In the wind…
January 2013
Loft apartments.
“Built on the Rock the church doth
stand,
Even when steeples are falling;
Crumbled have spires in every land,
Bells are still chiming and
calling;
Calling the young and old to rest,
But above all the soul distressed,
Longing for rest everlasting.”1
Choir loft, that is.
Elizabeth Bolton, a Caldwell Banker residential real estate
broker in Cambridge, Massachusetts, has launched a website called Centers and Squares. On the home page, under the headline Condos in Renovated Churches, she
writes:
“Churches and synagogues converted to condos often
result in dramatic spaces with soaring ceilings, beautiful oversized windows,
and preserved architectural details. A
number of former churches have been turned in condos in Cambridge, Somerville,
and Watertown. Loft buyers will
appreciate the wide open spaces in these reused buildings.”
Scroll down the page and you find photos of eight different
former church buildings, with accompanying listings:
“The church at 101 Third Street in East Cambridge is
one of the oldest church buildings in Cambridge. Built in 1827 as a Unitarian Church it became
the Holy Cross Church in 1940. In 2000
it was converted to four luxury condos.
The condos range in size from 1300 to 3160 sq.ft. and sold for $585,000
to $1,300,000.
I worked on the organ in that church in the early 1980’s,
and remember watching a favorite off-set Yankee™ ratchet screwdriver fall
through a hole in the floor, and then waiting a long time to hear it hit bottom. I wonder if a worker found it when they were
demolishing the building’s interior. If
so, I hope he appreciated it – it’s a classic and useful tool that’s impossible
to replace.
Other features noted in Ms. Bolton’s listings include
“heated indoor garage,” and “ceiling heights soar to 60ft.” in one of the
units. The trouble with ceilings that
high is that the Christmas tree costs five grand. But what a great place for a radio-operated
helipcopter – the ideal Christmas gift for a kid (or daddy) living in a
converted organ loft. One of the
properties is called “Bell Tower Place,” another is “The Sanctuary Lofts.”
In my work with the Organ Clearing House, I’ve been in and
out of countless buildings destined to become loft apartments. I can picture the story the instant a
developer introduces himself on the phone.
(You’ll accuse me of profiling, but real estate people and church people
have different telephone voices.) “I
bought an old church and I need to sell the organ.” My first question is, “what’s the schedule?” “Demo starts on Wednesday.” Recently we closed a deal in which a large
Möller organ in Buffalo, New York is being given to a church in Pittsburgh,
Pennsylvania, because the developer that purchased the property allowed enough
time before demolition.
Having seen quite a few of these completed projects, I can
tell you that it takes a really skillful architect to make usable comfortable
living spaces from old church buildings.
I’ve seen the top four feet of a large gothic stained-glass window
rising from a dining room floor – The
Ascension of Christ from the navel up.
I’ve seen a ten-by-ten foot home office with a wood ceiling sloping from
twenty feet on one side to twenty-four on the other. Changing the battery in the smoke alarm is an
ordeal. And I’ve seen a bathtub in a
fourth-floor bathroom, placed in what was the top eight feet of an apse. Picture yourself showering against a
liturgical backdrop.
A grand stone church building in Meriden, Connecticut was
purchased by a comedian who planned to create a comedy club. The belly-gripping name of this inspirational
venue, “God, That’s Funny!” (I’m not
kidding.) The magnificent three-manual
1893 Johnson Organ (Opus 788) has been on the OCH website for years. In response to a recent inquiry, I tried to
track down the owner, who was of course long gone. (I guess God didn’t think it was funny.) A few calls around town revealed that two
different worshipping communities had subsequently purchased the building. I drove through town yesterday hoping to track
down the present owners to see if the organ is still intact. There was a fancy electronic sign out front,
flashing information about weather, time and date, bible study, and Sunday
“Praise!”, but no phone number. A
Google™ search revealed a phone number that rang endlessly with no chance to
leave a message. I guess I should go by
on a Sunday morning.
§
Yet another committee.
