Mystery of founder’s tombstone solved
Editor’s note: Even a small town like Brownsville has its share of historical mysteries. In today’s column, originally published in 1998, Glenn Tunney describes how he attempted to prove that the epitaph on the tombstone of Thomas Brown, the founder of Brownsville, contains a significant error.Could the inscription on the tombstone of Brownsville’s founder be wrong? Here is the story of my attempt to prove that it contains a significant error. In 1991, I created the local history course at Brownsville Area High School. While doing research for a lesson on the early settlers of Brownsville, I came across some information about Thomas Brown that didn’t seem quite right.
I had been looking at a photograph of Brown’s present tombstone, which is in the graveyard of Christ Episcopal Church on Church Street in Brownsville. The original tombstones from Brownsville’s first town cemetery on lower Front Street, Brown’s among them, were moved to Christ Episcopal many years ago. Brown’s current granite tombstone was crafted in 1963 to replace his original sandstone marker, which had eroded badly.
The inscription on Brown’s 1963 marker reads, “Here lies the body of Thomas Brown who once was owner of this town who departed this life March 8, 1797 aged 89 years.” In smaller letters near the bottom of the stone is engraved “Restored by the vestry of Christ Church, 1963.”
I had never seen Thomas Brown’s original sandstone marker, but I had seen a photograph of it in J. Percy Hart’s 1904 book, “History and Directory of the Three Towns.” The original tombstone with its scalloped top was shaped differently than its 1963 replacement. The granite tombstone is rectangular, but it is clear that when it was fashioned in 1963, the stonemason was looking either at the original tombstone or at a photograph of it. On the modern granite stone he engraved an outline of the old stone, and inside that outline he copied the inscription that was on the old tombstone.
As I examined Hart’s 1904 photograph of the original stone, I noticed that the book’s publisher had attempted to highlight the epitaph by retouching the letters in a lighter color. I focused particularly on the last line of the epitaph. Did it really say “89 years?” Or had whoever touched up the photo misinterpreted a hard-to-read 5 as an 8?
Why was I such a doubting Thomas about Brown’s age at his death? Thomas Brown founded Brownsville by laying out its first streets in 1785. He died 12 years later, supposedly at age 89. I found it unlikely that at the advanced age of 77, Brown decided to lay out the lots and streets of a new town and market the lots. Such an ambitious project seemed more likely to have been the enterprise of a younger man.
Could Thomas Brown’s age upon his death have been miscopied by the 1963 stonemason as he strained to decipher the flaking numbers on the old stone? Or had he perhaps copied it from an erroneously touched-up photograph?
If the epitaph had included the year of Brown’s birth, there would have been no such uncertainty. But the inscription on the tombstone recorded only the year of his death and his age at death.
I decided that I wanted to see that old tombstone for myself. But where was it?
I visited local historian Ann Frondorf at her Front Street home. Ann is always happy to join any search for information about Brownsville’s history.
“Ann,” I said, “do you know where Thomas Brown’s original tombstone is?” I had already explained my suspicion that the age on Brown’s replacement stone might be incorrect.
She gave me an uncertain look and said something very strange.
“I think . . .” She hesitated, then continued, “I think it is in the new one.”
I looked at her in confusion.
“IN it?” I asked, although I knew I had heard her correctly. “But that’s not possible, Ann. I went over to Christ Episcopal the other day. That 1963 tombstone is solid granite. There can’t be anything in it.”
I instantly regretted the way I had immediately rejected her statement and added, “Of course, the outline of the old tombstone was engraved on the new stone. Perhaps that is what you are recalling.”
She repeated that she wasn’t really sure, but she did seem to remember someone saying that the old tombstone was in the new one. I thanked her and left, still in the dark about the whereabouts of the original tombstone of Brownsville’s founder. Surely the historic tombstone would not have been discarded, no matter how badly eroded it was. Of one thing I was certain. There was no way the old tombstone was “in” the new one.
Several months passed. The school year began, and in my local history class one day, I was teaching a lesson about Thomas Brown. As I described to the class my theory that the age of Thomas Brown’s death was incorrectly recorded on his replacement tombstone, a thought struck me. I said to the class, “Wait. There is someone in Brownsville who might know where the original tombstone is. I interviewed him a few years ago. His name is Donald Edwards.”
