Church of St. Luke

Inner city Chicago is not the best place to hunt for grand Mid-Century architectural statements. Nonetheless, at 1500 W. Belmont, just east of Ashland, you'll find one of the region's most fantastic post-war churches.



Ground was broken for the Evangelical Lutheran Church of St. Luke in April 1959 after two years of planning, and the building - designed by Chicago architect Charles A. Stahl - was dedicated in October 1960.

The St. Luke campus has a complicated history. The congregation has met at this location since its founding in 1884, originally in a fairly stock brick Gothic building with a central tower. In 1905, a new school building was erected next door. Though the school building retained its original facade when the new sanctuary went up, subsequent additions and alterations have rendered it almost unrecognizable.¹.

The 1950s church bears what might be a trace of Frank Lloyd Wright's ubiquitous influence - but St. Luke is indisputably a vertical building - soaring as any Gothic cathedral, tall and narrow within. Long wood laminate beams rise straight up, turning at their top to support the shallow gabled ceiling.



The choir loft is a balcony in the form of a bridge at the rear of the sanctuary, spanning between the walls and supported only on the sides. This enables the back of the sanctuary, behind the balcony, to function as a grand foyer, connected to the main space but somewhat separated from it as well. This foyer space is as tall as the main sanctuary.







A second balcony functions as the children's choir loft; it is a small room on the west side of the sanctuary overlooking the altar.

The Church of St. Luke is wonderfully artful - literally. The congregation holds a substantial art collection - and the sanctuary features both permanent and seasonally rotating elements that complement and enhance the space. Some of the more permanent elements are shown below.















The stained glass is strategically concentrated. A grand burst of rising waves of color emerges from behind the altar at the head of the sanctuary, bringing the space to its dramatic climax.

At the back of the church, facing south onto Belmont, the corners of the building are wrapped by tall, narrow windows with biblical and saintly symbols with two vines making their way sinuously skyward.





I have not found any notes on who designed or installed the stained glass - not even a signature.

An interesting postscript - the preliminary design of the church was much less ambitious, as shown in an illustration from the Chicago Tribune of March 10, 1957:



Between concept and execution, the tower was joined to the sanctuary (and now contains the stairwell leading to the balcony, as well as some dressing and storage rooms for the choir). The overall design became more sharply vertical, the materials of the shield wall in front changed from flat panels to rough-faced stone masonry, and the large text was dropped.

St. Priscilla Catholic Church

It's nothing mind-blowing from the outside, but if you know how to read your MidCentury vocabulary, you can tell there's going to be great things inside. St. Priscilla Church (6949 W. Addison, 1957) does not disappoint.



The entry hall is a long, narrow rectangular space, which extends beyond the main body of the building to form the baptistry, demarcated only by gates. This thin structure has walls of stained glass on both sides, with bold, flowing abstract designs that alternate large areas of clear glass with color.



The sanctuary is a large space, with high flat ceilings and walls adorned only by flecks of light (an approach used in St. Louis at St. Catherine of Sienna church, among others.)





Below, the stained glass windows continue the same sweeping wave-like forms seen in the chapel.



And the motif culminates in the rear window, where Saint Priscilla herself presides over the sanctuary.



Behind the altar, a massive metal screen rises up to a round skylight.





The sanctuary can be a rather moody place, depending on the time of day and how many lights are left on. But it is always beautiful.



The siting of the church lends it additional presence - it sits at the head of the T-shaped intersection of Addison and Sayre.



A school and newly completed convent already stood on the site in 1956, when Rev. Aloysius Hinterberger led the drive for a new building. Fund raising for the church building began based on a budget of $750,000 (later upped to $900,000). The new building was constructed by Charles B. Johnson & Sons, the general contractor. The new structure was dedicated on Christmas Eve, 1957. Among it better known congregants was builder Albert Schorsch, who developed large swaths of northwestern Chicago.

Today St. Priscilla Catholic Church provides Mass in both English and Polish.

St. Priscilla Church site

Chicago's Holy Corner

From the downtown intersection of Clark and Madison, you're within a two minute walk of a Catholic church, a Protestant church, and a Jewish synagogue. And all three are well worth the visit.

First United Methodist Church (The Chicago Temple)

The Chicago Temple is the tallest church building in the world, and the only skyscraper in Chicago with a religious spire. It's a 1922 design by architects Holabird & Roche, in a French Gothic style. When it opened in 1924, it was the city's tallest building.







At ground level, the wood-lined main sanctuary is open for most or all of the day; you can wander in just about any time for a look. (Being downtown, that means there's sometimes a few homeless folks hanging out in the colder months, though the forbidding entrance lobby with its security guard makes it a bit uninviting.)





Those stained glass windows are an illusion - there's no trace of them on the outside of the building, and they remain brightly illuminated day and night.





The stained glass is done in a traditional style, but with some contemporary subject matter, including Jesus blessing the skyline of the city and the highrise itself.




The sanctuary reaches some impressive heights, particularly when you consider the load of an entire skyscraper is carried above it.



But those heights pale compare to those of the Sky Chapel, just below the spire.







Long-planned, the chapel wasn't fitted out until 1952, when a bequest by the widow of the founder of the Walgreens chain made it possible. Despite the changing times, the chapel is fairly conservative in style - though the stained glass continues the theme of bizarre subject matter begun in the sanctuary below.







And once again, just in case you forget where you are...

Chicago Loop Synagogue

This Midcentury confection is slotted neatly into the street wall. Designed by architects Loebl, Schlossman and Benett in 1957, the Loop Synagogue opened its doors in 1958. The building is adorned by a 1969 sculpture entitled "The Hands of Peace" on the outside, by sculptor Henri Azaz, with stylized hands against a background of Hebrew and English letters spelling out a traditional Jewish prayer.



There's a sort of slow, deliberative elegance to this building. You can almost feel the architects pausing contemplatively, stroking their chins in thought perhaps, before finally selecting these wonderful huge wood door paddles.



Beyond those doors lies a simple passageway with offices and other spaces. The main worship space is on the second story.

The beautiful wall of stained glass was designed by American artist Abraham Rattner and installed in 1960. Based on the "let there be light" Torah passage, it depicts an abstract, metaphysical cosmos flecked with ancient Hebrew symbols.





The rest of the space is spare and clean, befitting its Modernist origins.

St. Peter's Church

Wedged between two adjoining buildings, St. Peters Catholic Church gives the impression that it was carved out from a solid rock face. Solid, planar walls contrast startlingly with deeply hewn entrances and window openings, creating one of the best facades in the city. Unlike the contemporaneous Queen of Heaven mausoleum, this 1953 church (architects: Vitzhum and Burns) shows a mix of modern and historical influences.

A three-story high crucafix by Austrian sculptor Arvid Strauss completes this compelling composition.



Like the Chicago Temple, the doors of St. Peter's are always open (again, meaning there's usually a few homeless guys hanging around, along with a smattering of curious tourists and the usual downtown office workers.) The space inside is vast, befitting the epic facade outside. Seemingly every surface is gleaming polished stone.





Deprived of natural light, the designers had to turn to other tricks to give the space a sense of holiness. Illuminated sculpture niches serve in place of stained glass windows, portraying the life of St. Francis of Assisi.



The building's lobby is notable primarily for its wonderfully ornate doors.



If you've walked past this place, take five minutes to duck inside. It's well worth the time.

A history of the church from Heavenly City at Google Books.