St. Mary's of Redford: French Romanesque, 1926

Where has it been it all this time?” That’s how I’d most like people to react to the liturgical furniture I build for old churches. So when the pastor of St. Mary’s of Redford parish in Northwest Detroit asked me to design and build an altar and ambo for the French Romanesque church built in 1926, I began the design process by sitting in the pews and looking around at details. In the ‘20’s, Detroit was rich with European immigrants, and had a great share of cabinetmakers, millwrights, and woodcarvers. As a result, the red oak trim and paneling were replete elements and patterns that could become the basis of design. In addition, the pastor would provide gates that had been part of the now unused communion railing. The magnificent doors bore symbols of each of the four Evangelists, and would be used as panels enclosing the front and sides of the altar and ambo.

The old fashioned way, stroke by stroke.

The ambo and altar in place.

Even though the top of the altar would generally be covered by an altar cloth, I was allowed to design the structure to literally hang on the walnut cross that formed its central frame.  To celebrate the diversity of the now greatly African American congregation, a square of ebony was inlaid at the crux of the cross.  The church's running pattern of flowers and arrows was duplicated by hand around the altar and the ambo.  6" square legs were transitioned to octagonal columns as those of the church.  Finally, the bronze doors were attached, completing the massive character of the pieces, in keeping with the immense sanctuary.

Eleanor and Frank Daniels flank the Bishop with Kathy and me.

My grandfather, I am told, had built churches in Chicago, including tall, complex steeples.  When he had died, my father had invited me to join him and my uncles in dividing up his tools.  I came home with a few well-worn but razor sharp chisels, some measuring tools that he had made, and a handful of triangular files that he had used to sharpen every blade in his shop.  So for my emotionally reserved and devout Catholic father, my having taken up the trade in a way that honored God honored him, too. After having nearly died of a major heart attack ten years earlier, he was moved to rare tears and great pride at the dedication of the altar by the Bishop.  My tears were not rare, but tasted of the same grateful salt.

Fr. Jim Serrick, S.J., the pastor who gave me this first church commission, would become a significant patron in my life as a builder of liturgical furniture.