Tales From The Crypt
10-30-1994 Times Picayune

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His friends call him the "Roach Man." He works among the dead,
in an environment that would give many people the willies. He
opens long ago-sealed crypts and tombs, rearranges the mummified
or decaying bodies inside, sweeps out deteriorating caskets
(sometimes crawling way inside to do it), making room for the
brand-new, shiny casket that contains another body.

But Perry Mathieu, caretaker of St. Roch Cemeteries, says he has
one of the best jobs in town.

"This is a never-ending business," Mathieu says, tending to the
open crypt that will receive a new casket in a few hours.
"People are always going to die. Not too many people want to
work in a cemetery, but they don't know the secret; it's very
peaceful work."

In the six years that Mathieu has worked as a caretaker for the
New Orleans Archdiocesan Cemeteries - the past two years at St.
Roch - he has gone from being what he calls an "angry black man"
to a person who just wants to enjoy life and be a good example
for his four children.

"This cemetery business, this all changed me to be the type of
person I am today," he says. "People are in the hospital
fighting for their lives, and people are out there killing up
each other for nothing. For me to think about living, it's great
to know I'm not in this position," he says, patting the face of
a crypt.

It may be the nature of cemetery work in New Orleans that has
had such a strong influence on Mathieu. Since many people can be
buried in the same crypt, he relies on help from Mother Nature,
a bit of common-sense physics and a strong constitution.

A body must be interred for a year and a day before it can be
moved to make room for a new one. To prepare for a burial in an
already-occupied crypt, Mathieu removes the heavy outer tablet,
then breaks the seal, which could be anything from mortar to
caulking, depending on the crypt's age. In dry crypts, the
casket usually deteriorates very slowly and the body mummifies;
if it's damp, the process quickens considerably.

Mathieu carefully bags the remains of the body and sweeps out
all the remains of the casket. He points out a nearby dumpster,
in which disintegrated pieces of rotting wood lie scattered with
brown, Spanish moss-like wooden curls - used to soak up body
fluids; a well-indented silk pillow rests on top, its foam
stuffing spilling out.

In a double crypt, he simply places the body with others in the
open space to the back or below the receiving vault, covering
them with heavy brown paper to keep them out of sight during the
burial.

In the single vaults it isn't as easy - Mathieu had to figure
out a way to make room for the incoming casket. When it's just
bones, they can be gathered into a compact mass and stored at
the back with any other remains from previous burials. But it's
rarely just bones.

"In some instances a body has been there eight or nine years and
it's hard to bury another because it's still intact," he says.
He either turns the body on its side, bends it into a workable
form or, with permission from the family, places it on top of
the new body inside the casket.

As he explains the process, six easels of flowers arrive for the
upcoming burial. He arranges them around the open crypts, gently
saying, "It's a funny thing how people when they die get so many
flowers, and when they're living they don't get so many."

Even more difficult is preparing the underground vaults, or
UGVs, for new coffins. The process involves breaking a thin
cement seal on top, digging through six inches of dirt, and
lifting out the three heavy cement slabs that cover the coffin.
Again, the question arises of where to put still-intact bodies,
but Mathieu always figures out a way.

The double crypts are able to hold the remains of 100 bodies,
while the tombs will hold an unlimited amount. To demonstrate,
Mathieu walks over to the Archdiocesan Mausoleum behind St.
Michael's Chapel and unscrews the face from a blank crypt on the
bottom row. If a family can't afford to pay for a crypt, Mathieu
says, the bodies are put in here. Inside the cool darkness is a
space equaling four single crypts. The surface of the ground
water shimmers, masking what's underneath; at the back is a
mound of bones, bluing from the dampness. "You've got some
bodies down here," Mathieu says. "Believe me."

The busiest times for Mathieu are the holidays - especially the
Feast of All Saints, Nov. 1, when New Orleans families visit the
cemeteries to honor the dead with offerings of chrysanthemums.
In preparation, Mathieu must strip, mop and wax the mausoleums,
rake the UGVs, and generally make the place shine. "It's like
putting on a brand-new suit," he says, "but it's a hell of a
job."

Funeral home directors say that year-round, St. Roch's is one of
the cleanest of the old cemeteries in town. Graffiti is absent,
as are any weeds growing up through the cracks in the walls and
crypts. This praise goes directly to Mathieu, as well as
volunteer Albert Hattier, who used to be St. Roch's sexton and
still drops by daily to help.

At the end of today's burial, the funeral home director tips
Mathieu a few dollars, giving him the chance to buy a midday
Barq's and cool off. But first, he must finish sealing this
crypt. He pushes the casket past the mouth and positions the
seal over it, caulking it into place. He then replaces the face.

"I think schools should take these young people around
cemeteries and show them the real life," Mathieu says,
tightening the screws. He suggests a program through which
volunteers could work with kids cleaning the mausoleums and
graves.

"The kids are going to stop one day and say, 'Hey, this is the
last ride.' They're going to think about it. Because I think
about it every day."