Lack of vision among business, political leaders, and the city’s building department, created the latest insomnia.
Walter Potenza
Food is dear to my heart but decided to share something different today-related to architecture. What do I know about architecture? Nothing, but my father wanted me to become one while in Italy. Eventually jumped into history and food, which I found much more rewarding.
Living on Federal Hill in Providence’s Little Italy can be very exciting, whether you are Italian or love everything Italian. This town within a city offers unique perspectives: great restaurants, vibrant nightlife, impressive noise levels. On the hill, you are always awake; the place doesn’t sleep. Then, the people, the language, the aromas all wrapped around a community of social isolation. Here on the Westside, we rarely cross the river.
When tourists visit and ask for directions to the Eastside, we often discourage them: “why would you want to go there? “There is nothing there other than colleges and universities. That’s right; we don’t cross the river, we are just fine hanging around here. We may send our kids to cross the river for formal education, but for everything else that includes history, culture, and Italian charm, the hill is the place.
Where else would anyone learn the language of sounds?. Unscripted and not writeable dialects made of just whispers and hands gestures?. But the romantic book on the hill also contains dark pages, intertwined in its history of urban legends, which we will leave to others to analyze.
In the 90s, Mayor Cianci took on an arduous task to revitalize ward 13. The territory includes all of Federal Hill and portions of the West End. Federal Hill received its name in 1788 to commemorate the ratification of the Constitution by 9 of the 13 states. During the late seventies, many of the buildings were sold to out-of-state investors with a limited vision, turning the neighborhood into a war zone. They coined the phrase, “let’s make money and run.” The damage, however, was repairable.
Unoccupied addresses, boarded-up facades, and structural decadence prevailed, in creating a sense of decay and abandonment. But the mayor’s resilience eventually succeeded. Obtained low-interest grants and dispersed the funds to many of us with one objective: to purchase and revitalize all the buildings on the ward. Federal Hill made a complete turnaround and became nationally recognized as a prominent Italian immigration colony in the land.
The progress brought business and visibility but probably occurred too fast. We were unable to manage the immediate success properly, and frankly never had substantial cooperation among the business and political leaders. We did not get along, because the “my garden mentality,” prevailed. Watch my front door, compete with my neighbors as opposed to selling the brand nationally, attracting outsider investors and visitors. We rested on the idea of “if you build it, they will come.” Any new entity needs a plan, and we did not have one in place. In business, you go nowhere without an open mind and aggressive expansion prospects. The lack of vision prohibited the creation of signage and facade uniformity, a tourist center, and even worst, the non-implementation of solid guidelines for the new businesses that followed.
We embraced Florida styled architecture while hiding the history, thus removing the original character from the Italian settlement born in 1886. Vinyl covering or stucco window dresses about 78% of the refurbished buildings on Federal Hill. I still cannot comprehend the logic of emulating Florida; it has no history, New England does. I can only think of one reason: quick and cheap, which brings me to the heart of this writing.
Federal Hill had three significant churches, leading with the Holy Ghost Parish being the first Italian Catholic church in North America. It was built at the turn of the 20th Century, providing religious services for the community. Eventually, parishioners grew, and the need to add another spiritual center to the ward.
Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church, erected in 1925, serving a population of 18,000 parishioners, mostly Italian-Americans. The congregation dwindled to 200-300 people, and the church indefinably closed in 2015.
In June 2016, the Providence Diocese announced that the closure would be permanent and that the congregation would merge with Church of the Holy Ghost, its counterpart anchor at the west end of Atwells Avenue.
This Italian Renaissance structure features an elaborate façade and prominent campanile, or arcaded bell tower. The bright and modern stained glass windows are the product of a significant 1967 interior refurbishment, overseen by the Reverend Monsignor Galliano J. Cavallaro himself. Monsignor Cavallaro’s bust now stands across his beloved church.
The shrinking number of congregants coincided with mounting debt and deferred maintenance of the building, including mold and lead abatement, roof repairs, and bringing the property into fire code compliance. The closure, therefore, was in large part due to engineering, health, and safety concerns. The complex joined the Providence Landmark District-Industrial and Commercial list in 2017.
The church, rectory, and adjacent park was purchase in 2019 for $800,000. As of now, the removed park host two mixed-use structures of apartments and businesses. The Omni Group is investing in Federal Hill with great vision and substantial investments. Garibaldi Park and Bradford are two uniquely different improvements, conforming with the local architecture and decor. The community is genuinely appreciative of the positive changes.
But the project of Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church offers obvious mistakes made. Removing greenery, such as a park in the middle of a condensed neighborhood, is never a positive move. The local community can certainly enjoy Garibaldi and Saint John’s parks. Still, there is probably not enough green space for a large number of visitors throughout the year, especially during national conferences.
The new structures resting on the former park are a stark reminder of what can happen when the city’s officials approve a horrific design that completely disregards the existing surrounding. Covered with cement board and partial brick bottom, the two constructions lack details around the windows and other crucial areas.
It’s challenging to define the intended style. I am hoping that the finished project will contradict me; right now, the new additions remind me of Navy barracks at Quonset Point. While I understand the return on investment by the Omni Group and future tax revenues to the city, more scrutiny and money was desperately needed, in developing a site with a particular affinity, complementing the neighborhood.
Visually blocking a historical landmark such as Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church with cement boards-covered buildings is unfathomable. The design is in tune with the Floridian “modus operandi,” nightmare, and probably won’t be noticed. But for someone like me living here, and “in my face,” every day may be the latest architecture negligence committed on Federal Hill. Reverend Monsignor Galliano J. Cavallaro is not turning in his grave. He’s coming out of it.
