The most basic twenty-gauge is a non-sealer, in which the lid has a small metal catch that attaches to a corresponding hole in the front when closed. In contrast, a sealer casket features a seamless rubber gasket attached to the upper portion of the box. When the lid is closed, a crank is inserted into a hole at the right-side foot of the casket and the lid is closed via an internal gear system that forces the lid against the rubber gasket, thus rendering the casket permanently closed. Some twenty-gauge caskets; most all eighteen- and sixteen-gauge steel caskets; and all stainless steel, copper, and bronze caskets are “sealers.” Customers choose sealers more often because funeral directors tell them that the casket becomes air- and watertight, thus forestalling the process of decay.
I have often questioned whether this system accomplishes an actual seal—and the Federal Trade Commission has asked itself the same thing. The FTC now instructs funeral directors to inform families that a sealer casket equipped with a rubber gasket is resistant to air and water. At far too many mausoleums in mid-July, I’ve experienced a pungent bouquet emanating from those sealers. What’s more, a sealer casket isn’t that important, since nearly all cemeteries require that the casket be placed into a burial vault (more on that a bit later).
The next level of casket, and the most popular one, is eighteen-gauge steel. Most casket sales from the 1970s to the present have been eighteen-gauge-steel selections. Most grieving families do not want to appear cheap, and this medium-priced model fits the bill nicely. I have probably heard the following a thousand times: “We don’t want the best, but we don’t want the cheapest either. Show us something priced in the middle.”
Virtually every color (and combination of colors) is available in the eighteen-gauge selection, as well as interior upgrades, such as velvet, tailoring, and head cap panels (the interior lid panel at the head of the casket), custom-designed with any theme imaginable. Funeral homes generally employ a 150 percent markup to arrive at that retail figure—but I’ve heard tales of some funeral homes charging four or even five times their wholesale price. The majority of funeral homes nationwide offer reasonably priced, affordable eighteen-gauge steel caskets, and such caskets have become the benchmarks of successful sales.
Today’s shaky economy has had a tremendous impact on casket sales. In the 1970s and l980s, employers used to provide company-paid life insurance, which included coverage for funeral expenses. But today most employers have dropped that benefit. The salad days of the funeral business are gone. Before customers didn’t have to worry about how much to spend at the funeral home, and I can recall many occasions when folks stopped by to pay the funeral bill riding in their new car, courtesy of life insurance proceeds. Consumers are obviously more cost conscious today, and a growing majority have to pay funeral costs out of their own pockets. This trend has spawned a great push in marketing lower-cost, twenty-gauge-steel caskets, the thinnest gauge available. The major casket manufacturers are introducing a vast array of choices in the inexpensive line to capture sales of any kind. Extravagant and expensive funerals are on the decline even in traditional Bible Belt strongholds, and many more families are considering what would have been unthinkable to them a generation ago: cremation.
The high-end casket market still exists, though, and it includes stainless steel, copper, and bronze. In the 1970s, the major casket manufacturers, Batesville Casket Company and Aurora Casket Company, encouraged funeral directors to aggressively market the high-end units. They devised ingenious marketing tools and materials for funeral home owners, to demonstrate the durability of high-end caskets to customers.
Stainless-steel caskets, the next step upward, indicate quality, and the eye appeal often more than justifies the price increase. Stainless-steel caskets were touted as the obvious choice of material to wise housewives back in the day—they knew that the same stainless steel was used to make long-lasting knives, forks, and spoons in the kitchen at home. A framed advertising featuring a beautiful apron-clad homemaker was placed in stainless-steel caskets to appeal to women venturing into the casket-selection room. The beautiful homemaker was shown holding a wooden, velvet-lined utensil case to demonstrate that stainless steel was the ultimate material for durability.
Copper and bronze caskets, the most expensive and most profitable sales for funeral homes, have received a great deal more marketing attention than stainless-steel ones. Copper and bronze do not rust. Casket companies emphasize that point in their promotional materials in hopes that intelligent and progressive funeral directors will impart such information to families and push on them the belief that the body contained therein would be unaffected. Casket companies used to provide funeral directors with small copper and bronze samples to display inside caskets so that consumers could touch them and imagine how genuinely protected their deceased loved ones would be. The Statue of Liberty, constructed of copper, was a popular lithograph displayed in caskets to tout copper’s durability, as were photos of copper gutters on expensive homes.
Casket companies also advise funeral directors to strategically position an expensive unit right inside the selection-room door. Casket makers recommend that the first casket the consumer notice be a copper or bronze model, because 75 percent of the time, men select the first casket they see. It’s assumed that men do this because they like to seem decisive and in control. In reality, though, I think that men walk into the selection room and point to the first casket that catches their eye just so they can get out of the room. Women, however, tend to shop for caskets with a greater degree of deliberation: they compare prices, feel the interior material, ask questions, even lay the burial garments of the deceased inside a casket to make sure the color combination is just right. Mom’s periwinkle suit must pick up the navy of the casket’s interior; Dad’s camel sports coat must match the tan pillow. Yet it’s still a man’s world at the funeral home; the majority of male-headed households leave the casket choice to the man of the house.
