A Date to Remember- July 3, 1831

St. Patrick Church, 1831 in Irish Catholic Genesis of Lowell

From Bishop Fenwick’s Diary: The Bishop this day performs the ceremony of dedication of the catholic Church in Lowell, under the auspices of St Patrick.  The Very Rev Dr O'Flaherty preaches on the occasion & the Rev Mr Mahoney celebrates Mass.  An immense concourse of people attend of all denominations, as also many Catholics from Boston.  The large open space around the Church is literally covered by those unable to obtain place in the Church.  The Choir is conducted by singers chiefly from Boston who volunteered on the occasion.  In the afternoon the Bishop administers the holy sacrament of Confirmation to thirty nine persons.  The weather is excessively hot.  The Church at Lowell is 70 feet by 40 & is neatly finished in the Gothick style.  

July 3^rd, 1831.  The dedication of Lowell’s first Catholic church (only the third in all of New England) received but a single sentence in the Lowell Mercury.  More space was given to elections in Kentucky or rowdiness of certain boys in the city.  Other cites’ newspapers gave more space to the event than did the Mercury.  

The day was exceptionally warm.  Dr. O'Flaherty who gave the sermon was the preeminent Catholic speaker of his day.  The Catholic Miscellany (the forerunner of The Pilot) stated that the Catholic population was about a thousand people in 1831, and 2 to 3 thousand showed up for the dedication.  The church was likely constructed by the Irish workers who made up the Paddy Camps.  It was made of wood with a stone basement.  The top of the steeple was surmounted by a gold orb and cross.  (The top of the cross is among the prized artifacts in the parish archives.)  Surely the steeple was one of the tallest buildings in the town of Lowell and made a bold statement to the Yankee population.  

In the afternoon the bishop confirmed 39 candidates.  It was a busy day for the Bishop with Benediction and Vespers rounding out the day.  The Miscellany concluded by saying, "May Lowell enroll it among the happiest days of her history."

Interestingly, just weeks before the Mercury gave detailed accounts over several days of the troubles in the Acre while the church was being constructed.  In May of 1831, several groups of trouble makers (some say unemployed men, others say out-of-towners) made threats upon the Paddy Camps with threats of burning down the church which was under construction.  

Father Mahoney of St Mary’s church in Salem MA had been assigned as the visiting priest prior to the church being built. Poor Mahoney had a wide circuit, probably on horseback, of riding through different towns during the week to celebrate Mass.  Bishop Fenwick made him pastor in Lowell to the disappointment of those in Salem.

When the church was opened in July of 1831 it was already too small for the growing congregation.  People traveled as far as Nashua and Groton to attend Mass.  If Mahoney knew what was in his future he may have told the Bishop no thanks.  Within a short time, trouble within the Irish community brewed to the point of in-fighting between those who came from different counties in Ireland, problems with his new curate, and problems with fundraising for extensions and paying workers.

It’s good for us who claim Irish roots to remember this date and to remember those who went through trials and tribulations so that we can be here today.  For 185 years St. Patrick’s has been a landmark in the Acre continuing the mission of those who started our story.  May they be remembered.

Dedication- July 3, 1831

From: Irish Catholic Genesis
of Lowell, by G. O'Dwyer

The town of Lowell was a busy place that July of 1831.  Preparations were in place for festivities to celebrate the 4^th.  The Mechanic Phalanx was preparing a grand meal along with a reading of the Declaration of Independence.  Other citizens were in deep discussions debating if Belvidere should be annexed to Lowell.  Reverend Edson was preparing his homily for Sunday.  The doings of President Andrew Jackson and talk of temperance were popular topics heard in the streets.  The shops along Merrimack and Lowell Streets were busy with buyers making their purchases before closing for the Sabbath on the 3^rd.

In the Acre things were just as busy.  For a year the neighborhood had been watching the progress of the first Catholic church to be built in the city, and only the third in Massachusetts.  The agent for the Corporation, Kirk Boott, had donated a parcel of land on which to build.  Just weeks before a series of riots broke out along Lowell Street with some Yankees calling to burn down the church.  Others called for calm.  Michael Connelly had overseen the foundation and construction with frequent check-ins with Bishop Fenwick.  The two would later have a number of discussions about payment for labors rendered.  Slowly, but surely, the 70’x40’ wooden church rose.  The tower surmounted by a golden orb and cross was in stark contrast to the surrounding shanties.   At this point there were about 500 people living in the Paddy Camps.  Already it had gotten a reputation for being rather seedy with its make-shift cabins and pigs running between the alleys that passed for streets.  The little church had outgrown itself even before it opened. 

