Our visits during the 2019 Open House Chicago event on October 19 weren’t only to churches — just mostly. The opportunity was there.

In the mid-afternoon, we headed down to the Beverly neighborhood on the Southwest Side. Next year, no long drives between neighborhoods — we spent too much time jammed on the Kennedy Expressway, then the Dan Ryan Expressway. I should have known better. But the sites were worth it.

Eventually, we got to Beverly. First stop, Christ the King.

Midcentury Modern, with distinctive brass and glass, completed in 1955. Design by Fox & Fox, who are still in business.
The King of Kings indeed. Painted to look like a mosaic from the floor.
Some blocks to the south is Trinity United Methodist, designed by Ralph E. Stotzel and Edward F. Jansen.
“The present building is its 5th location, begun with the construction of the community house — the northern portion of the current building — in 1924. Construction of the Gothic sanctuary was delayed by the Great Depression, but it was completed in 1940,” says Open House.

The church also has a fine organ.

We heard it in action. According to the church, it is a Möller Pipe Organ, opus 8240, with three manuals and 26 ranks, installed in 1951. Apparently the M.P. Möller Organ Co. of Hagerstown, Md., was a busy organ-maker in its day.

As a saint, Benedict the African (1526-89), or Benedict the Moor, has enjoyed longstanding popularity in Italy, Spain and Latin America, and is also the patron saint of African-Americans. I didn’t know any of that before we visited St. Benedict the African, a church in the Englewood neighborhood of Chicago, as part of Open House Chicago on October 19, but I was going to learn.

The exterior looked unpromising. It’s a modernist design completed in 1989 by Belli & Belli. “Eight parishes were consolidated into St. Benedict the African in the 1980s, the building was designed specifically with and for its predominantly African-American community,” Open House says.
The exterior might be utilitarian, but inside is a whole other story. A whole other remarkable story. A welcoming St. Benedict is one of the first figures you see.
Fashioned from Ethiopian glass (there’s an industry there) by local artist David Csicsko to honor Benedict’s parents’ birthplace. The Sears Tower and the John Hancock building are in the background.

Not far from that window is an astonishingly large baptismal pool (too big to be called a font?). Open House claims that at 10,000 gallons, it’s one of the world’s largest.
The sanctuary is in the round.
“An inspired 200-pound, hand-woven tapestry adorns the wall behind the altar and depicts a dancing flame (the spirit of God), choppy waters (daily strife), and the broken body of Christ image as the Bread of Life,” the church says.

In wood, a depiction of St. Martin de Porres, another saint I knew nothing about before visiting the church.

More Csicsko glass. A Living Cross.
Elsewhere is another one of his windows, or a pair actually, depicting Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks and Sister Thea Bowman, the last of whom was new to me as well.

According to Open House Chicago, Our Lady of Victory is in the Portage Park neighborhood of Chicago, though it isn’t that far south of the Copernicus Center in Jefferson Park. Other sources put the church in Jefferson Park.

Never mind, Our Lady of Victory was our first church of the day during Open House. Others would follow.

Underneath the main church is a chapel. According to a parishioner on hand to talk to visitors, the chapel was completed decades before the rest of the church — 1928, designed by E. Brielmaier & Sons. Then work stopped. First there were hard times, then there was a war.

“Work on the upper church was delayed until it was finally completed in 1954,” Open House says. “The tan stone of the Spanish-style exterior was selected specifically to complement the color of the ornate terra-cotta around the original entrance.”

By this time, different architects were on the job: Meyer & Cook.“The warmth of the exterior extends to the sanctuary’s lavish tan and pink marble and terrazzo. Polychromatic details throughout, particularly in the stained glass, wooden Stations of the Cross and other painted elements contribute to a colorful and welcoming space tied together with subtle Art Deco influences.”

East of Our Lady of Victory, and east of the Kennedy Expressway in the Irving Park neighborhood, is St. Edward. I don’t know that I’ve ever visited a church named for Edward the Confessor, but there it was.
And there he is.
Quite a view, looking straight up.
The church has a similar construction history as Our Lady of Victory, except the archdiocese managed to complete it before the war. “Plans to build the current St. Edward Church began around 1926,” Open House Chicago notes.

“Construction of the lower level was completed, but the work was halted because of the Depression. Worship took place in the lower church at basement level. The upper church was completed in 1940.”

The distinctive feature of St. Edward is in the narthex. Not too many churches you can say that about.

More specifically, all around the narthex ceiling is a painted replica of the first third of the Bayeux Tapestry, done in oils by an artist named Mae Connor-Anderson and completed in 2005. It’s about 75 feet long and you have to crane your neck to appreciate it, or — as I did for a few moments — lay on the floor.

Just inside the nave a parishioner, maybe only a shade older than I am, sat at a small table with some material about the church and especially the Tapestry, mostly some photocopied sheets. I took an interest and told him that I’d seen the Tapestry. He seemed a little excited at that — not only someone who knew what it was, but who had actually seen it. He told me that he wanted to see it himself, but hadn’t gotten around to it.

So we talked some more about the Tapestry and St. Edward’s replica, and just before I left, he told me to wait a second. From under the table, he produced a professionally made 12-page booklet about the St. Edward and the Tapestry and gave it to me. The cover:
The first third was reproduced on the ceiling for reasons of space, but also because it begins with King Edward meeting Harold II — perfidious Harold, according to Norman propaganda — and ends with Edward being interred at Westminster Abbey. Other adjustments were made as well, including leaving the Latin tituli out.

An example page of the booklet:
From my perch on the floor, I was determined to get at least one image of the ceiling painting.
Who else but good King Edward?

The only place we visited during Open House Chicago on Sunday that wasn’t in the northwest part of the city or in near suburban Oak Park was Our Lady of Sorrows Basilica on the West Side. Or more formally, the Basilica of Our Lady of Sorrows.

In our time, the neighborhood is blighted. Across the street from the basilica are more modest structures.
But as mendicants, I expect the Servite Order that runs the basilica wouldn’t want to be in a posh neighborhood. The basilica itself, however, is jewel-box ornate.
Design credit is given to three gentlemen: Henry Englebert, John F. Pope, and William J. Brinkmann, with the structure going up from 1890 to 1902. I encountered a Brinkmann work earlier this year, out at Mount Carmel Cemetery.

No citation for it, but I have to mention his demise, as described by Wiki: “Brinkmann’s death was unexpected, gruesome and mysterious: his mangled, decapitated body was found on train tracks near 73rd street in February 1911… yet contradictory evidence prevented an inquest from finding a clear reason for his death or a finding of murder.
His funeral was held at St. Leo’s Church on 78th Street, a church he had himself designed in 1905. His death remains unsolved to this day.”

The AIA Guide to Chicago is succinct on the basilica: “It’s Bramante on the Boulevard — with a coffered, barrel-vaulted ceiling rising above the long nave. The stolid Classical facade is enlivened by an English Baroque steeple (its mate was destroyed by lightning).”

Looking straight up at that barrel-vaulted ceiling.
It’s familiar from a short scene in the 1987 movie version of The Untouchables. In our time, that’s easy to confirm. Sean Connery and Kevin Costner are toward the back of the very long nave. I didn’t remember that scene, since I haven’t seen the movie since it was new, but I read about it. The Chicago way, eh? The Federal way — busting Capone for tax evasion — proved more effective.

The sanctuary.
And more.

It occurs to me that it’s been a good year for visiting basilicas. Our Lady of Sorrows makes the fifth so far. Hasn’t been a matter of planning, it’s just worked out that way.