A solid copper casket has been the holy grail sale for funeral directors since the 1950s. I recall as a fifteen-year-old hearing tales of that elusive but finally consummated copper sale. The successful funeral director would be beside himself with pride, relating to his wide-eyed peers just how he’d accomplished his feat: “They were looking real hard at the eighteen-gauge bronze tone, but then they turned around and told me they liked the copper, because it would never rust!”
My supervisor many years ago was a classy, white-haired gentleman, a sharp dresser, and a genuinely nice person. He sold more copper caskets in a single year than anyone I have ever known, and when he did, he would announce, “I sold a copper—again.” That pause before again was probably a motivational tool to encourage us peons to hawk something better than eighteen gauges.
The same supervisor, held in such awesome esteem by his employees, had a habit of making us feel uncomfortable when we did accomplish a respectable copper-or-better sale. He was rightly concerned about where the payment was coming from, particularly with a high-end product. On many occasions, I had to explain in detail exactly who would pay the bill; whether insurance proceeds were involved; and most important, how soon he could expect the payment. It was always satisfying when I was able to stroll into his office; report the good news of a high-end casket sale; and hand him the signed contract, complete with an envelope full of cash stapled to it—in other words, a paid-in-full account. My coworkers were sometimes envious of my ability to convince families to pay by the day of the service; however, in most cases, I was merely lucky that I had met people wishing to get it all over with.
Caskets made of solid bronze are the costliest and probably the most impressive looking of all. Bronze sales are rare, though, and when they do occur, most funeral directors are beside themselves with glee. Obviously, as the wholesale cost increases, so does the retail markup and profit margin. Entry-level bronze caskets retail for nearly $5,000 for a low-end and up to $9,000 for a high-end. A gold-plated, solid bronze casket that wholesales for $17,000 sells in som
e markets for $34,000.
Whenever I travel, I make a point to secure a general price list and a casket price list from a funeral home or two. During a recent trip to Los Angeles, I discovered that one home was charging three times wholesale as common practice. I realize the cost of living is higher there than in Ohio, but that markup was ridiculous.
When I first began my career in the funeral business, solid bronzes were referred to as gangster caskets. From reading about the Mafia and seeing the mobster movies of the day, I learned that a great send-off seemed to be part of their public image. One of the first embalming-fluid salesmen I met was based in Chicago. I always looked forward to his calls because of his spellbinding tales regarding his father’s funeral home on the South Side of Chicago in the late 1920s and early 1930s. The father had been approached by a ranking mobster and informed that his business had become the local syndicate’s funeral home of choice. When he was handed $10,000 in cash to seal the relationship, the gentleman realized the seriousness of the situation and that he had better play ball.
His first job for the Chicago Mob was to place a bullet-riddled body beneath the bed of a casket already occupied by a recently deceased person. The funeral took place with two occupants, one hidden in the same casket. This act was repeated several times over the years, with a few complaints from pallbearers about the heavy weight they were carrying.
When the practice became too risky, the Mafia partners supposedly equipped his establishment with the South Side’s first crematorium. To cremate an enemy and obliterate the body, as my acquaintance described, indicated a total lack of respect. Cremating dispatched enemies was so much easier, with far less evidence left behind, so a whole new cottage industry developed. The funeral director was said to still receive his standard fee for services rendered.
I once drove to a funeral home in Kentucky to bring back an accident victim and I received the grand tour of the small town’s establishment. The owner proudly showed me several framed awards proclaiming his funeral home as the top seller of copper and bronze caskets for many years in a row. His casket supplier was no doubt equally excited. What I found most intriguing was that every casket in his display room was either solid copper or solid bronze! No wonder he sold so many. I asked him what happened when a family of modest means came to him for service. He responded that everyone in his area knew that when they patronized him, they had better bring along plenty of money.
The average retail bronze casket is priced at $8,500, so it is not a very common purchase. The few times, perhaps twice a year, that I sell a solid bronze, it is almost an unbelievable experience. That is, I am always puzzled when a customer purchases such an expensive casket. I suppose it is my college sociology taking over, but I want to uncover the reasoning behind spending that much money for an item that you will enjoy for basically a few hours. Is it a guilt trip? Is it to impress the expected mourners? Is it assumed that it is the last thing you can buy for the deceased loved one? Is it the theory that since the cost is so high, it must be the best that money can buy? Does it make you a better son if you buy your deceased mother a solid bronze casket? All of that plays in my mind in the case of such a purchase.
In my experience most bronze sales are not to the ultra-rich but to the middle class. The first time I ever sold a solid bronze was to a retired General Motors factory worker who had saved money over the years specifically for his wife’s burial. He didn’t trust life insurance salespeople and even opted not to accept the insurance GM offered. Still, he told me he wanted the most expensive casket for his spouse, and he didn’t care what it cost. Most funeral homes today have a dedicated room on the premises devoted exclusively to the presentation of caskets, burial vault models, and perhaps cremation urns. The showroom or selection room, with an average of fifteen to twenty units, has always been, and hopefully will remain, a place where the thought of profits dance like sugarplums in the funeral director’s head.
