Students restoring iconic church on Hudson River
NEWBURGH, N.Y. - NEWBURGH, N.Y. (AP) — The Dutch Reformed Church was a proud symbol of this bustling river city in the 19th century.
Looking like a Greek temple lording over the Hudson River from a high bluff, architect Alexander Jackson Davis said his building showed "the taste, discrimination, and sense of classical beauty, of the inhabitants of Newburgh."
More recently, it became a symbol of a struggling city. It was abandoned and worn down.
The National Historic Landmark continues to be slowly restored this summer, but with a twist. Work is being done by local high school students, some who barely knew a joist from a rafter before this summer field school began.
Advocates who want to turn the dilapidated church into a theater say putting the teens to work is a twofer: not only is the church restoration continued, but young residents who might not have given the building a second glance are learning to appreciate a local architectural gem.
"I've seen the building for about 10 years — because that's how long I lived here — and I never noticed this as something having potential for Newburgh," said Matthew Farmer, a senior at Newburgh Free Academy, during a break from work.
Farmer is among 12 students at the school wearing hard hats and drawing paychecks for a six-week field school aimed at showing them the basics of restoration and carpentry. The World Monuments Fund is paying $70,000 for the program. The entire price tag for the restoration is expected to cost roughly $17 million and take years.
The high school juniors and seniors are focusing this summer on the altar, which was damaged in a fire. On a recent morning, students took turns hammering nails into boards that were being secured to charred joists under the altar. The students whoop when — after many whacks — a nail is fully sunk. Learning carpentry skills is important, but enthusiasm from the novice workers is crucial too.
"You can pay for its restoration, but if the community doesn't support the resource, it's going to be back in bad condition in a couple of years," said Amy Freitag, director of U.S. programs for the World Monuments Fund.
The Greek Revival church opened in 1837, a time when public buildings going up across the country looked like they were plucked from ancient Athens. Fifty feet high at the peak of its pediment, the church's most striking feature is a portico with four columns thick as redwoods. The wood pillars used to be coated with sand, complementing outer walls of field stone covered with stucco; the building looked like it was made of stone.
"It would have looked like the Parthenon," said Stuart Sachs, vice president of the Newburgh Preservation Association.
Newburgh, like a lot of Northeast industrial cites, suffered a long slow slide in the second half of the 20th century. By 1967, the church's flock abandoned the grand old building. It barely escaped the wrecking ball. A theater group used the church from 1977 to 1984, but it has been empty since then.
Today, Newburgh is a small city (around 31,000 people) with some big-city problems. About a quarter of the families live below the poverty line and boarded-up buildings can be found on street after street.
The church was named a National Historic Landmark in 2001. The World Monuments Fund added it to its list of 100 most endangered sites in 2005.
The Dutch Reformed Church today is beaten, but not down. Pews remain in rigid rows even if portions of the tall windows are boarded up. The robin's egg blue paint inside is peeling, but the structure is sound. The expansive space would make a natural theater, if public and private advocates can raise $17 million in the coming years.
"Can you imagine a 700-seat theater here, with summer stock?" asked Sachs, a sculptor who splits his time between Brooklyn and Newburgh.
Sachs sees the church restoration, which began a few years ago, as part of a larger rebirth of his adopted city. Newburgh is rich in beautiful 19th century architecture and boasts a restored riverside avenue that buzzes with life on warm weekends. The church — literally and figuratively — sits between the decaying and the reborn sections of the city.
The student restorers' goals seem more modest: get paid to do something fun with their friends. Students interviewed recently said they will likely leave historic restoration behind after this summer. But at least one wants to return to the church someday.
"I plan to come back and do a performance myself," student Julian McMillian said. "Maybe rap or some R&B."
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