Delirious New Orleans
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Longstreth’s finished report was stunning in both its depth and scope, especially given the extremely short deadline.25 Longstreth traveled to New Orleans twice and consulted with many experts, including Dr. Karen Kingsley, a well-respected professor emerita of architectural history who had taught in the School of Architecture at Tulane University for twenty-five years.26 The Friends chose to lay low, since there was no point in attempting to turn around the tsunami of anti-Cabrini public opinion until the FEMA report was completed. However, just before Christmas 2006, Bill Chauvin and a fellow Holy Cross board member agreed to meet quietly with David Villarrubia, Jim Logan, me, and Walter Gallas, who represented the National Trust’s New Orleans field office. We met one evening in an upstairs room at the Musicians Union Hall on Esplanade Avenue.
The Friends of Cabrini had been requesting a private meeting ever since the HDLC meeting six weeks earlier. The meeting was cordial, although hard as we tried, no real progress was made. We did all we could to justify our alternate site plan in detail and to show how we wanted both Holy Cross and SFC to coexist on the same twenty-acre site in Gentilly. They asked, “How are you going to pay for its repair and upkeep?” because “We [Holy Cross] do not have the money.” We were told that the church was too big and ugly and would not fit into the neo-postmodern design of the new Holy Cross campus. From the start, we insisted that the church could be fully restored with a portion of the $4.2 million flood-insurance payout, that an endowment would be set up, and that the outer baptistery area would be an ideal setting for a Mother Cabrini National Shrine in memory of the 1,800 people who perished in Katrina. In fact, the poetic lighting and minimalist surroundings of the baptistery were perfectly suited to a memorial of this type—contemplative, restorative, understated.
The opposition would hear nothing of any memorial or of saving any part of the church. Holy Cross was intent on replicating to the extent possible its 128-year-old campus—in 2007. This seemed absurd to us that they repeatedly rejected our assertion that these two period styles could in fact coexist, just as a mixture of periods and styles exist side by side on college and university campuses across the country. Aside from our concerns, the rendering of the Paris Avenue elevation in the Clarion Herald article and on the Holy Cross Web site confirmed the worst suspicions of many leading local architects about the questionable architectural quality of the proposed design for the new Holy Cross.
The report commissioned by FEMA was delivered at the end of January 2007. The report was sent to the Louisiana SHPO office in Baton Rouge, to FEMA’s headquarters in Washington, and to its New Orleans field office to assist in FEMA’s determination of National Register eligibility for the church. The report’s executive summary stated:
St. Frances Cabrini Church is exceptionally important as an example of Modern Architecture in New Orleans, with a plan, structural systems, and allusions to the local historical context that are unmatched in both their originality and sophistication … [It] is an exceptionally important example of its building type for being among, probably the most, singular design for a house of worship in New Orleans erected during the post-WWII period. It was on the front line of designs locally, and probably nationally, for a Roman Catholic parish church or cathedral in having its entire configuration developed in response to the drive for liturgical reform that subsequently culminated in Vatican II. Furthermore, the particulars of that configuration are unique locally and extremely unusual within a larger context… . [The church] is exceptionally important locally, and extremely unusual, for its innovative, complex structural design, interweaving several systems. The most prominent of these is a fan of three shallow barrel vaults of thin-shell reinforced concrete, pivoting on four structural columns, sheltering the worship space. The inspiration for this system was likely derived from the work of world-renowned Spanish structural engineer Eduardo Torroja. The church’s structure is unique locally in having most if its remaining structure comprised of a baldachin of concrete parabolic arches that both forms the base of its tall spire and the structural anchor for a coffered concrete slab that radiates behind it.27
The report continued:
