Opinion: Destruction of Smith Baker Center is Short Sighted Suicide

By Cameron DaCosta

This piece is a guest contribution from UMass Lowell Class of 2022 alumnus Cameron DaCosta. The views and opinions expressed herein are the author’s own, and do not necessarily reflect those of Richard Howe Jr.

I want to begin this letter by making one thing perfectly clear: I am not a Lowell resident. Though I may be a proud graduate of the state university which sits within your borders and will be a proud River Hawk for the remainder of my days, I have virtually no say in the goings-on of this city on any level. I cannot vote here, and I am not permitted to speak before the City Council. This last is of particular relevance given what unfolded in its Chamber on the evening of January 14, where a 6-2 vote was cast in favor of demolishing a longstanding historic landmark.

I’m referring, of course, to the First Congregational Church, now better known as the Smith Baker Center.

Opened in 1884, the large red brick building located directly across the street from City Hall is a magnificent example of Victorian Gothic architecture, easily among the finest in the Merrimack Valley and perhaps even all of New England. Though it features soaring vaulted ceilings and a large pipe organ like one might expect to find in sister structures of the same age and purpose, many similarities to fellow cathedrals end there. The Smith Baker Center showcases several atypical design choices for a church, the most notable of which is its nave. Rather than being a long, single level hall cordoned off by numerous stone pillars – as Lowell’s own Saint Patrick’s or Immaculate Conception Churches are – it is a wide-open, two-level auditorium more closely resembling a theater than a house of worship. The millwork present is stunning, as are the large stained glass windows adorning the building’s west, north, and east walls. These too are unique, for they do not depict Bible passages, but rather colorful geometric patterns. In fact, the entire structure presents a stunning lack of religious iconography, save for a lone cross on the roof. This was a deliberate choice made by both the Congregation and the building’s architects Merrill & Cutler, emphasizing that community connections and togetherness were equally as important to belief in God.

In 1968, the First Congregational Church merged with Christ Church United and sold their sanctuary to the City of Lowell, who in turn used it as a senior center and rechristened the structure in honor of its original pastor, the Reverend Smith Baker. The new millennium brought about the opening of a new facility for the Council on Aging, which resulted in the vacating of their Merrimack Street home in 2002. Unfortunately, it has sat unoccupied and slowly decaying since then, drawing concern from local historians and chagrin from local officials. In 2021, the Lowell Fire Department affixed two red ‘X’ placards on the building’s facade, declaring that in the event of a fire they would only fight it from the outside unless someone was confirmed to be trapped within, while 2023 saw the closure of both sidewalks and parking spots on the adjacent Cardinal O’Connell Parkway due to the potential hazard of falling debris. In March of 2024, a structural assessment was ordered via City Council motion, but because the wheels of government often turn agonizingly slow, such work did not take place until October, and only this past month did we learn the results.

Yet, all that seemed to truly matter from within the thirty-six-page document – dutifully assembled by Gale Associates of Bedford, NH – were the dollar signs.

That Tuesday evening, two aspects of the Smith Baker Center’s current state were repeatedly bludgeoned into the public record with about as much subtlety as a train horn: its lengthy abandonment and the price tag to stabilize the aging building, which came in at between $3.5 to $4 million dollars. Many within the Council Chamber feverishly hyper fixated on the latter especially, considering those numbers too astronomical to be worth investing. Councilor John Descoteaux called the structure “an embarrassment,” noting his focus on the need to address Lowell’s growing housing crisis, while Councilor Erik Gitschier stated that preservation would be antithetical to “moving this city forward.”

I’ll readily admit, I have no intimate knowledge of the precise processes it would take to bring this church back to life. However, having read through Gale’s report, I don’t recall seeing any texts or warnings that indicate the building is too far gone. Yes, there are numerous hazards and deficiencies within the Smith Baker Center from a structural perspective alone – plus a possible flurry of biohazards from lead paint, asbestos, mold, and animal droppings – but nowhere does the document state that anything inside is beyond repair. Yes, the potential for falling debris is an immediate threat which has already been observed, but nowhere in the document is it said that the building itself is in imminent danger of collapse. Yes, the structure is currently unsafe for the public to enter – and granted, many of its components were either inaccessible or obscured by decoration during Gale’s analysis – but nowhere does their report mention any issue with the building being impossible to remediate.

Perhaps I missed something, but if I were a betting man, I’d wager that many Lowell residents advocating for the Smith Baker Center’s destruction have missed an even more crucial detail: the big picture.

The Mill City is no stranger to the daunting task of giving new life to architectural treasures that many other municipalities wouldn’t have even given a passing glance. The fact that so many other abandoned historic buildings have been brought back from the dead within Lowell’s borders – many of which were far larger and in far worse condition than the Smith Baker Center is now – is a testament to the ingenuity of preservation-minded leadership presented in those projects, and the will required to bring them to fruition. Of course, this way of thinking is a comparatively recent development, and countless other historic structures in this city were lost before such preservation-minded thinkers took the reins. The tragic reality is that not everything worth saving in Lowell has survived, but the supply which has now serves as a beacon of prosperity. It showcases to the world that the Mill City not only has reverence for its past, but is willing to defy all odds to make that past an integral part of its present and future. New buildings working in tandem with the old, not against, is precisely what has given Lowell its distinct character as a place not merely filled with structures, but being of the structures themselves.

