A Church Has Closed
A Church Has Closed.
Cambridge Massachusetts, The Blessed Sacrament Church, a Catholic Church located on the corner of Pearl and Lake Streets. This church opened in 1905 it shut its doors last week, September 2004.
In 1930 my parents and myself moved into what was then known as the “Greasy Village” area of the Cambridgeport Section of the city. The Village was a working class neighborhood made up of Irish, Italian, Greek, African American, Polish, Lithuanian and a lot of other, well, I’ll call them “mongrels” (that should get some liberal all fired up) we had a mixture of everything.
The great majority of the Village People were Catholic and the “Blessed Sacrament” was “their church”. I am not a Catholic but I knew this church, maybe better than some of its members.
All through my early teens I would attend Masses with my friends, I have been to many weddings at this church and would many times sit in a pew and wait for one of my friends to “confess”.
The two Priests that I remember from my time were, Father O’Brien and Father Finnegan, Finnegan was constantly trying to convert me, he used to tell me that with my Green Eyes and Red Hair that there was no way in Gods world that I should be a Protestant.
There was a variety store across the street from the church named “Zarkies”, Father Finnegan would always take us in there and buy us all Ice Cream Cones.
The Blessed Sacrament is a huge building, it is one of the “old timers” just by looking at it you know that it had to be built by master craftsmen, it was built to last, if they remove it they will have their work cut out for them. They don’t put buildings like that up today. I bet the Idiots that run the city will destroy it.
Right beside the Church on Lake St they had a Parochial School, many of my friends attended this school. I have one “little story” that I would like to tell about the “Sister School” as it was then called.
We weren’t Angels in the Village, in fact the Village had quite a reputation in those days, but that is another story. One day a friend of mine that went to the Sister School wanted to leave early, I already had plans of “skipping school” for the day, I attended the Morse School. Nobody in those days had a phone, you used a kid to send messages to other people’s homes, my friend wanted me to come to the Sister School and tell a Nun that there was an emergency and his mother had to have him home right away. At ten thirty AM I marched into the Sister School and told the first Nun I saw that I was there to give a message to my friend’s teacher that “Bob” I don’t want to put his whole name in here he is still alive, that he has to go home right away, his Mother needs him. The Nun went off down the hall, Then in a few moments all hell broke loose, Jesus Christ, down the hall comes this six foot, two hundred pound Nun, she had a pointer in her hand and she was screaming at me, “don’t you move”, yeah right, Godzilla was charging at me and she was telling me not to move, I took off, out the little alley I went between the church and the school and ran into the park on Lake St, this gigantic monster was still after me waving her pointer and screaming, I can just imagine what would of happened if there had been a Cops car going by, between the Cops and this screaming mad women that was chasing me they would have beat me to death right there in the Park. Thank God I escaped.
I went back up to our Corner and found out that the Cops had picked my friend up earlier at the school, it seems he had broken into the Wilson Meat Packing Co the night before and the watchman had recognized him and told the cops. Later in life when we were a lot older we would often tell this story to each other, if he reads this he will get a good laugh, maybe with his great grandchildren.
The depression was a bad time, the Mothers in our neighborhood spent a lot of time in the Blessed Sacrament in those days, most likely praying, things were pretty rough for some in the Village.
There are many stories that could be told about the Blessed Sacrament and the people that worshipped there, many of them were christened there, married there and were buried from there. Many Village Parents went there to pray for their sons that were fighting in Europe and the Pacific during WWII and some went there to pray when they were told that their sons would not be coming home. The Blessed Sacrament was as much a part of the neighborhood as the family homes were.
The Convent for the church was one block up on Erie St, as a young teenager I worked on an Ice Wagon, we used to deliver Ice to this Convent and would always get a cold drink from one of the Nuns.
When a long standing church closes its doors for good, part of the neighborhood Dies.
Most all of the people that I knew who were members of this church back in the Thirties and Forties are now gone, Fathers O’Brien and Finnegan are gone, the Nun that chased me up Lake St is gone, and now, The Church is gone. The older we get, the more changes we see, some are Sad.
