Cremation Sesquicentennial: The Cremation of Baron de Palm

It was a cold and wet day when the cremation movement made its grand entrance in the US in December 1876. In continuing the story of America’s first cremation, we move to the small hamlet of Washington, Pennsylvania, about 30 miles south of Pittsburgh, where an eccentric physician named F. Julius LeMoyne had constructed the only crematory in the country. The determined New York attorney-turned-spiritual leader Henry Steel Olcott had convinced Dr. LeMoyne to use the facility for the cremation of Baron de Palm.

On December 5, 1876, the body of de Palm arrived in Washington and was transported to the crematory in the area known as Gallows Hill on the south end of town where Dr. LeMoyne had constructed his crematory. The building was built on a simple plan – on the left, a larger room was available for conducting services. A door led to the adjacent room which is where the cremator itself was located.

The furnace had been fired to heat the retort beginning the night before, and the following morning when the cremator was heated to just above 2300 degrees Fahrenheit, it was declared ready for use. By that time, more than two hundred local and national health officials, reporters, and onlookers, had descended on and around the crematorium grounds for the event.

Just after 8:00 am, the body was wrapped in an alum-soaked sheet (to prevent immediate combustion while entering the super-heated chamber), and Olcott sprinkled flowers, herbs, and evergreens on the body. Then, after removing their hats, Olcott, LeMoyne, and two associates bore his body to the crematory and, placing it head-first into the cremation chamber, de Palm made his mark on history.

Within seconds, the door to the cremation chamber was sealed and through a peephole those present watched the crumbling remains within.

A correspondent from the New York Sun claimed that no fire touched the body, though no fire touched the body, though some flame could be seen when clothing or the wrapping linen were ignited by the heat. A “glorious roseate” glow engulfed the body, and at one point, contractions caused a slight upward point by the left hand, “as if the spirit of the dead was yearning for above.” Just before noon, the cremation was pronounced complete by multiple officials in attendance.

From the beginning, LeMoyne and Olcott strived to portray the event as a scientific experiment. To demonstrate this, visitors were allowed into the crematory two at a time so they could see the process through the opening. Additionally, following the cremation, a public meeting was held in the town hall where Olcott, LeMoyne, and other ministers and health officials could discuss the merits of cremation.

The following day de Palm’s remains were removed from the crematory and placed in an ornate “Hindu” style lidded vase engraved with “various Hindu motifs and devices” reportedly made of unbaked clay. The urn remained in the care of the Theosophical Society until the remains were scattered in the Atlantic Ocean at an undetermined time.

Many of the health officials in attendance received a small apothecary jar with a portion of de Palm’s remains – an early form of keepsake urn – primarily to show the innocuousness of human remains after cremation.

Though a modest beginning to what is now the most commonly chosen form of disposition, this event marked a significant start to the conversation of cremation on the continent. It would be nearly a decade for another crematory to be built in America, but Dr. LeMoyne’s crematory was not quite ready to forfeit its work.

Into the next century

Two years later, the LeMoyne Crematory would be back in national news again – this time for in its role in the cremation of Jane Pitman, wife of noted Cincinnati stenographer Benn Pitman, the first woman to be cremated in America. While hers was the second in the LeMoyne Crematory, it was the third cremation in America, as the second was that of Dr. Henry Winslow, a physician in Salt Lake City whose friends built a cremator there for his cremation only.

The end would come for Dr. LeMoyne the following year as he would succumb to “a lingering and painful illness” at the ripe old age of 71 and at the reported corpulent weight of 225 pounds. After brief services at his home, his body was borne up Gallows Hill for the last time on October 16, 1879, and the “Apostle of Cremation” was cremated in the crematory he had constructed. Following the cremation, his remains were placed in a one-gallon apothecary jar, sealed with cork and wax, and buried just outside the front doors of the crematory. A monument to his memory reads:

F. Julius LeMoyne, M.D.
Born
September 4, 1798
Died
October 14, 1879
A fearless advocate of the right.

After its first use and the role it played in the beginning of the cremation movement in America, the LeMoyne Crematory would only be used a mere 40 more times before being permanently closed by the LeMoyne family in 1901. Interestingly, only a handful of the cremations that took place there were residents of anywhere closer than Pittsburgh, highlighting its original purpose of cremating Dr. LeMoyne himself.

In the present, the LeMoyne Crematory is under the care of the Washington County Historical Society, which is based in the LeMoyne House in Washington. It still stands, not only as a curiosity, but as a monument to Dr. LeMoyne and the legacy of his achievements.

We have barely scratched the surface in the history of modern cremation and how our practice has modernized and transformed funeral and memorial practice over 150 years of history.

Join us in 2026 to mark the 150th anniversary of the first modern cremation in North America. Reflect on your business’s history, your own practice, and make your predictions for the next 150 years to come!

Jason Ryan Engler is a licensed funeral director and is considered a thought leader in cremation products and merchandising. Known to many as the Cremation Historian, he is the historian for the Cremation Association of North America and is the cremation historian for the National Museum of Funeral History. He is the regional sales manager for the Wilbert Group in Kansas / Northwest Missouri and lives in Kansas City with his miniature dachshund, Otto.

---