Original plan for St. Mary’s Cathedral with spire, circa 1853

On January 8, 1880, San Francisco’s beloved local character Emperor Norton dropped dead in front of Old St. Mary’s Cathedral. It was in some way the end of an era for the city and the cathedral of the Roman Catholic archdiocese.

The story began in 1851 when Bishop Joseph Sadoc Alemany arrived in California as bishop of Monterey-Los Angeles. He used the San Carlos presido chapel there as his pro-cathedral. In 1853 Alemany moved the pro-cathedral St. Francis Church on Vallejo Street when the Archdiocese of San Francisco was established. At the time, St. Francis and Mission Dolores were the only Catholic churches in the city. It was at St. Francis Church, then a small wooden structure, that Alemany was first welcomed as bishop. On that occasion, he spoke in English, Spanish and French; from the very beginning, ethnic diversity was a given in California.

Of course the cathedral for the diocese was to have been in Santa Barbara, but the grand plans of Bishop Thaddeus Amat never amounted to more than foundational stones being dragged to the proposed site. But plans were already afoot to build a great cathedral for San Francisco even as the archdiocese was established. The land was given by a prominent layman, John Sullivan, amid the usual criticism that the site was too far from the center of the city. Sullivan also gave land for Calvary Cemetery, St. Mary’s College on Larkin Street, Presentation Convent at Powell and Lombard, built Old St. Patrick (later the pro-cathedral) and dutifully supported many other Catholic institutions of the city. When Sullivan’s home was destroyed by fire in 1850, Bishop Alemany wrote him, “I can never forget the first $20 dollar gold piece I received in San Francisco was from your dear wife. Here is $5,000; take it, build up your houses. Repay me when you can.”

Architects William Crane and John England were retained to design the gothic revival church, originally envisioned to have a tall steeple, which was never completed. Many San Francisco residents were surprised when they answered a knock at the door to find the archbishop on their doorstep, asking for gifts to build St. Mary’s Cathedral; Alemany himself went door to door to raise the funds.

Old St. Mary’s Cathedal circa 1856

The foundation of St. Mary’s was begun and the cornerstone laid in 1853 at California and DuPont (now Grant Avenue) Streets. The stones for the foundation were cut and quarried in China. Brick was imported from New England around the horn, and local lumber was bought at highly inflated gold rush prices. To raise funds, pews were rented by auction, a common practice at the time.

Work continued feverishly through Christmas Eve of 1854, when workers were shooed out late in the evening so that the dedication could occur. The new cathedral was filled beyond capacity and a huge throng spilled out onto California Street, with rowdy San Franciscans literally hanging from the rafters of the unfinished church, their boots dangling above the crowded nave. A full orchestra provided the music for the dedication liturgy—Haydn’s Mass no. 3. Even without the steeple originally envisioned, St. Mary’s Cathedral was the tallest building west of the Mississippi and the pride of San Francisco. The full title of the church was the Cathedral of St. Mary of the Immaculate Conception; the first cathedral church in the world to bear that title, as the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception had been defined by Pius IX only 17 days before the cathedral’s dedication. It was the first church to be built as a cathedral in California.

Old St. Mary’s Cathedral circa 1870

As Civil War loomed, a controversy erupted in San Francisco over a practice that came to be known as the “flagging of churches.” The churches of the city competed with each other to raise enormous American flags to demonstrate their solidarity with the Union. This hyper-patriotic frenzy reached its peak on July 4, 1861. Newspaper editorials called on Archbishop Alemany to follow suit and display the flag in St. Mary’s Cathedral. Alemany refused. He felt the flag did not belong in a building dedicated to the worship of God.

As the city continued its exponential growth, it became apparent that a new cathedral was needed. Archbishop Alemany once again began raising funds for a new cathedral. His new coadjutor, Bishop Patrick Riordan, had been ordained bishop in Chicago in 1883. The weary Alemany—who had been begging for retirement for years—entrusted the bulk of the project to Riordan, who was named archbishop of San Francisco in 1884, much to Alemany’s relief. On May 24, 1885, Alemany wept as he celebrated his last mass at St. Mary’s Cathedral, and shortly thereafter he returned to his native Spain.

