Stories of Relocated Cemeteries in Illinois

Illinois


St. Johannes Cemetery was originally consecrated in 1849 with the most recent burial bein in 2006. 4 years later the City of Chicago and Chicago O’Hare Modernization Program started the process of re-locating the remains of almost 1,500 deceased to add runway for O'Hare Airport. Their project was completed in 2012.

Chicago Department of Aviation Cemetery Relocation and Family Assistance site
and link to findAgrave memorial site for St. Johannes Cemetery

When Rest Is Disturbed in Other Ways Up to this point, these stories have asked us to consider what happens when the resting places of the dead are moved—sometimes carefully, sometimes imperfectly, but often in the name of growth, progress, or necessity.

But not all disturbances come with explanation or purpose.

There are moments, too, when the trust placed in a final resting place is broken—not by time or progress, but by human hands that forget the meaning of what they hold.

And those stories carry a different kind of weight.

Burr Oak Cemetery — When Rest Was Broken

Not all disturbances of the dead come in the name of progress.

At Burr Oak Cemetery in Alsip, Illinois—a resting place established to serve Chicago’s African-American community—families trusted that their loved ones lay in peace. For decades, it was a place of remembrance, holding the names of many, including well-known figures such as Dinah Washington.

But in 2009, that trust was shaken.

Families began to notice something was wrong. Records did not match. Graves did not align. And slowly, a painful truth came to light: burial plots had been disturbed and resold, and those entrusted with care had instead caused harm.

What followed was not just an investigation, but a wave of grief and disbelief. Thousands came searching for answers, hoping to understand what had happened to those they had laid to rest with love.

In time, efforts were made to restore dignity to the grounds. A monument now stands—not only to mark the place, but to honor the families affected, and to acknowledge what should never have happened.

Because even when the past cannot be undone, remembrance can still be made whole.

On August 2, 1984 The Register Star (Rockford, IL) reported that the owners of Forest View Abbey north of Greenwood Cemetery asked permission to remove 130 bodies entombed in the building, so the structure could be demolished. At this point the company had already contacted the families of 40 of the interred and moved their ancestors remains with permission.
Apparently the condition of the building was so neglected it had deteriorated beyond repair.

Back in about 1843, part of Chicago’s famous Lincoln Park was actually a cemetery. Concerned about cholera, city officials decided to relocate the dead - including about 4,000 Confederate soldiers - to a less central location that might protect the living from disease. When work began on a parking garage in Lincoln Park in 1998, at least 80 bodies were discovered, making it pretty clear that not all of the cemetery’s residents had found their way to the new digs on the south side of Chicago. At least one tomb is obviously still there; you can find the mausoleum of innkeeper Ira Couch located behind the Chicago History Museum.

Whether moved, remembered, or restored, every resting place carries the same quiet hope—that those who were laid there are treated with the dignity they were given in life.