"A pioneer work": Saint Agnes Parish plants roots and grows on Euclid Ave.

​St. Agnes Catholic Parish, a monolithic marble and stone church built in 1916 on Cleveland’s Millionaire’s Row, went from a packed parish with thousands of congregants and five masses each Sunday to a pile of rubble left for dead in a mere 60 years. As I wrote in my last post, all that's left now is a lone, crumbling church tower, which no one seems to care for, next to a vacant lot. Where the rectory and church stood is now a CVS with a drive through.

How did this happen? How did Cleveland lose the first Catholic church to be built on Euclid Avenue, a monument for the ages, one that was lauded as art when it was built? That's what I'll be exploring in this series of blog posts as part of the Fairfax Neighborhood History Project. (I hope to develop a separate website soon, but in the meantime Cleveland Historical and the Encyclopedia of Cleveland History have good entries.) 

I first became interested in St. Agnes because my grandfather grew up on E. 80th St. off of Cedar Ave. in Fairfax, and he was proudly baptized and confirmed at St. Agnes. He was also an altar boy there. His family left in 1918 as part of the white flight out of the neighborhood, a trend that accelerated as Black residents moved in during the Great Migration seeking better neighborhoods, schools, and living conditions. 

As I began digging into the history of St. Agnes -- I visited the site and posted pictures and some of my grandfather's memories of going there as a kid in my first post -- I realized there was more to the story. Historians blame the Hough Riots, when a white bar owner in Hough refused to give a Black man a glass of water, leading to protests and violence, for Saint Agnes' demise. They also cite a lack of money for upkeep and the fact that parishioners had moved out to the suburbs and surrounding neighborhoods were no longer Catholic.

It’s a familiar story in cities across the U.S.: As Catholics decamped from the city and “non-Catholics” moved in (read: Black Protestants) attendance and support dwindled. With repairs needed, not enough money, and thieves looting the church -- after looters stole the copper drainpipes in the 70s, the priest complained, "we may wake up one day and find the whole church is gone" -- the diocese tore it down. Yet less magnificent buildings in Cleveland have been saved (many of them on the whiter, wealthier west side). St. Agnes could have been given new life, like so many Protestant churches in the neighborhood.

Instead, it was torn down, ignoring community protests and outcries, including Black leaders who said the Catholic Church was turning its back on the inner city. Its downfall was decades in the making, but in a period of just a few years in the mid 70s, the school was set on fire, the church was looted, and finally it was sold off piece by piece before the diocese knocked down its Bedford stone blocks with a wrecking ball. It was a moment of communal blindness, a sudden act of violence that left a hole in the ground. 

In this post I'll explore the early history of St. Agnes, from 1893 when it was founded up through 1916 when the "new" church was built. I’ll use the Plain Dealer and Cleveland Press archives and other sources to tell the story of how St. Agnes came to be, its significance and growth. My hypothesis is that while St. Agnes was built to serve a growing white Catholic community, as they fled the area in the decades after Blacks moved in, the church wasn't prepared to grapple with the area's poverty and discrimination. In the 50s and 60s, a pioneering pastor moved in who tried to serve the surrounding community. Yet because the diocese did not see itself serving the Black community, most of whom were not Catholic, they ultimately neglected the church, couldn't find the vision or money to fix it, and then tore it down in a desperate bid to rid themselves of a problem they’d helped create. ​

The original St. Agnes was a modest wood structure built in 1893 at the corner of Euclid Ave. and Hilburn Ave. (now E. 81st St.). In my last post, I wrote about how a group of Catholic women in Hough had petitioned Bishop Richard Gilmour to establish an English-speaking Catholic church on Euclid Ave. It was aimed at serving the growing number of middle-class and upper-middle-class German and Irish families living in the area who were Catholic. There were many Protestant churches on Euclid, but there were no Catholic ones at the time, so the building of St. Agnes meant Catholics, who a generation or two before had faced prejudice from native Americans who saw them as bringing un-American ideas from Europe, including socialism, to the U.S., had arrived. Euclid Ave. in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was home to the mansions of wealthy Clevelanders like John D. Rockefeller, Marcus Hanna, Jeptha Wade and others, so it meant they'd made it, in a sense. St. Agnes was part of the outward migration of wealth along Euclid Ave. to what was then called the "east end," an undeveloped part of the city rapidly filling up with new development. 

