St. Joseph, Joliet

Posted on March 10, 2021 by admin

The iron works in Joliet might be ruins these days, but St. Joseph Catholic Church, one of the city’s major church buildings, still stands on Chicago St. downtown. It’s the second church on the site, built in 1905 to serve Slovenian immigrants, many of whom worked in the local iron and steel mills.

By the time we got there on Sunday, masses were over, and it might have been closed in the afternoon even under normal circumstances. Still, we got a good look at the exterior.

“The St. Joseph community includes Slovenian attire and music in its Masses, offers one Mass in Slovenian each month, refers to the Virgin Mary by her Slovenian name of Marija Pomagaj and holds a celebration for St. Nicholas Day, which is a tradition in Slovenia,” Shaw Media reported on the occasion of the parish’s 125th anniversary, including some interior shots.

Charles Wallace, an Irish-born Chicago architect (1871-1949), designed St. Joseph. He apparently did a fair number of churches in the Chicago area during the golden age of church building for large immigrant communities.

Across the street from the church is this building, headquarters of the Slovenian Union of America as well as the Slovenian Women’s Union of America Heritage Museum. The building dates from 1910.

Closed, of course. My kind of little museum, though, so we might visit some other time. Might visit Slovenia some other time, too, with any luck. I hear it’s a pleasant place to visit.

Spoon River Valley ’20

Posted on November 1, 2020 by admin

The weekend after Ann and I went to southern Illinois, Yuriko and I went to Fulton County, also in Illinois, but closer to home. It’s southwest of Peoria, along the Illinois River. The Spoon River also runs through the county, until it meets the Illinois.

Why Fulton County? Marketing. At least that’s part of the reason. Every year, on the first two weekends in October, an organization called the Spoon River Valley Scenic Drive Association puts on an event called the Spoon River Valley Scenic Drive Fall Festival. I heard about it some years ago.

Visitors are encouraged to drive around the county, look at the fall colors, and drop a few bucks. The association produces useful online and (probably) paper maps of the county toward those ends. So over the years, tucked back in that big mental file of mine, Minor Destinations, I had the vague idea that Fulton County had especially fine foliage. No doubt the Spoon River Valley Scenic Drive Association would appreciate the fact that that idea had been planted in my awareness of the place.

This year, the association cancelled the event. We would have missed it anyway, since we went on the third weekend of October.

We got a late start on Friday, not arriving at Lewistown, Illinois, until after dark, which is where we stayed that night, returning home Saturday night after spending the day in the area looking around. As my wont, I was up early Saturday morning (October 17) to have a look around Lewistown, seat of Fulton County.

It isn’t long before you’re at the Fulton County Courthouse.

I have to say, this is a well-written plaque there in front of the courthouse.

A brief on a now-obscure part of Illinois history, told concisely and clearly. Mentioned in passing is the 19th-century Gelena (Illinois) lead rush, and the text makes a connection to Lincoln, as historic markers in Illinois like to do.

Bits of war surplus. Now memorial bits.

Always good to look at these kinds of plaques — this one was near the cannon — even if only a half a minute or so.

Across the street from the courthouse is First Presbyterian Church.

The town gazebo.

Or maybe it’s on church property. That would technically put it that very special class of gazebos, the ecclesiastical gazebo, early ruins of which can be found in Vatican Necropolis in the Vatican City, and in Constantinople…. There I go again, writing bogus gazebo history.

Nearby is the Prairie State Bank & Trust, looking like a going concern (it is), in a basic brick bank building. Make that a basic brown brick bank building.

It’s good when alliterations work.

New Harmony, Indiana, Part 1

Posted on October 28, 2020 by admin

Almost all of our Columbus Day weekend trip — Italian Food Day, as Ann calls it — was spent in Illinois, but on October 12 as we drove north toward home, we crossed into Indiana for a visit to the town of New Harmony on the Wabash River, just across from Illinois.

The Harmony Society, originally from Württemberg, moved to the Indiana Territory in 1814 from Pennsylvania and founded the town. You could call the group utopian, but my impression (from only a dollop of reading) is that they were Lutheran separatists and chiliasts. Or you could call them Indiana Territory communists, since they held all of their property in common, before that meant being reds.

