The Joplin Globe, Joplin, MO

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September 22, 2009

Mike Pound: More than a tall Catholic church

For nearly 100 years, St. Bridget’s has been more than a tall Catholic church in a small Kansas town. It has been a beacon of hope.

Ella Buzzard remembers listening to her father describe his feelings when, coming home from serving in World War II, he spotted the steeple as he neared Scammon.

“He had been wounded and sick with malaria, but he said when he saw that steeple, he knew he was home. I can vouch for that feeling, too,” she said.

Ella knows a little bit about St. Bridget’s. By day, she works at the Cherokee County Genealogical Society in Columbus. But when she’s not working, she serves as the historian for the St. Bridget’s parish. Ella recently finished a history of the church, and expects her book to be back from the printer this week — which is fortunate, because parishioners are holding a Centennial Celebration to mark the church’s first 100 years on Oct. 24 and 25.

From 7 to 9 p.m. Oct. 24, the parish hall at St. Bridget’s will open to give folks a chance to visit and reminisce. At 11 a.m. Oct. 25, a Mass will be held followed by dinner in the parish hall.

The St. Bridget’s parish was established in 1868, and the first Mass was held in a home owned by John O’Malley just east of where the church now stands. The church’s cornerstone was laid on July 7, 1907, and it was completed in 1908. Father Thomas J. Herley celebrated the first Mass in the church on Jan. 1, 1909, and the official rite of dedication was performed by Bishop J.J. Hennessy on Oct. 24, 1909.

The church was designed by G.J. Munn from Pittsburg, who modeled it after the Holy Cross Chapel at the University of Notre Dame in South Bend, Ind. Ella said that the chapel at Notre Dame has undergone several renovations over the years, so St. Bridget’s does not resemble the Holy Cross Chapel as much as it once did.

The church was built with pressed red brick from Cherryvale and with Carthage stone. It’s one of my favorite churches to visit.

I like checking out Catholic churches in smaller towns. I guess some things in life are hard to shake. The Catholic church in St. Paul, Kan., for example, is a magnificent church. So is the one in Eureka Springs, Ark. Andy Ostmeyer, here at the Globe, is from Western Kansas and he says the area out there is dotted with beautiful Catholic churches.

(By the way, this is an equal opportunity newspaper column so I would be remiss not to mention that there are lovely churches of all faiths in communities all over the country. It’s just that, growing up, I spent most of my time in Catholic churches.)

The thing that fascinates me about St. Bridget’s is that it really did serve as a focal point, not only for Scammon, but for that little corner of Southeast Kansas. Ella said it’s hard to overstate the sense of community the church brought to so many people who found themselves oceans away from their native lands.

“The steeple was built in such a way that it could be seen from any direction from town. For so many immigrants who came to work in the mines who couldn’t speak English, the church was the one thing that was familiar to them,” she said.

Today, when most folks think of Scammon, they think of Italian immigrants, but Ella said the church owes its start to the Irish, who were some of the first to call Scammon home. It’s already been noted that the first Mass in Scammon was held in John O’Malley’s home, but it should also be noted that the land the church stands on was donated by James Kennedy. And the church was named after Saint Bridget, one of three patron saints of Ireland, Ella said.

With so many folks from so many countries flocking to the area in the early part of the 20th century, St. Bridget’s served as a United Nations of sort. The people may have come from different worlds, but they had two things in common: the mines they worked and their Catholic faith.

When I think of St. Bridget’s in Scammon, I think of all of those homecomings. I think of men and women returning to Scammon from wars, from college, from hard times and from good times. I think of what it must have felt like to be a 22-year-old man coming home after years at war and seeing that chapel. I think about the tears that must have been shed and at the little flips of the heart that must have been felt when all those people saw that steeple.

That beacon of hope.

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