When I had conversed with Donald Edwards of Brownsville, he was about 90 years old. Recalling now that he was an authority on the history of Christ Episcopal Church, I told the class that perhaps he would know something about the tombstone. That evening, I called him on the telephone and asked him the same question that I had asked Ann Frondorf. His reply left me more perplexed than ever.
“The old tombstone is in the new one,” Mr. Edwards declared.
“Mr. Edwards,” I said, a bit exasperated, “the new tombstone is solid granite. There can’t be another tombstone inside it.”
He patiently explained what he meant. In 1963, he said, Christ Church’s leaders had noticed that some of the inscription on Brown’s original tombstone was becoming unreadable due to the flaking away of its sandstone surface. The tombstone was also very thin and vulnerable to being accidentally broken.
So a stonemason was hired to carry out a two-fold mission. First, he crafted a “splint” to support the old tombstone. Using an new piece of granite that was larger than the original tombstone, he carved an inch-deep inset into the granite in the exact shape and size of the original tombstone. He installed the old tombstone in the inset, providing it with support and protection.
Next, to protect the surface of the old stone from further weather-caused erosion, he covered its surface with a sheet of plexiglass, which he secured to the supporting granite stone with a screw through each corner of the plexiglass.
Unfortunately, Mr. Edwards explained, the plexiglass cover did not accomplish its objective. In fact, the erosion of the sandstone worsened as moisture accumulated behind the plexiglass. Alarmed, church officials had the plexiglass removed.
The old tombstone was left inset within the 1963 piece of granite, but it was still exposed to the elements. Since the inscription was continuing to erode, it was decided to have the stonemason engrave an exact copy of the disappearing inscription on the reverse side of the granite slab.
That side of the granite slab with the copied inscription is what visitors now see as they stand on the nearby sidewalk in Christ Episcopal churchyard. Only by stepping into the grass and walking around “behind” the 1963 granite marker can one actually see the original tombstone of Thomas Brown.
I had succeeded in “finding” Thomas Brown’s original tombstone on the reverse side of its replacement stone. But what about examining the all-important number stating Thomas Brown’s age at his death? Did the old stone reveal whether Thomas Brown was 77 or 47 when he laid out the town of Brownsville?
When I looked at the deteriorated sandstone, I realized that it would never provide the answer I sought. Where once there had been two digits, there was nothing but a deep hole in the sandstone. The numbers had completely eroded away. I was stymied.
But fortunately, the story does not end there.
In May 1996, I visited Christ Episcopal Church during National Pike Days. The church’s priest, Father Burdock, was standing in the sunny churchyard, greeting visitors who had come to admire the interior of the church and tour its historic graveyard. I had my videocamera with me. I intended to videotape both sides of Brown’s tombstone, the new and the old, so that I could show my local history class what the two-sided tombstone looked like.
Brown’s tombstone is the very first marker on the right as one enters the churchyard. Noticing that Father Burdock was standing near it, I mentioned to him my belief that there was a mistake on this tombstone. I explained that I thought Brown may have been 30 years younger when he died than the 1963 tombstone said he was.
Father Burdock thought for a moment, then told me that he had something inside the church which might help resolve the issue.
He disappeared into the church.
When he reappeared a few minutes later, he had a booklet in his hand. It was the registry for the graveyard. As I watched, he thumbed through the pages, then found what he was looking for. He read aloud the words which resolved the matter once and for all.
“Thomas Brown,” he read, “born in 1738, died in 1797.”
The graveyard registry revealed the year of Brown’s birth, proving that my theory was correct. When Thomas Brown died in 1797, he was 59 years old, not 89 as his 1963 tombstone states. When he founded Brownsville by laying out Front, Brashear (formerly Second) and Market streets, he was 47 years old, not 77. When he died 12 years later, he was 59.
So I had resolved the issue of the inaccuracy of his tombstone.
But there are still three unanswered questions related to those tombstones that were moved from the original town cemetery near the Commons to the churchyard at Christ Episcopal Church.
When and why were the tombstones moved from the town’s original cemetery to Christ Episcopal Church?
Were the bodies moved with them?
And finally, the most intriguing question of all . . .
Does there lie, somewhere beneath the grass near the Commons, the body of Thomas Brown?
—
Comments about these articles may be sent to Editor Mark O’Keefe, 8 – 18 East Church Street, Uniontown, PA or e-mailed to mo’keefe@heraldstandard.com .