Even so, they made a go of it, prospering before selling the site and moving back to Pennsylvania in 1825 at the direction of their leader, George Rapp. “They produced quality products including textiles, rope, barrels, tin ware, leather goods, candles, bricks and much more using the latest machinery and technology available,” the Visit New Harmony web site says.

“Because beverages were in demand [I’ll bet] in neighboring and river towns, wine, whiskey and beer were produced in large quantities. The daily production of whiskey was about 32 gallons and 500 gallons of beer were brewed every other day.”

Welch industrialist Robert Owen bought the place in the 1820s, all 2,000 acres of it, with his own utopian experience in mind. His was a more straightforward failure.

“Owen’s ‘Community of Equality,’ as the experiment was known, dissolved by 1827, ravaged by personal conflicts and the inadequacies of the community in the areas of labor and agriculture,” the University of Southern Indiana explains.

Yet the history of the town didn’t stop when the second experiment did. Scientific and other intellectual activity continued in New Harmony through much of the 19th century, and structures unusual in a Hoosier town rose throughout much of the 20th century. In our time, the restored 19th-century structures and the modernist touches of the 20th century make for an interesting amalgam.

We parked in the lot near the New Harmony Atheneum and started our walk around town.

“Clad in white porcelain panels and glass attached to a steel frame, the structure was the first major commission for the now internationally acclaimed architect Richard Meier,” Indiana Landmarks says.

“Built as a visitors’ center for the town [in 1979], the structure is designed to guide visitors along a specific route through the building, with overlaying grids offering frequent views of the surrounding buildings and countryside. From a spacious deck on the roof, visitors can look out over the town and take in views of the Wabash River.”

We would have done all that, but the Atheneum was closed — for Monday, not the pandemic. So on we went, a few leafy blocks to the Roofless Church.

The Roofless Church is behind this wall, one of four brick walls forming a rectangle.

Inside the walls.

The structure was erected by the Robert Lee Blaffer Trust, according to a plaque. Jane Blaffer Owen, Humble Oil heiress, founded the organization in honor of her oilman father, and she and her husband, Kenneth Owen, a descendant of Robert Owen, proved instrumental in reinventing New Harmony in the 20th century (she died in 2010, he in 2002).

“Further down North Street and through a gap in a brick wall there is hidden a modernist masterpiece by the architect Philip Johnson, completed in 1960,” says Atlas Obscura.

“It is called the Roofless Church and it says something about how much we expect our building to have roofs, that when people see the shingled structure in the images, they often say, ‘that’s silly, that’s a roof right there.’

“But the church is not simply that space, it is a city block sized footprint of which only a part is enclosed. The curved parabola dome is actually a protective cover for a beautiful sculpture by Jacques Lipchitz.”

Elsewhere within the perimeter of the Roofless Church are trees and benches and small gardens. The east wall has a gate.

We walked around a pond not far from the Roofless Church.

Near its edge is the Chapel of the Little Portion, built by the New Harmony Inn and Franciscan Brothers, and dedicated to St. Francis.

There’s a statue of St. Francis by the pond as well. I keep running into him. Actually, Francis and the Angel of the Sixth Seal by David Kocka.

New Harmony isn’t very large, so we wandered from the pond — past the MacLeod Barn Abbey — into the main commercial part of the town in a few minutes. There you can find some handsome restored buildings, such as the Johnson United Methodist Church.

The Opera House.

A commercial building, at least part of which dates from 1910.

A private house (I assume) with Asian design elements.

Rappite Community House No. 2, erected 1816-22.

If you own everything in common, you’re going to live in communal housing.

Two Southern Illinois Towns: Cave-in-Rock, Equality

Posted on October 27, 2020 by admin

The USPS uses the hyphens in Cave-in-Rock, Illinois. I saw the post office in the town and I documented the usage. Other signs around town were about evenly split on using hyphens.

After we visited the state park of the same name, I took a walk around town, mostly along a short stretch of Main Street, while Ann lounged around in the car.

