Items

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  Eugune (1880-1923)

  I, Eugene was born on January 9, 1880, in Wisconsin. There is not a lot known about me other than census records and my burial location. You see, I never married or had children, so I was soon forgotten after I died. When I was 4 months, I lived in Mount Pleasant Township in Racine with my mother Johanna. She was born in Wisconsin and my father; John, was born in Germany. When I was 20, I lived at 7399 Brand Ave, Mount Pleasant Township, Racine Wisconsin. I was single and worked as a fireman with the railroad. When I was 25, I lived in the 4th Precinct 23 Ward Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I was still single, and I still worked as a fireman. When I was 30, my father died at age 69. I lived at 394 27th Ave Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I was working as an Engineer and I was still single. When I was 40 years old, I moved to 340-54 Florida St., Milwaukee, Wisconsin and was a laborer for the railroad. After working for so long at the railroad, I ended up contracting tuberculosis and died on October 7, 1923, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I was buried at the Milwaukee Poor Farm plot number 45, due to me not having enough money to pay for a respectable burial. All I ask for is to rest in peace, undisturbed. Thank you.
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  August Jr. (1874-1912)

  August Jr. was born in Germany on June 19th, 1874. While much isn’t known about his education, we know his parents’ names, which are August Sr. and Rosalia. After a couple of years to follow, August had 2 younger brothers and 1 younger sister. They were named Julius, John, and Anna. But at the age of 14, August Jr and his family moved to Wisconsin. After a while, 2 younger sisters and 4 younger brothers were born and the final children ever born in the family which made 10 kids in total. Then August Jr got his own home in Milwaukee Ward 5, Wisconsin, USA in 1900 at the age of 26 with an occupation of being a laborer. But at the age of 32 in 1906, his mother, Rosalia, died at the age of 54. He then moved to Ward 12, but during that time he caught Pulmonary Tuberculosis. Then he died in 1912 at the young age of 38 due to it and passed in the Milwaukee County Hospital. August Jr. was buried at Milwaukee County Almshouse and Poor Farm Cemetery. Since then, parts of the cemetery were disturbed, with paved roads, new buildings or human remains boxed and shelved. He was separated from who he was and lost his identity and silenced. But with what we know about him, he will at least be remembered and never forgotten in history like many before him.
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  David (1864-1908)

  My life was cut short by an incurable disease at age 44. My name once was David. I was born January 21, 1864, in Milwaukee County Wisconsin, but most have forgotten who I was. There is no memorial of my life and what remains of my body could be on a shelf at the University of Wisconsin or under a building or a road. I died of an incurable disease that makes many feel uncomfortable. They will judge me by this word, but it does not define me. Syphilis. It ate away at my brain. I do not know how my life got this way. I was a good son to my parents John and Rosina, who owned a farm and to my three siblings, Charles, Caroline, and John Henry. Being the youngest, you might think I was spoiled, but I attended school at age 16 and was a hard worker. I never married even though I wanted to. I never thought I had enough to offer a woman to have my children. I was a lineman for the railroad, a very dangerous job. I even moved to Jacksonville, Illinois and St. Louis, Missouri, for more opportunities, but it did not work out and I moved back to Wisconsin. After that, my disease progressed and I died on July 13, 1908, at the Milwaukee County Hospital. I could not afford a good doctor or a proper burial, so I was buried in the Poor Farm Cemetery. Maybe, my remaining two siblings did not have the money to give me a proper burial or they were too ashamed of me and wanted to forget me. My burial number was eventually removed and no one remembered me until my cousins Jude and Jessica found the remaining records of my life.
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  Adolph: Biography 1875-1923

