already. I almost didn't find this one, it's behind the campus of Delgado Community College. The third time I drove past, I noticed a little side road leading onto the campus called "Buddy Bolden Road", and I remembered that he's buried in Holt, so I turned onto it and it led me right to the cemetery.
Weird thing abut Bolden, I keep stumbling across him. I read Coming Through Slaughter a couple of months ago, which is a fictionalized version of his life. (EJ Bellocq is also a character in it, and just before I read it I visited the cemetery he's buried in and saw his mausoleum.) Not long after, we had the meetup in Jackson, which I planned before I read the book. Jackson is where the Eastern Louisiana Mental Health System is, where Bolden spent years (he was schizophrenic). And then I found out that a relative of mine--by marriage only--was also incarcerated there (although after Bolden had died there), after he tried to kill his wife, my great-grandmother's sister. I'd always known about that, but not where he was sent.
Holt is a far cry from most NOLA cemeteries, with their grand mausoleums and towering marble monuments. The plots are inches from each other; the grass is shaggy and dotted with clover like an improbable May snowdrift. Graveyards almost never feel sad to me, merely peaceful, but this one has a melancholy that's almost enjoyable--like when you press on a bruise. It hurts, but there's something compelling about it, too. The people buried here seem more real to me than the occupants of those fancy above-ground tombs. People loved them enough to build a monument with their bare hands and whatever tools and material they could afford.
Weird thing abut Bolden, I keep stumbling across him. I read Coming Through Slaughter a couple of months ago, which is a fictionalized version of his life. (EJ Bellocq is also a character in it, and just before I read it I visited the cemetery he's buried in and saw his mausoleum.) Not long after, we had the meetup in Jackson, which I planned before I read the book. Jackson is where the Eastern Louisiana Mental Health System is, where Bolden spent years (he was schizophrenic). And then I found out that a relative of mine--by marriage only--was also incarcerated there (although after Bolden had died there), after he tried to kill his wife, my great-grandmother's sister. I'd always known about that, but not where he was sent.
Holt is a far cry from most NOLA cemeteries, with their grand mausoleums and towering marble monuments. The plots are inches from each other; the grass is shaggy and dotted with clover like an improbable May snowdrift. Graveyards almost never feel sad to me, merely peaceful, but this one has a melancholy that's almost enjoyable--like when you press on a bruise. It hurts, but there's something compelling about it, too. The people buried here seem more real to me than the occupants of those fancy above-ground tombs. People loved them enough to build a monument with their bare hands and whatever tools and material they could afford.