When the church was dedicated on September 24, 1893, it was envisioned that it would soon be replaced by a much larger structure to serve the growing congregation. That ended up taking more than 20 years, yet Father Gilbert P. Jennings, the founding pastor, shepherded that vision to reality and went on to serve the church until he died in 1941. When The Plain Dealer covered the dedication of the new building by the Rt. Rev. Ignatius F. Horstman, bishop of the Catholic Diocese, it wrote, “St. Agnes Church is not an imposing structure. The present structure, however, is but a temporary one and within a few years it is predicted that the Episcopal residence and the central parish will be located on the present site of St. Agnes church.” 

The vision was grand – St. Agnes would tend to the spiritual needs of this growing area, spread Catholicism, and foster other churches. Addressing the congregation, the bishop "alluded to the fact that the planting of St. Agnes church was a pioneer work and like so many labors of the world the work is done by one generation and the fruits of its toil are enjoyed by the next," the PD wrote. Horstman went on to laud the growth of the Catholic Diocese, which had grown from Our Lady of the Lake, a wood frame church in the Flats which had served German and Irish immigrants in the 1800s until it was torn down, to monuments spreading throughout the east and west sides of the city. "Each new church of today would become the mother of other churches," he said. 

In June 1894, a festival was held on the empty lot next to the church, drawing over 1,000 people and raising money for the parish. Six months later, Bishop Horstmann preached to a packed house about the life of St. Agnes, the martyred saint that gave the church its name. (Catholics believe saints can be prayed to for help, unlike Protestants who believe people should pray directly to God. I was raised Protestant, and my grandfather, who grew up Catholic, later attended the same Presbyterian church I grew up in.) Catholic history holds that St. Agnes was born of noble parents in 291 and at 13 years old was arranged to be married. She had “numerous suitors,” but had already promised her life to God. “When sought in marriage she gave the answer, ‘I belong to the one who is not of this earth; Jesus Christ,’” Horstman told the rapt audience. Her parents and others, angry at the young teenager's rebellion, threatened her with “fire, the rack and torture of every kind,” and even “accused her of being a Christian," which was seen as a transgression against the Roman empire. Her punishment was exposure in a public brothel and being offered up for sexual conquest. “If you are vowed to a heavenly spouse, I will see that you do not go to him chaste," the praetor, a type of Roman magistrate, pronounced. However, Horstman related, “no one dared approach her, except one, and as he came near her he was struck blind.” When the praetor learned of this, he ordered that she should be beheaded in a public execution. There's no telling what this story meant to the congregation, but perhaps they took meaning from St. Agnes' brave defiance of her parents' cruel dictum and her faith in God even in the face of death. In Latin, Agnes means “lamb” and in Greek it means “chaste and pure.” Horstman told the church she was the “patroness of this parish” and a special protector of those who worshiped there. 

In 1903, St. Agnes school was built. Father Jennings preached the importance of parochial schools; they were there to “train the heart and mind” and help raise good Catholics. In an August 31, 1903 article in the Plain Dealer, he warned his parishioners against sending their children to public schools, arguing they were "vitally and fundamentally wrong" because they don't "train man's heart towards God." Any parishioner who sent their kids to public school was doing so against the “earnest protest” of their pastor and the bishop, he said. 

When the school opened in September 1903, the Plain Dealer called it “probably the finest parochial school building in the Diocese of Cleveland," praising its large rooms, lighting, ventilation, and modern construction. St. Agnes School had a large assembly room on the third floor that could fit more than 800 people. To accommodate students, two more nuns from the Sisters of St. Joseph were added, making eight total. (I'm scratching my head thinking of eight nuns ruling over 350 schoolkids -- no wonder they used rulers to rap their knuckles, there was likely no other way to maintain order.) A January 10, 1904 article after the dedication said that the new school was “one of the handsomest and most substantial buildings in the city and is considered a model of parochial schools for the Cleveland diocese” and that the three-story building was “imposing in appearance. It is built of buff Amherst stone and is Romanesque in style.” In both articles, the PD praised the stone building as “practically fireproof," as fire was a major threat to wood buildings at the time. The paper lauded its five large modern school rooms, each 28 by 32 feet, on the first and second floors, as well as four smaller recitation rooms where students were taught special subjects and recited their lessons. The auditorium had an inclined floor, vaulted ceilings, a gallery, and “the lighting is of handsome electric fittings” (gaslights were common in the 1800s and lasted until the early 1900s, when they were replaced by electric lights). “The acoustic properties are said to be perfect," the article said. "The stage is roomy, with dressing rooms on either side. The auditorium will be a splendid place for school and parish entertainments.” 

