Satinka waited just inside the main cemetery entrance off West Court Street. She climbed into the backseat of the car and told us to drive around past the old tombstones and beyond many of the plots, all the way around until we reached the creepy mausoleum covered with vines and leaves. I guess at night everything in a cemetery was creepy, during the day the place probably appeared quite stunning especially with all the fall colors brightening up the stone gray of tombstones and grave markers.
Nestled in the middle of a residential neighborhood surrounded by black wrought iron fencing, Glenwood was the oldest cemetery in Flint. In it lay all of the influential people whose names still adorned street signs, buildings, and landmarks: Mott, Crapo, Dort, Whiting, Atwood, Whaley, and even the
