
Elroy Ubl loves the symbolism punctuating the sprawling cemeteries about a mile north of his longtime hometown of New Ulm.
Take the 15-foot, 3-ton limestone tree stump that marks the grave of brewer August Schell and his wife, Theresa, who emigrated from Germany to Cincinnati in the mid-1800s, married and moved to New Ulm.
Ubl points to the jagged top of the hand-carved monument, symbolizing how Schell's life was abruptly cut short at age 63 in 1891. The carved ivy vines spiraling up the trunk, he says, represent memories, friendships and eternal life. The open book on the trunk, noting the places and dates they were born and died, represents the Book of Life.
"You can't miss it — it sticks out like a sore thumb," said Ubl, 82, a retired science teacher and nursing home administrator who's a longtime history buff and has led many cemetery tours.
Ubl has just self-published his eighth book on local history, "New Ulm's 'Outdoor Museum,'" which details 29 distinctive tree stump markers and nine so-called white bronze markers in New Ulm's City, Catholic and Lutheran cemeteries.
"White bronze is a misnomer: They're 99 percent zinc — but white bronze sounded more appealing," Ubl said. "They look massive and solid like granite, but when you tap your knuckles on the surface, you can tell the zinc panels are hollow."
Marketed as a durable alternative for graves, zinc markers were made from 1874 to 1914 by the Monumental Bronze Co. of Bridgeport, Conn. The company quit producing them when World War I broke out, reserving zinc for gun mounts and munitions.
"There are several stories passed down about how, during Prohibition, people would hide alcohol in the hollow panels for night visits to the cemetery," Ubl said. "The panel covers could be easily removed and then put back — an ideal hiding place for illegal contraband."