DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker at Oakwood Cemetery tells it, and I'll do my best to do it justice. This burial ground has been holding Tyler's stories since before Tyler was even sure what to call itself. It started as Lollar's Cemetery — named for John Lollar, who purchased the land back in 1846.
When Lollar sold his acreage to John Madison Patterson in 1849, he made sure five acres were set aside for cemetery use. Five acres. A man who thinks about that kind of thing is a man who understands that the living don't stay that way forever.
Burials had already begun in the 1840s, but many of those early gravestones are simply gone now — lost to time, to weather, to the particular cruelty that history reserves for the humble. The oldest marked grave that survived belongs to a child. P.
M. Scott. Four years old.
Died in 1852. You stop at a grave like that and you feel the full weight of the place settle over you. East of Central Drive, the ground rises up in a section where Confederate soldiers who died in the Civil War — that long, terrible stretch from 1861 to 1865 — were laid to rest.
The land holds them still. And in a separate portion entirely sits the Jewish Beth-el Cemetery, with its own oldest grave — nineteen-year-old Rachel Wolinsky, who died in 1884. Different communities, different traditions, all gathered into the same ground.
Then came 1903. Additional land was acquired, the name was changed to Oakwood, and city officials brought in William A. Woldert to do the kind of painstaking work that cemeteries desperately need — mapping the grounds, locating old graves that had gone unrecorded, laying out new walkways so the living could find their way among the dead.
The WPA came through in the 1930s and enlarged the cemetery again, putting labor into the land during years when the whole country was looking for work that mattered. By the time the 1970s rolled around, Oakwood covered nineteen and a half acres and held over two thousand marked graves. Among them: Judge Stockton P.
Donley, a Texas Supreme Court Justice, born 1821, died 1871. And Governor Richard B. Hubbard — born 1832, died 1901 — a man who governed Texas and then went on to serve as U.S.
Ambassador to Japan. The ground at Oakwood doesn't just hold the dead. It holds the whole arc of a city — its griefs and its glories, its children and its governors, all leveled by the same quiet acres.
What the marker says
Originally called Lollar's Cemetery and later City Cemetery, this burial ground was located on land purchased by John Lollar in 1846. Five acres were reserved for cemetery use when Lollar sold his land to John Madison Patterson in 1849. Burials began in the 1840s, but many early gravestones have been lost. The oldest marked grave is that of four-year-old P. M. Scott, who died in 1852. The graves of numerous Confederate soldiers, who died in the Civil War (1861-1865), are situated in a raised section east of Central Drive. In another separate portion is the Jewish Beth-el Cemetery, where the oldest grave is that of 19-year-old Rachel Wolinsky, who died in 1884. In 1903, additional land was acquired and the cemetery renamed Oakwood. City officials hired William A. Woldert (1885-1937) to map the grounds, locate old graves, and lay out more walkways. Further improvements were made by WPA labor in the 1930s, when Oakwood was again enlarged. By the 1970s, the burial ground contained 19.5 acres with over 2,000 marked graves. Many of Tyler's most prominent citizens are buried here, including Judge Stockton P. Donley (1821-1871), Texas Supreme Court Justice; and Governor Richard B. Hubbard (1832-1901), who also served as U. S. Ambassador to Japan. (1978)