St. Frances Xavier Cabrini Church is unique locally and distinctive among houses of worship nationally in having its bold structure not be the generator of exterior form, instead having an exterior treatment that was intentionally differential to its residential context. The character of the exterior is further exceptional in the richness, sophistication, and subtlety with which it abstractly alludes to a variety of nineteenth-century iconic domestic and religious properties in New Orleans… . [It] is an exceptional example of the work of its architects, Curtis & Davis, who, in their own time and in retrospect were widely acknowledged as the preeminent architectural firm in New Orleans during the post-WWII era and a firm that enjoyed national and international distinction for much of that period. For most of its thirty-two-year existence, Curtis & Davis had a major impact on shaping the city during an important period of growth and change.28
Curtis & Davis also designed the Louisiana Superdome (1976), the Rivergate Convention Center (1966, demolished 1996), many private residences, office structures, medical facilities, and schools. Longstreth discussed this body of work and Cabrini’s place within the impressive Curtis & Davis oeuvre:
The church ranks in the uppermost tier in the degree to which it integrates the three most distinguishing and significant attributes of the firm’s approach to design: innovative planning in response to programmatic needs, innovative use of structure likewise tied to those needs, and innovative development of oblique historic references to nineteenth-century New Orleans architecture… . [Cabrini Church] is exceptionally important as a local example of the work of John Skilling, a nationally renowned structural engineer. It was likely the first instance where Skilling and Curtis & Davis collaborated. The only other major work produced by this team locally was the Rivergate exhibition center, now demolished. Indeed, while the vast majority of distinguished twentieth-century architecture in New Orleans derives significance as examples of broader, national tendencies, St. Frances Xavier Cabrini Church stands in a league of its own—at once a striking emblem of modernity in appearance, structure, and program and a vibrant tribute to a rich, multi-faceted past.29
The report concluded:
St. Frances Cabrini Church meets the standard National Register eligibility requirements, and is significant under National Register Criterion C (Design/Construction) within a local historic context/level. It has a period of significance, which spans from 1961 to 1963, the years in which the building was designed and erected. Its boundaries extend to the curb of Paris Avenue to the east, extend eight feet from the west and south facades, and to the border of the parking lot north of the building … [It] meets the special eligibility requirements specified under Criterion Considerations A (Religious Properties) … [It also], while less than fifty years of age, meets the special eligibility requirements specified under Criteria Consideration G (Properties That Have Achieved Significance Within the Past 50 Years) … [and] maintains the seven aspects of integrity (location, design, setting, materials, workmanship, feeling, and association) required for National Register listing.30
The main body of the 125-plus-page report contained a lengthy justification for the conclusions stated above, a discussion of the history and development of modernism in the United States, the influence of modernism in liturgical architecture in the post–World War II period, and a detailed discussion of the significance of the buildings and accomplishments of Curtis & Davis in relation to the modernist canon. To supporters of Cabrini Church, this was absolutely the best news we could have hoped for.
Public Indifference to a Modernist Landmark
FEMA’s public comment period of the Section 106 Review process occurred in February.31 This protocol turned out to be a total circus. Nearly thirteen hundred comments were posted on FEMA’s Cabrini Web site during a twenty-day period. The vast majority were hostile, taunting, an
d insulting, squarely aimed at the church and its “obstructionist” supporters near and far. Out-of-state supporters of SFC were seen as imposters, and singled out for intensely personal taunts, bullying, and ridicule. Holy Cross supporters attacked the church for being ugly, for never belonging in New Orleans in the first place, for being too expensive to maintain, and for having a leaky roof. Many posters (plus many imposters—ill-informed, self-anointed, overnight “experts” on the topic of architecture) chattered on about how Holy Cross School was of infinitely more value than any church could ever be, whether of landmark quality or otherwise. SFC supporters shot back: weren’t two schools (Redeemer-Seton and SFC Elementary) already being sacrificed for Holy Cross? Why was Holy Cross somehow superior to the two schools that were already functioning as sacrificial lambs? Little though anyone knew, the church’s roof had been completely repaired before Katrina, using a state-of-the-art polyurethane membrane roofing technology (see below). The roof did not leak a single drop of water during Katrina or after. Regardless, lies, innuendo, myth masquerading as fact, and ridiculous statements hijacked this supposedly “serious” facet of the federal Section 106 Review.