The town’s actual main street seems to be Canal Street, but Main — which parallels the Ohio River — features the post office and Cave in Rock United Methodist Church, which doesn’t bother with the hyphens. Actually, according to the sign out front, the church doesn’t bother with “Cave in Rock” at all.

Rose’s Kountry Kitchen. Not too busy, but it was Sunday afternoon.

The River Front Opry House. Not sure if anything goes on there anymore.

Some pleasant-looking houses.

Also, art bicycles at various points near the street.
A small group of residents, acting informally, installed the bikes, reports KFVS-12. Civic-minded folks, from the look of it.

Something else about Cave-in-Rock: From 2007 to 2013, the annual Gathering of the Juggalos happened at nearby Hogrock Campgrounds. See SNL for a parody of an infomercial advertising the Gatherings of that period. Also, see a report by the FBI on the Juggalos. I have no idea whether it’s accurate, or whether the G-men had a burr up their butts for no solid reason.

Picture that, a town of 300 people inundated by 10,000 Juggalos. Guess they figured that Juggalo money spends too, despite the risk of damage to the town. Not the only hint of Insane Clown Posse I’ve run across this year.

Between Harrisburg and Shawneetown is the village of Equality, Illinois, pop. about 500. We drove down its main street, W. Lane St., then turned onto N. Calhoun St. Near the intersection of those streets, a restaurant called the Red Onion looked almost pre-pandemic busy.

Not far along Calhoun, I saw a place I wanted to stop.

The Equality water tower rises over the former site of the Gallatin County courthouse. The town was county seat for a while in the 19th century, but eventually lost that distinction. The building, later used as a school, burned down in 1894.

Under the tower is a sizable but timeworn memorial.

It honors Michael Kelly Lawler, born in County Kildare, Ireland, but who came to Gallatin County, Illinois, as a boy. A veteran of the war with Mexico, Lawler spent the Civil War in the western theater, most notably as a brigadier general leading Union troops during the Vicksburg campaign.

The state of Illinois erected the memorial in 1913, a good many years after the Gallatin County hometown general in blue had died. A plaque on the memorial lists E.M. Knoblaugh as the sculpture.

A simple Google search uncovers little about him, except the fact from the 1915 edition of Report of the Auditor of Public Accounts that the state of Illinois paid him $688.02 for service as a sculptor, and $4,210 to erect the monument, or $4,898.02 all together. In current dollars, more than $128,000, so he presumably did well in the deal.

Besides that, whoever he was, he did a fine job, especially on the relief, a lifelike visage that looks like it might have been restored sometime recently.

Shawnee National Forest ’20

Posted on October 18, 2020 by admin

During my break from posting, Arlo Stribling was born to my nephew Dees and his wife Eden in Austin. Congratulations to the new parents, here’s hoping the boy is a joy. Best regards to little Arlo, an emissary to a future my generation will not see.

On the afternoon of Friday, October 9, Ann and I went southward for a visit in and around Shawnee National Forest, which stretches in large patches — in typical national forest style — from the Ohio River to the Mississippi, or vice versa, occupying a lot of extreme southern Illinois. We looked around the east part of the forest. The weather turned out to be flawless for such a little trip, warm and partly cloudy.

We spent the first night in Mattoon, Illinois, continuing southward the next morning. The first place we went on Saturday morning wasn’t in southeast Illinois, but further west: Carbondale, visiting Castle Park, or more formally Jeremy Rochman Memorial Park, on the outskirts of town. Afterwards, we looked around Southern Illinois State University, and saw the nearby Buckminster Fuller House. A domed house, of course.

Heading east on Illinois 13, we eventually made our way as far east as that road goes, Old Shawneetown, a husk of a formerly much more populous place on the banks of the Ohio, and home to the Shawneetown State Bank Historic Site. We spent the next two nights in Harrisburg, Illinois, which bills itself as the Gateway to the Shawnee National Forest.

On Sunday, we drove the roads of the southeast part of the forest, climbed a modest flagstone path to a grand vista — the Garden of the Gods — hiked along a small lake surrounded by trees approaching their peak coloration, climbed a bluff via a CCC staircase, and visited a large cave entrance facing the Ohio River at Cave-in-Rock State Park.

