Some considered this lost Harlem church, which was never exceptional esthetically, to have been of no importance. Sidetracked by looks, as is so often true, they failed to realize that beauty contests were beside the point in determining this building’s historic importance.
Organized with a membership of 30, the Faith Temple Church of God in Christ was founded under the sponsorship of Dr. Alvin A. Childs and his wife, Mildred B. Childs. In the fall of 1948, the couple transferred their ministry from Chicago to the historic Imperial Elks Lodge Hall on 129th Street. Services were first held at two-week intervals.
Simultaneously, to evangelize, Dr. Childs erected a huge circus tent he’d brought from the Windy City on an empty lot at 124th Street and Saint Nicholas Avenue. For eight weeks, nightly, the revival meeting’s bright lights and stirring music helped to attract people by the thousands. The church next leased quarters on 116th Street.
All over Harlem, throughout the past century, theaters have been converted into houses of worship. Built circa 1919 as a movie house, becoming a bowling alley, then serving shortly as a synagogue, the Lido Theatre was at the crest of Sugar Hill at 1763 Amsterdam Avenue and 147th Street. On Mother’s Day of 1952, it became the Faith Temple home. A jubilant march led by by-then Bishop Childs processed through the streets to triumphantly occupy the spacious building, which had cost $175,000.
Faith Temple’s choir was so good that in no time at all, they were heard on a regular radio broadcast. By 1963, they made recordings for RCA. Solomon Herring, Jacqui Verdell, and James Cleveland were just some of the gospel greats affiliated with them.
The interior’s substantial auditorium — with Stars of David cut out of the entry doors as windows and inlaid into its linoleum floor, and a host of disparate architectural elements, including the delicately festooned parapet of long-blocked lodges flanking the proscenium arch — attested to all this structure’s different functions over the decades.
Nothing, however, commemorated its finest hour, when divine destiny transformed it into a sacred shrine of African American struggle and excellence.
That day was 61 years ago, February 27, 1965, when all other churches barred their doors to a funeral service for Malcolm X. Bravely ignoring the risk of threats of violence, Bishop Childs offered his church. John Lewis, James Farmer, and Bayard Rustin mourned among a congregation of 1,500. At the appointed hour, expounding a Black manifesto, no less moving and meaningful now than it was then, actor Ozzie Davis quietly made history. He did it by outlining what it was that Harlem — the African American cultural capital — meant for Malcolm and all that Malcolm meant for we who lived here and by extension, to Black people everywhere:
“Here, at this final hour, in this quiet place, Harlem has come to bid farewell to one of its brightest hopes-extinguished now, and gone from us forever.
“For Harlem is where he worked and where he struggled and fought — his home of homes, where his heart was, and where his people are — and it is, therefore, most fitting that we meet once again, in Harlem, to share these last moments with him. For Harlem has ever been gracious to those who have loved her, have fought for her, and have defended her honor even to the death. “It is not in the memory of man that this beleaguered, unfortunate but nonetheless proud community has found a braver, more gallant young champion than this Afro-American who lies before us, unconquered still … There are those who will consider it their duty, as friends of the Negro people, to tell us to revile him, to flee, even from the presence of his memory, to save ourselves by writing him out of the history of our turbulent times.
Many will ask what Harlem finds to honor in this stormy, controversial, and bold young captain — and we will smile … “Many will say turn away — away from this man, for he is not a man but a demon, a monster, a subverter and an enemy of the Black man — and we will smile. They will say that he is of hate — a fanatic, a racist — who can only bring evil to the cause for which you struggle! … And we will answer and say unto them: Did you ever talk to Brother Malcolm? Did you ever touch him, or have him smile at you? Did you ever really listen to him? … If you did, you would know him. And if you knew him, you would know why we must honor him: Malcolm was our manhood, our living, Black manhood! This was his meaning to his people. And, in honoring him, we honor the best in ourselves. Last year, from Africa, he wrote these words… ‘My journey … is almost ended, and I have a much broader scope than when I started out, which I believe will add new life and dimension to our struggle for freedom and honor, and dignity in the States. I’m writing these things so that you will know for a fact the tremendous sympathy and support we have among the African States for our Human Rights struggle.
