In 1840 a young woman collapsed at a party for the wealthiest people in America and died during the final song. No one knew her name. In 1944 a beautiful innocent child enjoying an afternoon at the circus got separated from her family when the tent caught fire and died. Her body ended up in a grave bearing only the words “Little Miss 1565”. There are thousands of these mysteries through the history of the United States. Each year roughly 4,000 unidentified bodies are found. At least 1,000 remain unidentified according to Oxygen.com. They are the souls who somehow slipped through the fabric of reality and ended up in morgues with no names, no loved ones standing nearby, and no closure.
     If this makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, you’re not alone. People have always been intrigued by mystery. Some people, like cold case investigator Todd Matthews or author Stewart O’Nan, have gone even further and devoted themselves to the cases of the unknown, the forgotten, the left behind.
     Why?
     Because no one wants to be forgotten. These voices from beyond the grave are trying to remind us of the things we know deep-down when we close our eyes at night, three bone-chilling lessons we hope our children will embrace if something were ever to happen to us.
LESSON #1: We are all connected
     On a warm summer afternoon in July 1944, a little blonde-haired girl with pink ribbons in her hair lost her life and her identity during a tragedy that last less than 10 minutes. Her picture is easy enough to find online. It shows an adorable little girl whose identity should have been easy to ascertain since her features are all very clear, and aside from a dark spot covering the right side of her face, there is scant evidence of the nightmare she endured. But nonetheless, she is simply known as Little Miss 1565.
     She died during a horrible circus fire. The fire, which was originally thought to be the result of a carelessly discarded cigarette, eventually would be deemed arson. The arsonist would never be caught. Ultimately, seven souls would remain “unknown” and be buried with only numbers marking their graves. But that would not be the last word. Efforts began immediately after the tragedy to identify these people. Those efforts would be carried out by two police detectives, Sgt. Thomas Barber and Sgt. Thomas Lowe, who would work tirelessly sending dental records, contacting families and appealing to the media. In particular, they wanted to send Little Miss 1565 home.
     Although they came close, there is still no final word about Little Miss 1565.
LESSON #2: Their lack of identity, impacts the creation of our identity
     Anyone who knew her is now dead. Depending on the time of year, the little white picket fence that surrounds her grave can be engulfed in snow, covered in flowers, or surrounded by beer cans and the occasional leftovers from a heroin addict. Her grave is a source of curiosity for tourists. However, for those who live in Harrodsburg, Kentucky, many of whom are direct descendants of those who potentially witnessed this unknown woman’s death, this fence and the rectangular plot of ground guards is part of the town’s identity. Residents know the story by heart, and for them the strange grave marker bearing the message “Unknown: Hallowed and Hushed Be the Place of the Dead”, has simply become part of the scenery. It is merely a thread woven into the fabric of a small American town.
     But if you listen, if you dare to sit quietly near that grave marker, somewhere in the soft wind you will hear her. The woman who swept into town on a warm summer’s evening in the 1840s, is still whispering her plea to take her home, to give her a name, to respect the fact that she was bigger than the broken pieces that make up her story.
     Her story currently goes something like this: a beautiful young woman arrived in town just a few hours before a large social event at the Graham Spring Resort in 1840. She was shown to a room in the resort and registered under the name Virginia Stafford. Virginia explained that she was the daughter of a prominent judge in Louisville and said her father would soon be joining her. He never showed up, but that didn’t keep her from sweeping onto the dance floor. Legend has it that she entered the ballroom a few minutes after the event began, and all eyes were focused on this beauty as she descended the stairway into the ballroom.
     It’s a beautiful story that goes on to say that the lady danced all night. She seemed carefree. Her laughter echoed through the ballroom. When the final song of the night concluded she leaned in towards her dance partner. Some believed he thought he was about to receive a kiss, but instead the beautiful lady went limp in his arms. He carried her outside for air and laid her in the grass. Within moments it became apparent she was not breathing. People exited the party to see what was happening. Frantically they tried to save her, but she died there in the arms of strangers.
     They immediately contacted the judge she claimed was her father. He stated that he did not know her, and, in fact, he did not have a daughter, or even a daughter-in-law. So, the community began a search for her family, but to no avail. No one claimed her, and after five days, she was buried on the very spot in the grass where she died.
     But is this true?
