DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker at Fairmount Cemetery tells it, and I'll do my best to do it justice. Now, every town worth its salt eventually has to reckon with where to put its dead. San Angelo reckoned in 1893, setting aside twenty-two and a half acres and calling the place, plainly enough, the New City Cemetery.
The first recorded burial that same year was Elise Bond, wife of city alderman George Bond. History doesn't always start with the powerful, but sometimes it starts with the people standing right next to them. Four years later, in 1897, a cemetery association took shape, and with it came something that would prove far more durable than any of its founders expected — a volunteer women's auxiliary formed to manage the graveyard.
Mrs. C. A.
Broome stepped up to head that auxiliary, and she didn't step back down for thirty-eight years. Thirty-eight years. Let that settle for a moment.
Somewhere along the way, an early auxiliary member named Leila Hill looked out over those quiet acres and decided the place deserved a better name. She is credited with calling it Fairmount, and Fairmount it has been ever since. In 1927, the association deeded the cemetery over to the city of San Angelo.
But here's the thing about those women — they weren't done. A perpetual care fund was created, and the auxiliary kept right on overseeing operations. You don't spend decades tending a place and then just walk away.
Fairmount grew. Lord, it grew. From twenty-two and a half acres to fifty-two.
From a single recorded burial to more than thirty-three thousand, some of them transferred in from other area graveyards — people gathered home, you might say, from across the region. And the company kept in those fifty-two acres is something to behold. Former slaves rest there.
African American Buffalo Soldiers. Pioneer ranchers and oilmen. Civic leaders.
Veterans whose wars stretched from the Texas Revolution all the way to Vietnam. Among them is Lieutenant Jack Mathis, recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor for his service in the European Theater in World War II. That medal is not handed out lightly.
Members of a local Greek Orthodox Church are buried together in their own separate section, a community keeping faith even here. And the statuary — if you walk those grounds, you'll find the statue of Tom McCloskey, carved by the noted sculptor Frank Teich, and a figure of St. Francis shaped by Italian artisans.
Stone that remembers. Twenty-two and a half acres, a modest name, and one recorded burial in 1893. More than thirty-three thousand souls and fifty-two acres later, Fairmount Cemetery stands as proof that the quietest places sometimes hold the loudest history.
What the marker says
San Angelo established the "New City Cemetery" here in 1893 on 22.5 acres. The first recorded burial was that of city alderman George Bond's wife, Elise, in 1893. A cemetery association, formed in 1897, organized a volunteer women's auxiliary to manage the graveyard. The auxiliary was headed by Mrs. C. A. Broome for 38 years. Early auxiliary member Leila Hill is credited with naming the cemetery "Fairmount". Although the association deeded the cemetery to the city in 1927, a perpetual care fund was created and the women's auxiliary continued to oversee operations. Fairmount Cemetery's 52 acres contain more than 33,000 burials, some of which were transferred from other area graveyards. Interred here are former slaves; African American Buffalo Soldiers; pioneer ranchers and oilmen; civic leaders; and veterans of wars ranging from the Texas Revolution to the Vietnam conflict including Lt. Jack Mathis, recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor for service in the European Theater in World War II. Members of a local Greek Orthodox Church are buried in a separate section. Among the cemetery's outstanding statuary is the statue of Tom McCloskey by noted sculptor Frank Teich and one of St. Francis shaped by Italian artisans. (1994)