While this was occurring, a series of fruitless weekly consultation meetings were held, usually on Monday mornings, at which the aggrieved parties would gather at the FEMA offices on the west bank of the river with the aim of reaching a compromise. These sessions, often lasting four or more hours at a stretch, were governed by FEMA’s out-of-state consultant-facilitators. Govern they did, simultaneously constricting any reasonably full airing of the pro-Cabrini camp’s position in the ongoing controversy. The Friends were being firmly held in check. In more than ten hours of meetings, we were only given three minutes to formally defend the church. Adding insult to injury, we were disallowed from voting on the fate of the church. Meanwhile, every time we mentioned that the flood-insurance money was all that was needed to restore the church, Holy Cross cleverly replied, “Well, that is an issue you will have to bring up with the archdiocese, not us.” When the archdiocese was approached on the issue, it stonewalled.
These private (no media) “consultative meetings” culminated in an event that unfortunately turned out to be a far bigger fiasco than the online comments during the Section 106 Review or the so-called consultative meetings. On Monday night, February 26, 2007, the requisite Section 106 public meeting took place in an auditorium at the University of New Orleans. Over two hundred people showed up, 95 percent of them Holy Cross students, parents, and sundry supporters. The church was subjected to nothing short of a total public bashing that night. Holy Cross students and parents taunted every supporter of Cabrini Church brave enough to approach the microphone. A lynch-mob mentality prevailed from start to finish. In fact, at the end, so many anti-Cabrini persons heckled and taunted church supporters that a police detail was required to escort us to the parking lot afterward.32
Not a single direct reference was made to the Longstreth report that night or thereafter by the FEMA machine. Nancy Niedernhofer, the FEMA administrative coordinator for the Section 106 Review of Cabrini, told the rambunctious audience at the start of the meeting, “FEMA has determined that the church is eligible for listing on the National Register of Historic Places.” Hearing this news, a loud chorus of boos and sighs erupted. The newspaper account of the fiasco that night read in part:
The room then exploded with applause when a mix of men, women and school-age children listened patiently as Bill Chauvin, chairman of the school’s governing board, explained that parents of Holy Cross students cannot afford the tuition increases that would be needed to repair the church, which at 25,000 square feet [it was actually only 18,000 square feet—author’s note] is too large to be incorporated into the school campus design. Robin BrouHatheway, a Gentilly resident and a parishioner, argued that the church should be preserved, noting Cabrini operated in the black before Katrina. The observation was greeted by many in the room with laughter. She characterized the earlier vote by parishioners to sanction the Holy Cross plan as “Infamous … only 92 people were there” for the vote.33
In November, Chauvin had arrogantly stated that keeping a modernist church would clash with Holy Cross’s pseudo-1800s-styled campus, paradoxically designed to be in keeping with the architecture of the neighborhood it was just about to abandon in the Lower Ninth Ward:
“That [modernism] is not what Holy Cross is, not what our history is.” Chauvin said the church has been described as a “money pit” by the Archdiocese, the result of long-deferred maintenance, inadequate heating and air conditioning systems and a roof that has leaked since the church opened … “How can we go to parents and say your tuition has to be this high because we had to add a component to pay for maintenance on this facility?”34
Local investigative journalism was virtually nonexistent concerning the battle to save the church. Any public statements from the local Catholic political machine were taken as gospel. Nobody in the media ever checked the facts, in particular those regarding the behind-the-scenes money grab of insurance and taxpayer funds. Back in November, a frontpage headline had read “Architect Says Church Should Be Preserved.” Arthur Davis, the aged, surviving partner of Curtis & Davis, implored Holy Cross to find a compromise to keep the church and build the new school campus alongside it. Also in this piece, it was mentioned that Cynthia Hedge Morrell had written a few days earlier to Donald Powell, President Bush’s Gulf Coast recovery czar, imploring him to immediately reverse FEMA’s ruling that the church was deemed historically significant.35
