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FAMOUS PET OWNERS WHO BURIED PETS AT HARTSDALE
At the cemetery in Hartsdale the population is as diverse as in any society, and it is therefore expected that some of the pets and many of the people who brought them there were worldwide celebrities. Often the famous men and women who came to Hartsdale used their talent, time, money and influence to raise the public's awareness about the many joys and wonders of animals.
Among those who had a profound and lasting effect were the Hungarian Princess Lwoff-Parlaghy, the legendary dancer Irene Castle, glamorous Broadway stage star Christine Norman, and Pulitzer prize-winning author MacKinlay Kantor who underscored the depth of our relationships with pets through a book he wrote about his remarkable dog, Lobo. There is a long list of famous personalities who came to Hartsdale. Click on any of the names below for a detailed biography. |
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PRINCESS LWOFF-PARLAGHY
A fascinating headstone at the cemetery has intrigued visitors for many years. Its inscription reads: Beneath This Stone Is Buried The Beautiful Young Lion Goldfleck, Whose Death Is Sincerely Mourned By His Mistress Princess Lwoff-Parlaghy, New York, 1912.
Few people today know the name, but in her day this woman, who was born in Hungary in 1865, was a celebrity on both sides of the Atlantic. Princess Vilma Lwoff-Parlaghy had married and quickly divorced a Russian prince, and she had an astounding private income reputed to be a million dollars a year. However, this young woman was famous not only for her title and money, but was an accomplished portrait painter. She also was known as an animal lover and any publicity about her - and there was a lot - always included something about her many pets or animals' welfare. She organized "fashionable entertainments," as the newspapers called them, to raise money for animal protection societies, and she maintained a menagerie at a chateau she owned in the south of France.
By the time she was thirty, Vilma Lwoff-Parlaghy had painted portraits of all the crowned heads of Europe, and in 1894 she was given the coveted Art Gold Medal of the Berlin Academy.
Princess Parlaghy came to America in 1899 and with great fanfare arrived on these shores with her favorite animals. She had come to paint portraits of our country's one hundred greatest public figures, but this endeavor was interrupted when she was summoned to the Court of St. James to paint the future King of England, Edward, Prince of Wales.
Nine years passed before the princess once again came to this country, but the interval had done nothing to diminish her ability to attract attention. Only a short time after her return, she and her pets were at the center of a controversy that brought the U.S. and the Austro-Hungarian monarchy to the brink of an international incident.
The first hint of trouble appeared in the summer of 1908. A newspaper article told about her departure from the elegant resort of Hot Springs, Virginia, her arrival in Washington, D.C., and her intended trip to New York City.
The day after the princess arrived in Washington, her secretary told the press that his mistress was deeply distressed about the country's attitude towards animals; she was particularly dismayed about her problems with the Waldorf Astoria. She thought if Americans were truly anxious to have her in their midst they would have to accept her pets as well. In other words, the secretary said, "The princess believes in the statement 'Love me, love my dog.'"
As her scheduled departure for New York drew nearer, the Waldorf remained adamant in not allowing her to be a guest and delicate negotiations were underway with other hotels. Eventually, after only a slight compromise, the princess triumphed. A public announcement was made that she and her party - and her pets - would be welcomed on arrival in New York City, not at the Waldorf but at The Plaza, one of the world's most luxurious hotels.
The Plaza must have suited the princess well for she stayed there - much to the surprise and often the consternation of the management - for five years with a retinue that included a physician, a father confessor, several bodyguards and, of course, a great number of pets, which soon included the lion cub Goldfleck.
Goldfleck - the majestic king of beasts the princess would lovingly take to Hartsdale in 1912 - had first caught her eye on a visit to Ringling Brothers Circus. She fell in love with the lion cub and tried to buy it from the Ringlings, but they refused to sell him. Determined to have him, Princess Parlaghy formulated a plan.
Several weeks earlier she had completed a portrait of General Daniel E. Sickles, a hero of the Civil War, and she figured if he asked the Ringling Brothers for the lion cub they would not deny him. She was correct. When General Sickles went to the Ringlings they wanted to give him the lion as a gift. However, the general insisted upon paying two hundred and fifty dollars.
