Read time: 6 min.

Finding the flowing well in Granville one night in my twenties felt like stumbling upon a biblical miracle! As I wandered home, I noticed something else: a knoll lined with rows of jagged tombstones protruding skyward. Still in awe of the water appearing to flow from a pair of enormous fieldstones, I completely forgot about the burial ground. Later, I learned I’d spied the old Leaird Cemetery. I finally went back a few weeks ago to explore it in the light of day.

I’ve been fascinated by pioneer cemeteries for some time. Unfortunately, what, exactly, defines one is a little complicated. I say it’s a cemetery where pioneers were buried, but different states have disagreeing criteria. For example, Iowa defines them as places “where twelve or fewer burials have taken place in the past 50 years^1.”

The state of Nebraska says that pioneer cemeteries were founded or stand on land “granted, donated, sold, or deeded to the founders of the cemetery prior to January 1, 1900,” so long as they contain the grave or graves of “homesteaders, immigrants from a foreign nation, prairie farmers, pioneers, sodbusters, first generation Nebraskans, or Civil War veterans².” 

I don’t know what Indiana says about pioneer cemeteries, if anything, but other states are equally explicit. Oregon, for example, bizarrely defines a pioneer cemetery as “any burial place that contains the remains of one or more persons who died before February 14, 1909³.” All of this combines to confirm my idea of what a pioneer cemetery truly is: an old burial ground where few people, if any, have been interred in a really long time.

Leaird Cemetery fits the bill. Sitting in the southeastern corner of Delaware County’s Union Township, about fourteen rows of venerable markers rise from a pocket where East Gregory Road curves northbound. The monuments tell a story of time and lives lived: the newest I saw belonged to Leona Leaird, a longtime Ball Brothers employee who passed away in 1979⁴. The oldest marked the resting place of Robert Carroll, who died 142 years earlier.

Carroll passed away in 1837, four years after Ephraim Laird bought a farm nearby and established the cemetery as a family burial ground. As the story goes, Ephraim’s son, Samuel, convinced him to deed three-quarters of an acre to the county commissioners when he sold the farm⁵. By 1887, the hilltop plot sat on 108 acres owned by Isaac Goodrick⁶.

The Goodricks were said to be among the most prominent landowners in the area⁷. Their prestige is reflected in their elaborate headstone at the western edge of the cemetery. Just as the their memorial stands out, though, so does the curious inconsistency in the spelling of “Leaird.” I encountered markers with three variations during my visit: Leaird, Laird, and Leard.

Depending on the source, even Ephraim Laird is sometimes referred to as Ephraim Leaird⁸! Despite the variations in spelling as the name transitioned from oral to written tradition, each version originated from “Laird,” a Scottish masculine name meaning “lord of the land⁹.” Twenty-one Leairds are buried in the cemetery that took their name, as well as a number of Gregorys, Petersons, Shannons, Sherrys, and other families less well-represented.

Among the cemetery’s most poignant headstones are those of the Petersons. Leaning cockeyed together, they stand as a somber reminder of a tragic story. Five-month-old Harry Peterson passed away in 1880. Six years later, his mother, Flora, died at just twenty-six. Charles, the father, followed in 1898 at the young age of thirty-nine. Two other children -both infants- are buried elsewhere in the cemetery.

Time has not been kind to Charles and Flora’s headstones. Their inscriptions and intricacies have weathered and faded over the years. In stark contrast, Harry’s “white bronze” monument was crafted from durable zinc. It remains remarkably well-preserved and may be in better shape now than when it was first placed! With its pristine detail, the enduring marker keeps the memory of a brief life alive even as the rest of the family’s story succumbs into history.

Another pair of tombstones that drew my attention belonged to Isaac and Sally Bost, pioneers of nearby Niles Township. Isaac was born in 1812, and Sally followed in 1818. Tragically, Sally’s life was cut short at just thirty years old. Although their union was brief, the Bosts’ matching tombstones feature pointed-finger motifs that symbolize their reunion in heaven. The fragile markers stand as a testament to an enduring place in the story of Leaird Cemetery.

It’s surprising that nearly a hundred and fifty people found their final resting place at Leaird Cemetery. Whether it be pioneers like the Leairds and Goodricks who shaped their surrounds or families struck by tragedy like the Petersons and Bosts, each marker represents an interesting narrative. Walking through the cemetery, it was easy to imagine how this quiet corner of Union Township was once central to the lives of those who now rest there.

Sources Cited
1 Code of Iowa 331.325 Control and Maintenance of Pioneer Cemeteries – Cemetery Commission. The State of Iowa [Des Moines]. Web. Retrieved November 28, 2024. 
2 12-808. “Abandoned or neglected pioneer cemetery, defined.” Nebraska Revised Statutes. Nebraska Legislature. The State of Nebraska [Lincoln]. Web. Retrieved November 28, 2024. 
3 “Regulations” Oregon Parks and Recreation Department: heritage Programs: Oregon Commission on Historic Cemeteries [Salem]. Web. Retrieved November 28, 2024. 
4 Leona M. Leaird, 79; Retired From Ball (1979, November 25). The Muncie Star Press. p. 38. 
5 Greene, D. (1950, October 13). Seen and Heard in Our Neighborhood. The Muncie Star. p. 6. 
6 Griffing, B. N. (1887). Mt. Pleasant Township. An atlas of Delaware County, Indiana . map, Philadelphia, PA; Griffing, Gordon, & Company.
7 Funerals (1910, March 6). The Muncie Star. p. 9. 
8 Delaware County, Indiana. (1858 October 28). Deed Book 21. p. 42.
9 Kilroy, E. (2024, February 7). Laird. The Bump. Web. Retrieved November 30, 2024.