This is a sad place. I wanted it to be a creepy place, but the tragedy that took place here is really beyond the facade of creepiness. It had the right ingredients: a mass grave hidden miles into the woods, the murder of children, social ostracism, abuse, creepy dolls, the grave, set in a separate part of the cemetery, nicely sits by an ancient tree that has obviously been struck by lightning (see above), hell even the name Naramore sounds like "Nevermore." If I am to be completely honest... there were a couple times that I felt a little tingle in my spine, but really, sadness is the pervading feeling that I walked away with.
This is the Naramore grave. It was erected in 1992 to commemorate a massive tragedy that happened in 1901 in Oakham. It truly was a failure of both individuals and society to prevent a collision of events that ended in a mother's mass murder of her own six children and a failed attempt at her own life. The grave lies at the end of an old railroad track that has been converted into a rough two to the three-mile trail. To find it, park on the right-hand side after the bridge that spans the Ware river on the Barre/Rutland line on rte 122. Find a gated road (an old train track) that traces the left-hand side of the river and follow it out for about two and half miles. Where the road ends at another gate, take a right and the Riverside Cemetery sits quietly there on the right.
The main entrance is obvious and immediate, but continue down the road a small bit and you will see another smaller entrance. It is here, separated from the main cemetery that you will find a small commemorative stone and six small indentations in the ground. The Naramore's did not have the money to bury their children in the main cemetery. The stone itself has been quarantined off by some fallen branches laid in a small box around it. Well-meaning people have laid toys completely around it and on the top of the stone. The front lists the names: Lena, Elizabeth, Chester, Walter, Charles, and Ethel; children ranging in age from Lena's six months to Ethel's nine years. The back of the stone tells a small summary of the tragedy that violently ended the lives of these children.
Their mother murdered them, of that there is no question. She did so with an axe and a small club. She waited till her husband had left for work, locked and barred the doors shut with sticks and then proceeded to kill her children from oldest to youngest, the oldest with the backside of a double bladed axe and the youngest with a small club. She laid the two oldest children in their bed in one bedroom and the other four in another bedroom. She then tried to cut her own throat. She was unsuccessful and proceeded to cut into an artery in her leg. She laid down with her four youngest children and began to die.
Her husband, Frank, had stopped by a grocery store on the way to work and had bought some flour and other small supplies. He paid the delivery person to bring them to his house. It was this boy that found the house. He could not enter and suspected that something was wrong due to the missing children and the barricaded door. He noticed a pool of blood under one of the beds and smashed in the front door. The scene was gruesome, to say the least. It had been a violent and bloody death for the children and the house reflected this. He ran to find Mr. Naramore. A newspaper from that day reported that upon arrival, Mr. Naramore lay prostate in grief. Members of the town were quick upon the scene. Initially, they thought that Mrs. Naramore was dead, but when they tried to remove Lena, her six month old from her arms, she started. She was rushed to a nearby hotel and was eventually revived and saved by some area doctors.
She was only tried for the murder of her eldest. She was found insane and was sent to the Worcester Asylum for five years after which she was released.
Underlying the physicalities of this tragedy, were layers of deep, long-term tragedy. It is no small insanity to dent the face of humanity like this. The children were buried in the Riverside Cemetery, not the Baptist Cemetery because the family lacked the funds to bury them there. The Rev. Charles Talmage, from neighboring Barre MA, spoke at the funeral. He had been digging into the surrounding facts in the case, and his speech was nothing short of shocking. He stood firmly, raised his voice, and soundly accused the father, Frank Naramore, of being the one responsible for his family's death.
The Naramores were poor. Among the poorest in the area. They lived in a run down house and Frank Naramore did not keep a solid job. He worked for a lumber mill two miles from their house, but was found to be "undependable." The family was starving. In desperation, Mrs. Naramore reached out for help at a nearby "Overseers of the Poor" office in Baldwinville (the town that they had originally come from). The office came to visit and promptly told Mrs. Naramore that they were going to take away all but the youngest of her children and put them in foster families. This, I can only imagine, was not the help that Mrs. Naramore expected. Upon further exploration, Rev. Talmage found that Mr. Naramore was well known for his drunkery and abuse. It was abuse and poverty, coupled with the despair of losing her children that may have moved Elizabeth Naramore to violence. Jenny (my wife) also smartly theorized that she may have been suffering from post-partem psychosis. Her daughter Lena was only six months old.
Frank Naramore vanished into the population after his wife's trial. He fled the town and remained single for the rest of his life. Mrs. Naramore followed suit after her release from the asylum. As far as the specifics go of the Naramore family, this is the end. But the stone inscription at the base of the lightning scarred oak tree that shades the Naramore children continues a bit more. It states that many of the laws protecting children in Massachusetts find their origin in the Naramore case; a small silver lining in a terrible chain of events.
The stone is covered with children's toys. Nora and Henry picked their way through, surprised I am sure to see toys in such a solemn setting. I let Nora examine each one. She picked up a Teletubby that still spoke a bit when she squeezed it. A matchbox car. A stuffed animal. Somewhere in the back of my mind, in that part that had learned about these things from TV, I twitched at Nora's innocent curiosity. But I thought to myself that at least she is enjoying these things, laid here at the graves of children who will never use them. Henry started to read the back of the stone. He stood there for a bit, asked me what a couple of words meant, and then walked away. I plan on following up with him about it tomorrow.
It is our responsibility to help those around us. Just under the facade are people that truly are in need. I think that it takes more than laws passed to ease the burdens of those that are feeling the weight of the backside of society. It might seem like a quick vindication to blame the husband, but something in me nags at that quick indictment. We always look to blame, and in a way, it is this that may have been the final undoing of the Naramore family.
The main part of the Riverside Cemetery is beautiful. Stones are well cared for and small personalized objects find their way into the place. A wind chime hangs from a nearby white pine. A small, metal, garden seat sits rusting near a newer stone. Even the stones themselves seem to speak of a love of life, such as the
"Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful." Hebrews 10:23.
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