Old St. Patrick's Cathedral Becomes a Basilica

The altar at Old St. Patrick's.

The umbrella presented to the church, signifying its new rank as a basilica.

A closer shot of the altar

Another shot of the organ.

The organ.

A Chinese family that wished to take their picture with me.

A shot of the crowd during the reception.

Another shot of the crowd.

That skull on a cell phone that is common on condemned buildings.

This past week I got an e-mail from the Hibernians that Old St. Patrick's Cathedral, on Mott and Prince Streets in Little Italy, was being upgraded to a basilica, an honor sometimes given to important churches in a city, making Old St. Patrick's the Pope's official church in New York. Completed in 1815, it's unique-looking because it has no windows in the front, and high walls guard the graves on either side, a reflection of the anti-Catholic sentiment at the time, as rioters would destroy the stained-glass, and at one point nativist mobs even tried to burn the church to the ground. Despite its centrality to early Catholic life in this country, the Archbishop said that while filling out the paper work to apply for basilica status, he needed to prove that the church was still an active and important house of worship, and the Archbishop noted that despite all it's history, this church was not a "museum", but a "living, vibrant parish", as could be seen by the hundreds of Chinese faithful who packed the sides of the church, while some important guests took up the pews.

I was hastily given the job of an usher and a green, white and orange sash, and told to seat a well-dressed older Chinese woman in pew 5. She was with Father Jonathan Morris, who often appears on Fox News. I knew I recognized him but didn't say anything ... then I took the obviously important Chinese woman 5 rows to the back of the church instead of the front. My mistake. I just told her it was my first day here. I tend to say that a lot.

Anyway, it was a little unorganized as I had to guard two pews for Hibernians marching in the procession, trying my best to stop a whole slew of octogenarians who were trying to sit there, most of them with canes, one of them even blind. I didn't exactly feel comfortable asserting my authority over these people, and nobody was really going to listen to me anyway. But even though the Hibernians and Knights of Columbus bickered for a little while over who needed to sit where, and that two seats in the second pew needed to be saved for Justice Scalia and his wife (who I don't think showed up), eventually everything got settled just in time for the ushers to start spreading the word to each other that the Archbishop was coming through the door at any minute.

I stood in the back throughout most of the service mainly hoping that I wasn't in the way, until the head of the Hibernians asked me to go up to the front of the church so that I could help supervise the filing out at the end. So I walked up the center aisle alone during the closing prayer while the Knights of Columbus flanked me, about twenty on each side, a bunch of old guys in full uniform and swords drawn. When I got to the front of the church I made sure not to trip or fall backward or anything because I knew everyone would see me but at the end of the service Cardinal Egan came up to me and said, "Thanks for coming."

Next was off to the reception, where I went straight for the buffet table because I hadn't eaten all day. The place was packed and the line barely moving, and unfortunately prevented me from talking to Archbishop Dolan again. By the time I spotted him, he was already leaving. He gave a general wave in my direction and then a cop escorted him out the door.

I did meet Cardinal Egan, though. He was signing programs, and luckily had time for one more. He said, "So tell me about yourself."

Now, I knew I'd get about thirty seconds to talk, so I tried to make it count. "Well, Your Eminence, I'm with the Hibernians, I'm the Division 1 Historian, and I'm happy to be a part of all this. This is a great church with a lot of history." (Or something like that.)

He signed my program and then said, "And off we go." And quickly walked out the door with a priest. He had said something similar the last time I saw him ... he's obviously coached.

While wandering around the reception, a Chinese woman who barely spoke any English and had two small children came up to me and gestured to a camera. I thought she wanted me to take a picture, but soon realized that she wanted her four-year-old son to take a picture of her with me. The lady obviously thought I was more important than I really was. Her son could barely work the camera, taking a couple of pictures of the ceiling, so I suggested that someone get a picture of all of us.

On a side note, after I left, I saw a big picture of a skull talking on a cell phone, on a dumpster outside the Puck Building. I was surprised to see it because I'd seen the same picture on the side of McGurk's Suicide Hall, at 295 Bowery near East 1st Street, which was unable to receive landmark status and was demolished in 2005, but around the turn of the twentieth century prided itself as being "the roughest joint in town", a very dangerous dive bar where at least five back-room girls killed themselves by drinking carbolic acid.

I've added a video here that I found on YouTube of a news report of the ceremony, but, no, I wasn't able to spot myself.

The Highlight of the Weekend

Archbishop Dolan saying goodbye before heading back uptown.

The Archbishop greeting the faithful.

Archbishop Dolan greeting the faithful.