The second St. Mary’s Cathedral

The cornerstone for the new Romanesque Cathedral of St. Mary of the Assumption was laid in 1890 at the corner of Van Ness and O’Farrell in the Tenderloin District. The Chicago architectural firm of Egan and Prindeville designed the red-brick structure. Among their existing works is St. Paul’s Cathedral in Pittsburgh (1906). Archbishop Riordan declined to live in the humble two-room shack Alemany had called home, and moved to the rectory of St. John the Baptist on Eddy Street while construction of the new cathedral was underway. When the new cathedral was dedicated in 1891, that parish was suppressed and its territory became a part of the cathedral parish. Old St. Mary’s Cathedral was given to the Paulists in 1894 to run as a parish church.

The second St. Mary’s Cathedral

On the morning of April 18, 1906 an enormous earthquake shook the city. This singular event in California history wold destroy much of the city; what had not crumbled in the first temblor was likely destroyed by fires that raged throughout the city for four days. At Old St. Mary’s Cathedral, there was little damage; the cross and pediment fell from the tower, some finials fell inside, some buttresses were damaged. As a precaution, the sacred vessels, vestments and some furnishings were sent to residences on Nob Hill for safekeeping; a move that was to prove a mistake. About noon that day the flames begin to approach Old St. Mary’s. For several hours the faithful fought flames, but eventually they ran out of water and could only watch as the venerable church burned. Only the brick walls remained; the stained glass was melted and the marble high altar had turned to dust.

Old St. Mary’s Cathedral in ruins after the Great Earthquake and Fire of 1906

The new cathedral, however, had narrowly escaped destruction when the pastor and sexton climbed the tower to extinguish the flames that had broken out in the belfry. As one of the few remaining structures following the Great Earthquake and Fire, St. Mary’s Cathedral became a center of relief in the devastated city, feeding up to 2,000 people each day in the aftermath of the disaster.

Lines of hungry people up to one mile long form in front of St. Mary’s Cathedral after the Great Earthquake and Fire of 1906

It was decided that as the brick exterior of Old St. Mary’s was left largely intact after the earthquake and fire, the church would be rebuilt around the ruins. Thomas J. Welsh was retained as architect of the rebuilding. In 1909 the proto-cathedral was rededicated by Archbishop Riordan. A renovation in 1925 increased its capacity from 700 to 1300.

Interior of Old St. Mary’s after the 1925 remodeling

In 1902 the Chinese Mission was established at Old St. Mary’s, which was then in the middle of Chinatown–the first such outreach in the United States. English was taught to Chinese immigrants in the church basement and native Chinese sisters arrived to provide social services, healthcare, work for the unemployed, immigration assistance, and lunch service for children, all with the dedicated support of the Paulists.

Old St. Mary’s Cathedral in the middle of Chinatown

Both the proto-cathedral and the new cathedral on Van Ness continued to serve the city until September 6, 1962, when the new cathedral was destroyed by fire. The cathedra itself escaped destruction and was moved to Mission Dolores, where it remained until 1979, when it was placed in the chapel of Holy Cross Mausoleum in Colma.

As the “new” cathedral was destroyed, the city of San Francisco began its third effort to build a cathedral. It fell to Archbishop Joseph McGucken to construct what would become perhaps the most significant cathedral built in the United States in the 20th Century, high atop a hill above the intersection of Geary Boulevard and Gough Street in the Western Addition, overlooking the City of St. Francis. As principal architect, McGucken chose Pier Luigi Nervi, the eminent Italian modernist architect whose unique vision vivified the cathedral design, and Boston architect Pietro Belluschi, who worked with local architects Angus McSweeney, Paul A. Ryan and John Michael Lee.

The new Cathedral of St. Mary of the Assumption was dedicated on May 5, 1971 and includes in its complex a large plaza, high school, faculty residence, rectory, conference center, parish hall, a museum and underground parking. The hyperbolic paraboloid rises to the shape of a cross outlined in stained glass 189 feet high, the equivalent of an 18-story building—about the same height as Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. From the clear glass windows of the cathedral one may look out on a stunning panorama view of the entire city of St. Francis, a city whose symbol is a phoenix, the mythical bird who rose triumphant from the ashes.

