Wandering Billy

Grave Matters

Creating cleaner, greener pastures at Green Hill Cemetery

By Billy Ingram

“Never check an interesting fact.”     – Howard Hughes

It may seem odd that someone possesses warm fuzzies for a graveyard, but my fond memories of Green Hill Cemetery go back as far as I can remember.

At 10 years old, I convinced my younger brother and sister that my foot was stuck between the wooden ties of the railroad tracks along the western edge of Green Hill. With one ear on the rails, I could feel (or so I told them) the vibrations of a locomotive speeding toward us, imploring my siblings to run, to save themselves — there was no longer any hope for me.

My sister’s first name is Rives, same as my mother’s maiden name. Mom’s family has a plot at Green Hill centered with a monument that simply reads “Rives.” When she was 7 years old, I told my sister that she had an incurable disease and was going to pass away soon, so mom and dad were just waiting until she died to carve the dates on this, her headstone. She cried and cried and I guffawed like a peg-legged pirate. Was I an awesome brother or what?

It’s been a decade or so since I’ve wandered over to Green Hill, where I recently caught up with my one-time neighbor David Craft, who, alongside a dozen or so stalwart volunteers from the Friends of Green Hill organization, are selflessly assessing, sprucing up and restoring smaller headstones that, over time, have become unmoored by mudslides. These crafty citizens dig out those sunk several feet into the ground and clean covered-over carved marble tablets long ago toppled onto their backs, presently embedded into the soil. At a glance, they tend to go unnoticed, this multitude of mangled monuments, askew stones of all sizes and shapes, spires weighing hundreds, perhaps thousands of pounds, cracked and fractured, resting on their sides, primarily in the oldest tracts.

“You’re walking and you see these gravestones fallen over,” David says about what spurred him into action, pointing out monoliths and burial sites in dire need of rehabilitation. “They’re in the wrong places, they’re broken, and these things are so beautiful, they’re almost like artwork. And I was kind of looking for something else to do.” David dubbed this merry band of recreational restorationists the “Billies” as a hat tip to his dad, Bill Craft — but he’d prefer if you didn’t preface that nickname with “Green Hill.”

In his own way, David is advancing a legacy that took root more than a half-century ago, when his father began implementing his sylvan vision for Greensboro, one that continues to flourish and likely will for generations to come.

As a teenager in the 1970s, I’d notice Bill Craft almost daily planting assorted flora directly across the street from our Blair Street home. Guilford County’s Johnny Appleseed, with persistent prodigality, transformed a perfectly ordinary two-block-long, grassy, creekside strip into a lush environ, what is now known appropriately as Bill Craft Park. With virtually nowhere left to dig at that location, he turned his attention to Green Hill Cemetery’s relatively sparse surroundings beginning in 1980, toiling in that soil for the next 20 years.

When this self-taught botanist began his arbor days-turned-years at Green Hill, there were around 100 trees dotting the 51-acre landscape. By the time Bill was done, he’d seeded an additional 400 saplings and shrubs, just about every species known or suspected to survive here: a rubber tree from China, live oaks from the coast, Florida palms, Atlantic white cedar, Chinese pistache, Savannah holly, Japanese maple, Tupelo gum, Colorado blue spruce, to name a few. Bill Craft passed away in 2010, his herculean efforts costing this city not one dime.

Last year, David attended a seminar in Statesville led by Shawn Rogers, director of Jamestown’s Mendenhall Homeplace, on the proper methods for restoring and repairing marble, slate, and granite markers and footstones without being invasive or intrusive. A precision-oriented approach appealed to David, who likes “doing things with my hands, simple things.” He continues, “So we got permission to straighten [smaller stones and slabs], which is kind of within our skillset.” The goal for these Green Hill aficionados is to perform as many minor repairs as possible while raising money for larger, more difficult projects that will require heavy machinery and extensive expertise.

In addition to this behind-the-scenes undertaking, there are two October happenings at Green Hill I’m personally looking forward to.

Not far from the southern gate (near Fisher Avenue) stands a most striking monument, a 7-foot-tall depiction of a firefighter standing at the ready, carved in Italian marble, perched atop a 10-foot-high granite plinth. Dedicated in 1924, this became the annual site for a service devoted to Greensboro Fire Department personnel who had perished over the last year. For whatever reason, this custom ended around 1970, but in 2021 that yearly ceremony was revived with a well-attended memorial honoring the 16 line-of-duty and retired GFD deaths during that dormant period. On Saturday, October 7, at 2 p.m., the city will once again honor the fallen.

Separately, for the 15th year, Ann Stringfield of the Friends of Green Hill Cemetery’s leadership team leads a tour on October 29 at 1 p.m. Her topic? “The Plants and the Planted” that inhabit the southern portion of Green Hill. Interested in assisting with restoration or want more info about these events, including rain dates? Visit: FriendsOfGreenHillCemetery.org.

A couple of months back, I profiled Gerald Smith, a charming, colorful gentleman who’d recently published a terrific memoir entitled Cotton Mill Hillbilly. Sadly, Gerald passed away on June 26, but what a privilege it was to have met him. Before my time comes, I can only hope to be blessed with even a fraction of his enthusiasm for life and the abundant love that obviously surrounded him.  OH

Despite so many familial connections at Green Hill, Billy Ingram’s final resting place will likely be Potter’s Field.