Well, there's nothing good on TV, so I really ought to stop procrastinating and do another blog entry because I'm a blogger now, and no matter how strange it feels at first, I'm going to get into the habit of bothering people with my two cents on everything if it's the last thing I do. On Saturday, I decided to take a walk downtown, along First and Second Avenues, looking into the bars along the way to see how the action was inside. All bars were packed on Saturday for the much-hyped about USA - England game, a big start to World Cup fever.
By the time I made it down to 14th Street, I started heading toward Avenue A, and I came across Immaculate Conception Catholic Church, a church I had stopped inside a few times before ... it's open most of the time. These Episcopal Churches in the the city used to all have satellite chapels. St. Paul's on Broadway and Fulton Street, across the street from Ground Zero, was and still is a satellite chapel to Trinity Church on Broadway and Wall Street. St. Sava's Serbian Orthodox Cathedral on Twenty-Sixth Street between Broadway and Sixth Avenue was another chapel for Trinity for the growing community uptown. St. Nicholas of Myra Russian Orthodox Church on Tenth Street and Avenue A was a satellite Chapel to St. Mark's-in-the-Bowery on Tenth Street and Second Avenue. And this church, purchased by the Catholics in 1943, was a chapel and conjoined hospital for Grace Church on Broadway and Tenth Street. According to the New York Songlines website, it was unusual when it was built in 1896 because it didn't charge pew rent, a common practice among the rich Protestant families at the time so that they could preserve their spot for services. A plaque on the outside of the church states that the chapel was actually built specifically for the poorer of the neighborhood.
Anyway, I walked in and saw an important mass going on to a full house. The pews were all filled, and I, being rather late, stood in the back with some families with small kids and the Knights of Columbus, dressed in their full garb. Archbishop Dolan was at the altar giving his sermon, talking about the usual stuff -- faith, community, his abundance of gratitude to the people of this parish for all their hard work, and a little of the history of Immaculate Conception Parish on their 155th anniversary. (So that's what the mass was celebrating.) He mentioned how his predecessor, Bishop Hughes, was in Rome when Pope Pius IX declared that Mary was born without original sin, and promised that when he got home to New York, the next church he consecrated would be in honor of the Immaculate Conception.
Now, I knew that this church hadn't always been Catholic, or Catholic for that long, so I was hoping I wouldn't have to correct the Archbishop after mass. I got communion from him, and when the mass ended, he led a procession down the aisle to the auditorium of the school (the former hospital). There was lots of food laid out and a big crowd. I wasn't a member of this parish, but I thought, There's plenty to eat here and I'm starving. I didn't want to walk up to the Archbishop, though, because he seemed to be surrounded by all the big-shot families of the parish, and I thought if I joined that crowd everyone would be thinking about how they never saw this guy before in their lives. The Archbishop gradually made his way around the room to different circles of people, taking pictures, giving out handshakes and hugs, as the old Hispanic and Filipino ladies bowed to him. Over and over he said things like, "It's great to be here," and "I love being with you." I shook his hand when it came my turn, and as I briefly stood next to him, I said, "Thanks for coming, Your Excellency. It's a great honor, Your Excellency". He turned to me and gave me a rather hard pat on the back and said, "Thank you." He's a great big guy, kind of burly and about six-foot-four, and I don't think he knew his own strength. Egan is a big guy, too, while O'Connor I thought was kind of small when I saw him in person. He looked bigger on TV than he did in real life. With that he continued on, and I didn't want to look like a religious nut and follow him around the room, so I never got to ask him if the Archdiocese was hiring or where the parish's original church was. I later looked on the parish's website and found that it was on Fourteenth Street east of Avenue A, and was demolished when Stuyvesant Town and Peter Cooper Village were built. Luckily the Catholic Church was able to purchase Grace Chapel and Hospital from the Episcopalians, because this church was nearly demolished as well.
The Archbishop got in an SUV driven by a priest and a cop car escorted them back to his residence uptown. He stuck his hand out and waved to the crowds as they cheered him. As people walked by, a couple asked, "Is that somebody famous or something?"
I continued on as I always like to check on the progress of St. Brigid's Church on Eighth Street and Avenue B. Right now the church is so covered in scaffolding that it's unrecognizable. I guess their really redoing it from head-to-toe. It's nice that somebody cared enough to donate $20 million dollars so that it wasn't demolished. I decide to sit in Tompkins Square Park for a while and take a load off, but after seeing one rat scurry by and being pretty sure I heard others scurrying in the bushes behind me, I decided that this park still is pretty gross and I should just get out of here.
It's amazing how much energy you have when your spirits are lifted. I got up and started to walk back to the Upper East Side.