“‘The main thing is that we keep a United Front wherein our most valuable time and energy will not be wasted fighting each other.’ …
“Let his going from us serve only to bring us together, now. Consigning these mortal remains to earth, the common mother of all, secure in the knowledge that what we place in the ground is no more now a man, but a seed — which, after the winter of our discontent, will come forth again to meet us. And we will know him then for what he was and is — a Prince, our own Black shining Prince! — who didn’t hesitate to die, because he loved us so.”
Even in New York, where greed and indifference destroy so much, it is surprising that this place was allowed to be torn down. I worked hard to convince the New York State Historic Preservation Office that it was worthy of being listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Finally,they agreed, but that status did not persuade the City Historic Preservation Commission to protect the place where Malcolm X was so eloquently eulogized, as part of the Sugar Hill Historic District it bordered. With only a slight flurry of hand-wringing, a few notices in the news, and much finger-pointing, in 2017, it was demolished.
A young reporter, Nick Garber, broke the story in the Patch of how this came to happen. Attorney General Letitia James’s office filed action in state court against Bishop Kevin Griffin, Bishop Childs’s successor at the Memorial Temple.
With routine maintenance deferred, in time, holes riddled the structure’s flat roof with destructive leaks. Since Harlem churches are so popular as redevelopment sites, “No worries,” the bishop must have thought. Ordinarily, old edifices in disrepair are razed and replaced by multi-story residential buildings. Churches get relegated to the ground floor or put underground. Apartments are provided for top church officers and $1 to $5 million enrich congregations that had previously had difficulty making ends meet.
Usually, church members are kept abreast of the particulars of such deals, but sometimes, as here, they are left completely in the dark.
In 2014, it was alleged that Griffin agreed to sell the Childs Memorial Temple property to novice developer Moujan Vahdat,of Elmo Realty. The church received $2 million for the site and a promise to spend $2.5 million on constructing a new building. They were assured that there was to be space for the church and upper-floor apartments for its leaders. Understandably, church officials hailed their deal as a blessing where all concerned win.
A resident of suburban New Jersey, Griffin held leadership roles in the Pentecostal Christian Church of Antigua and Barbuda, as well as in the New York State division of the Church of God in Christ. Unbeknown to his flock, he received a $440,00O finder’s fee, rewarding the introduction he made to the pastor of the sister church, Healing from Heaven Temple, nearby on Frederick Douglass Boulevard, that was also suffering from fraught finances.
At Childs Memorial’s 2016 closing, Griffin pocketed another $450,000. His wife, prosecutors said, received $100,000 as well. Collectively, it was found, the Griffins netted in excess of $1 million. The consequence? The attorney general and the bishop struck a plea deal. Maintaining he hadn’t taken part in the vote to sell the church, the prelate received no punishment. Nor, in the end, were he or his wife required to pay restitution. Even the developer was “exhilarated.”
Next, the city took title to the cleared lot. That was when community activists and government officials sought to negotiate plans to house as many Harlem people there as possible. Instead of studio apartments for transient single people, as contemplated by HPD, they envision affordable housing, large enough for formerly homeless families.
“If you want to end homelessness, you have to give people homes,” said then Community Board 9 chair Barry Weinberg. Mere days before the death of housing advocate April Tyler, he was echoing her message: “We cannot let the city build an ever-growing homeless shelter system,” she had insisted, clearly out of patience.“They let an extraordinary landmark of Black history be destroyed. We must not let them take even more from Harlem. Housing is a right, so rent regulation is imperative!”
Reiterating the sentiments of her deceased friend, Tiffany Khan, also a tenant advocate, said, “They only want to make a fraction of the new apartments for families — just seven. But we owe it to Malcolm; I owe it to April, who helped to guide me as I started in my career, to fight for far more!”