Take Me to Church: An Inside Look at the Smith Baker Center

By Cameron DaCosta

All photographs herein were taken by and provided courtesy of the author.

“The report of my death was an exaggeration.”

-Mark Twain

It has been one of the Mill City’s greatest points of contention for the last two decades, one which has in recent months cudgeled its way back into the public psyche. Standing directly across the street from the chamber in which so much debate has simmered regarding its future stands a true enigma of a property: the former First Congregational Church, now the Smith Baker Center.

Since 2002, the magnificent High Victorian Gothic edifice has stood without an occupant following the departure of Lowell’s Council on Aging. Its gorgeous auditorium style nave, once bustling with activity, was left to face the sands of time without a caretaker. The question of what to do with the building has been asked since even before its role as a Senior Center ended, but twenty-three years on, there is still no answer.

A 2015 Request for Proposals submission from the Coalition for a Better Acre to use the structure as a community space failed in 2018. The Lowell Fire Department affixed two red and white ‘X’ placards on its facade in 2021, officially declaring the property vacant. This, in turn, began to form a narrative that the Smith Baker Center had turned from a curiosity into an albatross. A white elephant beyond the point of repair that needed to be put to sleep. Multiple City Councilors spoke their thoughts into the public record that they believed the cathedral was falling apart at the seams, and that the time for bulldozers had arrived. The Lowell Sun ran multiple articles that acknowledged the building’s historic nature, but treated any possible prospect of saving it with significant doubt. Even with an engineering assessment in hand from Gale Associates that did not recommend demolition, or state that any of the structure’s critical components were compromised, a January 14 motion to tear it down passed by a margin of 6-2.

Two months later, on March 11, that vote was rescinded by an even wider 9-2 margin, for the specific purpose of issuing one final RFP. Even so, the pervasive mentality that the Smith Baker Center is unworthy of any further care or investment remains looming in the city like ominous overcast skies. Yet despite this, one consistent theme keeps coming up: there hasn’t been any opportunity for the public to enter in years. Unhoused individuals and curious trespassers have made unauthorized entries, necessitating the placement of plywood boards over the main entrances, but the only people who have legally entered are municipal workers, and even then those instances are rare. Importantly, this means that not one person in any position of higher authority has gone in to verify if the persistent rumors of this church being unsalvageable are actually true.

That changed on June 10 when, as part of its ongoing RFP, the building was opened for one hour so prospective buyers could tour it, under close supervision of two officers from the Lowell Police Department. In attendance were City Asset Manager George Coulouras, Historic Board Administrator Stephen Stowell, and Councilor Paul Ratha Yem.

I know they were present, because amongst the small crowd of about twelve people who participated, I was too.

I may not be an authority figure, and I cannot speak for Mr. Coulouras, Mr. Stowell, or Councilor Yem, but I have seen the Smith Baker Center as it currently stands with my own eyes. I have meandered through its many silent rooms, analyzing as much of the structure as possible. I have explored its various nooks and crannies, personally witnessing its condition along every step of the way.

Going into the tour, the pessimistic narrative surrounding this cathedral was fresh in my mind. I was at least in part convinced that the experience about to unfold before me would be the architectural equivalent of discovering a corpse. Not one considerately and thoughtfully prepared for respectful funerary services, but one found rotting in a shallow grave. A mangled desecration sickening to the senses, a once vibrant life carelessly discarded in a hideously undignified fashion. Something once sacred and cherished thoughtlessly cast aside, left to writhe in pain and die alone.

As I stepped foot into the building’s nave for the first time, the truth was revealed to me in a single, split second instant. When it clicked, I stood with my mouth agape from shock, with only two muffled words managing to exclaim themselves and escape through my respirator.

“Holy shit.”

From the moment we enter this world until the moment we leave it, we are constantly gaining knowledge. The phrase ‘you learn something new every day’ might sound cliche, but it’s a true, fundamental fact of our lives. However, there are precious few times when that learning transcends itself into something far greater and far more powerful: a revelation. Discoveries so intense and profound that they fundamentally change the way one thinks about the world around them. Some might refer to this sort of occurrence as a ‘Coming to Jesus’ moment, which I suppose is fitting given the context of this structure, but I did not find my savior as I entered this hallowed sanctuary.

