Death Be Not Pricey

As the empire of death conquered the world, Ken Lambert, an Air Force pilot, was blissfully cruising heaven. For 20 years, he was truly a Christian soldier, and then in 1992, he retired and couldn't find a job. Lambert grew bored, then depressed, then desperate. Finally, he found himself among other desperate people, hawking coffins and graves in a place called Restland. It wasn't quite hell, but it was close. "Disgusted the fool out of me," says Lambert. And after six months, he was ousted from Restland for failing to meet the quota.

In the fall of 1993, his wife was offered a job in Houston as an assistant principal. Fresh out of Restland, Lambert moved to the capital of the funeral industry. Grave-shopping with his parents, he refueled his righteous anger. Boredom, a shortage of cash, a strong sense of Christian duty -- these elements blended into one, and the Funeral Shopper was born.

"All that is necessary for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing," he trumpeted. At last, Lambert had found his mission: to boldly gather prices from funeral homes and direct customers to good buys.

There was the case of the little old lady who went into a mortuary speaking of a $20,000 inheritance from her husband. When she came out, she had plans for a $14,000 funeral. She called Lambert, who discovered that all she wanted was direct cremation. He found her one for $600.

There was the mortuary that wanted $4,000 to bury a baby; again, Lambert got it done for $600. He knew that many mortuaries offer discounts for infant corpses, hoping to also get the parents'.

There was Pastor Donald White, who said Lambert had probably saved the congregation of Westbury United Methodist Church more than $30,000. "I think Ken's on a worthy crusade," said the pastor.

And there was the undertaker who said, "You have a lot of hair on a certain part of your anatomy."

"Thank you," said Sir Ken.

Lambert usually works over the phone, but sometimes goes undercover to gather price information. When he arrived at Waltrip Funeral Home, a fan of ZZ Top was lying alone in the chapel to the quiet strains of "She's Got Legs." Across the hall, in the sitting room where people cry, stood the smiling bust of Bob Waltrip.

"If you're nervous, that's okay," Lambert whispered to a companion, "because most people are when they go to a funeral home."

He stood on the marble floor, jangling change in his pocket and trying to look blue. Gloom compounded gloom; the walls were beige, the light dim, the potted palms forlorn. You were not to forget why you had come. At last, Lambert's "counselor" appeared -- an efficient, fortyish woman named Laurie who wore glasses on the end of her nose and carried a binder in her arms. "If you'll follow me," she said, and everyone trudged to a corner couch. Sitting down, Laurie stuck out her bottom lip and inquired, "Are you all right?" Lambert nodded and began the sad story of Janie Peterson.

"She's got intestinal blockage," he began. "Can't keep anything down." Only 95 pounds now. Wasting away. "The doctor says, 'Hey, forget it, man.' " So here he was. It could be tomorrow, or it could be next month, but Janie had asked Lambert to plan the funeral.

"Oh, it's her time," Laurie agreed. "She might go as soon as arrangements are made. They do that, you know." Laurie was in pre-need sales; if Janie croaked before arrangements were made, her commission would croak, too. "There's a lot to do," she said. "You really don't want to have to do it after the death." So she tucked in her pouting lip and got down to business. Janie needed a sendoff; what would it cost?

The first item on Laurie's price list was a $2,195 basic services fee. Otherwise known as a cover charge, the fee buys the customer almost nothing but does pay the funeral home's overhead. Laurie went over the other fees: $350 to transport the corpse to the funeral home; $695 to embalm it (not required by law); $450 a day to refrigerate it (if not embalmed); $650 for use of the facilities if the body were memorialized on the premises (not covered by the cover charge); and $400 to haul it to the cemetery.

There were more service charges, of course. Laurie very helpfully pointed out that all charges would be higher if services were arranged after Janie's death. Perhaps she should deal with Janie directly? She would be very willing to go to the hospital, she said.

"Oh," said Lambert, "I wouldn't want to put you through that."
Laurie looked most capable of handling the burden, but without protest, she repaired to the coffin showroom. "Take your time," she murmured, opening the door.