By Brad Tuttle
Author of How Newark Became Newark: The Rise, Fall, and Rebirth of an American City
St. Lucy's Church, in Newark, is an obvious, direct link to the city's past. And now some of its parishioners worry that link may disappear. The blocks around the church in the North Ward have been razed, rebuilt, razed and rebuilt again, and yet the church remains much as it looked in the early 20th century. One chapter of my book revolves around the church and its neighborhood, which used to be overwhelmingly Italian and known as the First Ward.
Post-World War II urban renewal projects dramatically transformed the neighborhood, but even as public housing projects and racial tensions pushed the old families off to the suburbs, plenty of St. Lucy parishioners never gave up on their church, or its pastor, Monsignor Joseph Granato, who grew up nearby and has been at the parish since 1955. Today's parishioners are a mix of local residents and folks who now live in Belleville or Livingston or Bloomfield but who make the weekly pilgrimage for Sunday mass. Their children get married at the church, and their grandchildren are still baptized here. Why? Tradition, for one reason. Their parents or grandparents knew the monsignor when he was a young priest everyone simply called Father Joe.
Now, many parishioners worry that St. Lucy's traditions are in jeopardy. Under Monsignor Granato, the church has remained decidedly old school. Latin masses are still offered, and parishioners kneel at the altar railing to receive the Eucharist on their tongues. Now, after threatening to do so for years, the Archdiocese will be naming a new pastor. Who that will be, and what will become of the monsignor, are weighing heavily on parishioners' minds, as the Star-Ledger recently reported.
The transfer of power is striking a nerve with people for many reasons, including one that is largely symbolic. In the course of my research, I met with dozens of St. Lucy church members and attended mass there occasionally. What fascinated me most was not the devoutness of the parishioners, but what literally drove them to this particular church. It went beyond religion, incorporating familial duty, honor, and tradition as well. The feeling was something like: We've lost the neighborhood, but we will not lose this church. We owe it to our ancestors to keep this place alive.
So a changing of the guard is of huge concern to St. Lucy's loyalists, especially because there have only been three pastors in its long history. Father Gaetano Ruggiero, St. Lucy's second pastor, is one of the main players in my book's chapter about urban renewal. To the anger of local politicians and housing officials, Ruggiero spoke out bravely and defiantly about the 1950s projects, which forced some 1,300 families and dozens of businesses out of the neighborhood. But with the federal government putting up much of the money for the projects, and local union workers and connected firms expected to reap in large profits during the demolition and construction, nothing could stop urban renewal in the old First Ward, or in Newark as a whole.
The Italian families who moved out of the First Ward often left broken-hearted, as I learned while talking in-depth with St. Lucy's parishioners and by reading Michael Immerso's popular book, Newark's Little Italy: The Vanished First Ward.
Now, many of those same families are hoping their spirits won't be crushed yet again.
To hear more from Brad R. Tuttle, listen to a recent interview with the author at WBGO.
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