The Bishop, along with Rev. Dr O’Flaherty, the well known orator, arrived the day before having taken a carriage from Boston.  The two would spend the night at the Stone Tavern near the falls.  The weather that day of July 3^rd of 1831 was unusually hot, but that did not deter the crowds.  Over one hundred singers from the Cathedral choir came by stage to provide the music for the Mass.  Edward Kitts, the shoemaker, Miss Catherine Hogan, a teacher in the Irish School, and Mr. Hector, all of Lowell, also accompanied the Boston choir.  The pastor assigned to the new Catholic Church was John Mahoney, who had been serving the Lowell community for several years and had just been informed that he would not be returning to his previous post as pastor in Salem.  When Fr. Mahoney arrived a few years before to celebrate the first Mass, some of the Irish wept to hear their mother tongue being spoken.

Many of those in attendance for the dedication were likely among the first pioneers who traveled from Charlestown to build the foundations for the mills and widen the canals.  There was Cummiskey, Murray, McManus, Smith, Green, Fitzpatrick- all of them surely vying for a front pew.  The pews would be auctioned off at a later date to help defray the cost of building extensions to the church just 2 years later.  The church could not hold the crowds that showed up.  It was filled to overflowing with the open area around Fenwick Street packed with spectators as well.  Some reported that the crowd surpassed two or three thousand.  Considering the entire population of Lowell was about 7,000 at this time, it must have been quite a crowd.  The Bishop claimed the church under the patronage of Saint Patrick and anointed the altar with sacred oils.  Reverend O’Flaherty chose his sermon from the Book of Chronicles. “I have chosen this place to be a house of sacrifice and prayer.”   O’Flaherty was well known throughout the area as a gifted speaker and thus many Protestants attended just to hear his address.

The heat persisted through the afternoon when the priests and Bishop chanted evening Vespers.  The Bishop also confirmed 29 individuals.  The church still crowded to overflowing.  The event was recorded in newspapers across the state and even the country.  It was remarked that the church was one of the finest buildings in the city and represented things to come for the Irish and the Town of Lowell.  Surprisingly the only mention of the event in the Lowell newspapers is a single sentence in the Lowell Mercury, “The Catholic Church recently erected in this town was consecrated last Sabbath with appropriate services.”  The Irish were here to stay.

The Parish has a single remaining artifact from that original church.  When the wooden structure was dismantled to make way for the present structure the lead construction man was given a piece of the cross that topped the tower of the church.  Luckily a thoughtful collector returned the item to the church where it is in safe keeping.  We are always looking for pieces of our past that fills in the jigsaw puzzle of our story.  Can you help us? Family photos, business advertisements, graduation diplomas, musical programs, newspaper articles, class pictures, school uniforms, First Communion certificates…….  All tell a part of the story of the Acre.  So many have told us of what they thought was worthless, yet could tell us so much.  A picture can be worth a thousand words.

Growing Pains: the "other" Catholic Church

Detail fr. Acre scene

If the good Lord meant for the Sabbath to be a day of rest, the Irish of the Chapel Hill area may not have agreed.  Being Irish and being Catholic meant only one thing on any given Sunday morning, walking almost two miles and back to attend Mass over at St. Patrick’s Church.    And if you were a really good Catholic you went back in the afternoon for Benediction and Vespers.   When the St. Patrick’s opened in 1831 conditions were already crowded.  Extensions were built onto the church a few years later, but with the growing numbers of Irish entering the city even that was not enough.

In July of 1841 Bishop Fenwick came to St Patrick’s to confirm 60 young men and women.  The church was overcrowded, and before the end of the ceremony he asked the parishioners to consider building a new church.  At the close of the afternoon service he stayed to discuss the proposition with interested parties.  The excessive heat of the day did not deter the crowd.  Forty-two men rose immediately and each promised $100, which would be applied to purchasing their pew once the new church was built.  That night $5,400 was pledged.    Yet, not everything was kosher.