Small, winding roads pass through the national forest, rising and falling, flanked alternately by walls of trees and expanses of flat farmland, post-harvest but before a winter freeze. Towns come in the sizes small, smaller and hamlet. In that part of Illinois, sometimes known as Little Egypt, small white churches are a common sight, more Baptist than any other denomination. Not quite as common, but enough in evidence were abandoned structures: farmhouses, gas stations, motels, restaurants and shops. If it were up to the people who put up political signs in that part of the country, the president would be re-elected by a wide margin. A smattering of Confederate battle flags were flying here and there.

Traffic is at a trickle on those roads most of the time. That made for easy, and sometimes picturesque, driving. Car commercial driving, I told Ann.

On Monday, Columbus Day Observed, that lightest, most gossamer of all national holidays, we headed home, with one major short detour into Indiana, to visit the town of New Harmony. The 19th-century utopian colonies there might have failed (two! count ’em, two utopian experiments), but the town has succeeded in being highly pleasant and intriguing everywhere you look in our time. Also, a famed theologian is buried there, in as much as theologians get fame.

As mentioned above, we didn’t spend much time in Mattoon. But early on Saturday I got up and looked around for a few minutes. The town looks frayed, buffeted by the contraction of U.S. manufacturing and the vagaries of the farming industry and the rural economy as a whole.

The town’s relatively greater prosperity in the early 20th century is reflected in its cemetery. A sizable place, the Dodge Grove Cemetery measures about 60 acres and has 20,000 permanent residents, including three Civil War generals and 260 soldiers from that war, one of whom is an unknown Confederate. There’s a story in that last detail, probably lost to time.

Blazes of fall color rise in places.

According to Find a Grave, only one of those Civil War generals counts as a notable burial in Dodge Grove, James Milton True, commander of the 62nd Illinois Volunteer Infantry. I like the other major item on his CV: U.S. consul in Kingston, Ontario in the 1870s.

That hints at some pull with the postwar federal government, probably based on connections he made during the war, or because he became a local politico who could deliver votes. Or both. Seems like a plumb diplomatic assignment in the 19th century: no language skills necessary, close enough to home that you can visit periodically, and no danger of catching malaria or some other dreaded tropical disease.

I didn’t see his grave. I didn’t know he was there till later. I did see the Pythias obelisk.

Erected by
Palestine Lodge No. 46
Knights of Pythias
In Memory of
Deceased Members
1929

I’ve encountered vestiges of the Knights before, such as in Atlanta, Illinois. I associated them with an earlier time, the sort of organization that George Babbitt might have mentioned in passing as having a chapter in Zenith. But no: the Knights of Pythias are still around, though at much diminished numbers.

Still around, and up with the times. “The Summer 2020 Edition of the Pythian International is now online,” the fraternal org’s web site says. “It includes information on the rescheduled Supreme Convention, Oct. 1-6.”

As I was about to leave, I spotted this stone.
A heartbreaker of a stone. Though I’m sure combat deaths didn’t quite stop exactly at 11 am on the 11th, since even modern armies with good internal communications can’t stop on a dime. Still, the day before the Armistice. Damn.

I don’t know why I’m surprised any more at anything online, but I was surprised to find a local newspaper account of Lawrence Riddle’s last days, though it doesn’t specify how he died (and this too: a niece that he never knew). In the article, the most attention is paid to Riddle’s participation in combat during the days before his death, charging a German machine gun position with four other men. They seized the position and brought back prisoners.

I wonder whether the Germans, eager to surrender at this point in the war, were making it easy for the raiders, or whether the Americans faced bitter-enders who were still playing for keeps. Either way, a clear act of bravery on the part of Riddle and the others.

Churches by Bus ’15

Posted on September 27, 2020 by admin

No Open House Chicago this year, as you’d expect; no Chicago Architecture Center bus tours or house walks or Doors Open Milwaukee either. For some time now, those events have often been part of fall for us, such as in 2013 or 2014 or 2017 or last year.

