Researcher's note: I would like to take this opportunity to make a correction on the attached photograph of Cornelius Voice. This photograph has been widely distributed as being one of Elizabeth (Smallwood) Voice. In studying this particular photograph and similar photos of daughter-in-law, I firmly believe that this photo is not Elizabeth but her son, Joseph H. Voice's wife, who was Arvilla Aurelia (Smith) Voice.
Born in Horsham, Sussex, England. Married Cornelius Voice in 1807 in Horsham, Sussex, England. They had a family of eight children from the ages of four to twenty-seven before venturing to a new country in 1834. On board the ship, Quebec, they came to New York in the United States, this was before the Statue of Liberty was in place.
Their children are :
Mary Voice 1807 – (may have died before 1834)
William Voice 1810 – 1889
John Voice 1814 – 1894
Elizabeth Voice 1817 – 1893
Cornelius Voice 1819 – 1889
Martha Louise Voice-Budd 1821 – 1894
Joseph H. VOICE 1827 – 1892
George J. Voice 1830 – 1875
They settled in the new city of Chicago, Illinois, so named from the Miami-Illinois Indian word “shikaakwa,” which means “striped skunk” or “smelly onion.” They stayed on in this growing city and raised livestock, while some of their children moved up to Michigan to settle.
Many family members have been buried in the Rose Hill Cemetery. Elizabeth and Cornelius are not there but four Voices ARE currently found in RoseHill, they are John and Maria Voice, their son, Charles H. Voice.
The Chicago Hidden Truths project had a story in Chicago Life Magazine by By JESSICA CURRY published June 23, 2008. What follows is exerpted from that article.
What Lies Beneath Lincoln Park
An artist researches what remains of the old Chicago City Cemetery - it's more than anyone thought.
Pamela Bannos has been digging to uncover the truth about Lincoln Park for the last 15 months, but not by dredging in the soil, which would very possibly reveal human remains, perhaps almost anywhere she put a shovel. Bannos has been instead digging through Chicago’s archives to piece together information on the Chicago City Cemetery, a 57-acre graveyard that served the entire city and existed on the southern portion of Lincoln Park before it became a park—or, depending on if you believe a cemetery is still a cemetery, even without the headstones, still exists. From her research, Bannos estimates that in the cemetery’s some 20 years of operation, beginning in the mid-19th century, more than 35,000 people were buried there, and approximately 12,000 bodies still remain, embedded in the ground that today holds homes, a zoo, a conservatory—everything we know to be Lincoln Park.
This is the story of a long-forgotten cemetery, something the history books have always known was there, but most residents have been oblivious to, even while being cognizant of the last remaining above-ground vestige, the Couch tomb, a 112-square-foot mausoleum at the southwest corner of the park. Erected in 1858 for real estate tycoon Ira Couch, it’s possibly the oldest structure still standing in the area hit by the Chicago Fire, according to Bannos.
The irony of it for Bannos is that while photography has been her expertise, she found not a single photograph of the park. The camera was already invented, but she’s been unable to find any type of image. “The closest I came to being able to see it was a photograph that was taken the day after the Chicago Fire from the Water Tower, looking north, and you can kind of tell where Lincoln Park is, and you can see that everything is kind of obliterated in the landscape,” she says. “I’m trying to build for you the photograph without showing you the image.”
"The city established the City Cemetery in 1843, just past the north edge, North Avenue, and began selling lots and filling them south to north, beginning at Wisconsin. But as the city rapidly grew, so did a movement to bury bodies farther away, with a concern for sanitation, health and being so close to the lake, the water table. Bannos found such words used as “percolating” and references to graves being dug and the hole being full of water even before the coffin was lowered. The entire area actually encompassed four cemeteries—the City Cemetery, a Catholic cemetery, a Jewish cemetery and Potter’s Field, the large anonymous graveyard for the poor, where the baseball diamonds are now located.
The terrain of the unplotted area was marsh-like—there was a slough that ran through the grounds, exactly where the garden in front of the Lincoln memorial is now. Bannos found documents describing a 20-foot alley that ran along the cemetery, parallel to Green Bay Road, today’s Clark Street. People could see the cemetery from Green Bay Road, and there were three gates to enter—two along Green Bay and one at North Avenue. Later people entered Lincoln Park from the south through the cemetery. Bannos found an 1852 watercolor rendering of the mile-long picket fence that surrounded the cemetery, which was six feet tall and meant to keep pigs and cows out from the north.
