New York City’s Woodlawn Cemetery is a mini-city of neighborhoods of the dead; The city’s great entrepreneurs are buried near each other, and the plots of jazz greats all share an avenue. Herman Melville’s tombstone commands its own graveyard of manuscripts left by failed writers. But the spookiest graves of Woodlawn are the ones whose names we don’t know, but have spectacular stories to tell. Here’s our favorite inscription:
Lost life by stab in falling on ink eraser, evading six young women trying to give him birthday kisses in office Metropolitan Life Building