  Adolph was born on June 5th, 1875, in Vienna, Austria by his parents Anton and Maria. Adolph got married to his now ex-wife (divorced 3 May 1917 ) Franciska on February 27, 1905 and had 6 kids, first starting off with Clementine who was born October 8,1905 in Austria, Frank born in 1909 in Austria after Adolph left for America, then the following were born in Wisconsin: Joseph born in 1910, Adolph Jr. born in 1911, August born in 1912, Louis born in 1913, and Marie born in 1915. Adolph immigrated to America on 3 Nov 1908 from Hamburg, Deutschland. He later went back to bring his wife and children to America in 1909. He worked as a laborer all his life but sadly got sick later with a mental disease which eventually caused him to die from Epilepsy. He was attended to at the Milwaukee County Poor Farm from 16 Feb 1920-2 Feb 1923 and after his death, was originally buried in the Cemetery 2 of the Poor Farm. Later on, his children died in the following years, starting off with Joseph who died in 1964, then Adolph Jr. who died in 1965, then came Frank who died in 1993, Clementine died in 1995, then Louis died in 2004, then finally August and Marie, both who died in 2005. His ex-wife, Franciska "Frances" "Fanni" died in 1956. The records do not show why they got divorced.
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  George (1866-1890)

  My name is George. I was born in 1866 in the country of Norway. I was ripped from my home at a young age. I was abandoned with no family or caretaker. When I became an adult, I had to find work and so I worked as a farmhand for shelter and a little money. I had many friends and did not always make good decisions. My best friend was Michael. I cannot recall what exactly happened that day, but something was off. A simple quarrel that was once forgiven and forgotten. But Michael and I had been drinking and we got into an argument again and I died on July 21,1890. It would take months for the trial, and they decided in less than an hour my murderer was not guilty, but rather, it was self-defense. I had no family in America and did not have any money saved for a proper burial, so I was buried in the county poor farm cemetery. I did not receive justice in life and now have no peace or justice in death, due to the poor farm cemetery being desecrated in the name of progress. I was a struggling young man, still had more life to live, and should not be forgotten.
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  Jacob (1872-1910)

  Bernice was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on August 14, 1916. Her single mother was only able to hold onto her baby girl for 8 months. Bronchial pneumonia is a common illness in infants and early childhood. This affects your lungs with bacteria and fungi. It inflames your lungs. Every second it gets harder to breathe. This is the disease Bernice got infected with. Bernice was born into a poor household. This did not help in getting medication to help treat her Bronchial pneumonia. She was treated with home remedies such as ginger tea and blackberry tea. Unfortunately, this was not enough for Bernice’s little body to fight off the disease. Bernice had a whole life waiting ahead of her. She did not even get the opportunity to learn how to take her first steps. After only 8 months, she passed away on May 12, 1917. She was buried at the poor farm cemetery in Milwaukee County. Now in the present, her body is in danger of being desecrated. Her soul shall be remembered well and should stay resting peacefully.
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  Robert (1842-1898)

  My name was Robert, born around 1842 and I lived in Milwaukee, Wisconsin when I died. I died at 56 years old on July 19, 1898, from pneumonia, a condition that left my lungs inflamed; a terrible way to go out, but not as bad as what they did to my body. Instead of letting me rest after my death, my body was donated to the Milwaukee Medical College for science, and they experimented with me. I must have agreed to this before I died, but I don’t remember. The only information that can be found about me is from my death certificate in Milwaukee Wisconsin. I was a black sailor, I guess on Lake Michigan, since my death record did not indicate that I was in the military. Was I born into slavery? Where was I born? Who were my parents? 56 years on this earth and it was like I never existed. But I did help people, and if researching my body and lung condition could help save more people, I didn't mind that at all. After the medical research, I was buried in the Milwaukee poor farm cemetery. It may sound inhumane that my body was used for medical study, but I helped train new doctors and saved future generations. What's inhumane is that after all the struggles I went through, I apparently was not destined to be at peace. The poor farm cemetery has been desecrated by new buildings and roads and several of us in the thousands have been dug up for research, without the consent of their family members. I led a low-key life, but I will not be forgotten.
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  Walter (1858-1888)

