UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE Beyond Memento Mori: Understanding American Religion Through Roadside Shrines A Dissertation submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Religious Studies by Allison Elizabeth Solso March 2015 Dissertation Committee: Dr. Vivian-Lee Nyitray, Chairperson Dr. Michael Alexander Dr. Amanda Lucia Copyright by Allison Elizabeth Solso 2015 The Dissertation of Allison Elizabeth Solso is approved: Committee Chairperson ABSTRACT OF THE DISSERTATION Beyond Memento Mori: Understanding American Religion Through Roadside Shrines by Allison Elizabeth Solso Doctor of Philosophy, Graduate Program in Religious Studies University of California, Riverside, March 2015 Dr. Vivian-Lee Nyitray, Chairperson Using Daniele Hervieu-Leger’s concept of a “chain of memory,” this dissertation argues that creating roadside shrines to the deceased constitutes unique religious behavior, allowing collective memory to maintain vitality in a changing world and connecting generations through communion. That is, collective memory is enlivened by creating myths, rituals and performances aimed at transcending the pain associated with rupture and loss and facilitating the grieving process. In examining the sacred space, ritual life, identity politics and democratic ethos of shrines, this project asserts that shrine building and maintenance has long constituted an important public mourning ritual throughout American history, particularly in moments of dislocation and mass migration. This complicates traditional notions of public and iv private in the US and grapples with questions about death and dying in modern America. This project is unique in investigating vernacular memorials, rather than governmentally-sanctioned monuments, and in overcoming decades of scholarship that has ignored shrines’ deep religious significance both for those in mourning and those who interact with them in the public sphere. v Table of Contents Introduction……………………………………………………………………....1-24 Chapter One: Literature Review………………………………………………….25-67 Chapter Two: Construction and Maintenance as Religious Ritual..…...………..68-104 Chapter Three: The Construction of Sacred Space...........…………………….105-135 Chapter Four: The Public Life of Shrines……………………………………..136-178 Chapter Five: Vernacular Shrines in American History……………………….179-223 Conclusion: Liminality………………………………………………………...224-234 Bibliography………………………………………………………………..….235-239 vi Introduction For residents of Kingman, Arizona, a small desert town on the state’s busy highway 40, April 21, 2007 is a date that continues to resonate, as the town bid a somber farewell to fallen sheriff’s deputy Philip Rodriguez. Rodriguez had just completed a shift and was heading eastbound on the interstate when he lost control of his patrol vehicle, hurdled off the road and screeched to a halt. News of the incident spread quickly, as the Arizona Department of Public Safety (DPS) responded to the scene after many travelers alerted authorities to the accident. When Rodriguez did not respond on his radio, his colleagues in the Mojave County sheriff’s office feared the worst. They were right to do so. The severity of the accident was enough to eject Rodriguez, who succumbed to grave injuries and died at the scene. That cool spring night remains shrouded in mystery; there was no obvious reason for the accident. The roads were no more hazardous than usual and neither was the weather on that particular evening. No real reason for Deputy Rodriguez’s vehicle leaving the road could be determined and the community, including his surviving fiancé and parents, seemed to be at an utter loss. I was not present to witness these events. I did not know Mr. Rodriguez or his family, nor was I a local resident to hear reports of his death in the news or read them in the papers. My only insight into this tragedy came as I too, made my way down highway 40, en route to Flagstaff. As I had become accustomed to doing, I kept a vigilant watch for roadside shrines, those material artifacts that I had come to identify as, on the one hand, beacons of hope, community and continued love in the face of 1 death and, on the other, as manifestations of confusion, ambiguity and vulnerability. Approaching a shrine was, and continues to be, a rather uncertain enterprise—I never know quite what I am supposed to do or how I will feel. And approaching Rodriguez’s memorial, this proved to be the case once more. What first caught my eye was a modest white metal cross with hand painted lettering across it reading: “Deputy Philip “P-Rod” Rodriguez,” and “Protect in Peace.” Nearby a metal sculpture had been forged and painted the signature black and white of police cars. It read “P-35,” a still unclear tribute to this deceased officer. Around the base of the cross, tributes had been placed for Philip, presumably by his friends, family and, as became obvious, his