Chicago’s architectural acumen is known around the world, but it’s not just about Louis Sullivan and the birth of the skyscraper. Chicago endures as a City of Neighborhoods, and in those neighborhoods churches serve as anchors. They’re houses of worship, of course, but they also help frame a neighborhood’s identity. They can be a community’s town hall, even its heartbeat.
And in many cases, they are architectural gems.
One of those gems is St. Adalbert Roman Catholic Church, a breathtaking expression of Renaissance Revival architecture built by Polish immigrants in 1912 in the West Side’s Pilsen neighborhood. The church’s Polish origins are evident all over its basilica-inspired interior — in the red-and-white painted walls, in the stained glass windows that depict Polish patron saints.
St. Adalbert’s fate has been teetering since February, when the Archdiocese of Chicago announced it was one of many churches that would close as part of a reorganization of parishes. As many as 100 churches could close by 2030. Archdiocesan officials say the move is driven by an expected shortage of priests in years to come, coupled with the worsening physical condition of many of the churches. The price tag to renovate St. Adalbert’s two 185-foot towers enshrouded in scaffolding: $3 million.
There may be a way out for St. Adalbert, however. The archdiocese has begun talks with the Chicago Academy of Music about turning the church into a venue for concert performances. Its convent could become a dormitory for academy students. Meanwhile, a group of parishioners has appealed to the Vatican to keep the church open as a place of worship.
It’d be ideal if somehow the building could continue functioning as a church. That said, turning the building into a wellspring for music works as a Plan B. And it’s something else. It’s an innovative approach toward preservation that also works as a template to save other aging, architecturally significant churches.
The advocacy group Preservation Chicago, which helped broker talks between the archdiocese and the academy, says there are at least 20 other Chicago churches with enough architectural and historic value to warrant rescue. Preserving churches by finding alternate uses for them is one solution, but the group also advocates protection through landmark status.
That approach has a snag, however. A 1987 amendment to the city’s Landmarks Ordinance exempts houses of worship from being landmarked unless the owner consents. Religious leaders sought the amendment because they didn’t want constraints placed on property they own.
That’s the crux of the argument in many debates over whether a building should be designated a landmark. The preservationists and politicians who want to save these gems are well-intentioned, but their efforts would force owners who have no practical use for the property to come up with the money to repair and maintain them.
The archdiocese decided to close St. Adalbert and dozens of other churches in part because of the expected shortage of priests but also because it lacks the money to revamp churches that need big makeovers, and would rather devote its resources to other priorities. The city shouldn’t force the archdiocese to shoulder the cost of wholesale rehab, and it also shouldn’t put that yoke on taxpayers.
Preservation Chicago wants the 1987 amendment rescinded so that churches can be landmarked and saved. It suggests that the city’s “Adopt-a-Landmark” Fund could be tapped to renovate landmarked churches. That fund is fed by fees paid by developers in exchange for the right to add more square footage to their projects.
The better approach, we believe, is the tack that Preservation Chicago, the archdiocese and the Chicago Academy of Music have taken with St. Adalbert: consensus-reaching dialogue between owner and prospective buyer aimed at safeguarding the future of a neighborhood — and city — treasure.
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