  Walter, a black man, was born in 1858, place unknown and possibly an enslaved child due to being born before the Civil War. All that is known of him is from his death certificate in Milwaukee County, Wisconsin. Walter died May 2, 1888, of valvular heart disease. This is a condition where Walter had a shortness of breath, fatigue, chest pain or possibly no symptoms. One of his four heart valves were damaged somehow and leaked causing these symptoms. Since Walter was a laborer, perhaps his physical job caused this disorder, or he was born with it. Whatever the case, Walter was only 30 years old when he died at the County Hospital and did not have the resources for a proper burial and was buried in the Poor Farm Cemetery in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I Lived – I Loved – I Laughed – I Cried I should be able to rest in peace for eternity. I should be remembered. I was somebody.
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  Casper (1857-1897)

  I was born in Switzerland on September 28, 1857, to my parents Casper and Maria and I have one brother, Robert. Yes, my name is the same as my father's. I have moved to Wisconsin in the city of Milwaukee thinking I would have a better life. In my life growing up with my parents, we were not rich, but we tried our best to keep going in life. I later worked in labor work as that's the only job I could do. As the years went by, I met a lovely girl named Maria and we matched, so perfectly. Of course, she and I got married as she was my supporter, and I was hers. She and I never had kids as we were so focused on working hard as money was still low for both of us. I felt as if I had failed as a husband who doesn’t seem to be taking care of their wife. I was 39 years old, and I went for a walk to try to clear my mind, but my thoughts kept getting louder and louder. I felt very worthless and committed suicide. Peace finally seemed to have ended that day on May 28, 1897. But I’m not at peace, my body was possibly given to a medical university which means they took me out from my resting place for research. Or my final burial place could have been covered by a road, but in the end, it is lost. In my resting place, there are many other people who have their own story and background that has been forgotten. The cemetery that should have been left alone and respected is now being destroyed and desecrated.
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  Ancestor: A. Jones, 1863-1888

  My name is A. Jones, and I was a black man that died of tuberculosis and valvular heart disease in Milwaukee County when I was 25 years old. That is It. That is all that remains of my humanity. Only a couple scraps of paper and the barest minimum of information. Not my story, not my passions, not where I was from—only where it all ended. You do not know me, and you never will, for I am now a faceless statistic amid many others. But I adjure you, humble stranger, to look beyond. I urge you to see that I too, was human. That I too grieved, loved, suffered, lived. I am more than a pile of bones, I am more than a decayed piece of wood, I am more than a forgotten name. I deserve a burial; I deserve a grave. So please, allow me the respect I never received in life, and lay my brittle bones down… …so that they may rest.
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  John (1850-1905)

  I was born in Germany on June 13, 1850, to John and Christina. As a young man, I dreamed of a better life and came to America in 1882. I worked as a machinist in a factory, which was hard, dirty work, but kept food on the table. I married Wilhelmina, and together we built a home in Milwaukee. Our children, Alma, Anna, Martha, and John were the joy of my life. We didn't have much, but we had each other. In my latter years, sickness took hold. The doctor called it tuberculosis. One June 22, 1905, at the county hospital in Wauwatosa, I took my last breath at the age of 55. My family did not have the money for a proper burial, so I was buried in the poor farm cemetery. My family could barely find my grave to visit me. I came to America with a little more than hope. I worked, I loved, I lived, and that is enough to be remembered and respected in death.
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  Betty's Story (1901-1923)

  I was born in Illinois in 1901. My parents were Alfred and Mary. They immigrated all the way from Germany to America; they wanted to give me a better opportunity at life. Unfortunately, I grew up in a poor household. Immigrating and moving into a house to call home was already expensive enough. We did not have much money. Despite this I was eternally grateful for my parents' struggles to get to the U.S and for trying to give me a better life. I worked as a clerk to help support my family. As my life went on, things started changing in the beginning of 1923. Although people expect the new year to be great and grant wishes, it did not feel like that for me. I started getting severe cramps, was in constant pain and did not know what to do about it. I soon found out I had this disease called Perforation intestinal. I was scared because there was no treatment for this. The most I could do was home remedies and avoid solid foods so that it wouldn't longer hurt my stomach. Although I was trying these “solutions”, my pain kept going. This disease led to my death. I closed my eyes eternally on February 24, 1923, at the Milwaukee County Hospital. Finally, I was away from suffering and could be in comfort as well as peace. My family could not afford a proper burial, so I was buried at the poor farm cemetery 2 on March 6, 1923, in Wauwatosa, Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I have now been forgotten, and the grounds have been desecrated.
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  Justice for John (1850-1905)