Many years ago, I met a funeral director who operated his business in my hometown back in the 1940s. As we discussed our common vocation, he offered for my perusal a brochure he handed out to potential customers back in his day. It was the last brochure he had, so I couldn’t keep it, but it described his funeral home as equipped with “ice cold conditioned air,” “two reposing parlors,” and “a goodly supply of the latest metal caskets.” I asked the old gentleman what exactly constituted a “goodly supply” and he replied, “Seven.”
I attended a family funeral in Tennessee a few years ago, and of course the funeral home owner and I immediately struck up a conversation to talk shop. He gave me the grand tour of his facility, and I was flabbergasted to see that he had fifty-two caskets on display in his showroom. His funeral home was a huge, grand old mansion, and the entire second floor of the building was devoted to casket display. The funeral director informed me that when he brings a bereaved family into his selection room, he makes the effort to pause in front of each casket and explain each and every attribute of the unit before them, from the price, exterior color, material of construction, interior color and fabric, and hardware description. I told him I thought that his funeral arrangement conference must be extremely lengthy, but he informed me that, normally, by the time he and the family had made their way to the seventh or eighth casket, they had made a selection decision.
I am lucky to be in my part of the country, which is close to the major casket manufacturers of eastern Indiana and allows for next-day delivery. Caskets arrive on the manufacturer’s delivery trucks, covered by a quilted drape, similar to furniture delivery covers, to defend against dents and dings in transit. Back in the 1960s, I used to enjoy accompanying my older brother to the train station to pick up special-order caskets from the now-defunct National Casket Company, whose home office was in New York. National was known for its many high-end copper and bronze caskets, and when transported by train, the units were encased in wood-slatted crates for protection. The crates were made with top-shelf pine, and each end was branded with the words National Casket Co. I discovered that funeral directors were very careful in dismantling the casket crate, not just to avoid damaging the precious cargo but also because they wanted to salvage the high-grade lumber. I have been told that there is many a funeral home that used that crate material as paneling for garages and basements, and even conspicuously displayed the logo.
Batesville and Aurora Casket companies have developed ingenious touch-screen technology for a whole new casket-selection experience. Bereaved family members can custom design their loved one’s casket with the mere touch of a finger, selecting the casket shell, color, pinstripes, corner art, and interior fabric and color. The hands-on family participation generates better sales for the funeral home, but families still want to be able to see and touch a real casket before making their final selection.
CASKET ALTERNATIVES
I participated in a point-counterpoint discussion on a PBS television show recently, which pitted me against an advocate of “green” burial. The gentleman promoting green burial immediately railed at me with stabbing criticism of my practice of “planting dead bodies pickled with formaldehyde in a steel box that shall rust and decay, thereby fouling the water table and poisoning our water supply for generations to come.” I attempted to defend my profession by assuring him that the casket is inserted into a concrete burial vault in the grave and that most cemeteries do not infringe on the water table. Not to be appeased, the gentleman presented his case with the thought that all cemeteries nationwide should be forced to set aside a certain area of the grounds for those who desire a green burial. Such a burial entails placing the unembalmed body into a large burlap-like sack, and placing the sack into the grave. In theory, the body would decompose naturally and rapidly and pose no environmental threat to society. There is no legal requirement for a body to be embalmed before burial, unless the deceased is to be shipped across state lines or died from a contagious disease. Many funeral homes, however, do require embalming if you are planning a serv
ice that includes a viewing or visitation. Many times during the show the gentleman made sure that his toll-free telephone number and website were mentioned to hawk his green burial sacks. I was happy that the discourse between us ended with the gentleman understanding that traditions in different areas of the country dictate funeral customs. The West Coast differs greatly from my area of the country, which happens to prefer burials in the ground. Also, I think my green-burial rival paid attention to me when I explained that a dead human body in only a burlap sack would be fair game for coyotes and other animals. Unless the body was buried very deep, there is no question that animals would be onto the scent of decomposing flesh very soon after interment. This possibility was one of the earliest reasons for a casketed burial.
THE BURIAL VAULT
The casket does not sit in the dirt in the grave, of course. A burial vault is the box-shaped concrete receptacle into which a casket is placed. The burial vault, constructed of concrete and reinforced with steel, resists the entrance of air, water, and any other elements of the grave.
Such grave liners originated many years ago after some unpleasant incidents following the burials of a few wealthy early Americans. Rich people were known to be buried not only in their finest clothing but also with precious jewels. The gravedigger, perhaps a private contractor or even the undertaker himself, would return to the cemetery under the cover of darkness, dig up the fresh grave, open the casket just wide enough to get a hand inside, and then remove the fancy jewelry and sometimes even gold-filled teeth!
When the wealthy Vanderbilt family buried a beloved aunt in the 1890s, fear of grave robbing prompted the family patriarch to have a wrought-iron fence installed into the grave to surround his late aunt’s fine casket. Unfortunately, grave robbers were still able to reach through the wrought-iron bars, open the casket, and remove some precious jewelry from the fingers of the deceased. To prevent robbery, the casket needed to be completely encapsulated.
Does This Mean You'll See Me Naked? Page 10
