Death is deep. Deeper, even, than the grave.

Long after their lives have ended, the remains and memories of the dead are still in the care of the living–and often left to specific individuals. An immense amount of trust is placed in the hands of the grave-keepers and cemetery sextons; they are tasked with maintaining the dignity of the dead, and assuring their proper interment in a consecrated ground so their souls could pass peacefully on to their reward.

That is why it’s so disturbing to see that trust violated–to see the remains of our families, ancestors, or even perfect strangers disturbed and mistreated. We all know we’ll end up in that position someday, and it chills us that even in death we may be treated with indignity.

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The Yaecks

The year is 1900, and Alois Yaeck has died of illness at the home of his daughter, Mary. He was a widower, whose wife Cora [short for Cunigunda] had preceded him in death around thirteen years prior, in 1887.

The below photograph of Alois Yaeck was taken by photographer John Wilson Taylor sometime between moving to his No. 152 East Main Street address in 1884, and Yaeck’s death in 1900.

They were both Alsatian French immigrants, from Soufflenheim. Soufflenheim has long been known for its pottery, thus its nickname: “Cité des Potiers“, and appropriately enough Yaeck worked as a potter.

In 1887, at the time of Cora’s death, the family was living at No. 307 Meigs Street, which today is No. 829 Meigs Street.

Some time between 1899 and 1900, his health failing, Alois Yaeck moved in with his daughter and son-in-law at No. 131 Averill Avenue. It was there that he died on April 26, 1900.

During the early 20th century, No. 131 Averill Avenue became No. 133 Averill Avenue:

Alois Yaeck’s daughters decided to have the remains of their long-dead mother Cora exhumed and reinterred beside Yaeck. Given permission by the church to do so, they engaged the sexton of the St. Boniface Church Cemetery, an aged man named John Hausinger. [Given incorrectly as “Heusinger” in the associated article.]

As sexton of the cemetery of St. Boniface Church, Hausinger was provided a home owned by the church, the former No. 15 Whalin Street, which is no longer extant:

The site of No. 15 Whalin became the southeast corner of the church school, built in 1922:

This was not the only house to razed or removed in preparation for the St. Boniface School; its next door neighbor, No. 13 Whalin Street, was also removed, and brought around the corner to No. 351 Gregory Street:

Today, that selfsame house is No. 347 Gregory Street:

I may have gotten a bit far afield; let’s get back to the Yaecks, and their request that sexton John Hausinger should exhume Cora Yaeck’s remains and reinter them alongside her newly-deceased husband, Alois Yaeck.

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Cora’s Remains

Mary Yaeck Waldert wished to be present to see her father and mother’s remains reinterred together, but was cautioned against this by the sexton, who warned she “would see a sight she would not forget until her dying day.” She probably took this as the wise word of a man more experienced with the gruesome nature of the grave. Little did she know he was protecting himself from oversight.

Sexton Hausinger brutally cut corners performing his delicate and sacred charge; he smashed the lid of Mrs. Yaeck’s coffin and roughly wrested only the upper part of her remains from inside. This, he pitched into a berry crate which he hastily shoved into the fresh grave of the unfortunate cadaver’s husband, Alois Yaeck, and reburied.

After a few days, Hausinger approached the family and said he’d done the requested re-interment.

It’s uncertain what tipped the family off that something was amiss. Something in the composure, demeanor or word of the sexton had upset the family; William James Waldert and some other men went at once to St. Boniface Cemetery and took it upon themselves to open the grave, where they discovered Hausinger’s rough treatment of Cora Yaeck’s mortal remains.

Furiously, William J. Waldert went to the sexton’s house and accused him; Hausinger denied it at first, but gave in and wept for mercy, claiming he had been unable to rest peacefully since his macabre misdeed. Mary Yaeck Waldert interceded on behalf of the sexton, forgiving him due to his age and psychological torment.

John Hausinger, despite his misdeed, remained sexton of St. Boniface Church Cemetery until his death. He died August 12, 1909, at the home of his daughter Mary Kay Hausinger Ferbeck, and son-in-law William J. Ferbeck, No. 55 Mt. Vernon Avenue [given incorrectly in his obituary as No. 55 Mt. Hope Avenue.]

Given the numerous difficulties in spelling his name, I can only find one grave on Findagrave.com that seems like it’s likely to be the sexton in question: a grave incorrectly labelled as “James Heusinger” among the remains transferred from St. Boniface Cemetery to Holy Sepulchre.

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St. Boniface Cemetery

St. Boniface Church’s cemetery was at the junction of South Clinton Avenue and Field Street.

The space formerly occupied by the cemetery is now a cluster of trees to the northwest of the Artisan Church on South Clinton Avenue:

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Decades of Depredation

Burials ceased in 1917, and almost immediately the cemetery fell into disrepair. The overgrown and unguarded burial ground attracted vandalism; children would play among the stones and topple them. Juveniles would drink and revel in the graveyard, and they would topple the markers as well. By the below 1925 photo, the cemetery was a weedy lot filled with toppled graves, a wincing sight for those passers-by who respected the dead.

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Removing the Remains

In the 1950s, the St. Boniface church was interested in divesting themselves of the cemetery land.

Around 1,100 remains were exhumed and transported to Holy Sepulchre Cemetery, where a large marker was placed honoring them:

According to the below, one of those persons involved in the moving of remains was antiquarian Harry L. Schoff.

Schoff was a blacksmith and gunsmith by trade, with a shop in Honeoye Falls. He also played guitar.

Though extensive records were kept in an effort to make the move a complete one, obituaries reveal that not every burial had been recorded properly, and as such an unknown number of identities of remains were lost.

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A Blaze at St. Boniface

Not long after the removal of the remains from the cemetery, a massive fire destroyed St. Boniface’s historic church.

The income from selling off the cemetery land was more necessary than ever, as St. Boniface frantically raised funds to construct a new church.

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A New Face for St. Boniface

After the destruction of the old church, ground-breaking for a new church took place on April 5th, 1959:

A new, “modernistic”-style church was built on the site, completed in December of 1959:

That is the St. Boniface Church which still stands today.

And so, a century and a quarter distances us today from the grisly act of 1900. Those involved have passed on into eternity, and the home of the sinful sexton has long been razed. The only truly permanent mark left by the deed is in the print of an archived newspaper. And now I, a sort of sexton myself, have dug up the bones of this story and displayed them ghoulishly for your reading pleasure. God, forgive me.

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