In the February 21st, 1885 edition of the New York Times, there's the story of a man

known as Jenkins, who is found turned over onto his stomach inside his coffin, with scratch

marks visible on all sides of the interior.

Around that time, there were outbreaks of cholera and malaria in the United States, and these

diseases can sometimes have, let's call it, catatonic side effects.

They leave folks in a coma-like state for such a long period of time that others might

think that they've actually died and begin funeral arrangements.

Sometimes, those funeral arrangements might even be completed.

Just the idea of this happening caused a real stir in American society.

This was peak tapophobia, the fear of being buried alive.

But this is America, so with all the hysteria, the genuine fear around being buried alive,

came enterprising inventors and entrepreneurs who saw opportunity.

Many different products were invented to solve this problem, like coffins with air vents

or coffins with windows that would fog up once the person inside began to breathe.

But the most successful was an alarm system that the prematurely entombed could ring into

alert cemetery staff that they were not dead, but in fact needed to be dug up and rescued

from their grave.

In Bonaventure Cemetery, in Thunderbolt, Georgia, there is one of these devices.

It's a bell on the grave of a prominent Savannah businessman, this lasting relic of a slightly

horrifying time in American history.

My name is Dylan Thuras and this is Atlas Obscura, a celebration of the world's strange,

incredible, and wondrous places.

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