These Weathered Stones: The History of St. Mary's Cemetery

  It’s an idyll, a postcard perfect image in our community, the singular country church along a narrow, tree shaded lane. Old St. Mary’s Catholic Church is one of our community’s most prominent landmarks. Bearing witness to over 150 years, it is nestled in the congregation’s cemetery. It’s probable that every Mokenian could show you this spot, occupying a prominent place on Wolf Road, but the historic section of this graveyard is easy to overlook, being tucked back far from the road. To visit this place and its hallowed grounds, is to be face to face with the forefathers of our community.

 The cemetery of St. Mary's on a winter's morn. (Image courtesy of Carolyn Galik)

   As Mokena entered the 1860s, it was a small, rural community that was about to turn ten years old. Our country was gripped in the carnage-filled days of the Civil War, and on the home front, this was a time of great spiritual activity for our residents. Reflecting the ethnic makeup of its members, the German United Evangelical St. John’s congregation was officially founded in March 1862, while the handful of local Catholics, also mostly of German origin, began to form their flock. Several of them donated a large piece of land to the bishop of the Chicago diocese for the purpose of building their own church, foremost among those with generosity in their hearts were the Enders family, upon whose farm the lion’s share of the expanse was located. Luxemburg born carpenter Bernhard Folman, was not only a member of this new congregation, but also the builder of the little church, using timber from local forests to complete the job, which was finished in 1864. All in all, it cost this group of the faithful about $1,400 to build the sanctuary. As the first services were held here, nine families made up the parish, numbering in total 50 souls. 

 

   In the shadow of this time-honored church rest a unique array of figures from our community’s long history. The ground was first broken here on September 12^th, 1865 to inter the mortal remains of John Schmidt. The unforgiving tides of time have not left us with any further information on him; whether he was a married man with a family, what his occupation was, or even how old he was when he crossed the great beyond have all been long since forgotten. 

 

   From this original tract, the grounds of the cemetery were expanded at least twice, the most recent addition taking place at the end of the 1990s with the annexation of a parcel to the northwest along Parker Street. Two of the most notable graves in the historic section are those of Mathias and Margaret Enders, the aforementioned founders of the St. Mary’s congregation. The bones of Mathias, the family patriarch, rest beneath a regal stone obelisk covered with patches of green lichen. A native of Prussia in what is today Germany, he was married in Lockport by an Irish priest to Margaret Summers in 1841, during the earliest days of Will County’s history.

 

   The parents of six children, it appears that the Enders clan set down roots in what would later become Mokena at some point in the 1840s, a far-away time in which our village and even the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific railroad were but a distant dream. Coming into possession of a large farm by the end of the decade, the Enderses tilled the prairie soil as rugged farmers. Tragically, Mathias Enders would perish in a bizarre accident in the spring of 1887 when he was jolted from a horse-drawn, lumber-filled wagon and run over by the same. When one examines his life and that of Margaret Enders, these prominent figures in the history of Mokena, it quickly becomes clear that their ages are a thorny issue. Documentation shows that Mathias Enders entered this world in the years following the Napoleonic Wars, his birthdate showing up in various records as occurring alternately in 1816, 1817 and 1818, while his tombstone in St. Mary’s Cemetery confusingly indicates a birthdate of September 16^th, 1825. The issue of Margaret’s age is no clearer. Subsequent federal census records place her birth in Bavaria in the early 1820s, recorded variously as 1820, 1822 and 1823. However, once she reached her senior years, the year reached even further back, and the society pages of the Joliet News reported her 100^th birthday on May 7^th, 1914. Whether her adult children and their families were inflating her age out of a sense of Methuselah-like honor, or if she managed to obfuscate her true age to a variety of census takers to mask the fact that she was considerably older than her husband, remains a mystery.

 The grave of Mathias Enders. (Image courtesy Michael Philip Lyons)

   Margaret Enders’ advanced age, whether authentic or not, led her to become something of a celebrity in Joliet, where she had come to live with her daughter. While her vision had suffered greatly over the years, she was still able to sew and knit by touch, and while her hearing was also no longer the best, she was not a fan of new-fangled cars, which she referred to as “dreadful, shrieking automobiles.” The tried-and-true creed of “early to bed, early to rise” was the secret to her longevity, while her friends chalked it up to her steadfast refusal to worry. It probably also helped that her immediate family kept details of the then-raging World War I from her. Margaret Enders ultimately passed away on June 29^th, 1916 at the claimed age of 102, and found her final resting place in the churchyard of St. Mary’s next to her husband. 

 

   Not far from the Enders plot, is a monument bearing the gothic, German language script that records the name of Nikolaus Schuberth and the dates of his life. Like his fellow St. Mary’s parishioner Margaret Enders, Schuberth was a native of Bavaria, and first saw the light of day there on August 6^th, 1840. At the tender age of seven, he along with his parents and four siblings set down their roots in the yet-unformed Frankfort Township, part of the great German migration to this portion of Illinois. A family of sturdy, hardworking folk, they eventually owned a homestead on what is today 191^st Street, which at that time was barely worthy of being called a farm lane. 

