I got lost on my research visit to Mouth Cemetery. In my defense, Google Maps had two separate destination points that led down two separate roads. I eventually found my way, and I’d like to extend some gratitude to the folks walking their dogs who were kind enough to point me in the right direction.
It’s no wonder that I got lost, though, Mouth Cemetery is perched in the woods overlooking the bayou where White River meets the lake - the eponymous mouth. As my dog walkers explained, it's at the end of a hidden two-track that separates off from a dirt road. It's difficult to tell where your traveling turns into trespassing. Compared to other historical and infamous cemeteries, it’s small, and only about 300 headstones peek through the carpet of moss and fern.
Mouth Cemetery is a place of in-betweens. It’s both secluded and surrounded. Through the trees I could see into several backyards, yet I was the only visitor. It was tranquil until the rustling of wildlife became impossible to ignore and a telephone rang from a nearby house. At one point, it felt old and forgotten, yet new flags and shiny coins decorated headstones, some of which list death dates in the 2020s. It felt like I was the only living creature there, and then I walked into a cloud of gnats.
The oldest marked graves are from 1851: Sarah Jane Beatrice, Sarah S. Lewis and Christian Merke - none of which have birth dates. There are several headstones without any dates listed, rendering their age unknown. Some physical evidence beyond graves which help to date Mouth Cemetery are records of deeds and plats from 1850, showing the graveyard already established at its current location. Mouth Cemetery served the community across the river, a “bustling” logging community by the 1840s which went by several different names: White Haven, Mouth, White River Village. It was also a significant inhabitance for Indigenous communities for centuries prior.
If you spend enough time in historic graveyards, you’ll notice a pattern. If a cemetery is not already attached to a churchyard, it will be located on a high point in or just outside of town, many times perched over a body of water, such as a lake or river. So it’s no surprise this location was where early settlers chose to bury White River Village’s dead. Some sources say that burials were taking place as early as the 1830s in Mouth Cemetery. Sadly, many of the oldest grave markers were wooden crosses and have since decayed into nothingness. This fate is unsurprising, as a number of granite and marble headstones are crumbling or removed from their original placement, left to lean up against the wrought-iron fence or pine trees.
While it is unknown exactly how old Mouth Cemetery is, what’s certain is its recognition as the oldest cemetery in Muskegon County.
As with any historic cemetery, there are guides to graves of the notable dead. One significant grouping of such is a fenced-in family plot located at the edge of the cemetery, before the landscape drops dramatically down into the bayou. The patriarch of this family plot is Captain William Robinson II, originally from England. He emigrated with his wife and six other relatives to the U.S. in 1854, eventually settling in the White Lake area. A little more than a decade later, his son, Captain William Robinson III, and his family would join the rest of the Robinsons in the Muskegon area. Local historians may recognize William Robinson III, as he famously served as the White River Light Station’s first keeper in 1875.
Robinson senior’s headstone is a remarkable sight, stark white and decorated with illusory drapery and a carved anchor. An epitaph at the bottom speaks of Robinson’s decades at sea and paints a picture of an adventurous and grandiose man. His son’s is a simpler grave, about half the height and without decoration or an epitaph. The lightkeeper’s wife, Sarah Cooper Robinson, has a tall, architectural headstone, with an epigraph wishing farewell to her husband and children, whom she preceded in death. At Robinson II’s imposing grave, well-wishers have left coins and cigarillos, and hopefully visitors aren’t being presumptuous of a sailor’s smoking habits.
Another remarkable grave, though sadly given less fanfare, is that of the most long-lived individual buried in Mouth Cemetery, Quis-Mo-Qua Anderson, an Ottawa woman who lived from 1787 to 1897, a grand 110 years. She was born in an Ottawa village on the Grand River, intertwining with the history of Michigan’s Native Americans and early European fur traders and settlers. After a long and esteemed life, it is fitting that she should be laid to rest above another river, close to a sacred burial ground for Ottawa. Quis-Mo-Qua’s grave is squat and square, decorated with paper flowers and candles, coins and rocks left as offerings.
The sign marking Mouth Cemetery declares that it’s open from “Dawn to Dusk” and “a place of reverence and respect.” Sadly, Mouth Cemetery does not always receive respect for these requests, as its age, remote location and urban legends have earned it quite a reputation. Years of trespassing teenagers and youthful tomfoolery have added to the lore. According to my dad, a White Lake area local, teens would go out to the cemetery, throw parties, and scare themselves senseless - at least that’s what he heard. My dad didn’t go to parties.
The truth is more harrowing. The nearby Ottawa settlement was purportedly attacked by a neighboring tribe in the mid-1600s, resulting in a veritable massacre of men, women and children. According to the lore, the survivors buried their dead at the mouth of the White River.
Also, due to its proximity to Oceana, it is likely some residents of our county are buried in Mouth Cemetery, though due to the cemetery's age, it is not possible to ascertain the exact number.
