Monday, October 11, 2010
Landmarks The Trimble Monument in Forest Hill Cemetery
Posted by Vance Lauderdale on Mon, Oct 11, 2010 at 4:15 PM
The inscription reveals this is the last resting place of Frank Trimble (1840-1915) and Lilly Shelton, identified as "his wife" (1852-1899).
Who were these Trimbles, and why did they build such an impressive tomb, you ask? Just sit back and I'll tell you. Wait, you're leaning back too far! Can you still see the computer screen? Okay, then.
After weeks of research (well, I mainly just walked across the room), I turned up a 1911 edition of Who's Who in Tennessee. Frank Trimble rated a mention, which told me that he was born in Hazel Green, Kentucky (don't you love the names of some of these small towns?). He moved to Illinois at the age of 22, then ventured to Memphis during the Civil War, where he became a merchant. That didn't last long, what with the war and all, so in the late 1860s, he started a real estate firm, called simply Frank Trimble and Company, dealing in "farm lands, etc."
The Who's Who also told me he was a Royal Arch Mason (the best kind), a member of the Knights of Pythias, and a member of the Episcopal Church, though which one it didn't say. It gave all that, and yet not a single mention of "Lilly Shelton, his wife."
Old city directories in the Lauderdale Library reveal that Trimble and Company was located downtown on Madison, while the Trimbles themselves resided at 23 South Diana, just south of Madison. The house was torn down years ago, but Trimble Place — which runs for two blocks behind Overton Square and stops at Diana, close to where the house was — remains today, as yet another (more humble) monument to the Trimbles.
Some of their descendants, including Dr. Peter Trimble, DDS, still live in Memphis.
The years have not been especially kind to the monument in Forest Hill. From a distance, it still looks magnificent, but venture closer and you can see that the wind and rain have etched away the details on the statue's face (see below). It's still quite beautiful though, and considering that drivers have a good view of the monument from the nearby expressway, one of the most admired tombs in the cemetery.
Comments (7)
Showing 1-7 of 7
I wonder what those statues were made of? Assuming Frank built it for his wife since she died first, it is only about 100 years old- perhaps younger- so that weathering seems a bit extreme. Still, nicer than a pine box though.
Speaking of you liking place names, Hazel Green is a town near Stockport, South of Manchester (where I lived until I was -ahem- deported for "worrying sheep") in England. I have heard/seen many places here names after places in the UK. In some cases the US town was a lot larger and nicer than it's namesake. I suppose since a lot of places East of here were settled by those pesky Limeys, they couldn't think of creative names (Toadsuck, etc) so they named it after towns "back home"
like
dislike
Is she crying? Looks more like loitering to me. Maybe she's supposed to be hanging around waiting for Frank to kick the bouquet. He did outlive her by 16 years.
Kick the ... "bouquet"? How very French of you. Most of us down here in Mamfis say "bucket" and you know what that rhymes with.
Thinking about it though, I would rather have a weatherworn woman loitering at my tomb than some of the other headstones with a photograph of me on it ... seems like a good idea at the time, but if you died in the 70s strangers would forever see you with an afro, or in the 80s with "Flock of Seagulls hair" ... far better to avoid being frozen in time with a photo by having the standard statuary I think. As for myself, I will be dumped in the recycling bin for pickup.
I have left instructions specifying that I be dipped in a vat of shellac (after I am confirmed dead, of course), and then gold and silver glitter will be sprinkled all over my body. Once dried, I will be propped up in the lobby of City Hall, for all to admire. Or, depending on the quality of the finished piece, maybe Hobby Lobby, just to show what you can do with glitter.
I think you'd look great as a permanent exhibit in the museum that will eventually fill the Lauderdale Mansion, propped up in an antique, glass-doored cabinet. On Halloween, the kids could take you out and play with you.
I can now envision the body in a Gulliver-type pose, tied down with small stakes and string, and lots of clockwork Lilliputians; it will be just like Clyde Park's Circus @ the Pink Palace and little ones and their parents will come from miles around.