In the end, FEMA would totally ignore Dr. Longstreth and its own consultants’ recommendations. Longstreth’s erudite, carefully constructed thesis for granting National Register status to the church was dismissed outright. In shelving the expensive report, the FEMA machine seemed to be searching for an easy victory amid the almost endless daily beatings it took in the local and national media for its dismal response to Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath. Perhaps FEMA saw succumbing—capitulating—to Holy Cross’s and the archdiocese’s demands as a local quick-fix public-relations coup. After all, buildings don’t vote.36
By March 2007 it was clear the local media were not at all interested in airing the full dimensions of the controversy. Not a single investigative piece was published anywhere, and the “facts” publicly disseminated by the conquistadors went unchecked. The local paper published heavily slanted pieces. It portrayed the so-called agreement between the parties (which the Friends were never allowed to vote on) as having been orchestrated from behind the scenes by Mitch Landrieu (Landrieu, the head of the State Historic Preservation Office [SHIPO], had lost the nationally publicized 2006 mayoral runoff against incumbent Nagin, and he too was in search of any slam-dunk PR victory). This so-called agreement was between Holy Cross, the archdiocese, FEMA, and SHIPO—a classic case of the foxes guarding the henhouse. A photo accompanying the “agreement” article showed the Holy Cross board chairman, Bill Chauvin, speaking at a press conference with a beaming Landrieu and a sheepishly smiling Archbishop Alfred C. Hughes in the background. This “agreement” itself was in reality worthless because the National Trust for Historic Preservation and the Friends had vociferously protested its terms and conditions throughout the Section 106 Review.37 No portion of the church was to be saved, except for perhaps the cross atop the steeple; a small garden perhaps would be placed where the majestic altar once stood. FEMA was mandated to archive historical photos and drawings only.38
Jim Logan, attorney for the Friends, shot a letter (not published) to Jim Amoss, editor in chief of the Times-Picayune:
This morning’s paper quotes [Hurricane Katrina] recovery czar Ed Blakely as saying that nothing is more important than preserving New Orleans’ unique qualities, that “Maintaining the city’s distinctiveness is the first order of business,” and that in rebuilding any city, “It’s very important to take care of its heart.” Yet barely two pages earlier, the paper reported that the historic and architecturally significan
t Cabrini Church was considered an “obstacle” to rebuilding and that people “felt great” about its slated demolition … [however] the Gentilly neighborhood grew up around it with Cabrini at its heart.
Cabrini Church has recently garnered international support as people, watching the city’s rebuilding effort, recognize it as special and unique, just as New Orleans is special and unique. But apparently this doesn’t matter—we’re supposed to feel good that perhaps a few trinkets are saved before this landmark is needlessly torn down. It’s a sorry day, indeed, for preservation in New Orleans. This matter was poorly handled from the start. The Archdiocese acted too hastily to close a viable parish and structurally sound church. Holy Cross School stubbornly refused to adapt its plan to build at a location where both a church and a school have existed already for many decades. FEMA says its hands were tied—that it had no influence over this multi-million dollar, publicly funded project, since all it does is write the checks. And the State’s Preservation Office, the supposed guardian of our historic legacy—well, it just whipped the historic review process into over-drive and inadvertently ended up as a key champion for the church’s demise. There’s a dangerous, false dichotomy afoot: it’s being argued that for the city to rebuild, it has to demolish, that we can’t have one without the other. Wrong. The reality is this: when buildings like Cabrini Church are torn down, we lose a bit of our historic core, and we lose a bit of the very soul of the city. Or, to paraphrase Mr. Blakely, the city will have just suffered a heart attack, only we won’t know it until it’s too late.39