My first attempt to find the Papahmee Indian Cemetery in Elbridge Township was unsuccessful. Going into that first attempt, I knew it would be difficult to find such a small cemetery that was relatively unknown and well off the beaten path. I found the right road, and even the correct two-track accessway, but chickened out, backtracked, and may have done some light trespassing. Before my second attempt, I compared notes with my friends at the Oceana County Historical & Genealogical Society and learned that, if I’d just followed the road a little farther, I would have come to the wooded hill on which the cemetery sat. Considering how easily I got lost looking for the relatively well-known Mouth Cemetery, I shouldn’t be surprised I couldn’t find what was essentially a needle in a haystack.
For my second attempt I was better prepared with hiking shoes, a map to the access road on 140th Ave, and photos I found online of the rough-hewn rock steps that led up the hill to the cemetery. Somehow, I still managed to overshoot the entrance and found myself traipsing up and around the steep ridges of Elbridge Township. After 40 minutes of wandering, I was about to turn back when I found a slab of stone jutting out of the ground. With the veritable army of field stones littering the forest, I was nearly desensitized to the sight of gray rock, until I realized the obvious man-made qualities. I was so ecstatic to finally lock eyes on my target I did not even notice the thorn bushes I was crashing through to reach the cemetery hill.
While contributors on the Find a Grave website have attributed the location of over 100 burials to Papahmee Cemetery, I could only find nine headstones, which themselves were in fairly poor condition. I had brought a sketchbook and some charcoal I haven’t touched since art school to try and make impression rubbings on the headstones, but could only make out a few words.
All of the headstones I could find were from the 1870s and 80s, and considering 150 years of harsh Michigan winters and little attention to groundskeeping, I am surprised there are that many still standing. They were spread out over a hill, all facing the setting sun. As I made my way across the small plot, more and more headstones appeared, like skittish animals coming out of their hiding places. The only indication that anyone had been to this cemetery in the last decade was a handful of coins winking in the sunlight and a woven bracelet left at the grave of an infant. There are quite a few child graves at Papahmee.
The most prominent grave is of Joseph Papahmee, who lived from 1797-1870. His epigraph describes him as a “chief and counselor for the Ottawas and Chippewas” and a “preacher of the Catholic denomination.” While he is not the oldest burial in the cemetery, he is possibly the most significant, considering the cemetery bears his name. Next to his grave someone had hung a wind chime dreamcatcher. It had certainly seen better days, but still clinked in the slight breeze.
A 1988 newspaper clipping at the OCH&GS reads that Pawbawme (Papahmee) Burial Ground had been listed in Michigan’s State Register of Historic Sites, one of six in Oceana County, and could be granted a marker describing it as such. If a marker was ever placed at Papahmee, I don’t know, there certainly isn’t one there now. Online registers mark the site as “demolished.”
I can confirm, Papahmee Cemetery is still there, on a hill overlooking a plowed field. There are still graves that need tending and crumbling tombstones choked by some nasty prickers. While the dead buried at Papahmee get to enjoy some beautiful sunsets, I can imagine they’re very lonely without the steady stream of visitors other cemeteries see. If there are even relatives who remain in Oceana County.
If you have or recognize the surnames Papahmee, Bailey, Cogswell, Crampton, McGulpin, Mucktayoquot, Paresian or Wawbekakake, I would recommend you pay a visit, even if you later learn the relation is distant or nonexistent. Check out the cemetery on Find a Grave and see if there are any connections between your family and those buried there.
Funnily enough, I didn’t realize that I was writing this article on a forgotten Native American cemetery so close to Indigenous Peoples’ Day, which is Monday, Oct. 15.
A couple years ago, I was exploring a cemetery in Edinburgh at dusk after a particularly rainy day, and, naturally, I found myself slipping in some mud and banging my temple on a headstone (no, the irony does not escape me.) I called my mom in a, probably concussed, panic asking what I should do in case I angered the unfortunate interred. She humored my paranoia and gave me the advice a member of the Crow Nation gave to her when she lived in Montana - which was to leave some cigarettes or whisky at the grave if I came to find that a spirit followed me home.
When I got home after my Papahmee Cemetery visit, it was already dark. As I got my bag from the car and made my way to the house, I swore I heard a whistle. I looked over to the path in between our house and garden, and I thought I saw a figure walking towards the apple trees in our yard, silhouetted in the moonlight. I raised my hand in hello, assuming it was my dad. After a few seconds, the figure disappeared.
I figure I’ll be back at Papahmee in the coming weeks, bottle of scotch in tow.
