The Long Journeys Home. Nick Bellantoni

brass tack pattern yielded “H. O. AE 26” enclosed in a heart-shaped motif which are interpreted as the initials of the person lying in the coffin, the Latin “A.E.” for “age of,” followed by the age at death with the heart signifying a sign of Christian endearment. Even without knowing the story of “Henry Obookiah” in New England, the physical evidence of the coffin strongly suggested that the person lying here was very much loved by his contemporaries.

      Small, broken fragments of window glass, some twenty in all, were encountered in the region of the cranio-facial complex, establishing that Henry’s coffin contained a viewing glass, allowing mourners to observe his face during the 1818 funeral without having to lift the entire lid. The glass also prevented mourners from cutting pieces of clothing or hair as memorial artifacts. The painted hardwood, brass tacks on the lid providing the deceased’s initials, and a viewing glass over the face represented innovative mortuary designs for early 19^th century coffins and reflected state-of-the-art funerary technology for its time. The entire burial complex suggested the high status and importance given to the deceased; little expense⁵⁷ was spared to give Henry a monument that would perpetuate his memory for a long time after his death.⁵⁸

      The first evidence of skeletal remains was the frontal bone of the forehead, the highest elevated area when the body is supine, which exhibited limited cortical loss for its age and suggested that the rest of the skeleton should possess excellent organic preservation. Excavation proceeded at the superior portion of the skeletal anatomy, concentrating on exposing the high points and maintaining horizontal control. Delicately I brushed around the broken pieces of glass to maintain their positions and reveal the face. Henry slowly emerged before me, the very image of his portrait.

      Concentrating on the subtle work at hand, I had not noticed or heard the increasing assembly of bystanders that had accumulated in the cemetery to observe the disinterment until I rose to stretch my legs, giving myself a moment’s reprieve, eager to avoid carelessness through fatigue. As I stood, my shoulders were level to the ground surface where I could see more people gathered than had been there on the previous day, many more, possibly forty or so. While our crew was busy with the responsibilities of the archaeological excavation, I placed a damp cloth over Henry’s face to keep the fragile bones from drying out in the heat, but also out of respect, so public eyes could not gaze upon him.

      Wooden coffin lid of Henry Obookiah, exhibiting brass tack patterns of his initials and age of death, outlined in a heart-motif. (Courtesy Bill Keegan.)

      Ascending the ladder, I was immediately met by reporters covering the story for Connecticut newspapers. I emphasized immediately that no published photographs of Henry’s remains would be tolerated. Also present at the cemetery were members of the repatriation team including Henry Fuqua and Rev. Carmen Wooster. My reprise from excavation was spent satisfying the role of public relations director and educator, repeatedly explaining our procedures, methodologies, and findings to the various communities present.