Once the transaction was completed, the princess arrived and the general presented the lion to her. Princess Parlaghy sent for champagne for the christening of her new pet who was officially named "General Sickles," but called "Goldfleck".
Cuddled in an expensive wool blanket, Goldfleck was chauffeured by limousine to the Plaza where the manager allowed the princess to keep him - under care of a trainer - in a separate room in her apartment.
Goldfleck behaved well, and the other guests who at first were appalled by his presence later were not bothered by him. That is until the day the princess' personal photographer snapped a picture while Goldfleck was in the room. The flash of the bulb frightened the lion and he raced wildly through an open door into the hall and down a corridor. Guests and staff members panicked, and it wasn't until raw meat was brought to the scene that Goldfleck was lured back into the suite.
Sadly, although Goldfleck was apparently healthy and growing into a beautiful full-sized lion, he fell ill and did not recover. The princess held a formal wake for him and Goldfleck lay in state surrounded by vases of flowers, his toys and his dishes. Arrangements were made with Hartsdale Pet Cemetery to have Goldfleck buried. Today, the monument at Hartsdale to her "Beautiful Lion Goldfleck" endures to remind us of this woman of royal privilege who would not live without her animals and who told the world about their rights and hers.
Goldfleck has the distinction of being the only lion to have a "royal" home in America's first pet cemetery. |
IRENE CASTLE In the early part of the century, Irene Castle and her husband, Vernon, were America's most renowned dance team. The famous Castle Walk and Hesitation Waltz, dances which they created, were popular around the world, and t he couple became international symbols of youth and beauty, and millions of people followed their every move.
But besides being a superb dancer and trend setter, Irene Castle was an ardent lover of animals. In fact, she considered their welfare to be more important than her riches or fame, and her ability to command attention helped them immeasurably.
Irene Castle built the still famous Orphans of the Storm Animal Shelter in Deerfield, near Chicago, and she raised many thousands of dollars for that institution.
One of the dogs buried in the Castle plot in Hartsdale is Zowie, an animal who occupied a special place in the story of the Castles' lives. Zowie is depicted in the 1939 Ginger Rogers-Fred Astaire movie, The Story of Vernon and Irene Castle. In one scene, the dog playing Zowie is caught in a cross current off a bathing beach at New Rochelle, near Hartsdale, and is swept toward deeper water, rescued him, and thus met. The couple eventually married and Zowie, as they named the dog, was with them for the rest of his life.
When Zowie died on August 2, 1917, Irene Castle placed a poem with other tributes people often leave on the walls of the cemetery's office. She wrote "I do not cringe from death as much/Since you are gone, my truest friend/Thy dear dumb sould will wait for mine/However long before the end."
Also buried at Hartsdale is Irene Castle's monkey, Rastas. After his death she wrote, "Rastas, the smartest most lovable monkey that ever lived."
All through her life, Irene Castle continued to devote herself to the benefit of animals, and on the eve of her seventy-second birthday in 1965, when she was interviewed by a national magazine, she told the public "When I die, my gravestone is to say 'humanitarian' instead of 'dancer.' I put it in my will. Dancing was fun, and I needed the money, but Orphans of the Storm comes from the heart. It's more important."
Irene Castle, humanitarian, died in 1969. |
CHRISTINE NORMAN In the 1920s Broadway actress, Christine Norman was considered one of the the most beautiful women in the world. She seemed to have everything: beauty, talent, money and fame. Thus, it was more than an ordinary shock when she leaped to her death from the twentieth floor of a New York City hotel in 1930.
Her suicide was major news, but the bigger headlines came when her will was probated. As one newspaper announced: "Miss Christine Norman's Will, Disposing of $150,000, Fails to Mention Mother." The thrust of the story was that along with bequests to a number of friends, her will instructed a certain amount of money to be put aside for the upkeep of her Japanese terrier's grave at the Hartsdale Pet Cemetery.