Because lots had been sold by the city, families were also responsible for moving the buried remains. The city took out ads in the newspaper, urging people to claim loved ones in Potter’s Field or move remains in the plots to another cemetery. It was costly, and while the city would cover some of the cost, many just ended up being forgotten as the landscape changed.
Most of what imagery Bannos was able to visualize came from narratives she read that were written just after the Chicago Fire, in 1871. By then the cemetery was abandoned—no one had been buried there for about five years. Starting in the early 1860s, Rosehill and Graceland cemeteries were open, much farther outside the city. The city urged families to move the graves of loved ones to another cemetery. Lincoln Park was already established, and the city was working to landscape it above Webster Street. As the fire charred the ground of the old cemetery, it hastened erasing the signs of a graveyard the city no longer wanted.
The fire burned markers, a lot of which were wood apparently,” says Bannos. “And the flames cracked and charred and broke marble headstones. So what happened is when a stone got removed, you lose a body. If there’s no marker, you don’t know what’s there. I’ve read all these narrative accounts. People are talking about running from the flames and running to the lake and running through the cemetery, and there are these legendary accounts of people actually jumping into graves that had been excavated to avoid the flames of the fire.”
http://hiddentruths.northwestern.edu/city_cemetery/city_cem55_59.html
I believe Elizabeth and Cornelius' bodies remain among the hundreds that were never relocated to the outlying newer cemeteries such as Rosehill or Graceland.
I am their 3x great-granddaughter.
Born in Horsham, Sussex, England. Married Cornelius Voice in 1807 in Horsham, Sussex, England. They had a family of eight children from the ages of four to twenty-seven before venturing to a new country in 1834. On board the ship, Quebec, they came to New York in the United States, this was before the Statue of Liberty was in place.
Their children are :
Mary Voice 1807 – (may have died before 1834)
William Voice 1810 – 1889
John Voice 1814 – 1894
Elizabeth Voice 1817 – 1893
Cornelius Voice 1819 – 1889
Martha Louise Voice-Budd 1821 – 1894
Joseph H. VOICE 1827 – 1892
George J. Voice 1830 – 1875
They settled in the new city of Chicago, Illinois, so named from the Miami-Illinois Indian word “shikaakwa,” which means “striped skunk” or “smelly onion.” They stayed on in this growing city and raised livestock, while some of their children moved up to Michigan to settle.
Many family members have been buried in the Rose Hill Cemetery. Elizabeth and Cornelius are not there but four Voices ARE currently found in RoseHill, they are John and Maria Voice, their son, Charles H. Voice.
The Chicago Hidden Truths project had a story in Chicago Life Magazine by By JESSICA CURRY published June 23, 2008. What follows is exerpted from that article.
What Lies Beneath Lincoln Park
An artist researches what remains of the old Chicago City Cemetery - it's more than anyone thought.
Pamela Bannos has been digging to uncover the truth about Lincoln Park for the last 15 months, but not by dredging in the soil, which would very possibly reveal human remains, perhaps almost anywhere she put a shovel. Bannos has been instead digging through Chicago’s archives to piece together information on the Chicago City Cemetery, a 57-acre graveyard that served the entire city and existed on the southern portion of Lincoln Park before it became a park—or, depending on if you believe a cemetery is still a cemetery, even without the headstones, still exists. From her research, Bannos estimates that in the cemetery’s some 20 years of operation, beginning in the mid-19th century, more than 35,000 people were buried there, and approximately 12,000 bodies still remain, embedded in the ground that today holds homes, a zoo, a conservatory—everything we know to be Lincoln Park.
This is the story of a long-forgotten cemetery, something the history books have always known was there, but most residents have been oblivious to, even while being cognizant of the last remaining above-ground vestige, the Couch tomb, a 112-square-foot mausoleum at the southwest corner of the park. Erected in 1858 for real estate tycoon Ira Couch, it’s possibly the oldest structure still standing in the area hit by the Chicago Fire, according to Bannos.
The irony of it for Bannos is that while photography has been her expertise, she found not a single photograph of the park. The camera was already invented, but she’s been unable to find any type of image. “The closest I came to being able to see it was a photograph that was taken the day after the Chicago Fire from the Water Tower, looking north, and you can kind of tell where Lincoln Park is, and you can see that everything is kind of obliterated in the landscape,” she says. “I’m trying to build for you the photograph without showing you the image.”
"The city established the City Cemetery in 1843, just past the north edge, North Avenue, and began selling lots and filling them south to north, beginning at Wisconsin. But as the city rapidly grew, so did a movement to bury bodies farther away, with a concern for sanitation, health and being so close to the lake, the water table. Bannos found such words used as “percolating” and references to graves being dug and the hole being full of water even before the coffin was lowered. The entire area actually encompassed four cemeteries—the City Cemetery, a Catholic cemetery, a Jewish cemetery and Potter’s Field, the large anonymous graveyard for the poor, where the baseball diamonds are now located.