     Matthews began an investigation into this mystery and it went cold until a summer afternoon when I came to town. Like other tourists, I had only a passing interest. That is until I began to speak with local residents and then Matthews himself. Local residents call their Jane Doe, Molly. A story from the early 1900’s implied that this was Molly Sewall, wife of Joe Sewall, an out-of-work actor who liked to cheat on his wife. The story goes that she left Joe for her own adventure and died at this party from an unknown heart condition leaving her cheating husband and a one-month-old son. (This has been proven false by evidence that Molly was still alive in 1865.)
     Regardless of their age, occupation or economic status, ask anyone in town who’s lived there for more than 10 years, and they’ll quickly tell you about their relationship with the “Dancing Lady of Harrodsburg.” Matthews, who grew up about an hour away, remembers first seeing the grave as a child and becoming fascinated with her story. He struggled to understand who she was and regarded her as an honored member of the town. “She felt like family,” he explains.
     Despite not being a Harrodsburg resident, even I now have a relationship with her. I had come to the area to visit family, but they immediately began to tell me about this mystery and how every one of their neighbors seemed to have some story about the grave. Then after visiting the grave, something happened to me. First, the picture I took of the grave began popping up on my phone. After several hours of this issue, I deleted the picture and emptied the trash. That didn’t stop the picture. It kept appearing, even after I took it in for repair. No one could explain why a deleted picture kept reappearing. Then came the dreams. Next, there were curtains fluttering wildly when no window was open. And finally, came the deep realization that she was a woman who deserved to have her voice heard.
     Before long, I began to think about who she was, and my investigation started in full force. What did I find? First of all, I found more questions than answers. Second of all, I found little evidence to support the stories that had long been shared as fact. If there is a woman buried in that grave, it is likely that she was someone the owner of the resort where she died knew – despite the fact that he denied it vehemently—and she was someone he wanted to silence. Dr. Christopher Columbus Graham, owner of the Graham Springs Resort where the mystery woman died, kept a very tight hold on his property and the narrative that would one day define a town.
     Research into this story clearly demonstrates that Dr. Graham manufactured a significant portion of the story, but people in modern day Harrodsburg will stand their ground that it is true, and they’ll tell you in their own words how the story impacted them. At a meeting of the town’s historical committee in 2021, the group firmly told me that despite advances in DNA technology, no one wanted the grave disturbed. Her story was too much a part of the town, argued Anna Armstrong, head of the committee and one of Harrodsburg’s oldest residents.
     They had no interest in hearing that in an interview in 1852 Dr. Graham stated that the lady descended the stairs into the ballroom, and everyone gasped. The ballroom (according to the architectural floor plans archived at the Mercer County Library) was on the second floor. And what was on the third floor? Graham’s private quarters. Not his home, but his private quarters. His wife and children resided with him in another part of the building. The third floor was his study. It was his place of respite. So, is it possible that this woman’s visit to his study, which was documented, didn’t fit with his image, and so Dr. Graham created a more fitting narrative, a story that served his identity better?
     Regardless of the motivation and truthfulness, that story has become a part of the fabric of Harrodsburg. Thanks to podcasting, the story has begun weaving its way into the larger fabric of contemporary American storytelling as well.
LESSON #3: The Search for their identity is a search for our own
     Matthews is very passionate about solving cases, especially for people who died with no identity. “It matters,” says the man whose first major success was solving the mystery of “tent girl”, a young woman whose remains found wrapped in tent material and had been unidentified for more than 30 years. “Their identity is intertwined with our identity. Someone loved them. Someone wondered where they went. They are a part of the human family, and they mattered.”
     This is a feeling shared by many who pursue cold cases. In his book The Circus Fire: A True Story of an American Tragedy, O’Nan explains why he became so passionate about finding the identity of Little Miss 1565. He states,
         “To be lost and forgotten–to be abandoned–is a shared and terrible fear, just as our fondest hope, as we grow older, is that we might leave some part of us behind in the hearts of those we love and, in that way, live on. Perhaps in the end we will not be lost. In that respect, she was received the only gift we can give her, a gift we wish desperately for our loved ones, a gift we all want, finally: to be remembered.”
     If we are open to the lessons, we might learn to understand ourselves more fully. After all, there is a reason that we are all fascinated with unsolved crimes and the Jane/John Does of the world. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. The reason is clear: no one wants to be forgotten.