Ms. Norman's estranged husband, also not mentioned in the will, and her mother took the matter to court, confident, no doubt, that the "insanity" of such a legacy would never be allowed to stand. However, the plaintiffs had not counted on the abilities of Arthur Garfield Hayes, the well-known lawyer and civil libertarian. He successfully argued that Ms. Norman's will merely reflected a caring, loving woman of integrity. The court agreed and ruled the will valid. Her terrier at Hartsdale had won, and the actress' wishes were respected and carried out.
Christine Norman's "crazy" love for her dog, and her thoughtfulness in demonstrating and sustaining it in her will were much more important and far-reaching than the actress could have imagined. She probably never thought of her will as a document for the rights of pets and people, but that was the result. The legal precedent set in the lawsuit over Christine Norman's will has protected others in a similar situation. - In 1946 Mrs. Cornelia Polhemus Meserole left ten thousand dollars for the repair and preservation of a monument at Hartsdale to her dogs.
- Three years later, Marion C. Robinson died and her will instructed her executors to scatter her ashes over the grave of her German Shepherd, Chief, and to pay a sum of money to Hartsdale for perpetual care for Chief's resting place.
- In 1979, the ashes of Brigitte Riffaterre, a psychologist, were placed, at her request, between her two dogs, Puce and Filo, and seventy-five percent of her estate went to various animal organizations.
- These women, unlike Christine Norman, had their wishes filled without court battles.
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MACKINLAY KANTOR  | | Lobo drawing by Irene Layne Kantor from Mackinlay Kantor's book |
Pulitzer Prize-winning author MacKinlay Kantor enlarged the stature of pets through his writing. Kantor's 1957 Lobo is a sensitive and thoughtful book about his dog, Lobo, who rests at Hartsdale.
While the author was working on his award- winning book, Andersonville, in a resort town near Malaga on the southern coast of Spain in the 1950s, he and his wife Irene met the invincible Lobo. The dog was a "town character" and a true survivor. The residents believed Lobo had been born in the mountains, the offspring of a dog that belonged to an impoverished shepherd who could afford to keep only the mother and had abandoned the litter of pups. But Lobo somehow endured and eventually made his way into town, and by the time of the Kantors' visit he was a fixture in the resort. Lobo managed through the strength of his personality to become a skilled free-loader. He would ensconce himself in the finest restaurants and best hotel lobbies and ingratiate himself with vacationers until he became a "guest of guests," moving into their quarters and sharing their food for as long as their holidays lasted.
The Kantors were one such visiting couple who took Lobo under their wing. It was the beginning of a deep friendship and the end of Lobo's vagabond existence. The longer they were together, the closer they became, but in spite of their attachment to Lobo, the Kantors made the sad decision not to take him with them when they left. They had made arrangements for more travel on the continent, and the unexpected addition of a dog to their plans was more than they believed they could take on.
They tried to wean Lobo from them slowly. Finally, on the night before their departure, Mackinlay Kantor took him into the hotel bar where they had met, and leaving Lobo happily "among the dancers and tables of food on the patio," he sneaked to the parking lot where his car was parked. He believed Lobo was busily occupied in the hotel, but suddenly he saw a "red collar a shine, amber eyes gleaming, tail swatting with assurance," there at the car door and Lobo jumped in.
 | | Lobo's Grave at Hartsdale |
The Kantor's, with Lobo at their side, traveled through Europe, and they sailed to America on the S.S. Mauretania.
Home in Florida, Lobo stayed near MacKinlay Kantor while he completed Andersonville. Upon completion, Kantor and Lobo went to New York to make preliminary arrangements for the publication. They stayed with the Kantor's children and grandchildren who lived in Scarsdale, a town next to Hartsdale. Unexpectedly, Lobo became ill, and what seemed like a non-threatening problem turned out to be heartworm, the often fatal disease which at that time infected subtropical regions but was making its way north. Despite heroic efforts, neither the skill of the doctor nor Lobo's skill at survival was enough.
MacKinlay Kantor took Lobo to the Peaceable Kingdom in Hartsdale, where he rests, in the the author's words"...in the clutch of his adopted land - adopted through choice". The message on the headstone says simply, "Adios, Amigo". |
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