The school was built first, in 1926, so we begin with the school. The architect was William P. Hutchins, who chose the “collegiate Gothic” style to send the twin messages that this was a school and it was Catholic.1
The congregation, meanwhile, worshiped in a small frame church for more than twenty years. After the Second World War, Leo McMullen was hired to design a new church and school expansion.2 Both the era and McMullen’s taste dictated a simpler style, but the new building fits well with the school to which it is attached.
The pictures of the church are from back in March; the pictures of the school are from last week. Yes, it does sometimes take old Pa Pitt that long—or longer—just to complete a set of pictures.
The Venerable Bede was the great light of the Dark Ages, the author of the Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, which is the best source for very early English history. Here he is depicted pausing to think while writing one of his books. Bede was exceptionally good at thinking, which set him apart in the early 700s.
“Tremendous Building Program Looms in Pittsburgh Diocese,” Pittsburgh Catholic, March 28, 1946. “St. Bede’s, Rev. John F. Enright, pastor: Combined school and church building; Leo A. McMullen, architect.” ↩︎
Edwin V. Denick was the architect of this neat little corner-tower church, which was built in 1905.1 The current congregation, the Baptist Temple Church, keeps it scrupulously tidy. “We do what we can,” one member modestly told old Pa Pitt—modestly because the man had just spent hours cleaning inside.
Old maps show that the attached parsonage was built later than the church, but it was matched very well to the style and material of the main building.
There is only one National Historic Landmark on the North Side, and this is it. Modest as it is, it would appear on many historians’ lists of the greatest American buildings of the nineteenth century. It is the other great work of Henry Hobson Richardson in Pittsburgh, after the Allegheny County Courthouse. One is sometimes tempted to say that it was ahead of its time (it was finished in 1886, when high Victorian style usually demanded a thick crust of ornamentation), but it would probably be better to say that it stands out of time. It is never stale, and yet it was never outrageously modern. It stands as an inspiration and a reproach to every other building.
It earns all those accolades from architects in spite of one serious engineering mistake. Those walls were not meant to lean outward the way they do. The weight of the huge roof pushed them out within a few years after the church was finished. The congregation called in Richardson’s old associates Longfellow, Alden & Harlow to see whether anything could be done, and their conclusion was that the structure was stable the way it was and should be left alone. A century and a third have proved them right.
These simple triangular dormers are the single feature of this church most often directly imitated; compare, for example, the ones on St. Paul’s Episcopal on the Hill (designed by Elise Mercur), or the ones on the First United Presbyterian Church of Etna (Father Pitt hasn’t figured out the architect of that one yet), or the ones on the Watson Memorial Presbyterian Church on Observatory Hill (designed by Allison & Allison)—all direct quotations from Richardson’s dormers here.
This front elevation is a 36-megapixel composite, so you can enlarge it and enjoy the details of the wonderfully varied brickwork that nevertheless seems natural and organic and avoids all suggestion of ostentation.
John Lewis Beatty, who gave us many fine churches throughout the city and suburbs, was a grand old man of Pittsburgh church architecture by the time he designed this church, built in 1928. Today the building belongs to Nabhi Christian Ministries, and it seems to be in very good hands.
We have seen this church before, but on a recent stroll up the Boulevard old Pa Pitt thought it looked beautiful in the sun, so here it is again. It now belongs to the Brookline Assembly of God, a vigorous congregation that keeps it up very well.
Right now you could buy an interesting piece of Pittsburgh Italian history. This was built as the First Italian Presbyterian Church; later it was known as Trinity Presbyterian, and then the building was taken over by the Agape Christian Fellowship. But now the building is for sale. It seems to be in good shape externally, including a spire that does not look very bedraggled at all.
“The Church Building Dedicated in 1903,” from The Miracle of Trinity, 1964. The source of the drawing is not mentioned; it may be the architect’s rendering.
The architect of the church, built in 1902–1903, was D. E. Sheridan, who was based in East Liberty.1 In addition to the usual run of middle-class houses and small commercial buildings, he had a number of clients in the South and Southwest, according to a short biography of him published in 1907, which is backed up by listings in trade journals. The half-round protrusion probably tells us that the church was built on the Akron Plan.