Five years ago we took a Chicago Architecture Foundation (as it was then) bus tour of six Chicagoland churches. The other day I took a look at the images from then.
Such as at the First United Methodist Church in Park Ridge, including docent Jack pointing out some feature.
A detail from the church’s stained glass.
Next was the Holy Resurrection Serbian Orthodox Cathedral. A bell hangs outside.
A plaque next to the bell tower explains, in English and Serbian, that the bell was cast in 1908 and formerly hung at a Serbian Orthodox church in Chicago. “[It] has been placed in this tower so that it may once again peal with joy at weddings and baptisms, announce the commencement of church services, and sadly toll at the passing of our parishioners,” the plaque says.

A detail of the bronze front doors.
A prelate I didn’t know. Now I do.
St. Joseph the Betrothed Ukrainian Catholic Church.
Near the main structure is an outdoor shrine to Our Lady of Hoshiv.“The icon in the grotto is a modern replica of the miraculous icon of Our Lady of Hoshiv, considered by many Ukrainians to be a special place of pilgrimage,” the church web site notes.

“The original icon was painted at the beginning of the 18th century, and during the Turkish and Tatar incursions in Ukraine was taken to Hoshiv for safety.

“In Hoshiv, the icon began to miraculously glow with a great halo, as witnessed by many locals and their priest. After the glow subsided, there were tears on Our Lady’s face.

“After this miracle, the people petitioned Metropolitan Lev Sheptytsky to transfer the icon to a ‘holy place’ and it was moved to the Basilian monastery of Yasna Hora (Bright Mountain) in Hoshiv. There the miraculous nature of this icon continued to reveal itself with many documented healings.

“The Grotto of Our Lady of Hoshiv that stands next to St. Joseph Church was built in 1961-1962, and was dedicated in May 1962 by Bishop Jaroslaw Gabro.”

Outside Our Lady of Hope in Rosemont is, was, a patch of elephant ears.
The church isn’t overwrought with stained glass, but there is some.
Much more stained glass can be found at St. Luke’s Lutheran Church in Park Ridge.

One church we visited but which I didn’t post about — I don’t remember why — was Mary, Seat of Wisdom, also in Park Ridge.

Interesting stained glass, not quite like I’ve seen elsewhere.

Mosaics. Or was it a painting that looks like a mosaic? I don’t remember.
Another detail I liked.
The Eye of Providence clearly belongs in a church, and maybe even on the dollar bill, but it would be interesting if it popped up randomly in public places. Just to give people something to think about.

La Crosse Walkabouts

Posted on September 13, 2020 by admin

Last Sunday I woke fairly early, because there are only a few good reasons for doing such a thing, such as catching a plane or looking around somewhere new while other members of your family sleep.

I drove to historic downtown La Crosse for a closer look. The first place I stopped was on 3rd Street S., across from The Library.
That was worth a chuckle. As far as I can tell from The Library’s web site, it isn’t a book bar — there are such things, I’ve heard — but an ordinary student bar, though the site is a little vague on that point.

From there I walked around a square block of La Crosse’s handsome historic core, full of late 19th- and early 20th-century buildings that have found 21st-century uses. Besides bars — a fair number of those — there are restaurants, coffee shops, specialty shops, music venues and professional offices.

Such as along the east side streetscape on 3rd, between Main and Pearl.
The Rodolf Building the west side of 3rd., dating from the late 1860s and early ’70s.
The State Bank of La Crosse on Main St., dating from 1885. It’s an impressive pile.
The streetscape along 4th St.
And along Pearl St.
There are a variety of shops in the old buildings, including some unexpected ones. Such as a saddlery on 3rd.
There’s a book store on Pearl that didn’t used to be a book store. According to the mosaic at the entrance, you could buy shoes there once upon a time.

Arenz Shoes had eight locations in the region as recently as the 1970s, but the last one, in Sparta, Wisconsin, is closing even now. The Pearl St. location was a shoe store from 1903 to 1992.

This promise of sustenance made me smile.

That’s just a small sample of the charms of historic downtown La Crosse. Much more about the buildings is here, though unfortunately without any pictures.

