Congressional Cemetery's Slow Resurrection

"It's sad to have a cemetery called 'the Congressional Cemetery' that has looked the way it looks because of its lack of funding," said Dorgan, who first discovered it when visiting the grave of Scarlet Crow, a Sioux delegate who died while visiting Washington to protest the removal of his people from Minnesota to South Dakota. "That is not a way to memorialize [people], to let it fall into great disrepair."

Harper explained in an e-mail that the millions designated for the cemetery's use come with restrictions that still leave funding holes in restoration and upkeep efforts. The federal appropriations can only go toward specific kinds of repairs, she wrote, while the endowment serves merely as a source of potential interest income. And because that interest income can only be used for maintenance, conservation and contract work, it can't be used for new construction, such as replacing the cemetery's derelict garage.

Congressional is still operating in "catch-up mode" after suffering from years of deferred maintenance, Harper said. General donations "allow us the ability to keep the doors open" by paying for things like a small part-time staff, utility bills and brochures. The cemetery's total 2007 budget will be about $450,000, but less than $200,000 of that comes from general contributions, she said.

The Other National Cemetery

The cemetery hasn't always been out of sight and out of mind. Within just three months of its 1807 opening, Sen. Uriah Tracy of Connecticut became the first member of Congress to be buried there, said Sandy Schmidt, a board member and the cemetery's archivist. At that time it became the country's de facto national graveyard. A tradition emerged to memorialize dead legislators with the symmetrical sandstone blocks that line the central part of the cemetery. Designed by former Capitol architect Benjamin Latrobe, the blocks -- called cenotaphs -- will be subject to a $1.75 million conservation project funded by the Department of Veterans Affairs this spring, said Sara Leach, senior historian at the National Cemetery Administration.

Prominent local and national figures continued to be buried at the cemetery, but after the Civil War the federal government started burying dead soldiers on the grounds of Robert E. Lee's mansion in Arlington, Harper said. The government bought that land in 1883 and it became Arlington National Cemetery, essentially taking over the role Congressional once held. By the 1930s Congress had decided it wanted "out of the cemetery business," Schmidt said, and it wasn't until about 25 years ago that it started thinking about funding it again.

"I think as the 20th century progressed, the emphasis was on Arlington," said John Philip Sousa Pugh, great-grandnephew of the composer. "Generations just forgot about Congressional. It sort of became a stepchild. It was there, but people just didn't appreciate it."

Although in some ways Congressional Cemetery lies in the shadow of Arlington, those who oversee the burial ground don't necessarily view that as negative.

"We know we're never going to have the tourists that Arlington has, and I'm not sure if we could handle that," Harper said. "I don't know that we're striving to be that sort of site. I always laugh -- we are one of Washington's best-kept secrets, even to people who live on Capitol Hill."

Part of what makes Congressional unique is the diverse group buried there, which includes everyone from laborers who helped construct the Capitol to some of the first people who held office in it.

"That's part of the charm of the place. It doesn't just reflect one focus of our history. It reflects people of all economic standpoints, of all walks of life," Harper said. The cemetery continues to allow anyone to be buried there, with sites costing $2,000 to $4,000.

The cemetery is important to members of the Capitol Hill community as well. John Capozzi, who has lived in the Barney Circle neighborhood just west of the cemetery since 1988, said he jogs at the burial ground and brings his children there to play with dogs.

"It's very peaceful," Capozzi said. "It's a great place to regroup. It's kind of like you're not in the city anymore."