The terrain of the unplotted area was marsh-like—there was a slough that ran through the grounds, exactly where the garden in front of the Lincoln memorial is now. Bannos found documents describing a 20-foot alley that ran along the cemetery, parallel to Green Bay Road, today’s Clark Street. People could see the cemetery from Green Bay Road, and there were three gates to enter—two along Green Bay and one at North Avenue. Later people entered Lincoln Park from the south through the cemetery. Bannos found an 1852 watercolor rendering of the mile-long picket fence that surrounded the cemetery, which was six feet tall and meant to keep pigs and cows out from the north.
Because lots had been sold by the city, families were also responsible for moving the buried remains. The city took out ads in the newspaper, urging people to claim loved ones in Potter’s Field or move remains in the plots to another cemetery. It was costly, and while the city would cover some of the cost, many just ended up being forgotten as the landscape changed.
Most of what imagery Bannos was able to visualize came from narratives she read that were written just after the Chicago Fire, in 1871. By then the cemetery was abandoned—no one had been buried there for about five years. Starting in the early 1860s, Rosehill and Graceland cemeteries were open, much farther outside the city. The city urged families to move the graves of loved ones to another cemetery. Lincoln Park was already established, and the city was working to landscape it above Webster Street. As the fire charred the ground of the old cemetery, it hastened erasing the signs of a graveyard the city no longer wanted.
The fire burned markers, a lot of which were wood apparently,” says Bannos. “And the flames cracked and charred and broke marble headstones. So what happened is when a stone got removed, you lose a body. If there’s no marker, you don’t know what’s there. I’ve read all these narrative accounts. People are talking about running from the flames and running to the lake and running through the cemetery, and there are these legendary accounts of people actually jumping into graves that had been excavated to avoid the flames of the fire.”
http://hiddentruths.northwestern.edu/city_cemetery/city_cem55_59.html
I believe Elizabeth and Cornelius' bodies remain among the hundreds that were never relocated to the outlying newer cemeteries such as Rosehill or Graceland.
I am their 3x great-granddaughter.
Researcher's note: I would like to take this opportunity to make a correction on the attached photograph of Cornelius Voice. This photograph has been widely distributed as being one of Elizabeth (Smallwood) Voice. In studying this particular photograph and similar photos of daughter-in-law, I firmly believe that this photo is not Elizabeth but her son, Joseph H. Voice's wife, who was Arvilla Aurelia (Smith) Voice.
Born in Horsham, Sussex, England. Married Cornelius Voice in 1807 in Horsham, Sussex, England. They had a family of eight children from the ages of four to twenty-seven before venturing to a new country in 1834. On board the ship, Quebec, they came to New York in the United States, this was before the Statue of Liberty was in place.
Their children are :
Mary Voice 1807 – (may have died before 1834)
William Voice 1810 – 1889
John Voice 1814 – 1894
Elizabeth Voice 1817 – 1893
Cornelius Voice 1819 – 1889
Martha Louise Voice-Budd 1821 – 1894
Joseph H. VOICE 1827 – 1892
George J. Voice 1830 – 1875
They settled in the new city of Chicago, Illinois, so named from the Miami-Illinois Indian word “shikaakwa,” which means “striped skunk” or “smelly onion.” They stayed on in this growing city and raised livestock, while some of their children moved up to Michigan to settle.
Many family members have been buried in the Rose Hill Cemetery. Elizabeth and Cornelius are not there but four Voices ARE currently found in RoseHill, they are John and Maria Voice, their son, Charles H. Voice.
The Chicago Hidden Truths project had a story in Chicago Life Magazine by By JESSICA CURRY published June 23, 2008. What follows is exerpted from that article.
What Lies Beneath Lincoln Park
An artist researches what remains of the old Chicago City Cemetery - it's more than anyone thought.
Pamela Bannos has been digging to uncover the truth about Lincoln Park for the last 15 months, but not by dredging in the soil, which would very possibly reveal human remains, perhaps almost anywhere she put a shovel. Bannos has been instead digging through Chicago’s archives to piece together information on the Chicago City Cemetery, a 57-acre graveyard that served the entire city and existed on the southern portion of Lincoln Park before it became a park—or, depending on if you believe a cemetery is still a cemetery, even without the headstones, still exists. From her research, Bannos estimates that in the cemetery’s some 20 years of operation, beginning in the mid-19th century, more than 35,000 people were buried there, and approximately 12,000 bodies still remain, embedded in the ground that today holds homes, a zoo, a conservatory—everything we know to be Lincoln Park.