Bishop Fenwick

There’s something odd about the Bishop’s story.  He says the crowds gave him the idea for a new church, but the next day finds him in a carriage scouting out a piece of land he had his eyes on.  He appointed the curate of St. Pat’s, Father Conway, to purchase the plot as soon as possible.  One wonders if something else was going on here.  Did the Bishop know about the land beforehand?  Why was the curate put in charge of the purchase, and not the pastor of St. Patrick’s, Fr. McDermott?  There were rumors, lots of them.  Not everyone liked the good pastor.  There were certain financially, solvent men who wanted a split.  Many of the men who stood that day to support the Bishop had homes in the Acre.  Why would they pay for a new church?  The Bishop’s notes tell of a number of visits of Fr. Conway to the Bishop’s residence.  Why?  Then there was the visit by a number of the St. Pat’s congregation to air their “grievances” about the new church being built, and that they would “retard as much as possible the progress.”  The Bishop “remonstrated” against the unnecessary noise” and dismissed them.

The church would be built.  (More to follow next week.)

So, where is the Acre?

Detail of section of the Acre, Map of Lowell, 1850
Lowell Historical Society

You don’t know how many times I’ve been asked that question.    I’ve been fortunate to work with the Tsongas Industrial History Center and their summer programs for teachers from across the US.  Each year the Center, under Director Sheila Kirschbaum, invites teachers from across the US to come and learn about the Lowell story, share their teaching expertise, and return to their school districts perhaps with a new sense of understanding history.  Historian Gray Fitzimons and I lead the participants on a walking tour of the Acre neighborhood.  On the previous days the teachers are brought to museums, boat tours, and hands-on workshops.  On their final day we show them the working people’s story.  It’s often mentioned that this is a highlight of the trip.  Why?  If you have walked through the Acre you might be able to answer the question yourself.  It’s alive!  There’s history there in between the traffic and Acre residents.  But time and time again, the question is asked, “Where is the Acre?”

There’s the political Acre.  The historical Acre.  The cultural Acre.  Ask a half dozen people for boundary lines; you’ll get half a dozen different answers.  Just try looking up maps produced by the city and organizations throughout the decades.  The Acre is more a state of mind than a political division.

The Acre is often listed as the original settlement of the first Irish in Lowell.  Well, where was that first settlement?  There are a few sources of that first settlement.  One says there was a camp of Irish behind where the Pollard Library is today about 1822.  The settlement is mentioned as having tents and crude shelters.  Another writer mentions that there were 40 Irish here who walked from the camp to the falls each day carrying the tools of their trade, while the citizens stared on.  These Irish workers would walk by Kirk Boott’s home (where the former St Joseph Hospital stands) and the gentleman himself would often oversee the work of the laborers as they widened and deepened the canals.    Was this the Acre?
We also know that there was a settlement around the area of Market St. (then called Lowell St.) and Lewis Street.  There is little proof today that this was an Irish settlement, and its consistent use over the decades, along with the building of the Housing, probably obliterated any artifacts that could have been uncovered.  The people who settled here were from the west of Ireland, Connaught.  Though in the beginning their numbers were not large, the Irish often settled with people from their own province or county.  This section was actually referred to as the Half Acre.  So this wasn’t the Acre either.

There was yet another section, and this one was referred to as the Acre.  It was the area around Cork and Dublin Streets (formerly Marion and Lagrange Streets).  Those from the southwest of Ireland settled here.  It was a larger settlement first described in the Niles Register of 1831, which our Parish Archives owns an original copy.  The description reads:

In the suburbs of Lowell, within a few rods of the canals, is a settlement, called by some, New Dublin, which occupies rather more than an acre of ground.  It contains a population of not far from 500 Irish, who dwell in about 100 cabins, from 7 to 10 feet in height, built of slabs and rough boards; a fire-place made of stone, in one end, topped out with two or three flour barrels or lime casks.  In a central situation, is the school house, built in the same style of the dwelling-houses, turfed up to the eaves with a window in one end, and small holes in two sides for the admission of air and light.  In this room are collected together perhaps 150 children.

So there is our Acre, or is it?

But say you, what of the story my father told me?  The one where Kirk Boott asks his Irish maid, Mrs. Winters, how to control her fellow countrymen?  Her response is to get a priest to which Mr. Boot befriends Bishop Fenwick.  The two decide this is a good move, and the Corporation donates an acre of land.  What of this story?  It’s got some truth in there.  The story was passed down and not recorded for many years after the event supposedly took place, so we’re not sure of the details.  But the facts need some work.  Benedict did pay for the land.  The cost was $1.  There wasn’t an acre of land; the deed called for 8140 feet. 