We’re all familiar with the traditional list of church
committee: Memorials, Flower, Property, Finance, Education, and Music. Lots of church members think that the
Nominating Committee is the worst assignment because you spend your three-year
stint listening to people explaining why they have to say “NO.” I remember chiming in once along those lines
when I was asked to be on the Nominating Committee. But I think the worst assignment for a church
member is the Dispersement Committee.
(Spellcheck says there’s no such word – but I’ve worked with several of
them, so I know it’s true.) These are
typically the last members standing, the most loyal, diehard people in the
pews. By the time the Dispersement
Committee gets down to work, the work of the Dissolution Committee is finished. The corporation has been closed, the
denominational leaders have followed the rules of deconsecrating the property,
the last service has been held, the building has been put on the market, the
congregation has found new spiritual homes (or not), and all that’s left to do
is empty the building.
Anyone who’s been involved with the life of a church can picture
the list:
·
533 hymnals
·
346 pew bibles
·
7 rolling coat racks with Christmas Pageant
costumes
·
217 metal folding chairs, some with broken legs
·
22 folding banquet tables
·
26 adult choir robes, 33 child choir robes
·
433 monogrammed teacups with saucers
·
275 ten-inch dinner plates (ivory with green
edge stripe)
·
grand piano
·
4 upright pianos (one blue, one black, two
white)
·
58 small bottles Elmer’s™ glue
·
6 framed 8x10 “Smiling Jesus”
·
7 boxes elbow macaroni, 2 cans gold spray paint
·
3 step ladders (6-foot, 8-foot, 12-foot), poor
condition
·
1 Aeolian-Skinner pipe organ, 49 ranks, 1937 (G.
Donald Harrison)
When a church has reached this stage, about the best thing
that can happen is a crew arriving to dismantle the organ. When the organ has been sold and renovation has
been planned, the members of the Dispersement Committee take solace in knowing
that some last breath of their beloved church will blow its inspiration across
another congregation. Committee members arrive early in the morning with family
photos they’ve taken off the walls in their homes – photos of their parents’
weddings and funeral, their children’s baptisms and confirmations, or the
sanctuary decked out in Christmas finery.
In each photo, that organ is standing proudly in the background, a
monument to a century or more of parish life – celebrations, tragedies,
triumphs, and disappointments.
As we thunder through the nearly abandoned building setting
up scaffolding, building pipe trays, and unpacking tools, taking down the first
façade pipes, we see people sitting quietly in the rear pews with tears
streaming down their cheeks.
§
A movable feast.
Through the disappointment and sadness of the loss of a
church, the organ lives on, and it’s fun to be able to share a couple stories
in which the relocation of an organ brought a little light to a story.
In the middle of 2011, Christ Episcopal Church in South
Barre, Massachusetts closed its doors, and most of the remaining parishioners
transferred their memberships to St. Francis’ Church in nearby Holden. The Diocese of Western Massachusetts
contacted us to place the organ in a new home, and after only a few brief
conversations, someone had a bright idea.
(As my colleague Amory often quips, “Light dawned over
Marblehead!”) The outdated and
malfunctioning electronic instrument in the Chancel at St. Francis’ Church
needed only a little push to make way for the quick installation of the lovely
1910 Hook & Hastings organ (Opus 2344).
How lovely for the members of Christ Church to be welcomed into a new
congregation with the opportunity to bring a beautiful and living piece of
their church with them. It took a little
over three weeks to make the move, and as I write, the relocated organ is to be
dedicated in a recital by Robert Barney the Sunday after Thanksgiving.
Some twenty years earlier, the First Unitarian Church in
Woburn, Massachusetts closed. The
three-manual 1870 E. & G.G. Hook organ (Opus 553) was sold to a church in
Berlin, Germany. The money from that
sale was entrusted to church member Charley Smith, who salted it away confident
that a good use for the funds would come up someday. And in 1995, the Stoneham (Massachusetts, two
miles from Woburn) Unitarian Church closed. The two manual 1868 E. & G.G. Hook
organ (Opus 466) was placed in storage, and advertised in a U.U.A. District
Newsletter as available, “free to a good home.”
