Imagine standing in front of a building that seems to defy time—a structure where geometric precision meets spiritual symbolism, where the past and future collide in a single, striking form. That’s St. Mark AME Zion Church in East Chicago, a modernist marvel now teetering on the edge of decay. But here’s the thing: its survival isn’t just about bricks and mortar. It’s a battle for memory, for recognition, and for the legacy of a Black architect who dared to reshape the skyline of a segregated America. And now, a $150,000 grant from the National Trust for Historic Preservation might just be the lifeline this church—and the story it tells—needs.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how the church’s preservation is tied to the identity of its creator, Wendell Campbell. A native of East Chicago and co-founder of the National Organization of Minority Architects (NOMA), Campbell’s work was never just about design. It was about defiance. His 1973 church, with its geodesic roof and praying-hand symbolism, was a statement: Black architects could create beauty that rivaled any European modernist, even as systemic barriers sought to erase them. Personally, I think this grant is more than a financial lifeline—it’s a long-overdue acknowledgment that Black modernism isn’t a footnote in architectural history. It’s a cornerstone.
Let’s talk about the church itself. The folded plate roof, a feat of engineering that predates its time, is a testament to Campbell’s vision. But here’s where the commentary gets messy: why did this kind of innovation get sidelined? The National Trust’s preservation architect, Brandon Bibby, notes that Campbell’s panelized roof system wasn’t widely adopted until decades later. That’s not just a technical oversight—it’s a reflection of how Black architects’ contributions were often ignored or undervalued. What many people don’t realize is that the complexity of the design wasn’t just about aesthetics. It was about creating a space that felt both futuristic and sacred, a place where the congregation could see light streaming through geometric forms, symbolizing hope in a time of racial and economic struggle.
And yet, the church’s survival is precarious. The same region that birthed Campbell’s genius is now facing the demolition of his largest project, Gary’s Genesis Convention Center. This isn’t just a loss of a building—it’s a erasure of a narrative. The contrast between St. Mark’s preservation and the Convention Center’s impending destruction is stark. It raises a deeper question: when will we stop treating Black architects’ work as exceptions rather than legacies worth protecting? The National Trust’s Conserving Black Modernism Initiative is a start, but it feels like a drop in the ocean. Why does it take a grant to remind us that Black architects built the future?
What I find especially interesting is the symbolism woven into the design. Rev. George Walker Jr. recounts how Campbell saw the pastor’s folded hands and drew inspiration from that gesture. This isn’t just a church; it’s a monument to faith, resilience, and the power of seeing beauty in the mundane. But here’s the kicker: the very elements that make it unique—its complex geometry, its bold materials—are also its vulnerabilities. The roof, once ahead of its time, now requires constant repair. It’s a paradox: the more innovative the design, the harder it is to maintain. This speaks to a larger issue in preservation. We often prioritize buildings that fit into a narrow definition of ‘historic,’ but what about the ones that push boundaries, that challenge conventions? St. Mark is a case study in how to balance innovation with longevity.
Looking ahead, this grant isn’t just about saving a building. It’s about setting a precedent. If St. Mark can be preserved, what else can be salvaged from the margins of architectural history? The fact that Campbell co-founded NOMA adds another layer. His work wasn’t isolated; it was part of a movement to diversify a field that had long excluded Black voices. Yet, even today, the architecture world still grapples with its own biases. What this really suggests is that preservation isn’t just about saving structures—it’s about saving stories. And stories, once lost, are nearly impossible to recover.
So here’s my take: St. Mark’s fight isn’t just for a church. It’s for the recognition that Black architects shaped modernism in ways that still resonate. It’s for the next generation of designers who need to see themselves in the skyline. And it’s for a society that’s finally starting to realize that history isn’t just what’s written in textbooks—it’s what we choose to protect, one roof at a time.
