Fighting to Save a Chapel and Part of a Neighborhood’s Soul

Flanked by rubble-strewn lots, ramshackle wood-frame homes and the nearby confluence of the Hollywood and Harbor freeways, the Mission-style chapel at the northwestern fringe of downtown Los Angeles may seem abandoned and forsaken, bereft of human company and dwarfed by the looming city skyline.

Out front, though, a hand-lettered placard alerts the curious that this stucco refuge at the corner of Colton Street and Beaudry Avenue has an intriguing history--and passionate defenders. “Don’t Take Away Our Saint Rosary Mission,” the sign warns in Spanish.

Inside, Cristina Rocha tells of finding comfort in these unassuming environs after arriving from El Salvador three decades ago, a teacher who cleaned homes in her adopted land, where she married and reared six children.

“All of my hijos were baptized here,” Rocha, a wispy grandmother with thick spectacles, says as she shows a visitor the revered image of the Virgin of the Rosary, recipient of many a worshiper’s supplications.

“To lose this chapel is like losing a piece of my own heart, my own body.”

Rocha is among the faithful leading a fight to save Our Lady of Holy Rosary Mission, which is closing its doors to make room for a new middle school desperately needed in a neighborhood housing some ofthe city’s most overcrowded classrooms. The final Sunday Mass is scheduled to be celebrated Aug. 29, about a year after the chapel’s 50th anniversary.

Authorities have condemned the church’s nearly one-acre plot and 10 surrounding acres--the former heart of the once-vibrant neighborhood of Temple-Beaudry, ravaged by freeway construction, redevelopment, real estate speculation, guns, drugs and other urban woes. Although perched near some of the city’s densest pockets, the chapel’s immediate precincts are paradoxically depopulated and desolate, poised for a commercial boom that never materialized.

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For remaining parishioners, the specter of the wrecker’s ball collapsing their sanctuary is the latest in a series of betrayals that have transformed their former working-class stronghold into a patchwork of vacant lots, freeways and dilapidated Victorian houses. The barren tableau bears little testament to past incarnations: site of some of Los Angeles’ first oil fields, then an early 20th-Century enclave of the city’s elite, and later the close-knit barrio whose memory still stirs yearning.

Remaining worshipers have implored church authorities to move the mission to a nearby site or erect a new chapel, viewing their battle as a spiritual imperative at a time when religious rootlessness seems pervasive. They have submitted petitions to Cardinal Roger M. Mahony and they march in protest each Sunday to the prelate’s residence at St. Vibiana’s Cathedral.

“This church is our mother, and if we lose it we are all orphans,” said parishioner Elvia Padilla, who arrived from Mexico a quarter-century ago and, like Cristina Rocha before her, has found succor in the chapel. “Of course our youths need education, but now more than any time, they need roots, they need a spiritual life.”

But Roman Catholic leaders respond that a nostalgia-driven reprieve would be too costly at a time when the pastorate is struggling to serve waves of newcomers who are overwhelming the nation’s most populous archdiocese. With three other churches within 1.1 miles of the mission, administrators have concluded it is wiser to dedicate limited resources, especially Spanish-speaking priests, to other areas burgeoning with immigrant populations.

“We’re asking the people to look beyond this and consider the needs of the church in general,” said Father Eamonn Donnelly, Dublin-reared pastor of Our Lady of Loretto Parish, which includes the chapel. “The archdiocese is a very big institution that has many needs.”

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Nonetheless, residents insist, replacing the church should be an option. After all, they note, the mission was moved to its current site from across Beaudry Avenue in 1975 to make room for a Bank of America. The chapel later survived a fire; residents donated money and labor to renovate the beloved capilla.

“This church has a lot of memories for me and my family,” said Emma Palma, a longtime resident who heads the parishioners’ Save the Chapel committee. “If it goes, part of my life will be gone.”

Several elected representatives have taken up the residents’ battle, pressuring the Archdiocese of Los Angeles to reconsider.

“I don’t think the Church is taking into account the needs of the community,” said City Councilman Mike Hernandez.

School authorities have offered to assist with relocation costs.

“I have faith that we can work together to forge a solution that will address the needs of the community--both spiritual and educational,” Victoria M. Castro, the Los Angeles Unified School District trustee who represents the area, wrote last month to Mahony.

Despite the neighborhood’s decline, hundreds pack the chapel for its two Spanish-language Sunday Masses, faithful former parishioners arriving from Santa Monica, San Bernardino and other far-flung locales to pay homage in the old neighborhood. After services, vendors outside hawk toys, tamales and other treats, the rich past reviving briefly amid the blighted swath of downtown.

“The chapel was always part of our history here,” said Anna Maria Jimenez, a 27-year-old who recalls catechism classes, social clubs and Christmas posadas that drew the community together.

“There was a real family feeling and everyone knew each other. It’s not like that anymore.”