The Apple Never Falls Far…

I hesitate to claim to influence anyone; it’s an ambiguous claim, almost impossible to justify, since we are all influenced in so many ways by so many people and events. And to claim influence smells unpleasantly of egotism. But now and then an example comes into my life that does seem to support the old truism, “The apple never falls far from the tree.”

I’m writing about an offspring of mine who will remain nameless since I haven’t asked her permission to use her as an illustration of the truism. Instead I’ll write about my perceptions of an action she initiated or at least was involved in that may result in saving an old downtown church in her hometown.

First, the church. Built in 1907, designed by a well-known architect of that period, it is a large, handsome example of the Gothic style popular then, with turrets, stained glass, a double nave and pews crescent-shaped to embrace the altar. It was originally designated a German Evangelical church, later incorporated into the Church of Christ. Its prosperous neighborhood slowly emptied during the 1950s white flight to the suburbs following school busing, its congregation apparently was no longer able or willing to support it, and a few years ago it was bought by an out-of-state investor with vague plans, authorized by the city, to turn it into yet another high-priced hotel.

He never realized his plans, the church deteriorated, and a fire of suspicious origin nearly wrecked it a few weeks ago, leaving a gaping hole in the roof. At this point, although it is listed on the National Register of Historic Buildings, the city decided to tear it down. And now the protest organized yesterday has at least caused these plans to be paused. But its future is still uncertain.

Why does historic preservation matter, and why should these designations be supported by the communities in which they are found?

Simply put, because they embody and symbolize history.

In the case of St. Paul’s, that history has special resonance today. The first St. Paul’s German Evangelical Church was founded in 1836 to minister to the large German-American community that by 1850 represented 25 percent of the city; by 1900, 45 percent were at least half German. They were prosperous hardworking people, establishing banks and businesses, introducing bilingual education and kindergartens. But their fortunes changed in Bloody Monday 1855 when a mob of Protestants of the No Nothing party attacked Germans and Roman Catholics, burning and looting and leaving 22 dead. Many of the survivors fled to Cincinnati where they were responsible for starting and supporting a thriving culture in classical music. By 1938, the word “German” had disappeared from banks and storefronts and German language books had been thrown out of the libraries. And the congregation that had supported St. Paul’s with their contributions began to decline.

We are always driving some group out of the U.S. Right now it is immigrants from Central and South America but in times past it was the Irish, the German and the Japanese, the later interned in prisons. Somehow our country does survive this predatory behavior but our tendency as a nation to create scapegoats and force them to flee should be scrutinized. What in our national character prompts us to behave in this way?

In Kentucky, Women