I grew up beneath the thick leafy canopies of mature trees and confined to the quiet yet all too often sidewalk-less streets of Massachusetts suburbia, not far from the North Shore. Twenty odd years ago, an all too common belief in communities like mine was that the words ‘Lowell’ and ‘Good’ didn’t exactly go together like peanut butter and jelly. In my youth, people often shuddered at even a mere mention of the Mill City’s name, and spoke of it with either intense trepidation or outright vitriol. Yet, whenever I asked if there was anything good about Lowell, I frequently heard one particular answer:

“Well, it’s got some pretty buildings.”

In hindsight, that remark was certainly intended to damn with faint praise, but surely a point of nice looking structures wouldn’t have been brought up so much if it had no weight. As I’ve gotten older and slowly become more familiar with the city’s history, communities, and culture, I’ve learned that not only was that answer true, but that those pretty buildings may just be Lowell’s greatest asset. Amidst an otherwise floundering reputation in the eyes of small-town suburbanites, structures were a saving grace, and I would argue that they are what gave this city the means to craft its current renaissance.

Lowell is far from perfect, that much is abundantly clear. Devastating effects brought on by post-industrial downturn still linger on the streets, as does the erroneous opinion that the city contains nothing of value throughout the rest of the Commonwealth. However, the difference between Lowell at the turn of the millennium and Lowell in 2025 is night and day. Progress does not happen instantaneously, and it has taken decades of thoughtful reflection on how to right previous wrongs – plus careful management and decision making along the way – to lift the Mill City up from the doldrums. At the center of it all was a multifaceted long-running coalition of leaders who put the needs of their communities above themselves. Such efforts are ongoing and always will be, but they are bearing a bountiful harvest. This intensive labor of love is paying off in spades, but the plans which resulted in this success could not have been formed without a place to do so.

Those leaders could have discarded Lowell’s built environment in the same way that urban renewal did in the mid-20th century and constructed a town for tomorrow, but they didn’t. They recognized that the end result of paving paradise to put up parking lots was having nowhere left worth visiting and swore to never repeat such heinous mistakes. They didn’t thoughtlessly discard the past, they embraced it wholeheartedly and made history the gateway to a bright future. The blatantly misguided idea of the Mill City being worthless means less and less each year, because the Mill City itself has proven it wrong with flying colors. Eyes now turn to this slice of the Merrimack not filled with hatred, but curiosity, wondering how such success can be replicated, and we have buildings to thank for that. Architecture is, pun very much intended, the cornerstone of Lowell’s remarkable recovery.

There will be no recovery if the Smith Baker Center falls. Its demise will leave a dark stain on this city’s image, one which will persist perhaps even longer than the one hundred and forty years the building has stood for. While most have focused on the short-term financial impact of stabilizing the building, very few have paid attention to the long term ramifications that losing it would entail, or the long term economic benefit it could generate if saved. I can say with reasonable confidence that if the structure survives, it will generate more tax revenue as a mixed-use preservation project and community asset than whatever parking lot or housing development may replace it. However, I can also say with reasonable confidence that my opinions on Lowell’s finances, as a non- resident, are likely to fall on deaf ears, just as the cries to save this building have.

The Smith Baker Center could easily become the largest and brightest jewel in the crown of this city’s architectural portfolio. A reason for people from across Massachusetts, New England, the United States, and perhaps even the world, to descend into the Merrimack Valley. Instead, the Council has chosen to dethrone this city’s reputation and place an esteemed part of its heritage beneath the blade of a guillotine. The vote to demolish this building is a damning indictment of Lowell’s current ineffective leadership, who – in assuring its destruction – have displayed not only a lack of vision, but a complete disregard for the history which has given the Mill City a second chance at life. In their efforts to bring Lowell into the future, they have ironically achieved the exact opposite effect of not only stopping a potential piece of forward momentum dead in its tracks but killing it outright.

To Councilor Gitschier, I ask: in a city known and often praised for its dedication to maintaining historic structures, and in doing so balancing acknowledgement of the past with the needs of our ever evolving modern world, how is making an effort to save the Smith Baker Center incompatible with progress?

To Councilor Descoteaux, I ask: was it not Lowell City Council itself that recently voted against giving property owners the right to construct Accessory Dwelling Units, which would have afforded individual residents an opportunity to help mend the housing crisis? Does Lowell not already have hundreds of units being built that will be ready for purchase or rent within the next few years? Additionally, what is more embarrassing to look at: a vacant and decaying church that has the potential to become a symbol of Lowell’s preservation heritage if given the proper investment, or a parking lot that will eventually be replaced by an aesthetically soulless contemporary behemoth made from such cheap materials that it won’t last fifty years?

The answers are obvious.