The Haida people, who have inhabited the Haida Gwaii archipelago off British Columbia, Canada, for tens of thousands of years, were some of the finest wood carvers in the Pacific Northwest during the totem pole boom that began in the late 18th century and carried itself to about 1900. In Native Americans: An Encyclopedia of History, Culture, and Peoples (1998), Barry Pritzker calls the Haida "outstanding wood-carvers" and speaks of their totem poles as some of the best in world history.
This high praise extends of course to Haida mortuary poles, which are simply totem poles specially modified to hold human remains in a box at the top. Here's an example from the 19th century, showing the pole and the frontal board behind which the boxed body rested.
The Haida were not the only people to carve these mortuary poles; they just did it better than anyone else. Their totem pole death legacy is actually quite fascinating, but in a way that's more admirable than macabre. To imply that there is anything spooky or crude about these poles would be to totally miss the point – the Haida had, and still have, great respect for those among them who ended up atop poles.
Not just any random Haida could expect a mortuary pole upon death. You had to be a chief or a person of importance to receive such an honorable end. Commoners simply didn't get mortuary poles; in fact, most of them didn't get any kind of pole at all. When they died they were tossed into mass graves.
Slaves, on the other hand, were usually just thrown in the sea.
Once they passed into the next world, deceased Haida did not go directly to their mortuary poles. Instead, they waited patiently inside a mortuary house box for an entire year before their poles were ready to be raised with their remains, now in a much smaller box, perched at the top. Which kind of makes sense, as predicting time of death is usually difficult unless the individual in question is pushing 100 or has a bone-tipped spear through the chest. So there's really no sense in having your perishable death pole ready to go if you haven't died yet.
The potlatch was (and still is) a Pacific Northwest Indian tradition wherein feasting, dancing, storytelling, generous gift-giving, and sometimes even ceremonial destruction of property helped define social status and distribution of wealth among the people. The Haida held potlatches for numerous important occasions, including births, marriages, and deaths. Like other kinds of totem pole raisings, mortuary pole raisings went hand in hand with potlatches. So really, when someone of status kicked the bucket in your village, you could mark "PARTY" on your calendar a year in advance.
Mortuary poles were placed upside down – at least as far as the tree was concerned. This was done to provide as much space as possible for the human remains. Even after decomposing for a year, a corpse still took up a good deal of tree trunk real estate. Hence, Haida carvers cut a cavity into the wide end of the pole with the tapered end set into the ground.
Mortuary poles are among the tallest of all totem poles, reaching 50 to 60 feet tall in the sky.