But Italian Presbyterians? Aren’t Italians all Roman Catholics? Let the retired pastor of the church explain it:
The opinion held by most Americans is that the Italians are staunch Roman Catholics. The fact that Rome is the seat of the Roman Pontiff and that most of the Popes have been Italian, makes this widely held opinion sound very logical.
But the historical and religious background of the Italian Immigrants lead us to an entirely different conclusion. To understand their religious attitude, we must remember that the struggle for the unification of Italy alienated from the Roman Church practically all the Italian Patriots. The Italians knew that the Vatican had opposed the noble dreams of Mazzini and Garibaldi, and that it had gone so far as to excommunicate them. They remembered that on September 20, 1870, when the Italian troops entered the Eternal City and proclaimed it to be the capital of the United Kingdom of Italy, the Pope issued a scathing protest against the Italian Government and locked himself in the Vatican. This anti-Italian stand of the Vatican, coupled with the corruption of the clergy, alienated most of the intelligent, patriotic Italians from the Roman Catholic Church. They retained a sentimental attachment to the church, but had no respect for the Clergy. This understandable politico-religious attitude became known as “anticlericalismo.”
Many of the Italian immigrants who settled in East Liberty were avowed anti-clerical. This attitude did not necessarily lead them to seek the purity of the Gospel of Salvation in Jesus Christ, but it kept them free from the oppressive domination of the priests.2
Thus, when Presbyterian missionaries came to the neighborhood, they found a number of Italians ready to hear their message of a Christianity with no popes. The majority of Italians in Pittsburgh remained Catholic, however, and this was never a very large congregation.
Thomas Hannah designed this unusual church, which was built in about 1917.1 We find many churches in Pittsburgh where the sanctuary is upstairs, with Sunday-school rooms and social halls on the ground floor; this appears to be one of the very few where there are rooms above the sanctuary. It is still Presbyterian, but in 1961 came into the hands of the Bethesda United Presbyterian congregation.
This church was finished in 1893; the architects were the Kansas City firm of Vrydagh & Shepard. Thomas B. Wolfe, a native of Sewickley Heights, was working in Kansas City for Vrydagh & Shepard, so it was natural that he should be the one sent to Pittsburgh to supervise the church. While it was under construction or shortly afterward, Martin Vrydagh decided to move to Pittsburgh and join Wolfe, founding the prolific partnership of Vrydaugh (in about 1899 he changed the spelling of his name) & Wolfe.
It took old Pa Pitt a while to figure all that out, because every Pittsburgh reference—including Father Pitt’s own sites and the Pittsburgh History and Landmarks Foundation plaque on the church—gave the name of the firm as Vrydaugh & Shepherd. Father Pitt began to get suspicious when he found that Web searches for “Vrydaugh & Shepherd” turned up this church and nothing else, so it was time to explore alternate spellings.
Built in 1874, this was the fourth church building put up by this congregation. Apparently this one proved adequate, because—
—this old postcard from the Presbyterian Historical Society shows that very little has changed except for the replacement of the slate roof with metal. As a bonus, the church’s matinee-idol minister judges us through his pince-nez from an inset.
One minor change: the sloped roof over this little corner entrance has been replaced with a gable filled in with siding.
Kiehnel & Elliott were one of the few Pittsburgh firms to adopt early modern styles at the turn of the twentieth century. When they took on a church, however, they turned completely traditional, and it would be hard to point out anything about this neat little church that sets it apart from the work of other good but conventional architects of the time. This one was built in 1915, and it is a typical Pittsburgh corner-tower Protestant church. Today it is one of our dwindling number of black stone churches, and the soot of the decades gives it a kind of evening-dress dignity it would not have had when it was young.
The church us beautifully kept by its current occupants, Victory Global Ministries, whose pastor disdains the pompous title “bishop” favored by many nondenominational ministers in favor of the original workaday meaning of the Greek ἐπίσκοπος: “Overseer.”
The vanishing of an early addition in the rear shows us something of the original color of the stone.
