Fraternité: Jack, Zach, and Saint Jean Baptiste

By Cameron DaCosta

May 8, 2025.

Four thousand miles away from Lowell, the eyes of the world turn to Vatican City. Within the hallowed walls of the Sistine Chapel, beneath the masterful handiwork of Michelangelo, Cardinal electors gather in seclusion to elect a successor to the late Pope Francis. White smoke emerges from the building’s chimney, signaling to the world that a new leader for the Catholic Church has been chosen. Soon after, Cardinal Robert Francis Prevost – newly ordained as Pope Leo XIV – steps onto the balcony of Saint Peter’s Basilica to greet the gathered cheering crowd, beginning a new chapter for his faithful.

Back across the Atlantic, along the Mill City’s banks of the Merrimack River, another revelation occurs. This news is not delivered with the same festivities as those unfolding at the Vatican, but in a divine coincidence, it too centers around a house of worship and new leadership. The story is cause for much celebration, for it is an answered prayer not only for local preservationists, but for the legacy of Lowell’s greatest literary son. A venerable cathedral, tying the city’s French Catholic and Beatnik communities togethers, has found a savior to secure its future.

The next chapter of Saint Jean Baptiste was about to be written, by none other than Jack Kerouac. A new benefactor had arrived to open the landmark structure’s pearly gates: country music superstar Zach Bryan.

Jack Kerouac. Even now, over a century since the novelist’s birth and more than fifty years on from his untimely death, speaking that name within the Mill City’s borders is enough to make the ground tremble beneath one’s feet. It would not be in any way hyperbole to say that Kerouac altered the course of human history, for his works helped to define mid-century American underground counterculture and give rise to the Beat Generation. The spontaneity, rhythmic structures, and philosophical musings embedded into his prose were trailblazing, and captured the imaginations of readers across the globe. Kerouac’s writings – which were often autobiographical and frequently disguised as fictitious events – provided a unique, gritty, and brutally honest look at life in both pre-and-post-World War II America. In his publications, figures including the Beatles and Bob Dylan found great inspiration. Ray Manzarek, keyboardist for The Doors, even went so far as to credit Kerouac’s On The Road as the sole reason his band existed.

Though as synonymous with counterculture as stars and stripes are to the American flag, Kerouac only begrudgingly accepted his role within the Beat Generation, and had a particular distaste for its more radical associates. He was fiercely proud of his Catholic heritage, which he held close to his heart for all his life, and the greatest testament to his faith stands in the form of the church he attended: Saint Jean Baptiste.

Located at 741 Merrimack St. – neighboring both the nearby First Congregational and Saint Patrick’s Churches – Saint Jean Baptiste is one of many magnificent Victorian-era cathedrals in Lowell. First opened and consecrated in 1896, the building is a gorgeous blend of Byzantine and Romanesque Revival stylings. Framed by two bellowers at its front facade, characterized by large arched windows, and stretching roughly one hundred feet into the sky, the structure is unquestionably one of the Mill City’s great architectural icons, yet its survival is perhaps an even greater feat than its design.

In 1912, just sixteen years after services began, a massive fire tore through the building, destroying a significant portion of its roof and leaving the nave below in ruin. Thankfully, the inferno failed to spread across the entire structure, and its stone walls – measuring approximately three feet thick – stood firm, allowing parishioners to rebuild. Over the next four years, Saint Jean’s main roof was rebuilt not from timber, but steel, and the nave beneath was transformed from three long halls cordoned off by pillars into a single cavernous open space.

It was this grand hall, a mighty phoenix reborn from the ashes, in which Jack Kerouac became an altar boy.

It was also where his journey on this Earth came to an end.

On October 24, 1969, Jack Kerouac’s casket was brought from the Archambault Funeral Home on Pawtucket St. into the nave of Saint Jean. He had died three days earlier at a hospital in Saint Petersburg, Florida, as a result of a violent hemorrhage and subsequent liver failure, at the age of 47. Dozens of mourners attended the service, and stayed with the procession to Kerouac’s final resting place at Edson Cemetery.

Saint Jean continued operations until its last mass as a French Catholic sanctuary on Sunday, June 27, 1993, officially closing its doors three days later. The building continued to serve worshippers as a home for the Nuestra Señora del Carmen church, the Boston Archdiocese’s first Latin American parish, but upon their merger with nearby Saint Patrick’s in 2004, it was fully vacated.

2006 saw Saint Jean’s acquisition by TMI Properties, who renovated two adjacent structures, including the former Rectory, into apartments. Plans were made to construct additional units within the main sanctuary – the concepts for which can still be viewed at Archinet.com – but they never came to pass and the cathedral remained untouched. It did receive maintenance when necessary, unlike its Congregationalist counterpart the Smith Baker Center further down Merrimack St., yet stood mostly empty and quiet under TMI’s ownership, save for the rare occasional use as a function hall and film set. The 2020 Disney+ exclusive movie Godmothered was shot partially within the building, as were scenes for Season 2 of The Walking Dead: Dead City, which began airing on AMC in May 2025.