  John was born in Germany on June 13, 1850, a country that, along with others in Europe, had many leave to seek a more promise-filled and stable environment during the 1800s. He eventually settled in Milwaukee County, Wisconsin, where there was already a large German immigrant community growing. John worked as a machinist, a job requiring a great deal of skill, careful hands, and long hours. As machinists helped to run and repair industrial equipment, they were extremely important in the late 1800s while factories expanded throughout the Midwest. In Germany, John married Wilhelmine; and together they arrived in the US in 1882. They raised several children, including Alma Sophia, John, Anna Marie, and Martha. The family lived in the Town of Greenfield, where they balanced work, school, and church life within the strong German-American community. By the early 1900s, John’s health had begun to fail. He contracted tuberculosis, a grave and often lethal disease at the time. He was admitted to the Milwaukee County Hospital, where he died on June 22, 1905, aged 55. He was buried at the Milwaukee County Alms House and Poor Farm Cemetery. Part II — Fictionalized Narrative: “The Life, Death, and Disturbed Rest of John” The otherwise tough job of a machinist was an object of pride for John. Every morning, with his sleeves rolled up, he walked into the workshop, ready to repair gears, pistons, and other metal parts of the town's factories. His co-workers respected him as he was very patient and accurate, teaching younger workers the trade. At home, John's life was complete with love. His wife, Wilhelmine, would wait for his return from work by the window; his children would run to open the door for him. He taught them small lessons in honesty and hard work, and how others should be treated with respect. And although being an immigrant taught him hard realities like learning English, finding prejudice against his culture, and struggling with low pay, every day John was working to give his children opportunities he had never experienced. But life in the workshop was demanding, and the long hours amidst dust and crowding laid him open to the weakening of his lungs. When tuberculosis finally took hold of him, it struck fast. In this fictional telling, his final days were filled with fading memories, quiet moments in the hospital, where he asked only one thing: “Just make sure my family knows I loved them.” He died serenely, never thinking that his final resting place would ever be disturbed or disrespected. The Disturbance (Fictional) Decades later, long after his family had passed, a construction project was started by Milwaukee County on land that once belonged to the old county poor farm cemetery. In that process, university workers exhumed human remains, including John's. Over time, burial records became mixed, misplaced, or incomplete. With no ability to identify the exhumed, university staff chose to keep them for research purposes in their storage facility rather than having them re-buried. John, who had worked all his life for stability and dignity, was reduced to a number in a box. When the truth came out, both historians and descendants demanded answers. They argued that those whose graves had been disturbed were not research subjects—these were human beings who built the county, paid taxes, reared families, and were entitled to respect. Just because they were poor or ill and a so-called burden on Milwaukee County - the marginalized of early 1900’s – they still needed to treat these people with respect, but they didn’t. Justice for John (Fictional) After public pressure and community protests, Milwaukee County and UWM faced responsibility. The school admitted that it had handled the remains improperly and agreed to fund the full cost of restoring each person-including John-to a proper and respectful burial. A memorial ceremony was held where clergy, historians, and local families came together to pay their respects to the forgotten. John’s name was spoken aloud, his story shared, and his remains finally returned to the cemetery where he was originally laid to rest. His grave, once disturbed, was restored with dignity-fulfilling the one wish he never spoke out loud but always deserved: to rest in peace.
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  A man who persevered through sweat, blood, and tears (Morton 1894)