Red Burtt
Cambridge Massachusetts, The Blessed Sacrament Church, a Catholic Church located on the corner of Pearl and Lake Streets. This church opened in 1905 it shut its doors last week, September 2004.
In 1930 my parents and myself moved into what was then known as the “Greasy Village” area of the Cambridgeport Section of the city. The Village was a working class neighborhood made up of Irish, Italian, Greek, African American, Polish, Lithuanian and a lot of other, well, I’ll call them “mongrels” (that should get some liberal all fired up) we had a mixture of everything.
The great majority of the Village People were Catholic and the “Blessed Sacrament” was “their church”. I am not a Catholic but I knew this church, maybe better than some of its members.
All through my early teens I would attend Masses with my friends, I have been to many weddings at this church and would many times sit in a pew and wait for one of my friends to “confess”.
The two Priests that I remember from my time were, Father O’Brien and Father Finnegan, Finnegan was constantly trying to convert me, he used to tell me that with my Green Eyes and Red Hair that there was no way in Gods world that I should be a Protestant.
There was a variety store across the street from the church named “Zarkies”, Father Finnegan would always take us in there and buy us all Ice Cream Cones.
The Blessed Sacrament is a huge building, it is one of the “old timers” just by looking at it you know that it had to be built by master craftsmen, it was built to last, if they remove it they will have their work cut out for them. They don’t put buildings like that up today. I bet the Idiots that run the city will destroy it.
Right beside the Church on Lake St they had a Parochial School, many of my friends attended this school. I have one “little story” that I would like to tell about the “Sister School” as it was then called.
We weren’t Angels in the Village, in fact the Village had quite a reputation in those days, but that is another story. One day a friend of mine that went to the Sister School wanted to leave early, I already had plans of “skipping school” for the day, I attended the Morse School. Nobody in those days had a phone, you used a kid to send messages to other people’s homes, my friend wanted me to come to the Sister School and tell a Nun that there was an emergency and his mother had to have him home right away. At ten thirty AM I marched into the Sister School and told the first Nun I saw that I was there to give a message to my friend’s teacher that “Bob” I don’t want to put his whole name in here he is still alive, that he has to go home right away, his Mother needs him. The Nun went off down the hall, Then in a few moments all hell broke loose, Jesus Christ, down the hall comes this six foot, two hundred pound Nun, she had a pointer in her hand and she was screaming at me, “don’t you move”, yeah right, Godzilla was charging at me and she was telling me not to move, I took off, out the little alley I went between the church and the school and ran into the park on Lake St, this gigantic monster was still after me waving her pointer and screaming, I can just imagine what would of happened if there had been a Cops car going by, between the Cops and this screaming mad women that was chasing me they would have beat me to death right there in the Park. Thank God I escaped.
I went back up to our Corner and found out that the Cops had picked my friend up earlier at the school, it seems he had broken into the Wilson Meat Packing Co the night before and the watchman had recognized him and told the cops. Later in life when we were a lot older we would often tell this story to each other, if he reads this he will get a good laugh, maybe with his great grandchildren.
The depression was a bad time, the Mothers in our neighborhood spent a lot of time in the Blessed Sacrament in those days, most likely praying, things were pretty rough for some in the Village.
There are many stories that could be told about the Blessed Sacrament and the people that worshipped there, many of them were christened there, married there and were buried from there. Many Village Parents went there to pray for their sons that were fighting in Europe and the Pacific during WWII and some went there to pray when they were told that their sons would not be coming home. The Blessed Sacrament was as much a part of the neighborhood as the family homes were.
The Convent for the church was one block up on Erie St, as a young teenager I worked on an Ice Wagon, we used to deliver Ice to this Convent and would always get a cold drink from one of the Nuns.
When a long standing church closes its doors for good, part of the neighborhood Dies.
Most all of the people that I knew who were members of this church back in the Thirties and Forties are now gone, Fathers O’Brien and Finnegan are gone, the Nun that chased me up Lake St is gone, and now, The Church is gone. The older we get, the more changes we see, some are Sad.
Red Burtt
posted by Red Burtt | 6:15 PM
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