colleagues in the Sheriff’s Department. An unopened, sun-bleached can of Natural Ice beer, silk and live flowers baked into the dirt by the desert heat, angel figurines and metal roses plunged into the earth, and toy police cars with gaping, plastic smiles encircled the base of the cross, which had been reinforced with PVC piping and rocks gathered from the roadside. Trying to deduce the details of a person and a life from their shrines can be a difficult task. When I first approached the cross, I found it rather curious that I was looking at what appeared to me to be a Star of David, a traditional Jewish symbol, emblazoned on a Christian cross. This confounded me even further when I noticed that hung like a scarf around the arms of the cross was a pair of handcuffs. What did all of these things mean, I wondered, and how could I go about knowing this man by this stuff? It was only once I noticed the toy police cars and other law enforcement ephemera that I realized I’d mistaken the six-pointed star-shaped sheriff’s badge for a 2 symbol of Judaism and the handcuffs were likely a tribute left by a fellow officer with little else on their person to offer. It was likely also that someone without a brought offering or tribute of some kind, instead, created an impromptu art piece out of quartz and other rocks strewn across this roadside. This art installation, modest as it was, did well acting as a makeshift introduction to the space of the shrine, entitling it “P-Rod,” this man’s nickname. Trying to deduce the details of survivors is equally as fraught as trying to construct an identity of the deceased. What could I tell about the people that took their own lives in their hands and pulled onto the highway 40 shoulder to remember their beloved friend or relative? After surveying this landscape for some time, I could come to only a few conclusions about those surviving Philip: many believed in an afterlife, many had been to this spot multiple times over the course of years and many sought a place to communicate with him. References to heaven, meeting again and resting were abundant, as were figures of angels and written prayers. Fellow officers left behind medals, badges and other police paraphernalia spanning at least four years. One friend even left behind a carved wooden sign reading: “Can’t believe its been three years without you. I miss you bro. R.I.P. P-35.” Evidence of communication was present in the notes and cards scattered by the winds, but maybe the most compelling and heart wrenching sign of a urgent need to communicate was in the presence of a small, stone garden bench near the cross, just far enough away to feel outside the immediate shadow cast by the cross, suggesting contemplation and perhaps even conversation. In my interpretation, this bench was likely placed by the 3 bereaved when they realized they needed a comfortable way to linger in this important spot. The bench provided respite for the weary of heart and spirit. Driving away from the shrine, less than a half mile down the lonely highway, sits a more official monument to Rodriguez. Standing like an attentive soldier, guarding the roadside, is a state-sponsored metal sign reading: “Deputy Philip Rodriguez Memorial Highway.” Though I cannot be sure about the sequence of events, it is likely that the roadside shrine was built immediately after news of Rodriguez’s death was announced. Indeed, many seem to be built in the hours and days directly following deadly incidents. So, it caused me to wonder, why would a state-sponsored, official monument be necessary when a loving tribute had already been built by his friends, family and colleagues? His roadside shrine was not removed or, if it was, it was rebuilt with haste and has withstood the test of time. As if others had had similar questions, or had sought to personalize what might be interpreted as a rote memorial, a decaying bouquet of once lush flowers hung limp from the metal stake driving the memorial highway marker into the craggy desert floor. For some reason, this roadside shrine, more than many others, stayed with me and lingered in my imagination long after I’d made it to my destination. I was intrigued by what I had found because it seemed so elaborate, intentional and it had clearly taken much effort by survivors to remember Rodriguez in this way. When I sought out more information about the victim, I was struck by the massive outpouring of support for the victim’s family, friends and colleagues, much of which was anonymous. Several websites play host to virtual shrines for Rodriguez, memorials 4 for the digital age. One particularly touching webpage is called Officer Down Memorial Page, which claims as its goal: “remembering all of law enforcement’s heroes.”1 Although Rodriguez is said to have reached the “end of his watch” in 2007, the reflection page evinces the ongoing relationship survivors continue to have with him.