Next I drove east on Market St. until I came to St. Rose Convent and Viterbo University, which are adjacent. I stopped on Market and took another walk around a city block, through the university campus as well as near the convent.
The entrance to the convent, looking like an academic building.
On a street called Franciscan Way — Viterbo is run by Franciscans — is San Damiano Chapel, which, as part of the university, I assume takes some inspiration from the church of that name near Assisi. It was closed.

Down the block to the east is Mary of the Angels Chapel, which is part of the convent. The view from the west.
The view from the south.
Above one of the entrances, maybe the main one. It too was closed.
The campus features a number of statues, including “Dancing Francis,” by Paul Granlun.

A work that’s still yet exudes motion. Francis inspires poses in motion. I didn’t realize until I read about this statue that Francis is depicted standing on a crescent moon.

Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, La Crosse

Posted on September 9, 2020 by admin

Turn off of U.S. 14 as you approach La Crosse, Wisconsin, from the east, and a small road goes a short way to the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe. The shrine is no small affair, but rather a complex of buildings and sites, including a large shrine church, chapels, statues, memorials, devotion areas, the Stations of the Cross, a rosary walk, and a visitors center plus cafe and gift shop, mostly along a winding walking path through hilly, wooded territory.

Roughly 100 acres, I’ve read, and while it looks like a rural setting, according to Google Maps, the boundaries of the city of La Crosse reach down to the south like a dogleg to include the area around the shrine. Maybe the Diocese persuaded the City to annex the land, to facilitate city services.

Why La Crosse? As far as I can tell, because the former Bishop of La Crosse, lately Cardinal Raymond Leo Burke, really wanted a shrine. He asked permission of the Holy See, which agreed, though I like to think that at the bottom of one communique or another, the Vatican also said, you figure out how to pay for it.

Whatever the case, funds were obtained and construction began in 2004, with the shrine dedicated in 2008. So in the long history of Catholicism, the place is spanking new.

We arrived mid-afternoon on Saturday. Almost at once the curving path offers a nice view of the surrounding Driftless Area (and the parking lot).
The first structure on the path is the Mother of Good Counsel Votive Candle Chapel, designed by the locally based River Architects, who have done a number of religious structures.
I didn’t count them, but I’ve read there are 576 votive candles inside the chapel.
Further along the path are devotional areas, including one featuring Saint Kateri Tekakwitha, Lily of the Mohawks, with a bronze by artist Cynthia Hitschler.
Around a bend is the Memorial to the Unborn, also by River Architects.Nearby is a plaza fronting the Shrine Church, a design using stone from Minnesota and Wisconsin by Duncan Stroik, another specialist in sacred spaces. The interior takes inspiration from St. Mary Major in Rome.On the side walls are paintings, mostly of saints, along with reliquaries in glass cases under the paintings. I encountered one of Bl. Miguel Agustin Pro, S.J., with a reliquary containing one of his first-class relics, though the sign didn’t say what.
I’d encountered him before, in wood, but without any relics.

Ottawa Sights (Not the One in Canada)

Posted on July 28, 2020 by admin

We arrived in Ottawa, Illinois, on Saturday in time for lunch. We decided on carry-out from Thai Cafe on Columbus St., which seems to be the only Thai joint in town. At a population of 18,000 or so, maybe that’s all Ottawa can support.

We took our food to Allen Park, a municipal park on the south bank of the Illinois, and found a picnic shelter. The river’s large and on a weekend in July, home to a lot of pleasure craft.
Sometimes, the river must be angry, such as on April 19, 2013. Got a lot of rain in northern Illinois about then, so I believe it.

Downstream a bit is the Ottawa Rail Bridge, which rates a page in Wikipedia. The current bridge dates from 1898, though it was modified in 1932.

Two large metal sculptures rise in the park, both by Mary Meinz Fanning. The red one is “Bending.”
The yellow one is “Reclining.”
“Fanning was the driving force behind the creation of the red and yellow steel sculptures at Allen Park by the Illinois River in Ottawa,” says a 2010 article in The Times, which seems to be a local paper.

“The 40-foot-tall sculptures, which weigh 17 tons each, were erected in 1982 and 1983 from parts of the 1933-built steel girder Hilliard Bridge that was demolished in 1982 to make way for the present-day Veterans Memorial Bridge. Fanning died of illness Nov. 4, 1995, in Ottawa at age 48.”

