By Richard C. Keating

After years of gathering background on Pere Marquette State Park, I fancied I had solved most solvable mysteries. Then this month I stumbled on another treasure trove of historical notes and documents. For most of May 7, I sat at a large table at park headquarters where I had been invited to peruse the park’s “history box.” a large bin with about 2-3 cubic feet of documents covering the history of the park and surrounding region. Most of the names of hollows in the river bend region, such as Grafton’s Mason Hollow, are easily attached to prominent pioneer settlers. But, to this point, the naming of the important Graham Hollow had remained a mystery. This broad valley contains the entrance road on the eastern side of the park, is also the home of equestrian trails, and is the site of the historic 1930s Civilization Conservation Corps “Camp Gram.”

I had long wondered, who were these mysterious Grahams? My earlier searches had turned up no family by that name. Then midway through the history box, I came across a little news clipping dated April 25, 1935, and headlined “Old cemetery discovered in Grafton Park.” Finally, a partial answer! In the mid-1930s, the Civilian Conservation Corps workers in Graham Hollow were building the connector to the park’s Ridge Road when they ran across a series of gravestones scattered in the dense hillside forest. Most of the well-marked graves were of Grahams and many were their children. Most fascinating, the deaths were mostly in 1863, in the middle of our Civil War. The article noted that local Jersey County doctors agreed there had been an “epidemic of diarrhea” that year in that region, causing heavy mortality, especially among children. Was it cholera? Dysentery?

Then I came across another coincidence. The information I'd found in the box made me wonder if this epidemic were actually related to, or part of, the smallpox epidemic that was raging through Alton during that same year. In that river town, in order to avoid panic, accumulating bodies of victims were transported under cover of darkness across the Mississippi. There they were buried in shallow graves in the Lincoln-Shields area, also called “Sunflower Island” in those days. If any surviving Grahams remained after this disaster, one can imagine they were eager to move on, which would explain the family’s absence in subsequent local records. As I walk those hills, pausing at the occasional ancient cabin foundation, I can see how pioneers were attracted to the beauty of the place. But I can also feel how their isolation must have led to helpless despair in the face of an enemy over which they had no power.

Next time: “The Flood of 1844, Hezekiah Funk, and the Mystery of the Lost Cabin.”