Alone in the Crypt
While photographing the mausoleums in Mount Olivet Cemetery, I stopped at the Clement mausoleum. Something felt off. There was space for six, yet only one name was etched inside. Half-empty mausoleums always make me wonder what happened to the rest of the family. Why didn’t they join their loved one in death? When I started researching Victor M. Clement, I had no idea how fascinating his life would turn out to be.
A Rising Star in Mining
Victor Michel Clement was born in California in 1856. He graduated from Santa Clara College in 1876, then studied mining engineering at the University of California. Shortly after, he took a position managing the Bunker Hill & Sullivan mine in Wardner, Idaho. It was here that he met his future wife, Flora Smith. Who was a complete badass, I might add!
Mining in the late 1800s was dangerous. But during Victor’s time in Wardner, miners faced more than just cave-ins and explosions. Labor struggles made the job even riskier.
Trouble in Wardner
The Bunker Hill & Sullivan mines were the only ones in the area that were not unionized. That meant longer hours, lower pay, and growing resentment. The frustration led to violent strikes, and Victor nearly lost his life. Flora was caught in the middle of it all.
The unrest in Wardner did not stop Victor from building his career. He left Idaho behind and set his sights on a new opportunity halfway across the world.
Sentenced to Death in Johannesburg
Victor moved to Johannesburg to manage the Primrose Mine. He was a friend of the Cowboy Capitalist, John Hays Hammond, and got caught up in the infamous Jameson Raid. His involvement led to a death sentence.
The sentence was later commuted, and he spent about a month in jail before paying a hefty fine. Ten thousand dollars in 1896 would be about $285,000 today.
Victor and Flora eventually settled in Salt Lake City, where he opened a mining office. They bought a house on Brigham Street, but Victor’s work kept him on the move. He frequently traveled to Mexico, and Flora often went with him.
Death in Mexico
In the spring of 1903, Victor and Flora were in Guanajuato. Today, Guanajuato is famous for its mummies. One evening, after returning from the mine, Victor complained of severe abdominal pain. His nausea worsened through the night, and a doctor was called.
The doctor advised them to take Victor to Saltillo, but he was too sick to travel on horseback. Most of the miners were home with their families, but one stayed behind to help. He built a litter to carry Victor to Saltillo.
The doctors in Saltillo told Flora it was nothing serious and that he was simply constipated. By Wednesday, Victor had not improved. By Friday, Flora knew this was more than constipation. She insisted they take him to the American Hospital in Monterrey, six hours away.
Instead of bringing Victor to the hospital, a surgeon, his assistant, and a nurse came to them. At 1 a.m., the surgeon arrived at their hotel room in Saltillo and began operating. Flora waited outside the door for three hours. When it finally opened, she saw the surgeon’s face and knew.
There was no hope.
Victor briefly regained consciousness before slipping into a deep sleep. He never woke up.
Burial in a Foreign Land
Mexican law at the time required bodies to remain in the country for two years before they could be removed. Flora needed a metal coffin to preserve Victor’s remains. An American plumber, moved by her situation, offered to build a tin coffin for a fellow countryman.
Mining officials helped Flora dress Victor’s body, and a local man gave her a spot in his family’s tomb. Within 24 hours of his death, Victor Clement was laid to rest inside a wooden and tin coffin.
Alone in the Crypt
Flora returned to Salt Lake City, settled Victor’s affairs, and sold their home on Brigham Street. At some point, she commissioned the mausoleum at Mount Olivet, possibly intending to move Victor’s body there.
Years passed. In July 1906, Victor’s remains were finally placed inside the crypt. But Flora never joined him.
She remarried and lived until October 1943. Newspaper reports stated she would be buried in Washington, D.C., but I have not found proof of her burial.
And so, more than a century later, Victor M. Clement remains the lone occupant of the crypt meant to hold his family. Whether by choice, circumstance, or fate, he waits in solitude, his story nearly forgotten. Until now.
