How the Interstate Highway System changed churches

When John Ireland dedicated St. Joseph Church at North Fourth Street and Eleventh Avenue in Minneapolis on Sept. 15, 1889, it was not yet completed, but it was already beautiful. Its white brick and sandstone structure was like no other building in the city, with imposing towers on both front corners of the building. Inside, there was seating for 1,200.

Stained-glass windows threw color across white walls, which was especially impressive in the early morning. Later, the white ceiling was painted and stenciled with brightly colored murals. In 1891, an ornate altar made from Italian marble was added, standing 24 feet high and 19 feet wide.

The church was well on its way to becoming a fixture in the German American immigrant community on the North Side. St. Joseph acted as a central gathering space for local residents and played essential roles in the lives of local adults and children. The parish choir was known to present musicals like “H.M.S. Pinafore” in cooperation with neighboring parishes. During the 1910s and 1920s, the St. Joseph Athletic Club basketball team had a reputation for winning, and the club hosted its own newspaper, baseball team and football program. The club also managed a three-lane bowling alley in the basement that was expanded in the 1930s.

Over time, the neighborhood changed. Following in the footsteps of its German residents came Mexican, Italian, Puerto Rican, Hungarian and Vietnamese immigrants who made the parish their home. Overall, the parish began to age, and in 1970, St. Joseph School closed due to declining enrollment.

The construction of Interstate 94 was a pivotal event in the church’s history. The building found itself in the path of the highway, and it was purchased by the state highway department. Efforts to save or move the building had little impact because by the 1970s, most parishioners who might have advocated for the church had moved to the suburbs. Ultimately, the building was demolished in 1976.

The parish itself was moved that year to the expanding suburb of Maple Grove, where it was named St. Joseph the Worker to distinguish it from nearby parishes. About 30 families continued as parishioners of the new church, built with funds from the sale of the church in Minneapolis. Many statues, vestments and candelabras made the journey to the new building, along with the Nativity scene and four-bell carillon. The beautiful altar from the old church was segmented to make a main altar, chapel altar and baptismal font in the new building.

The parish of St. Joseph continued, but like its divided altar, it was not at all the same. Numerous parishes in the Twin Cities and across the country similarly saw their buildings razed or their parish neighborhoods separated. In north Minneapolis, the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis chose not to reopen St. Martin because, in part, of nearby highway construction. The other two parishes that served the Black community, St. Leonard of Port Maurice in south Minneapolis and St. Peter Claver in St. Paul, saw their parish communities bulldozed and fractured in the wake of the interstates.

Across the country, this pattern was repeated in Birmingham, Alabama, New Haven, Connecticut, Detroit and elsewhere. Even in Chicago, where the expressways were often intentionally routed to save church buildings, parish neighborhoods were not preserved. In Minneapolis, St. Paul and beyond, Interstate highways became a major factor in the decline of the Catholic parish neighborhood.

Luiken is a Catholic and a historian with a Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota. She loves exploring and sharing the hidden histories that touch our lives every day. A related story about the history of St. Joseph the Worker ran in the May 27 issue of The Catholic Spirit, as part of ongoing coverage of the Year of St. Joseph underway.