Paddy Camp Deed, Archives of St Patrick Parish

The next part of the story has to do with the placement of the church.  The story goes on to say that the decision was made to put the church between the two groups that often broke out into fists to cuffs.  That’s probably based in fact since both parties were aware of the problems the Irish were causing for themselves and the new mill town, and a solution had to be sought.  And that’s why Saint Patrick’s Church is located where it is today.

Over the years the Irish population grew, the separate sections melded into each other.  The area becomes known as the Paddy Camps and evolves into the Acre.  The Acre today is still evolving.  The names and faces have changed, but the stories continue.

The Bishop's Problem

Benedict Fenwick had a problem.  The growing parish in Lowell was comprised of upstarts and trouble makers.  Being the second Bishop of Boston, he had to maintain a delicate balance.  He represented the Catholic presence in Yankee Boston.  While courting the Brahmins of Boston, he needed to meet the needs of the ever growing Irish population that stretched from the deep woods and Indian strongholds of Maine, down the to the mill towns springing up along New England rivers, over to the choked streets of Charlestown, and to the fishing villages of the Atlantic.  All of this with a handful of priests.  It meant a different life from his upbringing.

Bishop Fenwick



The Benedict family was one of the great families of Maryland, founded as a sort of refuge for Catholics.  Because of persecutions against Catholics, his family left England and became major landholders in the colony.  He could have had a life of ease, but chose the seminary, namely the Jesuits.  Soon he was a professor at Georgetown and later a leading prelate in New York City.  He was assigned to help heal divisions in South Carolina.  Probably because of the success he had there, upon the return of Bishop Cheverus to France, Fenwick was elevated to the rank of Bishop.  Donning the purple robes of his status, his ecclesiastical ring and cross, he left to encounter the trials of his life.

He was now the prelate for one of the major dioceses in the United States, but he also knew of Boston’s past.  Christmas, at one time, was banned and still was not fashionable at Fenwick’s time.  Bonfires and burning the Pope’s effigy was still being practiced on the fifth of November, though not as violently as in the previous century.  The trees that filled Boston Common once held the bodies of his fellow Jesuits in Boston’s earliest Puritan era.  Though many of these practices were no longer observed, there was an underlying bias against anything Papist, and with the growing number of Catholics, Boston was on edge.   

In 1831, Lowell was his pride and joy.  The Corporations gave land for a church and later a cemetery.  The numbers justified a full time priest, Father Mahoney.  The church was dedicated in July of that year with imposing ceremonies.  Regular reports were coming in.  While the offertory collections weren’t great, Fenwick had hopes.  A major challenge faced Fenwick when the Ursuline Convent in Charlestown was burnt by an anti-Catholic mob in 1834.  Just days later, news arrived that the Catholic Burial Ground in Lowell was desecrated.



Things go from bad to worse.  The new pastor that Fenwick appoints to Lowell does not seem to be performing his duties.  Though just a few years old, St Patrick Church is too small for the numbers.  Expansions are planned, but the carpenters refuse to work.  Funds that were promised to fund the work do not show up.  He sends priests to Lowell to investigate allegations.  The response is not good.  No money.  Rowdy parishioners.  Priest not showing up for Mass!  There’s trouble in the mill city. 

Fenwick makes several trips by train and stage to check on conditions.  Fenwick recommends that the priest “goes on a spiritual retreat.” Parishioners threaten him with withholding the collections if their priest is replaced.  Fenwick wants the work on the church done.  He writes in his diary that he is afraid Lowell will not make it.  His stomach is upset.  He decides to raise funds by selling pews with disappointing results.  He replaces the pastor even after the threats of some of the more affluent parishioners.  (This same priest returns to Lowell months later, and Fenwick reports the priest is no longer one of his flock.)  They literally board up the church.  The new cleric, Father McDermott, awaits a welcoming committee at the train station that never shows.  He walks to the church and finds he is barred from entering.  He physically removes the boards.  Fenwick has a headache.



We’re fortunate that we have Bishop Fenwick’s actual words to tell us what was going on.  While you could see it as a 19^th century soap opera, it reminds us they really lived.  It personalizes the people whose lives have influenced where we live.  It’s important to remember that they were human with hopes and fears, times of laughter, days of woe.  And headaches.