This is the story of a long-forgotten cemetery, something the history books have always known was there, but most residents have been oblivious to, even while being cognizant of the last remaining above-ground vestige, the Couch tomb, a 112-square-foot mausoleum at the southwest corner of the park. Erected in 1858 for real estate tycoon Ira Couch, it’s possibly the oldest structure still standing in the area hit by the Chicago Fire, according to Bannos.
The irony of it for Bannos is that while photography has been her expertise, she found not a single photograph of the park. The camera was already invented, but she’s been unable to find any type of image. “The closest I came to being able to see it was a photograph that was taken the day after the Chicago Fire from the Water Tower, looking north, and you can kind of tell where Lincoln Park is, and you can see that everything is kind of obliterated in the landscape,” she says. “I’m trying to build for you the photograph without showing you the image.”
"The city established the City Cemetery in 1843, just past the north edge, North Avenue, and began selling lots and filling them south to north, beginning at Wisconsin. But as the city rapidly grew, so did a movement to bury bodies farther away, with a concern for sanitation, health and being so close to the lake, the water table. Bannos found such words used as “percolating” and references to graves being dug and the hole being full of water even before the coffin was lowered. The entire area actually encompassed four cemeteries—the City Cemetery, a Catholic cemetery, a Jewish cemetery and Potter’s Field, the large anonymous graveyard for the poor, where the baseball diamonds are now located.
The terrain of the unplotted area was marsh-like—there was a slough that ran through the grounds, exactly where the garden in front of the Lincoln memorial is now. Bannos found documents describing a 20-foot alley that ran along the cemetery, parallel to Green Bay Road, today’s Clark Street. People could see the cemetery from Green Bay Road, and there were three gates to enter—two along Green Bay and one at North Avenue. Later people entered Lincoln Park from the south through the cemetery. Bannos found an 1852 watercolor rendering of the mile-long picket fence that surrounded the cemetery, which was six feet tall and meant to keep pigs and cows out from the north.
Because lots had been sold by the city, families were also responsible for moving the buried remains. The city took out ads in the newspaper, urging people to claim loved ones in Potter’s Field or move remains in the plots to another cemetery. It was costly, and while the city would cover some of the cost, many just ended up being forgotten as the landscape changed.
Most of what imagery Bannos was able to visualize came from narratives she read that were written just after the Chicago Fire, in 1871. By then the cemetery was abandoned—no one had been buried there for about five years. Starting in the early 1860s, Rosehill and Graceland cemeteries were open, much farther outside the city. The city urged families to move the graves of loved ones to another cemetery. Lincoln Park was already established, and the city was working to landscape it above Webster Street. As the fire charred the ground of the old cemetery, it hastened erasing the signs of a graveyard the city no longer wanted.
The fire burned markers, a lot of which were wood apparently,” says Bannos. “And the flames cracked and charred and broke marble headstones. So what happened is when a stone got removed, you lose a body. If there’s no marker, you don’t know what’s there. I’ve read all these narrative accounts. People are talking about running from the flames and running to the lake and running through the cemetery, and there are these legendary accounts of people actually jumping into graves that had been excavated to avoid the flames of the fire.”
http://hiddentruths.northwestern.edu/city_cemetery/city_cem55_59.html
I believe Elizabeth and Cornelius' bodies remain among the hundreds that were never relocated to the outlying newer cemeteries such as Rosehill or Graceland.
I am their 3x great-granddaughter.
Born in Horsham, Sussex, England. Married Cornelius Voice in 1807 in Horsham, Sussex, England. They had a family of eight children from the ages of four to twenty-seven before venturing to a new country in 1834. On board the ship, Quebec, they came to New York in the United States, this was before the Statue of Liberty was in place.
Their children are :
Mary Voice 1807 – (may have died before 1834)
William Voice 1810 – 1889
John Voice 1814 – 1894
Elizabeth Voice 1817 – 1893
Cornelius Voice 1819 – 1889
Martha Louise Voice-Budd 1821 – 1894
Joseph H. VOICE 1827 – 1892
George J. Voice 1830 – 1875
They settled in the new city of Chicago, Illinois, so named from the Miami-Illinois Indian word “shikaakwa,” which means “striped skunk” or “smelly onion.” They stayed on in this growing city and raised livestock, while some of their children moved up to Michigan to settle.