  Morton, a man who lived through slavery, fought through the Civil War and escaped from his owners to Ohio. He later became a cook, but sadly he died of pulmonary tuberculous. From 1845 to 1863; Morgan was born in Virginia, a state that had slaves where he worked until he was 17 years old. He was drafted into the military as a laborer and although it was grueling work, it was still better than how his slave owners worked him. He was moved to Fort Morgan a confederate camp, where he spent his days building homes, repairing walls, loading cannons, carrying gunpowder and all sorts of jobs. In his free time, he would cook meals for his fellow laborers although the meals were bland and lacked nutrition, they were delicious for him and his men and this is where he found his love for cooking. On August 9, 1865, union soldiers attacked Fort Morgan and Morton took the opportunity to escape to Columbia Wisconsin. Wherever he went, he had to work taking all sorts of odd jobs. At 44 Morgan traveled to Milwaukee and worked as a porter. At 46 Morgan’s body had given out, so he worked as a shoe shiner at the Plankton House. Then sadly, at 49, Morton died of tuberculosis. After all the trials and turbulations, he just wanted to have a peaceful rest in death and to be remembered.
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  The Life of Catherine (1845-1923)

  Catherine was born in Prussia, Europe on August 1845 and died in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on March 7, 1923. Growing up in Europe was uneventful for her as she lived a normal life with her mother and father in a small house struggling to make ends meet. Catherine went to school and had to maintain a job which caused a lot of mental stress for her. Nevertheless, Catherine was a very positive and outgoing individual, which is why she was popular in middle school. When it was found out she had a poor life at home, people stopped talking to her which caused her to be even more depressed than she already was. As she grew up and graduated from middle school, she had many doubts about her future as she struggled to find jobs and sustain a healthy life. At this time, Catherine was still in Europe with no job, so she was a stay-at-home wife and took care of the house while her husband worked and brought income to support them. Catherine struggled with mental issues and there were quarrels between Joseph and their marriage. These petty disputes come from the fact that one wanted kids, and one didn’t. It seems she had two children early in her life because that’s what a later census indicated, but maybe not. After divorcing, Catherine moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin and married again at age 58 on April 23rd, 1904, to Martin. Martin worked as a butcher and Catherine was once yet again a stay-at-home wife. These mental challenges and struggles stayed with Catherine until she was admitted to Milwaukee County hospital for being mentally disabled. She died of “exhaustion senile psychosis” which was just the symptoms of old age and was finally buried in Potter’s field on March 19th, 1923. Instead of finally finding peace, poor Catherine, decades after her death, was disturbed once again for her remains to be studied by a medical college. Then, some of the land where she was buried along with others was built over by a hospital. Catherine is remembered today as an immigrant that struggled, a mother, and a wife who deserves to rest in peace.
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  Elizabeth (1893)

  My name is Elizabeth. I was born on June 3, 1893, in Milwaukee County, Wisconsin. My parents were Herman and Pauline. I only lived a short time—just 1 year and 3 months. I passed away on September 4, 1894, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, at our home on 665 Broadway, in Ward 1. My death was caused by an illness called summer complaint which often affected infants during the hot months. We now know it is cholera infantum or a bacteria infection that causes diarrhea and dehydration. After my death, I was buried at the Milwaukee County Almshouse and Poor Farm Cemetery in Wauwatosa, Wisconsin. My resting place is listed as Grave 193. Even though my life was brief, I am remembered through these records and by those who study the families of Milwaukee’s past.
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  Bernice's Story (1916-1917)

  Bernice was born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin on August 14, 1916. Her single mother was only able to hold onto her baby girl for 8 months. Bronchial pneumonia is a common illness in infants and early childhood. This affects your lungs with bacteria and fungi. It inflames your lungs. Every second it gets harder to breathe. This is the disease Bernice got infected with. Bernice was born into a poor household. This did not help in getting medication to help treat her Bronchial pneumonia. She was treated with home remedies such as ginger tea and blackberry tea. Unfortunately, this was not enough for Bernice’s little body to fight off the disease. Bernice had a whole life waiting ahead of her. She did not even get the opportunity to learn how to take her first steps. After only 8 months, she passed away on May 12, 1917. She was buried at the poor farm cemetery in Milwaukee County. Now in the present, her body is in danger of being desecrated. Her soul shall be remembered well and should stay resting peacefully.
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  The Life of 10-year-old Arthur (historical fiction; 1875-1885)