The Follen Community Church (UUA) in Lexington,
Massachusetts (five miles in the other direction from Woburn) was studying the
home-built instrument in its historic sanctuary when their Minister noticed the
bit about the Hook organ and handed it off to the chair of the committee. It didn’t take long for the arrangements to
be made and the Bishop Organ Company was engaged to renovate and install the
organ in Lexington. Charley Smith got
wind of all this, and presented the Follen Church with the funds from the sale
of the Woburn organ to support the organ’s maintenance and to assist in the
presentation of annual organ recitals. Charley
passed away before the project was complete, but his widow and several past
members of the Woburn church were in attendance when the Stoneham organ was
dedicated in its new home. Two organs,
three Massachusetts towns, one European city, and a lot of good will in the
face of disappointment.
§
The Sistine Condos
The New Yorker magazine
is an intelligent literary periodical, packed chock-full of commentary,
fiction, poetry, reviews, and in-depth feature stories. It’s published weekly so it’s difficult to
keep up. I’ve subscribed online which
means I have a year of issues archived on my iPad. I think that combination of content and
format is the ideal companion for long flights.
I often fly long round trips over a single weekend for consultation
engagements, and love to spend that time catching up. The New
Yorker is definitely a product of the American Northeast, and it’s possible
that some of you may disagree with the editorial content. But anyone who follows the arts in this
country would do well to read the opening ten pages or so each week. “Goings On About Town” is a regular feature
that announces events in popular and classical music, museum exhibitions,
dance, opera, recitals, theater, and cinema.
Each week’s issue gives a succinct overview of what’s happening in the
forefront of American culture.
Along with the serious, thoughtful, and often humorous
prose, each issue’s cover is an original artwork that comments on some timely
issue, and each issue is bestrewn with delightful, often provocative
cartoons. Anyone who has walked the
sidewalks of New York City is familiar with the ubiquitous double-decker tour
bus. The upper deck is typically open,
and they careen around the city giving tourists a neck-snapping, neck-craning
view of the city. One New Yorker cover showed two of those
behemoths from recognizable rival firms, dressed up as nineteeth-century
two-level frigates under full sail, fire broadsides at each other as they
passed through Times Square. Another
showed Aesop’s Hare hailing a taxi while the Tortoise descended the steps into
the subway. Perfect.
When this cartoon appeared in the September 10, 2012 issue
of The New Yorker, it caught my eye. In fact, it caught more than my eye – it struck
a nerve, and took my breath away. I’ve
seen decorated Victorian organ cases that were spray-painted over (sky blue)
because a long-deceased rector thought the organ detracted from his
preaching. I’ve seen historic organs
wrecked because alarm company employees tramped across the windchests as they
stapled wires in place. (I hope all
those nasty pipes cut their ankles.)
I’ve visited Diocesan warehouses and seen the Procession of Saints,
orphaned by demolished buildings and bedecked in bubble-wrap, waiting for
another church to offer them a home. And
I’ve seen frescos concealed by new plaster and paint because there wasn’t
enough money to do it right.
It’s unthinkable that the Sistine Chapel would ever be
subdivided into condominium residences, and Michelangelo’s masterpiece ceiling
painted over. We’ve seen otherwise
mild-mannered and rational people crashing across the waves of the open ocean
in rubber boats, chasing after Russian and Japanese whaling ships. Imagine the phalanx of art historians and
preservationists who would circle their wagons around the Vatican if word got
out!
But every day, in many countries, beautiful church buildings
and their decorations are falling. Aging
congregations can no longer support the grand buildings left for them by
previous generations. A typical church
sanctuary (60’ x 40’ x 40’) encloses about a
hundred thousand cubic feet. If
the congregation dwindles to a hundred people, that’s a thousand cubic feet to
heat for each congregant.
What are you doing here?
We love our organ!
1.
Nikolai F. S. Grundtvig, in Sang-Vaerk til
den Danske Kirk, 1837 (Kirken Den Er Gammelt Hus); translated from Danish
to English by Carl Døving, 1909, and Fred C. M. Hansen, 1958
Hook & Hastings #2344 (1910) in South Barre, MA, before relocation by the Organ Clearing House.