Many family members have been buried in the Rose Hill Cemetery. Elizabeth and Cornelius are not there but four Voices ARE currently found in RoseHill, they are John and Maria Voice, their son, Charles H. Voice.
The Chicago Hidden Truths project had a story in Chicago Life Magazine by By JESSICA CURRY published June 23, 2008. What follows is exerpted from that article.
What Lies Beneath Lincoln Park
An artist researches what remains of the old Chicago City Cemetery - it's more than anyone thought.
Pamela Bannos has been digging to uncover the truth about Lincoln Park for the last 15 months, but not by dredging in the soil, which would very possibly reveal human remains, perhaps almost anywhere she put a shovel. Bannos has been instead digging through Chicago’s archives to piece together information on the Chicago City Cemetery, a 57-acre graveyard that served the entire city and existed on the southern portion of Lincoln Park before it became a park—or, depending on if you believe a cemetery is still a cemetery, even without the headstones, still exists. From her research, Bannos estimates that in the cemetery’s some 20 years of operation, beginning in the mid-19th century, more than 35,000 people were buried there, and approximately 12,000 bodies still remain, embedded in the ground that today holds homes, a zoo, a conservatory—everything we know to be Lincoln Park.
This is the story of a long-forgotten cemetery, something the history books have always known was there, but most residents have been oblivious to, even while being cognizant of the last remaining above-ground vestige, the Couch tomb, a 112-square-foot mausoleum at the southwest corner of the park. Erected in 1858 for real estate tycoon Ira Couch, it’s possibly the oldest structure still standing in the area hit by the Chicago Fire, according to Bannos.
The irony of it for Bannos is that while photography has been her expertise, she found not a single photograph of the park. The camera was already invented, but she’s been unable to find any type of image. “The closest I came to being able to see it was a photograph that was taken the day after the Chicago Fire from the Water Tower, looking north, and you can kind of tell where Lincoln Park is, and you can see that everything is kind of obliterated in the landscape,” she says. “I’m trying to build for you the photograph without showing you the image.”
"The city established the City Cemetery in 1843, just past the north edge, North Avenue, and began selling lots and filling them south to north, beginning at Wisconsin. But as the city rapidly grew, so did a movement to bury bodies farther away, with a concern for sanitation, health and being so close to the lake, the water table. Bannos found such words used as “percolating” and references to graves being dug and the hole being full of water even before the coffin was lowered. The entire area actually encompassed four cemeteries—the City Cemetery, a Catholic cemetery, a Jewish cemetery and Potter’s Field, the large anonymous graveyard for the poor, where the baseball diamonds are now located.
The terrain of the unplotted area was marsh-like—there was a slough that ran through the grounds, exactly where the garden in front of the Lincoln memorial is now. Bannos found documents describing a 20-foot alley that ran along the cemetery, parallel to Green Bay Road, today’s Clark Street. People could see the cemetery from Green Bay Road, and there were three gates to enter—two along Green Bay and one at North Avenue. Later people entered Lincoln Park from the south through the cemetery. Bannos found an 1852 watercolor rendering of the mile-long picket fence that surrounded the cemetery, which was six feet tall and meant to keep pigs and cows out from the north.
Because lots had been sold by the city, families were also responsible for moving the buried remains. The city took out ads in the newspaper, urging people to claim loved ones in Potter’s Field or move remains in the plots to another cemetery. It was costly, and while the city would cover some of the cost, many just ended up being forgotten as the landscape changed.
Most of what imagery Bannos was able to visualize came from narratives she read that were written just after the Chicago Fire, in 1871. By then the cemetery was abandoned—no one had been buried there for about five years. Starting in the early 1860s, Rosehill and Graceland cemeteries were open, much farther outside the city. The city urged families to move the graves of loved ones to another cemetery. Lincoln Park was already established, and the city was working to landscape it above Webster Street. As the fire charred the ground of the old cemetery, it hastened erasing the signs of a graveyard the city no longer wanted.
The fire burned markers, a lot of which were wood apparently,” says Bannos. “And the flames cracked and charred and broke marble headstones. So what happened is when a stone got removed, you lose a body. If there’s no marker, you don’t know what’s there. I’ve read all these narrative accounts. People are talking about running from the flames and running to the lake and running through the cemetery, and there are these legendary accounts of people actually jumping into graves that had been excavated to avoid the flames of the fire.”
http://hiddentruths.northwestern.edu/city_cemetery/city_cem55_59.html
I believe Elizabeth and Cornelius' bodies remain among the hundreds that were never relocated to the outlying newer cemeteries such as Rosehill or Graceland.
I am their 3x great-granddaughter.
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