 

   In 1864, the Schuberths became one of the founding families of St. Mary’s parish. The older brother of Nikolaus, John Schuberth, came to run a well-known hardware store on Front Street in this era, and not one to live in his shadow, the younger brother established a saloon not long thereafter in a new building a few doors away, which extant records indicate was located at the northwest corner of Front and Division Streets. By 1879, this business had become a hostelry known as the Union Hotel. Aside from his work as a barkeep, Nikolaus Schuberth also served as Mokena’s constable for a spell in the 1870s. While on patrol one night in the spring of 1874, he discovered a fire in the grain elevator in the nick of time, being able to have the flames extinguished before the rest of the rambling structure was consumed. 

 

   The austerity and harsh reality of 19^th century life, when no one was guaranteed to reach old age, is evidenced by those from the Schuberth family who rest in St. Mary’s cemetery. Nikolaus’s infant son John is here, as is his daughter Maria who crossed the great beyond at about six years of age, and his wife Karolina, who died in 1882 at 35 years. Joining her in this lot is Nikolaus Schuberth himself, who perished as a 52-year-old on July 24^th, 1892. 

 

   A visitor’s attention will also be drawn to the graves of Anton and Rosalia Kohl, whose twin headstones are so weathered that one has to trace their ancient inscriptions with a fingertip. Early arrivals to the Mokena region by way of Bohemia, this husband and wife stand at the top of a long family tree that many in our community have found themselves a part of. Having maintained a farm in Frankfort Township along today’s 88^th Avenue during the Civil War era, Anton Kohl was interred here in September 1870, having reached 70 years. 79-year-old Rosalia followed in April 1881, after having succumbed to some long-forgotten illness. 

                        The weathered headstones of Anton and Rosalia Kohl.

 

   Nearby is the ancient headstone of Thomas Hauser, a Bavarian immigrant who was struck down in the prime of his life in 1870. A farmer who tilled the land in the northeast portion of the township, by 1860 he and his wife Catherine were the parents of 6 children who ranged in age from thirteen to one. The Hausers’ route to Mokena was a roundabout one, as some of their children were born in New Jersey and New York before they ultimately landed in Illinois in the 1850s. 

 

   As both St. Mary’s Church and cemetery saw their beginnings during the days of the Civil War, the darkest in our country’s history, it’s only fitting that two soldiers from that conflict, both heroes of the Union, have found their final resting place here. Interred beneath a shiny granite monument mere footsteps from the church is George Smith, who was born August 15^th, 1838, in what is today western Germany, and made the long, arduous trek to America with his brothers in 1857. Like so many of their countrymen, they found a home in Mokena, which in this era was just starting to come into its own along the new Rock Island railroad. Using the iron horse to his advantage, Smith took a job working in the community as a section hand, helping troubleshoot issues and fix whatever problems arose with the rails, while also doing some farming.    

   When our country was plunged into crisis with the secession of the southern states in 1861, George Smith’s patriotism for his adopted land knew no bounds once war broke out, and he promptly volunteered for service, mustering into the newly formed 20^th Illinois Volunteer Infantry on June 13^th of that year. While shouldering a musket in Abraham Lincoln’s army, Smith saw the shot and shell fly at the battle of Shiloh, Tennessee, was present at the fabled siege of Vicksburg, Mississippi, and numerous other engagements. 

   A veteran of hard combat, it’s hard to imagine anyone suffering more for their country’s cause during these dreadful years than George Smith. Two of his fingers were shot off, not to mention the serious wounds he took to the leg and shoulder. To round out these horrors, Smith carried a rebel ball lodged above the roof of his mouth to the grave; a grievous injury that he agonized from for nearly 40 years, and that was said to have led to his ultimate demise in June 1903. 

The resting place of Civil War hero George Smith.

 

   A brother in arms was Henry Folman, a neighbor who served in the same regiment. Folman, the 19-year-old son of the church’s builder, and a member of one of the parish’s founding families, took up arms with the 20^thIllinois Volunteer Infantry in October 1864. Upon his enlistment, the 20^th had been so decimated by casualties that a new company of the unit was formed, of which the young Folman was appointed sergeant. He appears to have been lucky enough to have escaped the carnage of battle, serving away from the front lines. 

   Beholding the earthen tomb of this old soldier, who ultimately breathed his last in 1924, it is plain that he was proud of the role he played in coming to America’s rescue during its greatest trouble. His rank and regimental affiliation are plainly etched on the marble cylinder above his remains. In the years after the war, Henry Folman was one of the countless Union warriors who joined the Grand Army of the Republic, a powerful fraternal organization made up of Northern Civil War veterans, not unlike today’s VFW or American Legion. A metal marker from the GAR placed on his grave by his comrades still holds watch today, rusted but vigilant. 

 

   Not to be forgotten are the victims of the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic who are interred in this historic cemetery. They were all Mexican-born laborers for the Rock Island railroad, who lived in converted boxcars on a sidetrack east of town. The virus was first noticed in their camp in the middle of October, and it decimated their numbers. Before all was said and done, at least six of the workers and their family members had perished. Father Theodore of Joliet, who was the priest in charge of St. Mary’s parish at the time, buried all of them. No markers were ever put over their graves, and while their names were all recorded in the church registry, the hastiness with which they were written has made them all but impossible to read. Nearly 103 years after their deaths, they are nameless to us. 

 

   This sampling of but a handful of those interred at St. Mary’s Cemetery barely scratches the surface of all of the historic personalities that one can find in this place. Beholding their places of eternal rest, when the conditions are just right, one can feel their stories.