Church leaders were practically bursting with pride when the school opened that school year: “Father Jennings said that creditable as has been the work of the past, the future, he hoped, would excel it,” the Plain Dealer wrote. When it was dedicated, the Rt. Rev. John Lancaster Spalding, bishop of Peoria, Illinois, said the school was a centerpiece of the parish and if congregants educated their children there, they’d grow up to be good Catholics. “Nothing that can ever be done in this parish will equal in importance the dedication of this school," he boasted. 

The school was completely free for parishioners, a sign of the church’s wealth and evidence of its formula of investing in Catholic education to spawn adults who would go to mass each Sunday, just as their parents had. By 1905, the fast-growing St. Agnes added a fifth service to accommodate the growing number of parishioners worshiping there. There were English masses for adults at 6, 7:30, 8:45, and 10 o’clock on Sunday mornings, The PD noted. A fifth mass at 11:45 was added for children, which was considered innovative at the time, “it being the latest hour at which a service is begun before noon at any of the city churches of that denomination.” A third priest was hired to help with masses, something that was notable since only the city's largest churches boasted three priests. Father Jennings was not only the spiritual leader of St. Agnes, but also a leader within the wider community. “A pioneer in the east end, he builds one of the city’s biggest churches,” a 1909 PD profile of Jennings crowed, going on to say, “As the founder of St. Agnes parish, the first to build a church on Euclid Avenue, Rev. Mr. Jennings is the recognized leader of Catholicism on the east end.” 

“Twenty years ago, the idea of establishing a Catholic church on Euclid Ave. was dismissed as visionary, said Father Jennings yesterday,” the PD wrote. “Now Euclid Avenue is the center of St. Agnes parish, one of the largest parishes in the city. Moreover, St. Agnes church has today three other parishes in the east end as its offspring.” 

On his 25th anniversary of being a priest, the diocese threw Jennings a large banquet where he was presented with a purse of gold and a picture of the Madonna. That evening, a “jubilee allegory” specially written by the Sisters of St. Joseph was performed by 130 schoolchildren. The very presence of St. Agnes was seen as a triumph over adversity, a realization of the vision church leaders had for a growing, thriving parish community. The PD wrote, "In the sixteen years of the pastorate, Father Jennings’ most serious problem has been not how to get members but how to take care of the ever increasing numbers that come to St. Agnes.” 

By 2012, St. Agnes had paid off their debt of $16,600 on the old building, and they had a $6,000 down payment to build the new church. Two years later, on July 6, 1914, church leaders laid the cornerstone for the new St. Agnes parish, which cost $160,000 to build (about $5 million today). Before arriving in his automobile for the ceremony the Rt. Rev. John Farrelly, bishop of the diocese, was “met at Euclid Ave. and E. 85th St. by 300 men of the church. They formed an escort for him from that point to the parish residence.” He blessed the building, using a trowel to scratch a score of crosses on the stone block on the eastern side of the sanctuary. Farrelly then walked around the building sprinkling it with holy water before giving his sermon. 

The new St. Agnes married art and religion to create a new spiritual monument on Cleveland’s east side. “The new church edifice has been the object of a great deal of interest among art lovers and hundreds have visited it since it has been possible to admit other than workingmen to the interior,” the PD wrote of the church’s opening in 1916. “The new St. Agnes Church represents a noteworthy example of the unity of religion and art. Rev. Father Jennings determined at the beginning of his plans for the new edifice to erect a church building that was to be worthy of its high destiny as a place of Catholic worship and a civic monument.” the architect was John Comes, an ecclesiastical architect out of Pittsburgh, and Jennings was highly involved. The design was French Romanesque because it was considered adaptable and cost effective, “expressing the ancient and modern continuity of the church, and also the power of her adaptability to the language of the day." In addition to the beautiful stone and marble design, the interior had a “large auditorium-like nave containing nearly all the pews between the columns. By this arrangement those in the church will be able to see the priest, whether he be at the altar or the pulpit.” The nave was 40 feet wide by 65 feet high by 175 feet long. The sanctuary could hold 1,100 people, so on a Sunday with five masses, as many as 5,000 worshippers crowded into the space, filling St. Agnes with their sounds of their voices raised in song and praise for God. 