What I did realize, though, was that this cathedral could.

The truth is, everything that has been said about the Smith Baker Center being beyond salvation is wrong.

That’s not to say the building is in immaculate shape, because the reality of its condition is far from that. This church has gone without maintenance and functioning utilities for over two decades, and the last time it was in use was when the United States was still in the immediate stages of grief following 9/11. Assuming the property would be anywhere close to near mint shape given its situation would be asinine. Decay has formed, certainly, and it’s abundantly clear that the process of restoring the structure will be a Herculean task. However, what’s also clear is that this building is nowhere close to the end of its useful life, and is a perfectly viable candidate for restoration efforts.

There are no indications of catastrophic failure of any kind within the structure. No signs of outward bowing from the walls, no sagging floors, no missing stairwells, no disastrous collapses, and not one area where the condition of any crucial element could be considered life threatening. If there was anything of the sort, Gale Associates would’ve recommended immediate demolition and this tour would’ve never happened, but again, they made no such statements. Astonishingly, even having lacked an occupant and major repairs for twenty-three years, the cathedral has held up well and appears to be standing firmly. In terms of physical integrity, the Smith Baker Center is, overall, remarkably intact.

There is a concept that physical spaces can hold the energy of what took place within them. While I’ve spoken with dozens if not hundreds of people who swear that this is a certainty of life just as death and taxes are, it’s always struck me as nothing more than paranormal superstition. I’ve gazed into the reflecting pools of Ground Zero, yet felt nothing. I’ve walked the battlefields of Lexington, Concord, and Gettysburg, where men died to form and defend this country, yet felt nothing. I’ve stood in the desolate corridors of an abandoned state hospital where patients suffered as victims of their own minds, and beneath beams in attics where they hanged themselves to escape the torment, yet felt nothing.

In the Smith Baker Center, I felt something.

It wasn’t pain, or agony, or a desperate cry for mercy.

It was warm.

It was the same feeling you got as a kid upon rushing into the kitchen after school to find your favorite meal waiting for you. The same feeling you got when getting a hug from your grandparents. The same feeling you get when going out for the night with your closest friends. The same feeling you get when sitting out on your back porch to relax during a quiet summer evening.

It was cozy. It was loving. It was safe.

It felt like home.

To all who are reading this, native Lowellian or not, heed my words and hold them near to your hearts and minds. With my hand to the Almighty that this cathedral once served to worship, I tell you earnestly: The Smith Baker Center is not dead, and cannot be allowed to die.

The wrecking ball is not justifiable, and to send one careening towards this landmark would be tantamount to treason. Demolition would be an unimaginable sacrifice capable of inflicting irreparable damage not only to this city’s heritage, but to its reputation. Only recently has that reputation successfully rebounded from decades of degradation, and the repairs to Lowell’s standing in the Commonwealth were built on the back of historic preservation. Within this church is a chance to uphold the values which have brought the Mill City back from the brink, and not capitalizing on the opportunity to continue such growth would be an appalling mistake.

One of the participants on the tour was an architect from Carlisle, MA, representing a developer eyeing the property for housing. While I did not directly hear this, others who did relayed to me that they said the following:

“It would be a shame to lose this.”

Even those who were there to look at the Smith Baker Center as a tear down left with at least some hesitancy to actually pursue such an outcome.

What does that tell you?

I know how cumbersome the issue of this structure has been for Lowell. It has nibbled away at the back of everyone’s mind for far too long, and the question of its ultimate fate needs to be answered sooner rather than later. Now having seen the cathedral firsthand, with my vision of its status not clouded by nostalgia but securely planted in a personally witnessed reality, I assure you: the Smith Baker Center can be saved. This building is bursting at the seams not because it is falling apart, but because it is filled to the rafters with an untapped platinum mine of potential. It is not an unsightly, unsafe albatross deserving of a date with bulldozers – it is a sleeping giant lying in wait for a chance to roar back to life and serve this city again.

I said in my previous contribution to this blog about the property that I was not a gambling man, but that I would be willing to bet that those advocating for the structure’s demolition had missed the big picture of what losing this church would entail.

I now know for a fact that the big picture of its renaissance would be even more successful than anyone could ever dream of.

If I was able to, I’d bet my life on it.

Save the Smith Baker Center.