Just as you enter the park, you also see a wooden sculpture: one of artist Peter Toth’s “Whispering Giants,” which I’d forgotten I’d heard of till I looked him up again. The one in Allen Park is Ho-Ma-Sjah-Nah-Zhee-Ga or, more ordinarily, No. 61.

Looked familiar. I realized I’ve seen one before —
That one is Nee-Gaw-Nee-Gaw-Bow or No. 59, and we saw it by chance in Wakefield, Mich. about three years ago. Apparently the artist has put up at least one in each state.

Ottawa has a place in U.S. history mainly for two things. One that the town is happy to celebrate: the first Lincoln-Douglas debate in 1858. The other is the awful story of the Radium Girls, poisoned by luminous paint at a clock factory in Ottawa in the early 20th century. For a long time, there was no public acknowledgment of that incident. Now there is. But I didn’t know the Radium Girls have a statue in town (since 2011), so we missed that.

We didn’t miss the site of the Lincoln-Douglas debate, which is in the shady, square-block Washington Park.
Lincoln and Douglas are there as part of a fountain to memorialize the event. They were cast in bronze in 2002 by Rebecca Childers Caleel.
It would have been more pleasant if the fountain were on, but maybe it was dry for public health reasons in our time. The noontime heat was oppressive, so we didn’t have a leisurely look-around the area as much as we might have otherwise. There are other memorials in the park, and plenty of historic structures nearby, forming the Washington Park Historic District.

Those buildings include the Third District Appellate Court Building (1850s), the Reddick Mansion (1850s), the Ottawa First Congregational Church (1870), Christ Episcopal Church (1871), and a Masonic Temple (1910). A few blocks away, the LaSalle County Courthouse looked interesting, too, but we only drove by.

I managed to take a close look only at the former Congregational Church building.

Gothic Revival in brick. These days, the church is part of the Open Table United Church of Christ.

Kek Lok Si Temple, Penang

Posted on July 12, 2020 by admin

In July 1994 we spent a pleasant, and sweaty, few days in Panang. In George Town, that is. To avoid confusion: Panang is one of the 13 states of the federation of Malaysia, consisting of Penang Island in the Straits of Malacca, and a mainland component called Seberang Perai. George Town is capital of the state, located on Penang Island. UNESCO tapped its historic core — long after we visited — as a World Heritage Site, along with Malacca. I just thought it was a charming old dump.

“Georgetown turned out to be a low-rise, whitewashed, somewhat seedy town, good for walking after the heat of the day died down, and early in the morning,” I wrote about the visit. “I took a couple of good walks before Yuriko woke. Over the next few days [we] took in Ft. Cornwallis (nice clock tower), wandered around the Komtar Mall, saw the Kek Lok Sri [sic] temple, climbing its pagoda, swam at Batu Ferringhi beach, and rode the cable railway up Penang Hill.”

Here’s the view of George Town from Kek Lok Si, which is on a high hill in the suburb of Air Itam.

I’m surprised I didn’t take a picture from below, but that’s the way things were in those days — limited film, as opposed to the practical infinity of digital images.

“Ayer Itam’s most recognizable landmark is the Kek Lok Si temple. Also known as the Temple of Supreme Bliss, it is the largest Buddhist temple in Malaysia,” says Penang 500 Early Postcards. “The founder of KLS was Abbot Beow Lean (1844-1907), from the Kushan Abbey in Fujian, China… The KLS, sited at the foot of the Penang hills, consists of many prayer halls, pavilions, carved pillars, tortoise and fish ponds, and flower gardens linked by winding and ascending pathways.”

Along with a pagoda in a mix of styles: Chinese, Thai and Burmese. It’s behind Yuriko here.

And what’s a Buddhist temple without some Buddharūpa?

This monumental statue, depicting Guanyin, didn’t exist — or at least wasn’t in its present physical form — when we visited. As I understand it, Guanyin is a bodhisattva associated with compassion. Sounds like a good fellow to have around.

Been There, Seen That

By Dees Stribling

Tag Archives: religious sites