On the steps of St. Mary’s Cathedral

Here are some more photos of Hagia Sophia by fellow pilgrim Fred Miller from our recent visit to Istanbul. The first is an ambo from one of the predecessor churches, located outside the main entrance. This is a wonderful example of a classical ambo characteristic of early Christian churches, with two sets of steps leading to an elevated platform where the deacon would proclaim the Gospel. I think it offers a wonderful prototype ripe for revival by modern churches as it is so well suited to the movement of procession.

Early ambo outside Hagia Sophia

Upon entering the narthex of the church, one is struck by the beautifully preserved bronze Imperial Door. The emperor had a role in the Byzantine liturgy, which was unconstricted by our modern notions of the separation of church and state. Much of the early liturgies celebrated in Hagia Sophia were influenced the Byzantine imperial court, and these liturgies in turn helped to form our Christian liturgies, especially in the case of the four major processions of the liturgy (gospel, offertory, communion and recession).

Imperial Door of Hagia Sophia

Finally, this view of the interior of Hagia Sophia gives some idea of the splendor of the church. No wonder that Justinian, upon entering the church for its dedication, was said to have proclaimed, “Solomon, I have outdone you!”

Here, the Orthodox concept of liturgy as making heaven present upon the earth was manifested in a most spectacular way. And the Roman concept of the triumph of Christianity over the former pagan state religion was emphasized by Justinian’s incorporation of the columns of the Temple of Diana at Ephesus — one of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world — as a minor detail in one corner of his temple. The large medaillion dates from the building’s conversion to a mosque and is a calligraphic representation of the name of Muhammad (peace by upon him) and the mosaic of the Theotokos as Seat of Wisdom above the apse is visible to the right.

Interior of Hagia Sophia

Late last night our weary band of interfaith pilgrims returned to Los Angeles from the Holy Land via Paris, where an Air France strike nearly stranded us in the French capital (darn!). Our time in Israel and the Palestinian Territories was memorable and life-changing, but I was not able to visit and photograph any cathedrals there, although I did briefly poke my head into the Anglican cathedral, St. George’s on Nablus Road in East Jerusalem.

However, one of our pilgrims, Fred Miller, did take some wonderful photos of St. George’s Cathedral in Istanbul, and he graciously allowed me to download them to my computer so I could share with you a better view of the interior of the seat of the Ecumenical Patriarch. (Hagia Sophia was the seat of the Ecumenical Patriarchate until 1453.)

The church was dark when we visited, as the grand chandeliers were not lighted. But this did make for some lovely lighting effects through the clear windows characteristic of Orthodox churches (as stained glass was an Islamic innovation adopted by Western medieval churches).

An interesting observation: the icon of Mary the Theotokos in its traditional place on the iconostasis was the representation of Mary on a throne known as “Seat of Wisdom,” the same representation visible above the apse of Hagia Sophia. No doubt this is a subtle nod by the Orthodox to their claim to Hagia Sophia, which was taken from them so long ago. Memories are long in this land.

Royal Door of the iconostasis in St. George’s Cathedral, Istanbul

Again, from Istanbul, I offer a couple of photos of the Hagia Sophia. Contrary to what some may assume, Hagia Sophia — also called St. Sophia in English — is not named for a saint by the name of Sophia, but is Greek for “Holy Wisdom,” a feminine title of the Holy Spirit.

Built by the Emperor Justinian in 532, it is on the site of two former cathedrals for the city of Constantinople (Istanbul), the first of which was built by Constantine and the second of which was the episcopal seat of that most famous archbishop of Constantinople, St. John Chrysostom. Constructed in only five years, the cathedral was the world’s greatest church for nearly 1,000 years. Few could begin to match its majestic splendor and immense size, with its dome reaching a height equal to an 18-story building.

Hagia Sophia influenced the design of nearly every Eastern Orthodox church constructed since its dedication, and after it was converted to a mosque in 1453 (today it is a museum, neutral ground), it also influenced the design of mosques throughout the world. It would be difficult to overstate the significance of this structure. I also wonder if even today we could match this building. With all our technology, I don’t know if we could do something like this, much less build it in five years!

When we visited Hagia Sophia yesterday, it was under renovation, but the scaffolding may give some frame of reference to appreciate the scale of the church.

Although now a museum, Hagia Sophia retains the strong aura of sacred space. One iimagines that the imperial liturgy has only just concluded, and can almost smell the last lingering clouds of incense from a thousand years ago.