  Arthur was born in Mayville, Dodge County, Wisconsin on May 20th, 1875, and was only 10 and a half years old when he died in 1885. When Arthur was born, he was a generous and promising individual. By the age of 5, he had already learned how to read and write his own name, to which they moved to Milwaukee for housing and a good school for Arthur. In school, Arthur was very sociable and active in his community and joined many clubs in grammar school. On that October day, on the Milwaukee River, Arthur went fishing with a spool of thread and fell into the river behind the Haase & Raloff Wood Yard in the 1st Ward. Did Arthur go by himself, his friends, or even his family? Maybe his father Charles, took him to teach his son how to fish on the river. Somehow, Arthur fell in the water. Arthur went missing on October 21, 1885, and his body was found on April 30, 1886. He was identified by his poor, grieving father, his only child. Arthur had an amazing life, a life most children would dream of having, and his memory, along with the fact that he was on this earth will never be forgotten. But the idea of someone being remembered forever is one that can only be upheld by famous or wealthy people it seems, as Milwaukee County built a hospital and a road over where his body could have been buried. Or they could have preserved his remains for scientific study at the University of Wisconsin at Milwaukee. It is not known where his body lies at this time. He deserves a plot of land where he can rest eternally and not be forgotten.
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  Biography of Harriet (1847-1899)

  On February 15, 1847, Harriet Anne was born. Harriet was born and raised in Toronto Municipality, Ontario, Canada with her father John. At 14 years old, she moved to a different neighborhood in Toronto called York. At 16 years old, Harriet became a wash woman co-living in a home with her friend Martha who was a dressmaker and with two other people who went by the name Henry and Maria. They all converted into being Baptist as time goes on of them living together. Harriet later grew up to be a cook and becomes married to Edward, and they move in a house together at 709 Wells St in Milwaukee. Sadly, a couple years later Harriet becomes sick with Chronic Brights disease which is a kidney disease and eventually died from that disease on May 18, 1899, at the County Hospital in Wauwatosa. Harriet was then later buried a day after, on May 19, 1899, at the Milwaukee County Farm Cemetery in Wauwatosa, Milwaukee County.
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  Anton (ca. 1855-1925)

  I was a father, son, worker, husband, and I deserved to be able to rest in peace. I was from Poland and so were my parents. I was born about 1855, but my birthday has not been clarified in the records. I was a hard-working laborer, but I was given a long painful life. When I was 28 on 18th October 1883, my wife had my first-born son Stanislaus. On February 23rd, 1888, I was gifted with my second son Joseph, but death took him too early when I lost him on May 15th of the same year. My wife was completely torn and so was I, but I had to keep fighting for the sake of my family. I continued working and providing for my family with the very little money I earned. My wife was ecstatic when she found out we were having another baby after we had lost our son. On February 16, of 1890, my daughter Bronislawa was born. Everything was going good for my family. On December 10, of 1893, my world completely stopped, my wife Constancia had passed away. I was 38, a widower and 2 kids to take care of. I had lost the love of my life, and my kids had lost their mother. Throughout the years I lived in Milwaukee, Wisconsin with my family. My body was giving up on me, and I found out that I had Broncho Pneumonia and Bilateral Pleurisy Bronchitis, which affected my bronchial tubes on both sides of my chest. I coughed and coughed until my body no longer could take it. Due to the fact that I didn’t have enough money for a proper burial, I was buried in 1925 at the Poor Farm Cemetery. When this cemetery was partially destroyed, my body, along with thousands of others, was boxed and shelved at the University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee. Some burials were paved over, or buildings were built in the name of progress. As human beings we deserve to rest in a cemetery where our family can go and visit us. Cemeteries are supposed to be your final resting place. Anton, remember my name, as well as others who deserve to rest.