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St. Boniface
 


Status: Closed, Former Catholic

Founded: 1866
Construction: 1872
Closed: 2006

Diamond & Hancock Streets
Philadelphia, PA 19122
 
Where Is It?


Diamond & Hancock Streets, in the West Kensington section of North / Northeast Philadelphia.
The Skinny


Welcome to the *Abandoned* Philadelphia Church Project! I realized some time ago that, in the interest of presenting you the best in Philly's religious architecture, I shouldn’t only limit my excursions to open, active churches. After all, as we’ve seen, churches close all the time. Why should a closed church be any less worthy? Sometimes they’re more worthy. The Philly landscape is dotted with abandoned churches that, in many ways, were more inherently beautiful than any we’ve seen so far.

Of course, judging them is going to be difficult, since they’re often horrible shells of their former selves. Luckily, the Project enjoys a good challenge.

Church Project Theorem #18: The Long Goodbye

The far nastier flip side to Caveat Emptor, this theorem references any church that does not change hands and does not find itself at the business end of a bulldozer. The Long Goodbye is just that—a church that sits idle, slowly rotting away until the end of time. Or until it finally caves in on itself. Either way, it’s a terrible, undignified reward for years of noble service. And unlike Caveat Emptor, which is the ultimate representation of urban renewal, The Long Goodbye is quite the opposite: a visible, prominent example of blight that mars a landscape and signals to all who see it that its particular area has seen much better days.

It’s quite a shame, really. Boniface, by all accounts, was a pretty fine church specimen, albeit one that’s incredibly creepy. There’s a reason I once termed it the Church of My Nightmares. The Gothic brownstone construction and jagged ornamentation really give it a dark vibe, perfectly suitable for the days when the Roman Catholic Church really put the fear of God into you. (If Hollywood is looking for the perfect setting for a horror movie, this is it.) It’s also a pretty good size, although the lack of any real steeples makes it seem a little squat.

As for the interior, there’s nothing left to really see. Once upon a time, though, this church was stunning. Take a look at this lovely blue-and-gold masterpiece:

The image comes from a 1950s- or 1960s-era parish postcard. Age and digital translation haven't been kind to it, but it's good enough to get the point across.

Sad that we could let something like this go to waste, eh? Utterly shameful.

UPDATE:

Church architecture devotee and Church Project fan Bill notified me that much of St. Boniface's ornamentation has found new homes. The stations of the cross, two side altars and a picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Help are going into the Cathedral Basilica of Sts. Peter and Paul. Meanwhile, he has reason to believe that the main altar, stained glass windows and other accoutrements are headed to the new church of Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta in Limerick, PA.

Sure, it's not ideal, but at least some parts of this beloved church will live on. Bill also asserts that Boniface did, once upon a time, have a real steeple on top. Unfortunately, it was struck by lightning and never replaced.

What Happened?


The reasons for The Long Goodbye can be varied, but it usually comes about because a building or property is unsellable. This might be because the area is so bad that no one, not even fringe groups, will touch it. But it’s more likely because the buildings are in such poor shape that the cost of buying and restoring them is prohibitive.

That’s certainly the case with Boniface. I’ve referenced this church a couple of times, most notably during our visit to Our Lady of Hope, as the poster child for the necessity of church upkeep—and the dangers of ignoring it. Boniface is noteworthy as being, thus far, the last victim of the North Philadelphia Swath of Destruction. It closed in 2006, lasting much longer than many of its contemporaries, most of which closed in 1993.

But its longevity came at a price, as the church found itself literally crumbling from the inside out. Its numbers weren’t bad, especially since its West Kensington location, within spitting distance of Temple University, isn’t particularly great. But the declining attendance meant the church fell behind on its upkeep, and things starting going south. There are accounts of how, in its last days, the church erected scaffolding to keep pieces of the building from falling off and hitting people, and how the stained glass windows were removed and replaced with Plexiglas at least a year before the official closing because the lead filling had gotten so bad that they started falling apart.

The Archdiocese, in its official letter, pinpointed the blame on the fact that the church is made of brownstone, which only “has a serviceable life of 100 years.” Yeah, ok. The Basilica is made of brownstone, and you don’t see that going anywhere. It likely has more to do with the fact that repairs carried a $7 million dollar price tag, and the Archdiocese had no interest in sinking that much money into a flailing parish in the middle of West Kensington. I can’t say I really blame them, although they certainly should have stepped in long before it got to that point.

Had Boniface been in better shape, it might still be open, since there was still life left. It’s sad, but commendable that the parish lasted as long as it did.

One other update: As Bill so helpfully reminded me, the Redemptorist order, not the Archdiocese, technically had control of St. Boniface. Still, as the letter shows, the decision was made jointly.

Oh, and the Redemptorists still made out ok. Once Boniface closed, they were handed the reigns to the parish that absorbed it: Visitation B.V.M.

Travel Tidbits


The church is not hard to find, as it’s about 10 or so blocks behind Temple’s main campus. Of course, that means it’s not an altogether carefree trip, despite your proximity to much nicer Fishtown. The area is a little sketchy. The Project didn’t encounter any real problems during a brief visit, but there definitely is an uncomfortable vibe, even during the middle of the day.

That said, it’s an interesting complex to explore, especially if you venture back behind the church and the rectory and so forth. If possible, don’t go alone, though, and most certainly don’t go after dark.
Interesting Note


I mentioned the protective scaffolding, and it is indeed still there along the front of the building. Oddly, though, during an earlier fact-finding mission, the scaffolding had vanished, allowing visitors a chance to walk up to the front doors and peer in to the scarred, stripped interior. The reappearance of the scaffolding means that it’s much harder to look inside. Truly resourceful people can still do it, but you have to get innovative.

Either way, it’s worth your while to do so. There are few sights as sad, and as stunning, as the wasted interior of an abandoned church.
The Final Word


If only the Project had started a year earlier.


 

© 2007 Philadelphia Church Project