Boneyard fame by KRISTIAN GRAVENOR As top athletes sign endorsements for tens of millions of dollars that last five or six years, a local organization has bagged an exceptional deal with Montreal's greatest-ever sports hero. Terms were not announced but it's believed that the agreement allows them to use his name for 99 years--and probably longer--without paying a cent.  By next spring Maurice "Rocket" Richard will be the marquee attraction at the Notre-Dame-des-Neiges Cemetery. A spot for the furious forward has been reserved on a virgin bit of bright green, sloping, pizza-slice-shaped lawn. It's opposite the only other grave on the lawn, a grey and black tomb topped by a black marble crucifix, home to long-time mayor Jean Drapeau.  Don't believe it when they tell you that death is the great equalizer. Celebrities rule the boneyard. Last weekend, with the help of a Star Map provided by the administration, I searched for big names among the 60,000 headstones representing 800,000 buried on the west side of Mount Royal.  By the way, 800,000 buried--that's a troubling stat. In 1985, a newspaper reported that figure to be one million. If true, that means 13,000 have disappeared every year since then. I delicately asked an official about relocating bodies. "Our cemetery offers a peaceful, beautiful location with a long history," he replies, evidently to a question more to his liking.  But the graveyard's unsanctioned history includes some ghoulish moments. First, there's the flabbergasting body snatching done by old-time medical students. And then, in 1975, cheapskate management refused raise demands from the gravediggers, who earned $4.20 an hour (temporary workers made a big $2.60) leading 20 unburied corpses to lay rotting in the summer heat. In '86 management locked the same workers out for taking their shirts off to dig. And in '88 gruesome body parts came to the surface when 15 new graves were dug.  And when the cemetery execs talk about history, they're surely not talking about the recurrent movement--first favoured in back rooms by city officials in 1956--to rid the mountain of the two cemeteries that swallow up half the surface of Mount Royal.  The history these guys are talking is celebrity history. Camilien Houde lies here, as does east-end diva Marie "la Bolduc" Nelligan and L.H. Lafontaine. Okay, it ain't Tupac or Frankie but they're names nonetheless.  In spite of the big-ticket draws, free entry and seductive pastoral environs, I see only one mourner on the 43 kilometres of neat, tree-covered roadways. A woman exits a burgundy minivan and vigorously plants flowers on a grave in the rain. Angels weep stone tears over solemnly chipped names on stone slabs everywhere. Strange surnames like Bury and Shallow catch my eye.  Thomas D'Arcy-McGee's stone hut is built in the side of a small hill. Mosquitoes swarm in front of the black metal, five-foot-high door. My knock goes unanswered. Robert Bourassa's grave is marked by a pair of 15-by-4-foot cement rectangles bending into each other. It's a striking tribute to convergence. It also looks like a knock-kneed rendition of Gumby's legs.  But even in death the meter is running. Graves last only 99 years until your descendents get hit up for your next rent. And although both mountainside cemeteries are non-profit, the Mount Royal Cemetery (the Protestant one) beckons boomers on radio ads and even held a concert last Sunday. At the first concert in the cemetery's 148-year history, the 40-member gospel choir from the Union United sang for 300 solemn-looking spectators. And yes, the Mount Royal Cemetery also offers celebrity tours of graves that include names like Redpath, Roddick, McCord and Howie Morenz.  Back to the Rocket. A few years ago, a friend described being on the metro and spotting the icy icon riding calmly, sitting unmolested and alone. Soon the public-speaker system excitedly alerted riders to the shiny star's presence. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're proud to announce that among us today is the legendary Maurice Richard." You can contact me at: kgravy@cam.org.