The interior of the church was painted by artist Felix Lieftrichter and contained a “feeling of solemnity and grandeur,” The Plain Dealer wrote. “The monumental figure of Christ in majesty seated on the throne, ancient symbol of power, surrounded by a cluster of cherubim holding the seven lights of the apocalypse, forms the central and dominating feature of the composition,” while the 12 apostles below represented mankind. The “Eternal Father” was painted on the vault of the apse, “symbolizing the redemption of mankind through the son of God.” There was more: “Between the figures of God the Father and God the Son is the dove, symbol of the Holy Spirit surrounded by seven golden flames, symbolic of the seven gifts of the holy ghost, forming together the traditional representation of the Holy Trinity. The figure of the eternal father is represented with arms outstretched in a bestowing attitude as father of the universe, and surrounded by a large circle symbolic of eternity, which is formed by the signs of the zodiac on a background of deep blue studded with stars and planets. 

“Kneeling on the base of the throne at the feet of our Lord are the figures of the Virgin Mary and St. Agnes in attitude of supplication, representing the saints of the church as intercessors for mankind at the throne of God,” the PD wrote. “On either side of the central figure is a row of richly clad angels holding in outstretched arms, symbols of the 7 days of creation.” Overall, “the upward and outward movement of these figures” creates a “feeling of solemnity and grandeur.” The inscription on the altar reads, “Behold the lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world.” The theme of the art is the redemption of mankind through Christ, the PD said. 

In June 1916, the church was dedicated. The PD headline crowed, “Thousands throng Euclid Avenue and many jam into the nave of the new edifice.” Crowds began to form at 9:30 am for the 11 am service, and police handled the traffic. Hundreds processed from the parish house to the new church at 10:50 am, headed by a cross bearer. The visiting bishops wore “purple cassocks and birettas. Bishop Farrelly wore a gold cope and mitre. His left hand carried the crozier, the pastoral staff of office, and with his right hand he blessed the people as he passed,” according to the Plain Dealer. Once the service began, the Rt. Rev. James Hartley, bishop of the Diocese of Columbus, recited the words of Matthew to the crowd, “And I say unto these, that thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” The PD wrote, “To the worshippers and their pastor, the words of Bishop Hartley came with a new meaning. The church that for years had been their dream was at last a reality.” 

In 1920, a book was published, "St. Agnes Church, Cleveland, Ohio: An Interpretation," that discussed the artistic and religious significance of the church as ecclesiastical art and architecture. Author Anne O'Hare McCormick opines that St. Agnes was "conceived in faith and built in love" and that "the soul of the builders speaks from its walls ... it is clear and simple, like the faith of the earlier age that inspires it." She goes on to talk about how St. Agnes was significant not only in Cleveland but also nationally as a distinguished work of art, and it was frequently used as a model in lectures at the Cleveland School of Art and the Cleveland Museum of Art. St. Agnes' Romanesque style of design was seen by McCormick as "a distillation of the art and aspiration of the most Catholic age in the history of the world ... St. Agnes embodies the authentic spirity of the heyday of art and of faith..." The opening sentence gives you a sense of why this church was so beloved and admired, as McCormick describes it in gracious, detailed prose: "As you look at the Church of Saint Agnes from the other side of Euclid Avenue -- unfortunately there is no stone-paved French place or gross-growth Italian piazza to give you better perspective -- your first impulse is to look again. A church so different from any church in Cleveland cannot be passed with a casual glance. Your next is to wonder a little at the effect of what you see. Walls of smooth gray Bedford stone rise out of a broad sweep of steps, three deeply recessed doors open under round arches, a pillared arcade runs beneath a great rose window, a carven crucifix tops a turreted gable, and back of all, overshadowing gray walls and red-tiled roofs, a tall tower, strong and steadfast, stands like a sentinel." 

When St. Agnes celebrated its dedication in 1916, A block away stood the old wooden church, soon to be demolished. “Perhaps the conflicting emotions of a family leaving a home it has long outgrown, but which is dear, nevertheless, for one that embodies the dreams of years, were responsible for the impressive touch that concluded the ceremony … that final scene will live long in the memory of all who witnessed it,” the PD wrote. “As the notes of the last gospel died away, that great congregation stood. The notes of the organ rolled across the church, and the worshippers, as one person, gave utterance to their feelings of Thanksgiving in the hymn, ‘Holy God, we praise thy name.’ A few moments later, the parishioners followed the procession of clergy to the street and the dedication was a matter of diocesan history.” The bishop urged the parishioners to be leaders in their community, and to use the church to light the way for the city. “You have a magnificent new church, but remember there are no parish aristocrats,” he said. “The Catholic church has always been strongest in its democracy. Your church edifice is an example to be followed by Cleveland. Let your lives be examples to be followed, also.” Sixty years later, the church had effectively been abandoned by its congregation, which had moved out of the neighborhood, and St. Agnes was history.