In 2022, the Jack Kerouac Estate announced their plans to purchase Saint Jean and transform it into the Jack Kerouac Center, a combination performing arts venue and museum dedicated to the late author’s life. They envisioned constructing a glass extension at the front facade’s northwestern corner to host necessary upgrades such as a new stairwell and elevator, while bringing the original building up to code and leaving historic fixtures intact. Due to funding challenges and lingering after effects from the pandemic, the project sputtered out of the gate, but fortunes began to turn in October 2024 when an investor revealed his interest.

Zach Bryan – a name that has been taking the country music world by storm. Born in Japan to parents stationed with the U.S. Navy in Okinawa, Bryan’s home stateside became Oologah, Oklahoma, where he began to write songs as a teenager. His interest in music continued through his own Naval career, during which he began recording solo performances and uploading them to YouTube in 2017. These videos were his first steps towards fame, and two years later, his debut album DeAnn was released. In 2021, Bryan performed at the Grand Ole Opry for the first time, and in 2022, his third album American Heartbreak debuted at number five on the Billboard 200. One of its six singles, Something In The Orange, became a breakout hit, cementing Bryan’s status as one of country’s brightest young stars.

Later in 2022, Bryan released another single titled Burn, Burn, Burn. It was, just as Ray Manzarek and The Doors were, inspired by Kerouac’s pièce-de-résistance On The Road. This inspiration eventually led Bryan to contact the Kerouac Estate in October 2024, which became the first domino to fall in a series of behind-the-scenes negotiations we will never be privy to that ultimately culminated in their May 8 announcement.

In another coincidence, albeit one perhaps less divine, that was when I first stepped through the doors of Saint Jean. Saturday, October 26, to be specific. Exactly fifty-five years and two days since Kerouac’s funeral.

A week prior, I had reached out to the Lowell Historic Board to ask if there was any way to gain legal access to the cathedral. I’m an amateur photographer with a particular focus on vacant structures, and given Saint Jean’s then uncertain future, I wanted to help preserve a photographic record of its existence. A previous inquiry I had made regarding doing the same for the Smith Baker Center was declined due to safety concerns, so I was expecting a similar rejection, but to my shock the Board said they’d reach out to Saint Jean’s ownership. I was connected to the property’s manager, who agreed to let me in so long as I provided my photos to TMI for them to use. Needless to say, I accepted that deal immediately.

To start the outing, I was given a brief tour of TMI’s offices in the building and their associated attic, along with the basement and nave of the main sanctuary. However, due to urgent leasing business, my guide had no choice but to go to his desk, leaving me to explore at my own pace.

For two hours, I had free rein within and complete control of an entire cathedral. For two hours, Saint Jean Baptiste was mine, and mine alone.

This structure, to say the least, is nothing short of spectacular. It is an incredible testament to the efforts of Victorian-era architects who, by lovingly crafting such stunning beauty, nobly dedicated themselves to lifting others towards the heavens. The experience of first setting foot inside the nave, and being greeted by nothing but open air between myself and an almost entirely freestanding vaulted ceiling sixty feet above was dizzying. The columns at the altar which support arches in the center of three half domes – themselves a remnant of the nave’s original layout – are so massive that they seem capable of holding up the sky itself. Sunshine pours in through large arching windows like water through a sieve, completely eliminating the need for any artificial lighting during the day. A grand rose window, one of the only surviving pieces of stained glass in the nave itself, emits a glorious display of colors, and is framed by a pipe organ so immense its size almost defies logic.

I hope that one day, as this church enters its new life, I’ll get to hear those pipes roar.

Lowell is at a crossroads in many respects, but particularly in its physical environments. As a city, it is widely regarded and renowned for its commitment to historic preservation and allowing the architecture of yesteryear to intertwine with that of the future, but that reputation isn’t ironclad. Previous efforts to save treasured buildings helped lay the groundwork for Lowell’s ongoing revival, and these places have become treasures idolized by local communities of all shapes and sizes. Yet even now, more icons are at risk – including the aforementioned Smith Baker Center and both former courthouses – and Lowell could well be poised to lose its historic identity in the future.

With that in mind, the news of Saint Jean Baptiste finding salvation is more than a welcome relief. It is further proof of a reality that Lowell is intimately familiar with: history and progress are not incompatible. In fact, what came before can often be a vital part of making what comes next even better.

As I stood alone in the center of the nave, with nothing to accompany me but light and silence, I gazed skyward towards the rose window and pipe organ. Slowly, I raised my arms above my head, and then threw my hands together. As my palms collided, a deep, sharp crack erupted from between them, followed immediately by a brief but thunderous echo.

If there is a God, I imagine the sound which emanated from that impact was exactly what he heard upon creating the universe.

Perhaps it will also be the sound the Kerouac Estate hears upon creating this amazing structure’s future.

Vive Lowell. Vive Saint Jean Baptiste.